The Green Room & Devi Collection

by Nag Mani

  She pulled it out.

  A piece of red cloth! Tied in a bundle. It was stained with blood and vermillion. She stepped away from the tree and as if her senses had heightened, all of a sudden, she began to hear the sounds around her. The whispers. The scuffling. And from these came a distant bark. Bachcha had still not left. He was lurking on the other side of the clearing, hidden behind a tall datura plant. Aditi had not taken more than a couple of steps when a voice above her called out, “Aunty?”

  She stopped dead on her track. She knew the voice only too well. It brought along the memory of a boy in school uniform sobbing under a tree. She felt the branches above her descend, enclosing around her. On the periphery of her vision, she saw shapes rise from the ground. The baby began to howl again. The men hooted and laughed.

  “Aunty?”

  Aditi began to cry. Whatever strength she had left, seemed to drain out of her. She fell to the ground, under the bewitching canopy of the tree. She caught its glimpse before she shut her eyes. The many leaves. The many branches. The many faces.

  She felt cold. She had run out of happiness. Run out of will. She wanted to lie there. It was far more comforting than struggling. Far more rewarding. She wanted to lie there till her heart turned cold. Till her skin fell apart and her muscles decayed. She wanted to lie there till worms rose from the ground and ate her. She wanted to lie there till her bones crumpled and mixed with the soil. She wanted to lie there, under the shade of the tree, for eternity.

  She heard another bark, and some sort of spell seemed to lift. Bachcha was barking furiously now, urging her to join him. She had to get away, the thought came rushing into her head. Find Arvind’s mother. She rose to her feet and staggered towards the dog.

  “Aunty?” the voice called back, icy and piercing.

  “Aunty, please!” another voice, also familiar, joined the chorus.

  Bachcha disappeared behind some bushes when she came closer. She followed him through a dense undergrowth, the red bundle clutched firmly in her hand. After a short blur of green, she found herself on another path. This road was raised. The mango trees on either side gave way to bamboo and ferns. The sound of rushing water drew nearer. She followed Bachcha as he led her through the path. She didn’t dare look back.

  The river appeared on her left. She caught glimpses of the brown water, the broken iron bridge. She was gasping, her face glistening with sweat. She bent low to catch her breath. Bachcha ran back, hopping around her impatiently. She started again and as she did, she untied the bundle. The first thing that appeared was a tuft of reddish-brown hair, flakes of dry blood lodged in between…

  “Aunty?” Zeenat called out to her.

  This time, she turned.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE CONSPIRACY

  By the time Payal made her a cup of tea, Bhagvati had begun to doubt Aditi was in their neighbour’s house. She had her bags packed, ready to move if and when the situation demanded. She kept going to the veranda, waiting for Aditi to return. The sun came up over the tree tops. Farmers began to trudge their way to their farms, spades and axes slung over their shoulders. It was still early morning when a police jeep came to a halt on the main road and the inspector hopped down.

  “I have to talk to Madam,” he demanded as soon as he reached her house.

  “She is not here…” said Bhagvati, rather uncertainly.

  “Where is she then?” The inspector seemed alarmed.

  “She said she was going to see Laila, in the morning…”

  One of the constables went to check in Laila’s house. He returned a moment later, his hand raised, shaking his palm.

  Bhagvati let out a sigh. Damn this young blood! She now knew exactly where Aditi was. And she hadn’t returned. “I think she went to the forest then! Yes, she must have gone into the forest. You have to do something.”

  “Forest? When?”

  “In the morning. I was sleeping! Curse this old woman!”

  “What the hell is she doing in the forest? And what was wrong with that woman! Why the hell she couldn’t keep her nose out of things. You saw her in the morning, didn’t you?” he asked.

  Bhagvati looked at her daughter, who was hidden behind the curtain. “I only heard her voice,” Payal replied, her voice heavy, “I was in the… I was in there.”

  Just then an old, battered auto-rickshaw stopped beside the jeep and Arvind got down from the front seat, a brown bag in his hands. He talked to someone in the passenger seat, and moments later, Manoj stepped out. He looked around, and seeing the police in front of his house, his posture straightened. Aditi came out from the other side of the rickshaw, her head hung low.

