by Amit Nangia
“Mrs Chauhan, Mr Sinha’s diary indicates that you and your grandson visited him the week before he died.”
A blush tinged the old woman’s white pallor as she dug her bony fingers into her lap. “Yes. He was one of the few lawyers in town. He handled some legal affairs for us.”
“And Girish? He was only…what, around twenty back then?”
“Nineteen, but he was already part of a youth party. Mr Sinha was overseeing its legal executions.”
The quickness of her reply struck him as odd, almost as if she’d practiced her response. Also, she seemed to have an answer for everything. Chalak hai budhiya, he thought.
“Inspector Abhay Pandey, I hate to bring this up after what happened to the poor family, but I was withdrawing my accounts from Mr Sinha. There were rumours that he was sharing confidential information to the opposition party. But when we stopped business with him, it might be possible that someone from the opposition party killed him as he didn’t provide the information even after taking money from them. And my family certainly couldn’t have had our name associated with someone like that,” the old woman said.
Abhay studied the old woman. She was cunning and definitely out to protect her family. But at what cost? “And you think that might be the reason for his death?”
“Who knows?” The woman toyed with the diamond rings on her hand. “Or perhaps someone found out and Mr Sinha was so distraught, he killed himself. Politics can be a vicious game…Or he was involved with the wrong people and they murdered him.”
What a witch! Or rather a bitch. Abhay wanted to send Suchitra Devi to Shukla’s third degree cell. He thought that was the only place where this bitch would speak up. He imagined Shukla beating her up with his bamboo danda.
“Was your son Pradeep Chauhan here the night the Sinhas died?”
“Oh, no. He was away on the campaign,” she said examining her nails. “But he came back right away to check on the child.”
Abhay got up. He’d had enough of her and her crap. “Is your son here?”
“No, he and Tara are hosting a charity event tonight.”
“Kuch kaam bhi kar liya karo, bas charity function karte rehtey ho. What about your grandson Girish?”
Even though she was acting to be as cool as a cucumber, anxiety streaked Suchitra Devi Chauhan’s face for an instant. “He’s in his office, but I believe he’s busy at the moment. You could make an appointment with his secretary.”
“Appointment toh mainey iss duniya mein aaney ka bhi nahi liya, bas aa gya.” He snapped as he walked towards Girish’s office.
Outside Girish’s office, he saw Girish’s secretary – a sexual fantasy of nineteen or twenty. She stopped him from entering inside. “You can’t go in without an appointment.”
He observed the sexy secretary who was trying to stop him. His appraising glance covered everything from the top of her head to her tiny waist. It took in the expensive dress which she wore, and the gold necklace and earrings which seemed like expensive gifts given to her for some favours she would have bestowed on Girish.
Sensing she was being observed, she tore her eyes away and heaved herself up out of the chair. Her eyes flickering curiously, she asked, “Girish sir is busy for this week. Should I book an appointment for next week?”
All he was checking out were her nicely shaped breasts. He wondered how they would fit in his palms. Abhay looked at her breasts and then at junior, and then finally at her face.
“I need to see Girish Chauhan,” he said as he moved towards the cabin door.
“We do not accept walk-ins, under any circumstances, inspector.”
“That’s good,” Abhay replied with a little heat. “But I am not asking you, just telling you baby.” He winked to her and walked past her and kicked open the door. “Mera jab man chahey, mein tab wahan ja sakta hoon. It’s better if you remember – I go where I feel like, when I feel like.” Abhay walked inside majestically, and made sure his statement was heard by Girish as it was intended more for him than for his sexy secretary.
“Oh, it’s you inspector. I didn’t see you. What brings you here?” Girish asked flashing an uncomfortable smile.
Abhay made himself comfortable in one of the leather chairs and put his feet up on the table. He briefly explained to Girish about his investigation into the Sinha case. “I wondered what business you had with Mr Sinha years ago.” There was the rasp of a match as Abhay lit his fifteenth cigarette of the day. Girish edged the ashtray forward to receive the spent match, but was too late. Abhay’s foot ground the carpet, and the smell of burning wool joined the other aromas.
