What Maya Saw

by Shabnam Minwalla

  ‘Huh? What? Yeah,’ Mandira replied, glancing vaguely at Maya, and then turning back to her friends. Maya recognised Mandira as the Donald Duck impersonator of the first day.

  Lola grabbed her golden iPhone from her bag and tapped Maya’s number into it. Then she found a seat behind Maya and began chatting with her new neighbour, a strapping boy called VJ, who had an American accent.

  ‘Who’s your favourite of the three teachers?’ Lola asked as part of her routine inquisition. ‘Maya and I find Father D’Gama quite creepy. He looks like he’s crawled out of a grave, doesn’t he?’

  VJ let out a guffaw. ‘That’s a good one,’ he said. ‘Let’s look around for the maggots.’

  Maya flinched. At that moment, Veda walked into the room. Her hair looked distinctly like Dora the Explorer on a bad adventure day. Her orange kurta would have made a capacious tent for a colour-blind gypsy. But what Maya noticed—with a sudden shock of recognition—was the tall pile of books that Veda was holding in front of her face.

  Something clicked.

  Knowledge. Veda was Knowledge.

  Without knowing how she knew, Maya knew.

  ‘Don’t even think it,’ she admonished herself. But there was no getting away from it. The girl in the orange kurta was bossy and opinionated. She was a fashion disaster. But if anybody in this room possessed knowledge, it was Veda. She was Miss Know-It-All because she really did know it all.

  Anyway, none of this mattered because this business about eternal youth and Shadows was hogwash. The deluded ramblings of an old man.

  Then, because that thought didn’t seem firm and final enough, Maya sent an ultimatum into the ether. ‘I refuse to believe any of this … unless … unless … I get some proof within the next 30 minutes,’ she decided.

  Thirty seconds later, the unexpected happened. The Universe rose to her challenge and tossed her a shred of proof.

  It happened as Radhika Rathod and Father D’Gama entered the classroom. In the sudden silence, Maya heard a venomous whisper from behind her left shoulder.

  ‘… that mousy creature in that tacky, piss-coloured yellow top …’

  ‘… just a kid,’ replied an amused, deep voice.

  ‘You’ve always been a fool,’ the first voice hissed. ‘… sees something … knows something … reacts strangely … library … looking at you and me …’

  Maya couldn’t help herself. She glanced over her shoulder and felt fear wash over her.

  Amara and Owais were examining her with clinical intensity.

  Owais caught her eye. He smiled, revealing red gums and sharp, white teeth.

  Slowly he raised his hand, pursed his perfect lips and blew her a kiss.

  Maya felt nauseated.

  Never had she ever imagined that the handsomest boy in Bombay would blow her a kiss. Never had she imagined that it would be the most puke-inducing moment of her life.

  CHAPTER 9

  ‘Today, we are going to discuss sources,’ Radhika Rathod announced briskly.

  She looked trendy and bright. Quite different from Father D’Gama who, with his exhausted expression and rumpled white cassock, could well have clawed his way out of a crypt.

  ‘Where do we find information when we’re researching our city?’ Radhika Rathod continued. ‘Are primary sources of information superior to secondary sources of information?’

  All around Maya, the discussion raged. But Maya heard nothing except the clamour and questions in her own mind. Till Radhika Rathod’s bright voice pushed aside the images of death and dark magic.

  ‘Think, think, think,’ the teacher urged. ‘Where would we find primary sources of information in the college? Sharanya suggested that we interview old priests and teachers. That’s one way. Any other?’

  ‘VJ? Denzil? Rupali? Nobody?’

  Radhika Rathod looked around the classroom. Only one hand was raised – a hand that was raised through most of the day, every single day.

  ‘Okay, Veda,’ the teacher said, resignedly. ‘I was hoping someone else would have a contribution. But you tell us.’

  Veda sat up straight, tapped her notebook with a pen and launched into a mini-masterclass. ‘In my opinion, the best sources of primary information are the diaries, articles and memoirs of the priests who taught at St Paul’s. For example, there are some records of trips by Father Johannes, who set up the Zoology department in the college. There’s actually an entire section about how he brought the camel skeleton to Bombay. The one that hangs in the Zoology department.’