  “Where were you, Mrs Prasad?” the inspector asked as Aditi walked briskly down the road. She ignored him and went straight to her room, followed by Bhagvati. Manoj maintained a rather slow pace, walking behind Arvind, analysing the scene. “And Mr Prasad, I see you are back from Purnia. I am Inspector Neeraj Mishra. I have been wanting to talk to you.” He offered his hand and Manoj shook it, rather cautiously.

  Arvind placed the bag on the cot in the hall and left. The men entered the house. Aditi was sitting on the bed, looking down at her feet. Her eyes were red. Bhagvati was patting her head, trying to get some words out of her. She had slung the curtain over the door so that the hall was in full view.

  “There is something going on here, Mr Prasad, and I am here to find out how much you are involved in it.” Inspector Mishra put his hands on his hips, not taking the chair Payal was offering to him.

  Colours drained from Manoj’s face. “What involvement?” his voice was still squeaky.

  “You girl, Payal?” Bhagvati shouted from the room, “What are you doing there in the hall? Leave the chair and go out. Clean the backyard.”

  The inspector waited for her to leave. He glanced at the constables and they too went to the front veranda and shut the door behind them. “There is a big conspiracy going on here. But let me start with asking why you went to Purnia? And don’t say you were called for a meeting. We have checked. Save us time by not repeating the lies you told your wife.”

  Manoj gulped and threw a glance towards Aditi. She continued to look down, her body trembling. “It is a family matter. Can’t I visit my house?” he replied.

  “Mr Prasad, your name has come up in a case. I am doing you a courtesy by asking you questions here. I can take you to the station if you want.”

  “I was not here when the Mukhiya died. You cannot drag me into this. I will call my seniors.”

  “Why are you buggering him, sahib,” Bhagvati pleaded from the room, “he has just come home…”

  “Why did you go to Purnia?” Inspector Mishra cut her off. “Answer me Mr Prasad!”

  Manoj was quiet for a moment. Then he blurted out, “My brother called me for help. A friend of his, actually. He said Ajay had picked up a fight with some goons and was arrested on false charges. And they were beating him in the station.”

  “So, you left your wife here because you didn’t want her to find out what your brother had been up to, is it?”

  “I left her because she was ill. That’s all! She had high fever, a sprained ankle. Vomiting. I couldn’t take her along. I already had so much to deal with.”

  “And was your brother arrested?”

  Another pause. Manoj hesitated before replying, “No.”

  “Good,” the inspector looked at the women in the room. Then he settled his belt and began to walk around the hall. “That sorts out one thing. It was very convenient of your brother to call you exactly when you needed to leave, wasn’t it? But let’s move on. How do you know Heera Lal Singh?”

  “He is the Mukhiya’s cousin. He took a loan from our bank.”

  “You knew him personally?”

  “No.”

  “But you have spent quite a few nights in his house.”

  “That was field work. It’s a long way from here, not safe after dark. He offered me to stay out of courtesy.”

&
nbsp; “Courtesy, you say? Okay. What about the land he gifted you? Another courtesy?”

  Manoj’s eyes darted towards Aditi. She was still staring at her feet. “I don’t know what land you are talking about.”

  “I thought so. The papers haven’t been signed yet. I heard this Heera Lal Singh is preparing a wedding for his daughter. That he plans to give a big piece of land for dowry…”

  “Inspector Sahib,” shouted Bhagvati, no longer maintaining her politeness, “what do you think you are doing? Creating a rift between husband and wife? My poor son went to Purnia for whatever reasons he might have had; it is for his wife to enquire. You should keep your business away from all this.”

  “Yes, Ma Ji, I will be only glad to keep my business. But let me ask one last question. Mr Prasad, one more question. May I?”

  His nostril flaring, Manoj turned around and gave another swift glance at Aditi, wondering how much she already knew. The inspector was quiet for a while, studying Manoj. Then he asked, slowly, “Have you heard of…” he leaned closer, trying to perceive any subtle reaction, “…Babu Bhaiya?”