Girish’s smile slipped slightly. “I didn’t have business with him,” Girish said. “I was just a young boy then.”
Abhay hesitated, remembering Suchitra Devi Chauhan’s story. “You didn’t go to see him about handling your youth party’s legal affairs?”
Girish looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, yes, I did. Although I don’t remember what day it was that I was scheduled to see Mr Sinha. If I remember correctly, I don’t think I ever made it to the meeting.”
“Are you sure you didn’t meet him at all that week? Soch lo, nahin toh merey paas aur tareekey bhi hain sach ugalwaaney ke.” Abhay gritted his teeth.
Girish ki fatt gyi. He stammered. “No, no. Not at all. Now, if there isn’t anything else, I have an important meeting to go to.”
Abhay grinned. He knew Girish was lying but he thought it was enough for the day. He stood up to leave. “Phir milenge, very very soon.”
Abhay dialled Shukla’s number as he sat in his jeep. Could Suchitra Devi Chauhan or Girish possibly be responsible for everything that happened to Naina – her parents’ deaths, the threats, the attack, the tape recorder, the crushed flowers? But if they had killed her parents and didn’t want her to remember, why send her things that might trigger that memory? Unless…unless they thought she was unstable and might become so distraught that she’d take her own life. He certainly didn’t like that line of thinking.
Abhay reduced the volume of the jeep stereo as Shukla received the call. “Kya baat kartey ho Shuklaji. Why were you not picking the phone? Have you left the police force or what?” Abhay said, as he steered his jeep out of Chauhans’ mansion.
“Sorry sirji, woh baat nahin hain na. Actually Mishraji had ordered me to make some fresh tea with ginger. He has a bad throat, you see. So both my hands were occupied,” Shukla replied hastily.
“Did you do some work, or just kept making tea?”
“Sirji, kaam hum poora karte hain, by God ki kasam. I had brought Ashish in for interrogation, but even before I used my danda, he started crying like a wimping kid. Even Mishraji could have taken Ashish down with one simple blow and the man would never know what hit him.” Shukla said in a single breath.
Abhay grinned at Shukla’s comment. “How did his I-card reach Naina’s car?”
Shukla continued, “Sirji, he said he had dropped it when he took Naina home that day. I have even checked his fingerprints and they don’t match with those on the knife. Even Naina called to say that Ashish is incapable of killing anyone.”
Abhay thought, So he took her home. Hmm. Lagta hai pyar abhi baki hai.
The car stereo hummed at low volume:
“Oh womaniya, aah aah womaniya,
badley boyfriend badley apna saiyaan.
oh womaiya aah aaah womaniya.”
The jeep bumped on a speed-breaker, breaking Abhay’s chain of thoughts. “Did you find any information about Ria Sood?”
“Sirji, she’s not at her place; her house has been cleaned out.”
What in the hell did Ria Sood have to do with all this? Was she a paid assistant in someone’s demented game or was she some psycho who had planned the whole scheme to torment Naina on her own? But why would she do something like that? Abhay wondered.
“Also, I found out that when she’d come to Allahabad, she volunteered on Girish Chauhan’s campaign, and learned some general office skills along wi
th some bedroom skills while working with him. You know what Girish’s motto is.”
“What motto?” Abhay asked.
Shukla continued in a sing- song manner: “Apun ko toh chahiye, din mein special chai; shaam ko daaru, raat ko ladki, aur neend aa jaye. Sirji, all he needs is alcohol and girls. From there, Ria had taken the job with Naina. So her connection to the Chauhan family is Girish, not Suchitra Devi. I think when Naina returned, Ria helped Girish torture Naina because she was physically involved with him. A logical reason for a girl like Ria.”
Naina looked out of the window at the fading sunlight as it formed shadows on the lawn. Just like in her nightmares, she thought. In every shadow she thought she saw the silhouette of a man. She was more certain every day that the vision in her dreams was the man who’d killed her parents. And if she could just remember that night and see his face, she could make him pay for destroying her life and murdering her family.
The phone rang interrupting Naina’s thoughts.
“Naina, it’s Uncle Chauhan.”
