Club You to Death

by Anuja Chauhan

  ‘Oh, so many things! But most recently, poor little Ganga Kumar whom you have been pestering with your unwanted attentions.’

  There is a collective gasp from the room.

  Mehra gets to his feet, shaking a little.

  Urvashi continues to sit, smiling composedly.

  ‘Leave it, Mehra.’ Pankaj Todi puts a restraining hand on his friend’s arm. ‘#MeToo ka jamana hai. Don’t get into a battle of words with a woman. Save your fire for the election.’

  ‘As will I.’ Urvashi looks around the room, her eyes flashing. ‘I know I don’t have the votes of the old boys’ club in this room – but there are some women members, and other people, who want the DTC to be more than some sordid adda where old men get drunk and hit on hapless young women! I will get those votes, and then, when we have sensible leadership—’

  She turns her gaze on the general, ‘Then we will dig up the kitchen garden.’

  Balbir Dogra frowns. Urvashi’s voice seems disproportionately threatening. What’s with this obsession with the kitchen garden?

  Behra Mehra holds up one shaking finger. ‘Over my dead body.’

  Urvashi tips her glass to him in a polite salute. ‘Oh, I hope not.’

  My inner thighs are still so sore,

  But the man responsible is no more,

  Leo, you were the best trainer, ever,

  Heaven just gained a stronger Core!

  These immortal lines on Cookie Katoch’s Facebook wall, accompanied by a candid, laughing photograph of Leo and her, flexing their biceps, starts an unofficial but desperately fierce contest among Delhi’s poshest ladies to put up the best possible ‘mourning’ post for Leo, featuring a trainer–trainee photograph and a heartfelt paragraph describing how close the two of them had been.

  ‘Babe, I haven’t seen something as nuts as this since Wendell Rodricks died!’ Cookie confides to Roshni smugly. ‘Everybody was hunting through their photo galleries then, remember, trying to dig up a pic with him? Some of them toh were shameless enough to just photoshop it! Of course, I had a genuine pic because Wen and me were just too close, na, and now it’s the same thing happening all over again, but with Leo, and in gym clothes!’

  And Roshni, who had never unbent enough to click a candid pic with Leo, has to swallow her bile and agree with Cookie that what is happening on FB is too vulgar.

  Pictures and videos of Leo trend on Facebook all day – flexing with a bride-to-be here, doing a side plank with a grandmom-to-be there, pulling a crazy face at the end of class somewhere else.

  Alternately wiping tears of genuine grief and scanning each other’s photographs mercilessly for signs of underarm sag, back fat or belly pudge, all of Delhi’s chic set spends a satisfying day scrolling through each other’s timelines and coming to terms with their ‘grief’.

  Lose It with Leo posts a sober little video by the evening, featuring a handsome, laughing image of the trainer, and sharing the details of the funeral mass which will take place at the Sacred Heart Cathedral at Gol Dak Khana the next day. Cynics and statistics both assert that a large online following does not translate into a large following IRL, especially in such cold, foggy weather, but come the next morning the huge church is quite decently half full.

  Bhavani, huddled into the second-last pew with Kashi and Bambi, watches over the proceedings with indolent interest.

  Altar boys are readying the church for mass. The organist is tuning up, talking to the choir in hushed voices. A woman Bhavani recognizes from her pink ombre hair and no-nonsense air as Sho is walking around with a camera, shooting the congregation – presumably for the final episode of Lose It with Leo.

  Bambi scoots in closer to Kashi. ‘My money’s on Mehra,’ she whispers. ‘Out of us four blackmail victims, I mean. He either did it himself, or he chaabied Mukki into doing it.’

  ‘Where’s your feminism?’ Kashi demands sternly. ‘Four people got sent the song, and you zoomed in on the only man on the list? Are you saying a woman can’t be as good a murderer as a man?’

  She makes some laughing reply, which he counters immediately. Their voices grow lower and more intimate.

  Vakeel sa’ab and Bambi ji are looking very happy today, Bhavani thinks as he watches from the sidelines. Well, well, good for them! And meanwhile, the early rising girlfriend is busy constructing a roof in Kalahandi! Things are going to get terribly complicated for young Kashi soon …

  His mind shifts to complications of his own. He had had an in-depth briefing from Inspector Padam Kumar earlier that morning.

