by Vish Dhamija
There were two antiquated carpets in the living room that added immense richness to the whole place. The carpets matched the jacquard silk curtains in red, which whether drawn or open, added the required colour to the whole room. Kim had got an uneven thick glass shelf fitted in the wall, which stacked her candles. A first-time visitor to her house might have mistaken it for an aromatherapist's, given the number of candles it had. She was well versed in lighting the correct ones together to blend the fragrances. She had found a small outlet in Mahim that made lampshades, so she had them make four lampshades in the same material as the curtains, in different sizes. Consequently, the four lamps in her living room, although different in their designs and shapes, looked like a family. She did not mind going out of her way for such effects that echoed her taste in house décor and reflected her flamboyant personality. Some of the furniture in her house was sourced from various places in Mumbai, like the chest of drawers that stacked her CD collection. She had bought it from an antique shop that specialised in old colonial furniture. It came with a certificate of age proving it to be from the Edwardian era. The piece adorned one of the shorter sides of the room, next to her little bar. Her music player sat on it with speakers that extended to all four corners for a perfect acoustic effect.
On one of the walls of the rectangular living room was a piece of original signature art, which she had received as payment for a modelling assignment. She had seen it as she had come out of the studio after a shoot and fallen for it in the first glance. It was an ancient nude by Raja Ravi Varma. Like most of his works in museums all over the country it was hideously expensive, but she readily signed a three-year contract for a client in lieu of money. She had a fascinating story for each one of her special acquisitions. She felt an uncanny empathy for this painting; she always said that it resonated with her life, since she thought that an up and coming model in a city like Mumbai was as vulnerable as the nude in the painting, yet confident of herself despite her nakedness. It was her pride and joy, and if there was one thing she wouldn't part with, it would be this painting; to a certain extent this was because of the financial value, but more importantly because she genuinely believed what she told people about it. Just opposite the painting and of the same size, was something that caught the eyes of every living man, a dazzling photograph of her running on the beach in a black bikini. It was from a lesser-known print advertising campaign she had done a few years back that had been carefully edited to eliminate any association with the local tyre brand trying to copy Pirelli. Kim looked devastatingly beautiful. If one were to analyse them, the pictures belonged to the same genre, though one was a painting and the other a photograph; even though they were over a hundred years apart, they captured in essence the beauty of the female form. Being the connoisseur she was she had spent a small fortune in getting a similar frame that paired with the painting on the other wall, unlike most people who would just mount a photograph of this size. Both the pictures were the focal points of the walls they adorned and it was hard to imagine the starkness that would result were the two pieces not there.
There was a door on the fourth side of the room right before the balcony for access to the other parts of the house. The views from her balcony could only be described as breathtaking. There was nothing between the building and the Arabian Sea. If one looked straight as far as one could see, there was the vast stretch of water. It was a view that only the privileged could afford on a daily basis. She had a sitting hammock in the corner usually occupied by her, to have her morning tea or read a book, or to listen to music when she was alone in the house, which was not often. Life in the fast lane; life as one aspiring to be among the glitterati of Mumbai, takes its toll. Maybe not on Kim's body, but essentially on what she chose to do and what she could finally do. The hammock, more often than not, went unutilised, a mute testimony to much else in Kim's life that had come to be relegated. But Kim didn't seem to mind this. She loved her flat; it was her sanctum sanctorum and doing it up was a ritual for her, regardless of how much time she spent in it.
2
It must have been nine in the morning when the phone started ringing. A cup of tea was all that Serena and Kim had shared before retiring to their individual rooms the previous night. Serena still felt bludgeoned after the previous day's trauma and any kind of interaction with anything or anyone that reminded her of Raaj was unwelcome.
'Good morning, Inspector… yes, she's awake. Oh yes, let me call her… Serena — it's Inspector Michael for you.' Kim was at Serena's door with the phone.
D'Cunha informed Serena that the postmortem report would be released by noon and it would be ideal if she could be at the hospital by then. He reminded her that depending on the report, she might be required to answer a few questions, but everything need not necessarily happen the same day. Considering her state of mind, he could accommodate any delays.
***
To Serena's surprise, Kim had carried a few pictures of Raaj and handed them over to D'Cunha as they arrived at the Lilavati hospital. D'Cunha looked at them carefully for a minute before placing them in the file he was carrying. 'The partial face and body recognition by the neighbours and Miss Kim plus your identification confirm that the body belonged to Mr Raaj Kumar. We have sent samples for DNA testing to our joint laboratory with the Metropolitan Police in London, as we do not have the facility here. The cause of death is given as asphyxia. The body got burnt after the death, which is only logical.' D'Cunha continued. 'The report also confirms that the dead person had a blood-alcohol content of 0.38 percent, which is enough for most people to lose consciousness. The cause of the fire is not known, but as Mr Kumar was a heavy smoker, it is presumed that either he was smoking when he fell unconscious or accidentally threw a lit cigarette in the house that led to the accident.' He handed over a copy to Serena.