  ‘Then there are accounts of plant collection expeditions by the priests who worked in the herbarium. Father Ebbe, who created the herbarium, collected rare plants in areas like Kurla and Wadala, just about 80 years ago. Which tells us a lot about what Mumbai once was. In the not-so-distant past.’

  The class was getting restless. Clinton and Paramjit yawned loudly. Mandira and gang jingled their silver bracelets, sniggered and made puky faces.

  ‘Arre, bore mat kar,’ somebody grunted, and a titter ran through the room.

  Veda was no favourite.

  ‘Nerda’s in form today,’ a voice sneered. ‘But then, if you look like a Halloween pumpkin then you’ve got nothing better to do with yourself than read crap in the library. Loser.’

  Alarmed by the venom in the voice, Maya whirled around and saw Amara gazing at Veda with disgust.

  Radhika Rathod hushed the distracted class. ‘Veda, they sound fascinating,’ she said. ‘Have you actually read them? Do you know where these first-person accounts can be found?’

  ‘Many are in the college departments,’ Veda replied. ‘But there are quite a few stored in the library. They are difficult to read. The ink has faded, the writing is cramped and old-fashioned. Some of these are not even in the library catalogue but Tyrone Saldanha—the chief librarian—showed me where to find them.’

  Veda looked smug – almost as if the chief librarian had bestowed a knighthood on her.

  Radhika Rathod chuckled. ‘You’re one of the favoured few. Tyrone guards his secrets jealously. Can you give us an example of these diaries or memoirs?’

  ‘Just last month I was going through a diary maintained by an old principal of St Paul’s,’ Veda said. ‘Father Lorenzo, whose portrait is in the big hall. He talks about how he planned the college buildings and the symbolism of the gargoyles and the carving and the stained glass.’

  Maya felt as if she had been zinged by a stun gun. Somebody at the back of the room bit back an exclamation. Father D’Gama dropped a book with a shocking thud.

  Radhika Rathod didn’t notice the change in mood. Businesslike as ever, she checked her watch and announced, ‘Today, all of you are going to find one primary source of information about Mumbai between 1850 and 1950. You can look in the small department libraries. You can look in the college library. Or anywhere else that you like. You can find somebody to interview. It’s up to you. Let’s see what you come up with in the next two hours. Enjoy your historical treasure hunt.’

  The students pulled out papers and pens. Uncertainly, they trailed out of Lecture Room 113. Maya was just behind Aadil, and she almost bumped into his rotund figure when he suddenly stopped, swivelled around, made an operatic gesture with his hands and called to Veda, ‘Veda my peach, I needed a tiny peep into your notes. Where are you going?’

  ‘To the Zoology department,’ Veda replied

  ‘Zoology?’ Aadil looked stumped. ‘On the top floor? Somewhere among the clouds?’

  Veda rolled her eyes. ‘We’ve been at St Paul’s for three years now. And you don’t know where the Zoology department is? How?’

  ‘I can’t stand the sight of blood and bones, as you well know,’ Aadil wailed, fluttering hand to heart. ‘I don’t have your iron constitution.’

  Mandira and the jangling-bracelet crowd sniggered.

  ‘We don’t know where it is either,’ one of them confessed. ‘In fact, we’re not fully sure what zoology is. After all, poor Aadil wants to become a filmmaker,
not a bone-ologist or whatever.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect YOU to know,’ Veda answered scornfully.

  Mandira and her friends found this wildly funny.

  ‘Chill, Veda. What’s your problem?’ they chorused, before staggering out of the class, doubled over with hilarity. ‘Miss Know-It-All. Bet she doesn’t know where the canteen is.’

  Veda ignored them. But as she steamed out of the room, Maya caught a glimpse of her perplexed expression. ‘Poor Veda,’ she murmured to Lola. ‘It’s tough to be so different.’

  Lola was checking her phone, and seemed distracted. ‘I need to make a call,’ she told Maya. ‘You go ahead. I’ll find you.’

  Maya stepped into the corridor, unsure about where to go. Should she try and find Professor Kekobad? Should she wait for Lola? Should she brave the library and look for Father Lorenzo’s diary?

  Just then, she spotted two figures at the far end of the corridor. The figure in front was short, stocky and swathed in retina-scorching orange.

