The Green Room & Devi Collection

by Nag Mani

  “Those girls didn’t wear bangles, Arvind…”

  Arvind looked blank.

  “They were mine,” she blurted out. “The bangles. The hair. They were mine.”

  It took a while for his expression to change. He eyed her up and down, wondering if she was in her senses. Finally, he sunk down in his chair, thinking, biting his lips. Aditi covered her face and began to cry. He held out a hand, then lowered it. Cleared his throat. “Where is it, Madam?”

  “I dropped it. I saw them. I saw them all. And I saw Zeenat and her sister…”

  “They… girls, you saw them?”

  Aditi nodded. She wiped her face. “I need to see your mother,” she said, her voice somewhat stern now, “I want this thing off my back.”

  “But why girls, Madam, why them?” he replied, still not convinced with her story. And then something struck him. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, “Did you see rose pant under tree?” Aditi nodded again. “Did you notice… err… something there?”

  “There were quite many flowers. And…” Then she realised what he was trying to ask. Every detail came rushing back to her mind. “Yes! There were three flowers missing! Right from the top. And I saw a leg of a goat sticking out from the roots. Someone had made a fire in front of the tree.”

  Arvind slid back in his chair and wiped his mouth, his yellow eyes glaring at her.

  “What is it?” Aditi asked.

  Arvind took his time to answer. Looked back at the hall. Tapped his feet. And then he said, “It was black magic, Madam. Yes. If you say the bangles that you saw were yours…it seems it was done on you. And girls… they were sacrificed for magic. They were price.” Aditi stared back at him in horror. “And it’s definitely that demonic spirit. My mother calls him Jinn. Don’t you see it, Madam? Someone wanted to set him upon you. But he is only interested in young girls. He wouldn’t harm you, because you are… err… married. So, these girls were offered to him as sacrifice! How many roses you said were missing?”

  “Three.”

  “Plucked or shed?”

  “Plucked.”

  “So Zoya...”

  “What is with these roses?”

  “They are used to mark victims, Madam. Their scent attracts him to his target. All you have to do is touch petals to their body. Whatever you do, transfer fragrance to target. But why three, when one would be enough? Did someone want to target both manager and his agent? You know, take down two enemies with one shot? Or maybe, Jinn has just become greedy. Or was he reluctant…” and then another realisation dawned upon him. He lowered his voice, “Madam, I heard that you went to that temple once, you know, once, on your own. Did you ask for something?”

  Aditi nodded yet again.

  “Of course, Jinn wouldn’t agree with one!” he cried out, almost leaping out of his chair. “Devi is upon you Madam! She lives in your house, I think you must have realised by now. And you bonded with her when you asked for your wish. Of course, this Jinn wouldn’t want to interfere with her just for one girl.”

  “Then why would he do it for three?”

  “It gives him power, Madam, to take away soul and keep it enslaved. Consume it. Maybe he thought he will be powerful enough to deal with Devi, you know, once he got three girls.”

  Aditi leaned back in her chair. She tried to clear her mind. Arvind seemed to know too much about the shady matter. She began to wonder if she should seek help from his family. As if sensing her thoughts, he began to talk again, “But most important question is, who did it? Who would want to harm you?”

  She remained silent.

  “Can you think of someone?” he pressed, “Anyone? You know, who wants to get rid of you? Some property dispute? Family dispute? Who might have pressed you to move here?”

  Aditi didn’t think it was the most important question. She knew the answer the moment she saw her hair and bangles. And she began to hate her husband even more. He was a monster. If he wanted her dead, he could have just strangled her in bed while she was sleeping, or slipped a drop or two of poison in her food. Why kill three girls just to keep his name clear? But the question she deemed most important was – who actually performed the ritual for him? And she had this strong feeling who it might be…

  There was a commotion outside. People were greeting someone. Manoj enter the office in a rush… and stopped dead when he saw the occupants. Arvind jumped up from his chair. “Good morning, Sir!” The two clerks touched their hands to their chest in greeting.