  ‘Sir, we interrogated all staff at the Todi residence on 6, Aurangzeb Road. Guards, drivers, maids were all clean-chitted, but we managed to establish that an old drunk gardener, now deceased, used to be quite friendly with Leo! Yaari-dosti, drinks and all! He got him sports shoes and fancy watches and let him drive his fancy motorcycle even! We’re guessing ki he was the Leak. And that this was Leo’s modus operandi – to cultivate servants and staff of rich people, and pump them for dirt on their employers! We are now checking to see if he had similar contacts in the other three households.’

  ‘What about Behra Mehra?’

  ‘Yes, on that, sir, the men we had posted outside Daily Needs have reported that General Mehra visits the shop every day and lingers to chat with the young lady for twenty-twenty minutes at a time.’

  And that is Mehra’s motive, quite neatly sorted, Bhavani muses, as his eyes scan the congregation covertly. He was sweet on young Ganga, perhaps had a hand in the disappearance of her husband even, and Leo found out about it through his cultivated network of domestic staff.

  He starts to hum the Cheeky Peaches song speculatively.

  ‘…but fate has a way of catching up with sinners

  At the end of the day there are no free dinners

  And I will make you pay

  Oh, I will make you pay

  P p p p p pay …’

  Bambi gives a little shiver.

  ‘Don’t ACP, you have no idea how that song haunts my dreams.’

  He smiles at her sympathetically. ‘It won’t any more, Bambi ji. Good thing you told the whole problem to vakeel sa’ab – we have already facilitated the returns of all the missing valuables and made up a convincing story in which nobody gets blamed!’

  ‘Yeah … about that …’ She smiles, a rather wry, twisted smile. ‘My father’s really angry with me for allowing myself to be blackmailed. He says I should have come to him.’

  Bhavani’s eyes are sympathetic. ‘Why didn’t you go to him?’

  She bites her lip, looks around the church, then lowers her voice. ‘My parents are getting divorced. I was worried he would use this information to get out of it without paying Mammu her fair share.’

  ‘And now he will?’

  She sighs. ‘And now he will.’

  He pats her hand comfortingly, looks about the pews for Roshni, and spots her amongst a gaggle of DTC Zumba girls. She is sitting next to Cookie Katoch, who, for reasons best known to herself, is attired in a maxi dress patterned with large, magenta and turquoise flowers.

  ‘But where’s the Jamaican choir?’ He hears her say plaintively. ‘Why are only all these converted desi Christians about?’

  Roshni and the rest of her friends shush her and she subsides.

  Bambi giggles. ‘She really bought that Jamaican story! It was such a bunch of lies!’

  ‘So you’re the big Dick, I hear?!’

  It’s a high, excitable voice, very carrying and a little unhinged, and it makes everybody turn around. A bald, bright-eyed, satyr-ish character on crutches, easily identifiable as Randy Rax, has just limped into the church and snuck up behind Bhavani, emitting a strong odour of cheap alcohol mixed with Moov.

  The old policeman inclines his head genially. ‘We’re the ACP in charge of the case, yes.’

  ‘Oh, we!’ Randy Rax gives a mock-reverent little wriggle. ‘W
e as in royalty? Or We as in schizophrenia?’

  ‘We as in polite Hindi,’ Bhavani replies genially.

  Randy Rax winks. ‘Well, I know nothing about politeness, ACP! Does ACP stand for A Colossal Penis by the way?’

  ‘Rax, stop it!’ A mortified looking Fr Victor hurries into the church, clearly in search of the errant Rax. He turns to Bhavani Singh. ‘Forgive my friend, he just likes to be outrageous.’

  Randy Rax has moved on to Bambi now. ‘Well, huh huh hello there, poppet!’ he almost-shouts. ‘You’re a pretty one! Are you one of Leo’s? Leo always had a harem around him! I used to call him a Haremzada! Haha! Isn’t that a good one?’

  ‘It’s a deadly one,’ Bambi tells him lightly. ‘You’ve got a great sense of humour, Rax.’

  He leers at her, then taps the side of his nose. ‘But that’s not the answer to my question!’

  ‘I’m part of the harem, I guess,’ Bambi says ruefully. ‘But then, so is this whole church, isn’t it?’