Serena quickly read the report again, as her eyes were suffused with tears.
'Mrs Kumar, as I mentioned earlier, the DNA reports will take up to three weeks, therefore the case is not yet closed till they give us conclusive evidence. We also need some time to investigate and ensure that the death was caused by an accidental fire…' D'Cunha started again.
'What do you mean?' Kim asked.
'Let me explain. Mr Kumar was a successful man. He was a flourishing finance and stock broker with good cash reserves in the bank and investments, an apartment facing the sea at Worli, two luxury cars, a happy marriage and a wife that works for a foreign bank in a senior position. One would be counted among the demented, were he to miss the motive to end his life,' he said, as straight-faced as possible.
'Are you saying, this could be a…?' It was Serena this time who spoke.
'Who knows, Mrs Kumar? We, in the police force, are paid to doubt everything… everyone's guilty, unless found innocent,' D'Cunha misquoted eloquently, and with aplomb, and carried on. 'Though, whoever set fire to the apartment, accidentally or otherwise, had no intention of taking anything valuable. I cannot determine if this is an arson investigation or a murder inquiry or both.' He paused for a moment to look at Serena and Kim carefully before continuing. 'I need to ask you some questions when you are ready.'
'Would tomorrow be okay?' Serena appealed. She was positively not in the state to answer any questions after reading the postmortem report.
'Okay by me. I shall see you at the Worli police station at eleven, tomorrow morning. Have a good day.' D'Cunha started walking away.
Serena still appeared shocked as she sat in the car. 'Does he really suspect that someone might have killed my Raaj...?' Serena said.
'I am sure he's trying to check everything; as he said, he's paid to doubt everything,' Kim tried to calm Serena.
***
Next day
The Worli police station was no better, or worse, than Serena or Kim had expected. Like all other government buildings and offices across the country, the plain and uneven white walls carried pictures of the Mahatma and Nehru. Some of the national offices had started di
splaying a photograph of Mrs Gandhi from the late eighties, but surprisingly it was missing in this one. The station was sparsely furnished with outdated wooden furniture to accommodate the few people that visited the place and both women knew that the Indian police weren't exactly known for their hospitality. When they walked in, a little before eleven am, the inspector was there in his room. He sat at the other end of a large office table that had precisely two chairs for visitors on the other side and a sofa behind them.
'Good morning, ladies.' He forced a smile.
'Good morning.'
'Tea or coffee?' he asked.
'Tea, please. Thanks,' Kim said.
He looked at Serena for a corresponding answer. She nodded.
'Three teas, please. Quick,' he ordered a constable, who walked out of the room with a familiar, but inexplicable, saunter to send someone to the nearest roadside vendor to get the tea.
It was eleven now.
'Miss Kim, ideally this should be a private session between Mrs Kumar and myself, but I can see that you are very close to her and I can allow you to sit through this on one condition that you will not speak or answer anything on Mrs Kumar's behalf, no matter how compelled to do so you may feel. Is that okay with you?' D'Cunha asked looking at her for confirmation.
'Okay.'
'Are you okay with Miss Kim being around, Mrs Kumar?' D'Cunha turned to Serena.
'Yes,' Serena nodded to confirm.
'Okay. Miss Kim, could you sit on the sofa there please?' He said pointing behind Serena towards the cheap blue faded vinyl sofa, kept with its back against the wall with a table of sorts in front to lend a semblance of comfort.
Kim got up, kissed Serena on the cheek and walked towards the back of the room.
'Mrs Kumar, tell me, how long had you known Mr Raaj Kumar?' asked D'Cunha.
'Eleven years. We met in 1985.'
'I would like some details please, Mrs Kumar.' D'Cunha made it clear that he wasn't looking for monosyllabic responses.
'We had met in college when we had got admission in the Faculty of Management Studies, the highly ranked FMS, Delhi in 1985. As we came to Delhi from different places, we got introduced as classmates. I remember seeing Raaj for the first time; he had a verve in him that radiated life, fun and energy to everyone around. He was extremely good looking, ambitious and enchanted most who met him with his conversational skills. In the course of the next three months, we fell in love. It was the love story of the batch. Raaj was a numerical genius and his passion for numbers led him to finance, which he topped in business school, and got him a job in investment banking at Barclays in London…'
'He didn't join that?' D'Cunha sounded surprised.
'No. He was very attached to his mother and was not willing to leave her alone in India. The UK authorities declined to issue a visa for his mother as she wasn't dependant on him, so he took up a job in Mumbai instead. His mother was the only living blood relative he had that he remembered. He was broken hearted when she passed away in 1990.
'For the six years that he was in Mumbai, he worked for a bank and then an investment company. I initially got a job in Delhi and we met every couple of months. I was there till 1991 and then got transferred to Mumbai. We decided to get married in 1993 in a civil ceremony in Jaipur, attended by my parents and a few mutual friends.