  “Aditi?” Manoj asked as he placed his bag on the table.

  She glared at him, mute.

  Arvind sensed the temper that was building within her. “She just came here, Sir. What can you say, sometimes it gets… suffocating… you know, all alone; and given these incidents… and all that she went through…”

  The people around nodded in agreement. If Manoj sensed something was wrong, he didn’t show it.

  “…Sir, when did you return? Right now? You must have heard about…”

  “Yes,” Manoj said urgently as he pulled out a file and handed to a staff. “I don’t know what that Mukhiya was playing at. Beheaded in that temple, for god’s sake! Where were you? Do you know how it happened?” he asked Aditi.

  She did not respond.

  “Why don’t you go home, Sir. We will take care of this file. You have just returned. And Madam has been waiting.” Manoj threw another glance at Aditi. “Should I get a rickshaw, Sir? Don’t worry about work here. I am sure Madam has lots to talk.”

  And then Arvind had marched out.

  “What black magic are you talking about?” Inspector Mishra asked.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Aditi snapped.

  “What has happened to you, my son! What are you saying! Please come here. Lie down. Rest. You will feel better.”

  “Feel better? How? For all I know I will wake up dead if I spend another day with this man!”

  “Mr Prasad, come with me?”

  “Please son, come inside. Sit. Inspector Sahib, leave …”

  “I don’t want to do anything with this man…”

  “Where? You can’t take me anywhere. You have no warrant!”

  “Sahib, please, listen to me…”

  “We need to talk, Mr Prasad. Not at the station. Not at your home. Or do you prefer I return with a warrant. Now that your wife has made such a statement.”

  “…selling me off to Nepal wasn’t enough!”

  Manoj hesitated, then stormed out. The inspector followed. The door was shut. Bhagvati ran behind them and slumped to the floor, her head in her hands. Payal stood at the back door, the broom still in her hands.

  *

  Someone knocked at the door about an hour later. Payal opened it to find a man dressed in white. “Is Sir home?”

  She was dumbstruck for a moment. Eventually she let out a guttural no.

  “Is Ma’am here?”

  She didn’t understand.

  “Madam? Aditi Madam?”

  Payal nodded vehemently.

  Manish Singh, the youngest son of the deceased Mukhiya, appeared at the door to the bedroom. He seemed to have shrunk in the span of two days. His hair dishevelled. Eyes sunk in their hollows. Beard unmaintained. He folded his hands flimsily and said, “I heard Sir returned this morning?”

  Aditi felt pity for the man. She was sitting on her bed, her arms wrapped around her folded knees. She wanted to ask him how he was doing. His father and brother, whatever they did, had just died the most horrific death. She was certain that he had no role to play in the conspiracy. He had just taken a wrong holiday. “Yes, he has gone to the bank, I suppose,” she replied instead.

  “Bank? Straight away?”

  “He came here. Then this police inspector took him somewhere.”

  “Yes, I was meaning to talk to you about this inspector as well. I heard he was troubling you. Is that so? I will have a talk with him. He has even summoned me. Sent a message there was something urgent.”

 
“You should talk to him. He does have something urgent to discuss.”

  Manish studied her for a moment. He had almost turned to leave when he said again, “Can I say something, Ma’am?”

  “Call me Aditi,” she said impassively, and looked away.

  “I feel a growing unrest in this village. People are angry. Someone unleashed a curse upon us. And you seem to be in the centre of it. I will talk to Sir as well. You should leave as soon as you can. Take a leave and cross the river before it’s too late.” He lingered, hoping for a reply. When none came, he walked out quietly.

  It was late afternoon when Manoj returned, furious and fuming. He banged the door open, his breaths coming out as gasps. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Then dashed into the kitchen. Several utensils were thrown on the floor. Bhagvati came running in from the backyard.

  “Who was that inspector?” he bellowed, his voice cracking. Aditi stayed on her bed, gritting her teeth. “What has she been doing while I was away? How does he know her? How does he! Did she sleep with him? Did you?” He was back in the hall, pacing up and down like a mad bull, though he didn’t dare enter her room. “This woman has ruined my life! What was I thinking! Curse the day I married her! This cursed women! What do you want? What do you want from me?”