  Veda.

  The second figure was slim, tall and dressed in fashionable teal. Even from this distance, Maya could see the glossy curls and dancer’s grace.

  Amara.

  Why was Amara following Veda? Of course, it could be a coincidence, but there was something menacing about Amara’s movements, a lizard creeping upon an unsuspecting beetle.

  ‘It’s really not my business,’ Maya told herself firmly. But as the orange and teal figures vanished into the dim, deserted stairwell at the very end of the corridor, something propelled her in their direction.

  The stairwell was silent when she got to it. A feeble light filtered through the grimy windows. The steps were arranged in a tight spiral, like a forbidding turret out of a fairy story. Godrej cupboards and massive metal trunks stood on the landings, creating crevices and shadows. With every step, Maya slowed down. She was terrified of what was waiting at the top.

  Finally, the stairs ended in a broad landing with wide, shuttered windows. On either side was a door. The door to the right was coated with thick blue oil paint. It was locked and marked ‘Priests’ Quarters. Private’.

  The door to the left was ajar, and in the feeble light, Maya read the word ‘ZOOLOGY’ on the signboard.

  Still, Maya was not prepared for the sight that greeted her in the lofty gallery. A bleached, white skeleton with an elongated skull loomed in the murk. Ahead of her, suspended from the ceiling with stout wires, was the bony form of a monstrous fish with a flesh-ripping smile. On the wooden cabinets stood jars in which shapeless, dead things floated in liquid.

  Dead hearts. Dead jellyfish. A tiny dead baby monkey.

  The windows were shut tight and the room was awash with shapes and uncertainties. Maya shrank away from the hollows amidst the Godrej cupboards and sturdy wooden shelves. She simply could not enter this vast gallery of death.

  So she stood there, as petrified as the bones and skulls that confronted her. Till she heard the sound that made her hair stand on end.

  A peal of laughter.

  Something about that laughter—laced with deceit—forced Maya to act. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the room, running past vertebrae and undulating flesh to the door at the other end.

  This opened into a bright office with a little window, a single desk and glass-fronted bookshelves. A skull grinned next to a white coffee mug on the desk. A curved bone served as a paperweight. But that apart, the yellow-checked cushions on the chairs and the sloping ceiling made the room seem cosy and safe.

  Maya spotted a slice of orange. Veda was poring over a bookshelf. Next to her Amara was laughing gaily. ‘Veda, you’re the coolest,’ she said in a voice that combined honey and poison. ‘Amazing.’

  Neither Veda nor Amara noticed the eavesdropper at the door.

  Maya backed away, careful to avoid the enormous tortoise shell that served as a doorstopper. ‘Don’t get taken in,’ she thought as she crept behind the door. ‘Veda, she’s lying to you. Don’t believe her.’

  Veda seemed in no mood to play gullible fool. From her vantage point behind the door, Maya heard Veda’s curt response. ‘I never knew you were at all interested in academics. So why suddenly—’

  ‘Of course I’m interested,’ Amara said. ‘People always get the wrong impression about me. Maybe that’s why they’re so unfriendly. But I really admire you. I wish I was as gifted as you.’

  ‘But you and your friends are always bunking class and sitting in the canteen,’ Veda snorted. ‘The only time you people bother with the rest of us is when you need our notes for the exams. So what do you want now?’

  ‘No, no …’ Amara said faintly. ‘It’s just that … you’re always topping the class … I just feel I’d be wasting your time. You’re always winning prizes and awards.’

  ‘Is that why you call me Nerda?’ Veda asked, and her voice trembled a teeny bit.

  ‘Nerda?’ Amara wailed. ‘I’ve never … this is so awful … who told you this? Oh, oh …’

  ‘I guess it’s just a misunderstanding,’ Veda replied, sounding uncomfortable. ‘Please. I didn’t want to make you cry.’

  There was silence for a few minutes. Standing behind the wooden door, Maya panicked. She didn’t dare peep. But she wanted to know what Amara was up to.

  Then Veda spoke into the hush. ‘It’s odd that Father Furtado isn’t here,’ she said, much less hostile now. ‘He’s always here. He’s over 90, you know. The priests’ rooms are just on the other side of the landing so he can get here easily.’