'Raaj quit his job before the wedding and once we were back from our honeymoon he set up his own investment consultancy. He had been dealing with a lot of high net-worth clients, who were willing to offer their wealth management to him as an independent consultant because of his personal involvement, rather than go for bigger names with a limited service. As you know, the business flourished, and we bought the apartment in Worli.' Serena was in tears again as she spoke about Raaj.
D'Cunha waited for her to compose herself before he posed the next question. 'When did you last see Mr Raaj Kumar?'
'He had driven me to the airport for my flight to Singapore on the morning of the 18th, a Sunday. He dropped me at the airport at around ten; my flight was to take off at noon.'
'Did he drink on Saturday night?' D'Cunha quizzed.
'He had a few beers at a party. Kim was there too.' Serena turned to look behind at Kim.
Kim nodded in agreement as D'Cunha shot a glance.
'Was he planning to party on Sunday after you left?'
'I don't think so. He said he was tired and wanted to sleep.'
'Mrs Kumar, was Mr Raaj seeing someone… some other... woman?' D'Cunha deliberately softened his pitch, as if that would take the aspersion out of the question.
'No. He wasn't. We were very much in love,' Serena insisted, her voice perhaps the strongest and loudest it had been in the last twenty-four hours.
'I wasn't suggesting that Mrs Kumar. Apologies for any confusion here, I am only trying to…' D'Cunha tried explaining.
'It's okay.' Serena had sobered a bit after the shocking question from D'Cunha.
'Was he expecting a visitor on Sunday?' D'Cunha continued probing.
'No.'
'You guys had a loud fight on Saturday night — would you like to tell me about that?' D'Cunha pinched the bridge of his nose.
'It was a normal husband-wife tiff, Inspector. Sometimes we used to bicker and one of the main reasons was Raaj's drinking.'
'So he had had more than a few beers at the party on Saturday night...' D'Cunha made it sound like a question.
'Yes.'
'Your neighbours always regarded you as a loving couple, though they did report occasional fights,' D'Cunha declared. 'Do you know anyone who could gain by harming Mr Raaj Kumar?'
Serena shook her head.
'Were there any problems he was going through?'
'What kind of problems?' Serena asked.
'Like someone blackmailing him. Or, had he lost money in business recently? Something that might make him consider suicide?' D'Cunha was reticent to offer examples, but was doing it just the same. To Serena each submission was more bizarre than the previous one.
'No way, Inspector. Raaj could never commit suicide. He just wasn't the kind. He was so full of life, he would never even think along those lines.' Serena sounded confident.
'I am sure you know that the insurances, both house and personal, could be invalidated if the investigation reveals that it's a suicide,' D'Cunha explained.
Serena nodded stoically to affirm that she understood this.
'So, Mrs Kumar…' D'Cunha sighed, rubbing his right temple with his index finger, 'according to you, there is no reason for suicide, there seems to be no foul play, the victim had no enemies, the victim had a habit of occasional excessive drinking, he was a heavy smoker, who in a drunken state accidentally set fire to the house, thereby killing himself.'
Serena listened to him as she wiped her tears with a tissue.
'Thank you, Mrs Kumar. I think that should suffice for the time being. I shall be in touch. Are you planning to travel in the next few weeks?' asked D'Cunha.
'I am certainly not in a state to go to work, so I won't travel.'
Kim realised she could join the conversation now and got up to sit next to Serena. 'Are there any restrictions on her travel?' she asked.
'Yes. I would advise you not to leave the country without informing us till the investigation is complete. We might need to speak to you again,' said D'Cunha.
There was silence in the room, which indicated that there were no more questions.
'Can we go now?' Kim looked at D'Cunha, then at Serena.
'Of course,' D'Cunha said abruptly and then, as if to recover his composure, he offered, 'would you care for another tea or coffee?'
'No, thanks.' Serena declined politely.
***
'Serena, I have been trying to say this to you, though I know I don't need to, it's just that… look, I know what you are going through and I don't want you to be alone, so please stay with me for some time. As all your belongings and clothes were in the burned–out apartment, I don't know how
long you can survive living off the luggage you brought back from Singapore. You can always take my clothes till we are in a state to go out to buy some for you…' Kim broke the silence on the way back from the police station.
'Thanks, Kim. Thanks for being such a good friend. I appreciate the support. Raaj has… had been a part of my life for so long now that I cannot even imagine living without him around. I almost grew up with him… how could this happen? How could this happen to us?' Serena's voice was breaking.
'I didn't even get a chance to say good-bye.'
'He was so young still.'
'We had all our lives ahead of us, he was only thirty three.'
'How will I live without him?'
'I hope this is a nightmare that is going to end soon.'
'Why?' Serena kept talking to herself about the good times gone by, about Raaj and college days, about their marriage and honeymoon and vacations and travels…
It was almost five by the time the women got to Kim's place.
'Take a quick shower and have a drink. It will calm your nerves,' Kim suggested as they sat in the living room with their cups of tea.
'You're right.' Serena got up. 'Do you have some comfortable pyjamas or shorts? I am tired of wearing these jeans.'