  “Please drink some water, son. Oh! This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come here!”

  “What do you want from me woman! Tell me! I am just a bank employee. Yet I give you whatever you ask for. And all I ask in return is peace. But what have you given me? Nothing!”

  “I will go back, son. I will never bother you again. Please calm down. I will leave.”

  “What do you want? Tell me! I struggled my whole life to earn whatever I have today, only to be accused by my own wife of plotting to kill her. Did you hear what the inspector said? Did you see how he threatened me in front of my staff? You want my ruin, don’t you? You want my life, don’t you?”

  Silence followed. Then Bhagvati shrieked and rushed to the kitchen. Manoj had picked up a jar of kerosene. She tried to snatch it away from him. He pushed past her and stormed out into the backyard. Payal stood like a statue beside the hand-pump as he uncapped the jar and poured the liquid over his head. The scent of kerosene drifted into the bedroom. Aditi stiffened. She went to the back door to see the drama unfold.

  “Pour water!” Bhagvati shouted at her daughter. “What are you staring at! Pour water!”

  Payal began to furiously fill a bucket.

  Bhagvati ran to him. Manoj pushed her back and banged the jar on the ground. “Get me a match-box! Set me on fire!” He started for the kitchen but found Aditi standing at the doorway. He hesitated.

  “What is taking you to fill one goddamn bucket!” Bhagvati screamed.

  Manoj inhaled deeply and hurried past Aditi, leaving a trail of kerosene, and began searching for a match-box in the hall. He upturned the cot, heaved a bag, never checking once in the kitchen. Bhagvati hopped behind him, trying to bring him back to the courtyard. He pushed her again and made for the main door. She fell to the ground and grabbed his legs, clinging onto them as if she was hanging off a cliff. “What are you doing there?” she shouted at her daughter. “Come here and stand at the door.”

  Payal ran to the door and stood there, not knowing what to do next. Manoj barked at her to move. She didn’t budge. He grabbed her by her arm and pushed her aside. She ran back to her spot. He grabbed her arm again, but this time, twisted it behind her back. She bent forward and screamed. He raised his fist and punched her hard on her back. Once. Twice. On the third time, he let go of her hand and she staggered forward, hit a wall and fell to the floor.

  Aditi had had enough. It was one thing putting up a show looking for match sticks. How dare he beat the poor girl! She went to her bedroom and came out with a match-box. “Here,” she flung it at him, then knelt to tend to the crying girl.

  Manoj didn’t react. The box hit his chest and fell. He waited a few moments, then bent down to pick it up, giving enough time to Bhagvati to snatch it away. She pulled him out to the yard. “Get the bucket!”

  Payal wiped her tears and ran to the hand-pump. Manoj had stopped struggling. He was pacing up and down the courtyard… and his foot fell in the pit Bachcha had dug. He fell on his hips and, for a moment, tried to gather what had happened, looking dazed.

  Payal seized the opportunity and emptied the bucket over his head.

  The four of them didn’t move for some time. The women watched Manoj as he sat in the middle of the yard, his legs sprawled in front of him, his mouth wide open, water trickling down his head. Then Bhagvati began to take off his shirt. He didn’t protest. He was in his vest when someone knocked at the door.

  Payal opened it.

  “I want to see the manager,” demanded Inspector Mishra and marched in, only to stop dead when he saw the scene in the backyard. He looked around the hall, sniffing. “What is going on here?”

  “Why have you come again?” screamed Bhagvati. “Can’t you see what you have done? Was this not enough?”

  “We have made an arrest. I thought Manager Sahib would be interested. It’s someone he knows very well.” With that he went back to the hall and waited. Manoj dried himself and came in, still in his drenched vest. Aditi remained at the back door, her arms folded.

  “You, girl, what is your name?”

  “Payal.”