  Manoj didn’t respond. He glared at the inspector monotonously. “Did he gift me some land as well?” asked Manoj eventually.

  “So, you don’t know him?”

  “You know you are harassing a public servant? You are trying to put the blame on me, isn’t it? I am telling you I was not…”

  “You know, Ma Ji,” the inspector turned to the bedroom, “this Babu Bhaiya. He is from this Kursakanta down south. Used to work for our Mukhiya Ji. And you know what he did for living? He specialised in women trafficking. He would abduct women from the villages here and transport them to whorehouses in Nepal. There was a big nexus here, around six-seven years ago. Araria. Purnia. Kishanganj. Even your Harda. The victim’s family could run to police as much as they liked, but their daughters never came back.

  “When the network grew, they decided to bring in different types of women. On customers’ demand. You know, diversify. These village women were… you know… village women. So he began to kidnap women who came from cities with their husbands, just like you two. But they were a risk. It was very likely that their husbands or fathers knew some big-shots back in Patna. One wrong move and the entire Bihar Police would be knocking at his door. So, he used to arrange for a scapegoat, usually some dysfunctional whore, who looked somewhat similar to the woman he planned to abduct. The woman would disappear and soon a body would be found. Battered, rotten and beyond recognition. The family would grieve. They would go to police and the police would look for the murderer, follow all misleading clues while the woman was being raped in some dingy hotel in Nepal.

  “Police did manage to arrest him. But he was later released on bail. Om Prakash Singh did know a lot of men on high seats. Babu Bhaiya managed to slip into Nepal and the last we heard of him, he was running a brothel in Biratnagar. It is not in our jurisdiction, but we kept an eye on him. He didn’t cause us much trouble though. Just kept a low profile.”

  Inspector Mishra paused to study the manger, who still wore a bitter expression, and adjusted his belt again. “Then we heard about him yesterday. We got a tip-off that he had crossed the border. We arrested him. He was with a woman. Say what, around thirty-five. Slim. Her hair was henna dyed, like your wife’s, Mr Prasad. We brought him to our station last night. He started babbling without much of an effort from our side. Turns out, the Mukhiya had called him here for one last contract, you know, for old times’ sake. There was this city woman he had to abduct. He said she had come here just recently. His orders were to transport this woman to some house and keep her there, exclusively for our Mukhiya. And when the Mukhiya was ‘finished’ with her in a week or so, Babu Bhaiya was to transport her to Nepal. She would then be open for public. And Ma Ji, guess who this woman was?”

  “Sahib Ji,” Bhagvati went out in the hall, “you are mistaken. This cannot be happening. I know my son. He cannot dare do such a thing!”

  “As I said earlier, Ma Ji, isn’t all this very convenient. There was a conspiracy to kidnap Aditi. And her husband happened to dump her at the very place and on the very night it was all planned. And it is very likely that he brought her here for this very reason. Then there is this affair on the other side of the village. The night visits on the pretext of field work. The small gift. The rumours of marriage. If that land was just a token, imagine what the dowry must have been? But what was keeping this marriage from happening? Aditi. Now you see, why it was important to remove her from the scene? A body would turn up some days later and we would all assure ourselves that she was in heaven resting in peace. It was a master plan. Only that it failed. Only that the Devi killed the Mukhiya the night he was to kidnap her.”

  “Inspector Sahib,” Bhagvati folded her hands, “please leave us alone.”

  “I will, for there is still doubts as to how much your son is involved in this conspiracy. But I need to first hear what Aditi has to say.”

  Manoj, who had kept silent till now, his lips trembling with rage, burst out eventually, “What conspiracy are you talking about? And who is this Babu Bhaiya? I want to see him. Where is he? I don’t know any Mukhiya! I don’t know any Babu or Bhaiya! Why will I harm my wife?”

  “Please calm down son!” Bhagvati rushed to him and began stroking his arm. “Clam down! You have had a rough journey. Calm down…”

  And they all stood shocked at their places when Aditi rose to her feet, marched across the hall and slapped Manoj hard on his face. A ringing sound hovered in the room.