  ‘O!’ Rax’s eyes widen in gleeful delight. ‘Even Jesus?’ he screeches. ‘Even, Gawd-help-us, Mother Mary?’

  ‘Rax.’ Victor’s voice is sharp. ‘Just, please, respect the occasion, please.’

  Rax cringes extravagantly. ‘Are you with the poppet?’ he asks Kashi conspiratorially as he lowers himself into the pew beside them. ‘Cuckolded by the mighty Leo, like many, many men before you?’

  ‘I’m Akash Dogra,’ Kashi says smilingly. ‘Hullo, Rax.’

  But Rax is busy observing the congregation, his eyes bright and inquisitive.

  ‘So this is Delhi high society!’ he whispers loudly. Spittle sprays freely from his mouth. Several people in the pew in front of him wince as droplets land on the backs of their necks. ‘Are they all members of the Delhi Turd Club?’

  ‘Please can you watch him, Akash?’ the harassed Fr Victor appeals to Kashi. ‘I have to start the mass.’

  ‘Yes, of course, Father Vick.’

  The priest rushes away, relieved. Behind him, Rax rises again to his feet, leaning heavily against the back of the pew in front of them.

  ‘Lots of hot chicks!’ he announces in a loud, satisfied voice. He raises one shaky arm and points directly at a woman seated a few pews ahead. ‘That one has the biggest tits!’

  The congregation gasps. Kashi gets to his feet and clamps a large hand over Rax’s mouth.

  ‘Chup!’ he says firmly.

  Rax giggles. ‘I’m being violated from behind!’ he splutters, wriggling against Kashi’s palm. ‘That too in church! This is better than any of my fantasies!’

  ‘Just sit down,’ Kashi says grimly. ‘Your friend is dead – do you think you can show some respect?’

  Rax nods, and Akash slowly releases him. Immediately, he lunges forward and bellows, ‘And that one is the prettiest! I think. But I can’t tell till she removes her sunglasses. Excuse me, take off your glasses please!’

  The lady he has picked out for this high praise is Urvashi Khurana. She is seated a few rows ahead, to the left, wearing a sober white chikan salwar-kameez and the aforementioned dark glasses.

  Instead of being offended, Urvashi takes off her glasses and smiles at Rax.

  ‘Thank you, young man,’ she says in her exquisitely pitched voice. Then she pats the place next to her. ‘Why don’t you come and sit with me?’

  Randy Rax needs no second invitation. He lurches forward eagerly, clambering over several hapless people in his rush to get to the coveted spot.

  ‘Do pardon my odour,’ he says loudly to her as she wrinkles her nose slightly, ‘I applied the Moov to mask the booze – because this is church, you know! So now I smell of Mooze.’

  She smiles and holds out her songbook, not at all rattled. ‘Do explain the ceremony to me. I’ve never attended a mass before and I don’t want to make any mistakes.’

  As Rax takes hold of the songbook with clammy hands, Urvashi Khurana looks over his head at Kashi, and flashes him a conspiratorial thumbs up.

  ‘Real classy,’ Kashi whispers to Bambi.

  ‘Yeah,’ she says serenely. ‘Urvashi auntie’s like that.’

  The organ sounds, the church choir starts to sing and everybody rises to their feet. Father Victor, his simple white cassock now covered with the ceremonial robes of the Holy Mass, walks into the church with the red-and-white–robed altar boys before him.

  Reaching the pulpit, he waits for the song to end, then intones in a low reverential voice, ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit!’

  And the mass begins.

  ‘It’s going to be a great final episode.’

  Sho has tied her pink ombre hair back into a ponytail and is packing her camera and lenses away, speaking more to herself than to Bhavani. The church is almost empty.

  ‘How nice,’ he replies genially.

  She smiles, then puts out a friendly hand for him to shake. ‘Shonali Jha. You’re investigating Leo’s death, I believe.’

  She has a smoker’s voice, deep and husky, and a firm but relaxed grip – she doesn’t need to prove anything with her handshake, clearly.

  ‘Yes. We were waiting to speak to you only. Didn’t want to disturb while you were working. Leo’s phone records reveal that you two were very close.’