  ‘Oh!’ Amara sounded as if she really didn’t want to know any more about Father Furtado and his habits. ‘Veda, you really know the most amazing things. Only you would know about Father Lorenzo’s memoirs. Where on earth did you find them? Will you show them to me?’

  Behind the door, Maya stiffened. ‘Aha,’ she thought. ‘That’s what you want. But Veda will never hand over the diary on a platter.’

  Veda, though, had no reason to be suspicious. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘But the memoirs really aren’t connected with the Summer School. I just mentioned them as an example.’

  ‘When can you find them for me?’ Amara said, a blade lurking beneath the velvet.

  ‘One of these days,’ Veda replied. ‘We need to focus on this assignment now.’

  Another silence. Then Amara laughed again, a brittle, malicious sound that gave Maya the heebies.

  ‘What?’ Veda asked. ‘Why are you staring like that?’

  ‘I forgot to tell you,’ Amara said. ‘You know Aniruddh? That hostelite in Eco Psycho?’

  Maya couldn’t see Veda’s face, but she could hear the transformation in her voice. A sudden softness and breathlessness. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We’re in Psycho together.’

  ‘Ani’s quite hot, isn’t he?’ Amara laughed. ‘Anyway, he’s been asking me to introduce the two of you.’

  For once, Veda was at a loss for words. ‘Oh,’ she choked. ‘He asked you?’

  ‘At least a couple of times,’ Amara replied. ‘It’s the only time he’s ever asked me for something like this. He seems quite … quite dazzled by your … your brainpower. He should be back from Nepal in a couple of days. Maybe we can all go out for a coffee.’

  ‘Oh,’ Veda sounded stunned, and Amara seized the moment.

  ‘I’ll fix it all,’ she said. ‘It would be great if you could tell me where I can find that memoir, though.’

  More silence. Then sudden laughter. Then Veda asked, sounding giddy and happy, ‘How well do you know the library?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Maya wanted to shriek. Amara must not get that diary. But how could she prevent Veda from blurting out the details?

  Maya looked around for inspiration – but saw only jars with grey, amorphous stuff floating in them. Maybe she could smash one of the jars on Amara’s head. The thought of those perfect, black curls and sneery face covered in grey gloop was very satisfying but …

  ‘You know the area right at the back where—’ Veda’s voice carried on,
loud and obliging.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Amara tried to hurry the information out of Veda.

  Maya was nervously reaching out for a jar when the universe intervened for the second time in a single day. Her phone rang, shrill and intrusive in the quiet of the Zoology department. She stiffened and grabbed it as Amara called, ‘Who’s there?’

  Which was when Maya had her brainwave.

  She quickly stepped out from behind the door and backed into the gallery.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, into the phone. ‘I’ve just entered the Zoology department but there’s nobody here. The signal’s very bad.’

  At the other end, she heard Lola’s voice crackling faintly. But she just kept talking.

  ‘What? ... I guess Veda will know. She’s apparently the ultimate nerd. You know those two who sit at the back of the class. Owais and that girl Amara. They call her Nerda. Isn’t that a horrid name? Apparently Nerda has a crush on some boy in her Psychology class and they think it’s hilarious—’

  Maya heard a loud crash. Then Veda barrelled her way out of the office, face blazing and eyes swimming. Amara came rushing behind her saying, ‘Veda, believe me …’ She spotted Maya and spat, ‘You again … Veda, it’s all lies …’

  ‘No,’ Veda said. ‘I should’ve seen through you, Amara. I should’ve known better. I should have trusted my instincts. Forget it. I don’t know what you want but you’re not getting it from me. Get out now.’

  Amara blazed at Maya and then strode out of the room.

  Veda sank down onto a wooden laboratory stool. She looked close to tears. ‘What do you want?’ she asked Maya. ‘Why were you talking about me? You’re not even from St Paul’s, are you?’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ Maya muttered.

  ‘You should be,’ Veda said, standing up. ‘Anyway, whatever you want, I don’t care. I’m too busy. We have an assignment to complete, in case you’ve all forgotten.’

  Maya stared at Veda, hoping for a sign that she was on the right track. But this time, the Universe didn’t oblige. Maya was on her own – and she made a snap decision.