  “Yes, Payal. Go outside and shut the door behind you.” Inspector Mishra waited till Payal had gone out. He studied Manoj for some time, but didn’t make any comment. “As I said, we have made an arrest. But what still remains uncertain is your role in this whole conspiracy.”

  “What the hell conspiracy?” Manoj gritted his teeth.

  “Again, I need a few answers. First, did you come here alone this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one was with you?”

  “No.”

  “You took a bus?”

  “Yes.”

  “Show me the ticket.”

  Manoj didn’t move. He sat on the cot, his head hung low, fingers clasped together, a drop of water falling off his hair every now and then. Just as the inspector opened his mouth to ask again, Manoj began to search his pockets. “The shirt,” he whispered hoarsely. Bhagvati went to the backyard and found a ticket in the front pocket.

  “Just one then,” Inspector Mishra said, examining the wet piece of paper. “Your brother didn’t come with you?”

  Manoj raised his head, alert for the first time.

  Inspector Mishra adjusted his belt and turned to Aditi. “Have you heard of M. G. Market? Mahatma Gandhi Market?”

  “Ajay’s gas agency is in M. G. Market,” Aditi replied.

  “And Parvati Utensils?”

  Aditi shook her head. The inspector turned back to Manoj.

  “I don’t know any Parvati Utensils,” Manoj said. He was shivering.

  “Oh! I see. Parvati Utensils is in M. G. Market, just in front of your agency, where your brother sits all day. And it is run by a widow, Madhu, short for Madhumita. Does her name ring any bell?” Manoj had his eyes fixed on the inspector now. “Of course it does! Her husband was a dentist. About three years ago, two men barged into his clinic and shot him dead. But you know her because she is your brother’s current landlord… and the woman he is having an affair with.” He paused. “And it also happens that she is Heera Lal Singh’s eldest daughter!”

  “You said you have arrested someone?” Manoj said flatly.

  “Yes,” the inspector was observing him closely, “the person who followed you to Ufrail.”

  Manoj was still impassive. “Who?”

  “You brother, Ajay Prasad.”

  Manoj leapt from his seat. “What? He is in Madhepura!”

  “Is he? We found him holed up in Heera Singh’s house this very afternoon.”

  “I know what this is,” barked Manoj, taking a step forward, “you have to show something for the Mukhiya’s death. And you are dragging us into…”
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  “No I am not! In fact, I am keeping you away from his case.”

  “Where is Ajay? You are just accusing him with your made-up conspiracy. And what is this conspiracy?” Manoj turned to Aditi, “You see what you have done? You see? My brother… arrested. Only he knows what he must be going through. Are you happy now?”

  “Don’t blame your wife, Mr Prasad, your brother has confessed.”

  “No, he didn’t! You must have forced him!”

  “Why does he hate your wife, Mr Prasad?” Inspector Mishra dragged a chair in front of Manoj and sat down. “Are you aware that he has been telling everyone he meets that you two have filed for a divorce, that your wife is good for nothing and you have had enough of her. That she is characterless. She used to roam around with men before marriage and even after. That she cannot even give you a child. What a poor man his brother is, living in misery with his wife!” When Manoj remained silent, the inspector continued, “Of course you knew. He used to come to this village for this very reason. To spread rumours. Before Aditi came here, many people actually believed that you two were divorced. And some sought to take advantage of this situation. Like our Mukhiya and his cousin, Heera Lal Singh.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Your brother and his lover, this Madhu, plotted to have your wife kidnapped. Madhu had heard him for years cursing your wife. And then she came up with an idea. You see, she has a younger sister, unmarried sister, mentally underdeveloped. I think you know her very well, Mr Prasad. What’s her name… Geeta, or Gitanjali, right? What better a groom for her than a bank manager! And what’s more, once you married her, Ajay could move into your house, which I assume, Aditi had not allowed so far. And then Madhu could visit her sister, you and of course your beloved brother anytime she wanted to without any suspicious glances from others. What a happy family it would make, wouldn’t it? Two brothers and two sisters living together in a house full of happiness and laughter!