  Sho chuckles. ‘Really? I haven’t the faintest memory of what I talked to Leo about on the phone. Were there any dirty pics?’

  ‘No,’ Bhavani says calmly. ‘Should there have been?’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t know … maybe in the early heady days. I bet there’re none recently!’ She throws back her head and laughs. It’s a warm, comfortable laugh.

  ‘You two were … a couple?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No. We weren’t even friends-with-benefits – more like colleagues-with-benefits. Is that even a thing?’

  ‘An office romance,’ Bhavani suggests trendily.

  She chuckles. ‘Only there’s no office, and no romance! Just work, and a weekly deadline, and some … er … benefits. Am I embarrassing you?’

  ‘Nat us, but perhaps all these murtis of saints and virgins …’

  She looks about the church ruefully. ‘Don’t they hear lurid confessions all the time? But you’re right – let’s go outside. I want a smoke anyway.’

  A little while later they are standing in front of a Mother Mary grotto, ablaze with sweet peas, larkspur and bright red poppies. Shonali’s hair is candyfloss pink in the sun. She puts her heavy camera case on the ground and lights up.

  ‘Leo hated my smoking,’ she says. ‘He said it was going to be the death of me.’ Her voice breaks a little. ‘I’ll laugh at your funeral, he used to say.’

  You are more affected then you let on, Bhavani thinks, as the woman next to him shudders and struggles to control her tears. You are genuinely grieving.

  He sighs sympathetically.

  They stare in silence at the small statue of Mother Mary in her blue and white robes.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ she says finally, abruptly, gripping the railing around the grotto and turning to face him. ‘How can I help?’

  Bhavani spreads out his hands. ‘Just … a general picture – of your friend and colleague … that’s the most important thing – and also, if there’s anything you think could be useful, or pertinent to the case.’

  ‘I’m a trained film-maker,’ she says. ‘With a fairly fancy degree! But when I became a single mom – long story, totally irrelevant – I had to find a way of earning money while being with my son. So I started shooting birthday party videos for my friends and their kiddies. Luckily, they were all really wealthy and they wanted to help me.’

  She takes a long drag and exhales – no fancy tricks or sexy pouting, just matter-of-fact exhalation.

  ‘I met Leo at a little girl’s birthday party – I think the mother went to his Zumba class, and she’d asked him to come by and show the l
ittle girls some of his fancy moves. Later, I sent him the video I’d shot that day – he’d given me his number. We went out for a drink, which turned into dinner, which turned into coffee at his apartment, which turned into breakfast – which turned into Lose It with Leo! I wasn’t in love with him or anything – I’m beyond all that now, I save all my love for my son and my mum – and Leo, he was very cynical about conventional relationships. But yes, I guess we were … comfortable with each other. I’d like to help catch his killer.’

  ‘Thank you for sharing such an intimate story with us, Shonali ji,’ Bhavani says softly. ‘You have been very honest – tell us, when you say he was cynical, what do you mean?’

  She looks thoughtful. ‘He didn’t respect the usual boundaries – as in hands off because somebody’s married, or like, be polite because somebody’s old, or don’t do that, that’s against the law … Things like that.’

  ‘He steered his way with his own unique moral compass?’

  She nods vigorously. ‘Yes! That’s it, exactly! The laws of Leo! Not the laws of society!’

  ‘The laws of Leo,’ Bhavani Singh muses. ‘So interesting that you say that … and what about the laws of … er … your YouTube channel? The paperwork?’

  ‘We split everything fifty-fifty,’ she says crisply. ‘Ad revenue, as well as in-product placement. It was perfectly fair – I made him look damn good, you know!’

  ‘O yes, you did! His fans clearly adored him!’

  She chuckles. ‘Aren’t they hilarious? Leo’s horny auntie army! I’m actually thinking about tracking a few of them down and shooting a video where they finally meet Leo!’ Her face falls. ‘Except that … I can’t any more. Fuck!’

  She stares blindly at the grotto for a while. Ash drops from her cigarette.

  ‘It’s going to be hell cutting this final episode,’ she says finally. ‘I’m going to cry like a complete chutiya.’

  Bhavani pats her arm sympathetically. She stubs out her cigarette savagely and lights a new one.

  ‘Shonali, please don’t mind – but was your relationship with Leo an exclusive one?’