  “That is what I want to ask,” she screamed, “why do you want to harm me? What have I done? You want to kill me, go ahead, do it now. KILL ME!” She grabbed his hands and put them around her throat. “KILL ME!”

  Bhagvati was screaming now, “Calm down, my son!” She tried to push Aditi back to her room. “You are not well. This is all my fault. All my fault!”

  “What have you not done to kill me? You could have burnt me alive. Pushed me off some stairs. Just like you did to Lakshmi when you no longer needed her! Why all this? This kidnapping? This black magic? You want to kill me. Then do it. Kill me. Why the girls? What had they done to you? WHAT HAD I DONE?”

  “Do you know what you are blabbering?” Bhagvati had succeeded in pushing her through the doorway. Payal was standing at the door to the backyard, wide-eyed, clutching a broom.

  “What am I talking about? I went to that mango tree. That old mango tree. And I got what I was looking for. She was right. Someone had performed black magic. But the girls were not the target. They were the price!”

  “What are you saying…”

  “I was the target! The black magic was done on me!”

  Tears began to form in her eyes. The way they had, when she first untied the red cloth. She had expected the tuft of hair to be black, maybe curly. But it was straight and shiny, with a tint of henna. Tucked in them were pieces of red glass bangles with golden leaves and glittering stones. The same bangles she had broken once while sweeping the backyard, and had flung its pieces over the boundary-wall with the rest of the litter.

  She had been so engrossed in examining the contents that she failed to notice the two figures approaching her from behind.

  But Bachcha did, for he barked and whimpered at the same time

  “Aunty?”

  A strong fragrance of rose filled her nostrils. Aditi jumped around. There, on the many branches of the trees, hanging by their necks were dozens of men, women and children, their bodies swaying in an intangible breeze.

  The bundle fell from her hands as she shrieked and backed away.

  She saw dark figures moving in between the trunks. To her left, behind a thicket of bamboos, an old woman was sitting cross-legged on a mound. Chanting. Swaying...

  Someone ran across the path. Aditi caught a glimpse of a woman in a bridal dress… And then her eyes fell on the ground.

  Zeenat and Zeba were slowly crawling their way towards her, their faces inches from the gro
und, their white eyes fixed on her.

  Aditi screamed and screamed. She ran as the world swirled around her. The path ended abruptly and fell some forty feet down to the river bank. Bachcha was already making his way down the steep slope, his limbs half buried in loose mud and sand. She jumped, landed halfway down the slope and rolled and tumbled the rest of the way. She felt her breath being knocked out. Then darkness. She dreamt of two girls peeping over her from the top…

  When she came around, she noticed that the sun was slightly higher in the sky. She heard a continuous PUFF PUFF coming from somewhere nearby. Bachcha was pouncing at something at the edge of the brown water. He came running to her the moment she got to her feet. Slightly disoriented, she made her way down the river bank, towards the broken bridge, and up the path that led to the main road.

  She felt everyone’s eyes on her as they crossed paths. She brushed off dirt from her hair. Her clothes. Settled her sari. Wiped her face. It was late morning by the time the market came in view. The gumti was open and its owner was chewing on a neem stem – a datman, and rubbing his teeth and rinsing his mouth alternatively.

  Then Arvind appeared from somewhere, and seeing her condition, took her inside the almost deserted bank. She sat in the branch manager’s office.

  “You went to tree, Madam? Didn’t you?” he whispered, checking at the two clerks in the hall who had just come in. They greeted her, curiously, and then went about doing their work.

  Aditi nodded. “I want to see your mother.”

  “Yes, Madam, I will tell her. But what did you find, Madam?”

  Aditi hesitated. “Hair. And bangles.”

  “Damn it! This Razzak. How much I not tell him? He should have done it first thing when his eldest daughter died. We people are not good, Madam. We cannot see someone progress. And why will not we be jealous of this man? He was just driver. And look at him now. All rich and prosperous. And such happy family. And such beautiful daughters. Who wouldn’t wish to be like him…”