“Hello Uncle,” she said cautiously. She wasn’t sure what to expect after his last phone call.
“Tara told me that she enjoyed having lunch with you.”
“Yes,” Naina croaked.
“I’m so glad that you both are friends. I’m calling to invite you and a date, of course, to my house for a private dinner party tomorrow night. Can you make it?”
“I thought you didn’t want me getting close to your family,” she said softly.
“Naina, that was a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I’m sorry. Please, I really want you to come.”
“Ok, I am not sure about the date. But I’ll try and come,” Naina said wondering if Abhay would go with her to the party.
“Great! It means a lot to me. See you at seven,” he said and hung up.
Naina dialled Abhay’s number and he picked up the phone and lowered the stereo volume. “Hi Naina. I wasn’t expecting your call. I thought you would be busy with Aashiq. Oh sorry, Ashish.”
Naina’s face turned red at the mention of Ashish. “Abhay he was just here to see me as he was genuinely concerned about me. He ran back to Mumbai after meeting Constable Shukla. He isn’t even taking my calls anymore.”
Abhay covered the phone and laughed out, but controlled and said in a sullen tone, “Oh! That’s so sad. Don’t worry. Main hoon na!”
Naina slipped in her proposal. “Stop mocking that poor guy. Plus, I want your help. Uncle Chauhan has invited me to his home for dinner.”
“Should I turn back towards their home? I am coming from there only.”
“No! He has invited us tomorrow night! Uff!”
Abhay replied immediately, “I would love to go there and spread my love to dearest Girish and Suchitra Devi. I even want to get their fingerprints as they are prime suspects in my eyes.”
Naina was dressed in a black sari, and a simple but elegant gold bracelet, necklace and earrings. She wanted to look her best to meet Uncle Chauhan’s family. Tonight might be the night she unlocks the key to her past. And if it was, it would be her last night with Abhay. The case would be over, she would deal with the past, and she would move back to Mumbai. She had to do, what she had to. Naina retouched her makeup and brushed her hair one last time.
She heard loud music and the brakes of a car. She ran to the door and saw Abhay sitting in his jeep. Like a king on his throne. He was dressed in a black suit and white shirt. His red scarf made him look even more handsome.
Abhay was amazed to see Naina. His eyes lit up when he saw her.
And the jeep stereo continued: “Dekha jo tujhe yaar,dil mein baji guitar…”
“You look beautiful, Naina,” he said.
“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself,” she said.
On the way to the party, Naina mentally prepared herself to meet Uncle Chauhan’s family members. One of them could possibly be her parents’ murderer and the thought that she was going to be at a party with the person deeply disturbed her. They soon reached the mansion. At the door, a maid greeted them and ushered them into the dining area.
Uncle Chauhan came over to Naina, his face aglow. “It’s so nice to see you,” he said wrapping her in a warm embrace.
All the doubts that Naina had about him vanished from her mind. Her uncle loved her. He could never do anything to hurt her. Abhay shook hands with Pradeep Chauhan when he finally let Naina go.
“It’s nice to see you, Inspector Abhay Pandey,” he said.
They walked into the luxurious dining room where the rest of the family was gathered. Naina’s eye met with the formidable-looking Suchitra Devi Chauhan, who came and stood at the head of the table.
“Aagayi budhiya!” Abhay muttered in Naina’s ears.
“Mother, you remember Naina?” Uncle Chauhan said.
“Yes I do. How are you, Naina?”
Naina forced a smile and ignored the sharp look the old woman gave them. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“Would you like a drink?” Uncle Chauhan offered.
“Fresh lime will be fine.” Naina wanted her wits about her tonight.
Tara came around and gave Naina a tight hug. “Hi, Naina. I’m so glad you could make it.
“Me too,” Naina said, grateful to have a friend in the family.
Girish looked unshaven and quite drunk when he stumbled into the room. He slapped his father on the back, then hugged his grandmother.
Suchitra Devi winced. “Remember my sore arm, dear.”
Abhay didn’t fail to notice that Suchitra Devi’s arm had suffered an injury. The older woman’s wound was in the same place he thought Naina had stabbed her attacker.
Uncle Chauhan shot Girish a hard look. “It looks like you’ve been at it again, son.” He wrinkled his nose. “Smells like it too.”
“Girish, behave yourself!” Suchitra Devi admonished. “We have guests.”
Everyone took their places for dinner.
“Bring Girish some fresh lime soda,” Uncle Chauhan told the maid. “It will help him.”
“No way. Get me a scotch,” Girish said, his words slurring heavily.
The evening couldn’t have been more uncomfortable. Naina picked at the fancy food and listened to Suchitra Devi Chauhan chatter about her social work. She made a futile attempt to ignore the foul smell of Girish’s whiskey breath and his constant rude interruptions. Tara smiled at Naina across the table and helped ease some of the tension while Uncle Chauhan tried to change the topic of conversation to politics, primarily about Girish’s campaign. Abhay wanted to punch everyone, it seemed.
“How’s it going?” Abhay asked Girish.
“Who cares how it’s going. Dad just wants somebody to carry on his legacy. That’s why he adopted me. He’s never considered me to be his own son. Are you going to–”
A collective gasp rose from the dining table.
“Girish! Stop blabbering nonsense,” Uncle Chauhan lost control and shouted at him.
Seeing the situation go out of control, Suchitra Devi interrupted. “Enough of this for the moment. We can discuss this matter later.”
Girish leaned forward on the table. “Well, Dad, are you going to tell everyone what this little dinner party is all about?”
Uncle Chauhan broke into a cough.
Girish gulped down another glass of scotch. “Oh, come on, Dad. I know why you invited Naina. You want us to get to know her.”
Aur kitni jaan pehchaan badhaogey, jaan logey kya bachchi ki, Abhay thought.
“Well…that’s right,” Uncle Chauhan stuttered, his face turning red.
Tara Chauhan’s spoon hit her plate with a thud. She frowned at Girish, “Daddy, you really should have never adopted him. He’s an embarrassment to this family and not fit to be your heir.”
Naina looked at Abhay and saw him studying the scene with an inspector’s eye.
Girish stood up, making the table wobble. Silverware clinked and Tara caught her water glass jus
t in time. Girish banged his fist on the table. “You guys are such fools. You’re so caught up in your stupid politics and social work, you don’t even see it.”
“What are you talking about?” Tara looked shocked at her brother’s outburst.
Uncle Chauhan reached for Girish’s hand. “Let’s talk in private.”
“Shut up, Dad!” Girish yelled and shoved his father’s hand away.
Suchitra Devi Chauhan gasped.
Girish steadied himself and glared at Naina. “I just found out that Dad’s going to put her in his will!”
Chaos erupted in the room. Naina froze, too stunned to move as everyone stared at her.
“You can’t do this!” Suchitra Devi Chauhan shouted.
“She’s not a part of the family!” Girish yelled.
Tara’s expression was unreadable as she watched her family fighting. It seemed as if she was already aware of these facts.
Seing all this confusion, Abhay slid away to get Suchitra Devi’s and Girish’s fingerprints.
“You little gold digger,” Suchitra Devi said, pointing an accusing finger at Naina. “You came back to Allahabad to try and get money-”
“Mother, that’s enough!” Uncle Chauhan yelled.
“Don’t you talk to me in that tone, Pradeep Chauhan,” Suchitra Devi snapped. “I’m your mother!”
The air in the room grew hot and heavy. Naina tugged at the neckline of her blouse, unable to breathe. Her head felt light and soon darkness descended around her, blocking out all the faces in the room. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the anger and fury as the people in the room fought and cursed. But she still heard their voices. The ugly names. The way it had happened many years back. The people talking about her as if she wasn’t there, blaming her, telling her she wasn’t a part of the family, arguing about her. Then, she saw the faint image of a man’s face, etched with grief and anger. The man stretched his arms towards her, but his face was distorted, his hair hardly visible in the dim light. She could hear her mother’s lullaby. The face moved closer, his eyes a grey mist in the glow of the bedroom lamp.
It was Uncle Chauhan.
