by MV Kasi
“Kamala was an old woman who took us in. She barely had space for herself in her hut, but she let the three of us stay with her. It was cramped, and it was loud when it rained, but it was still a roof over our heads.”
Nina was narrating the part of how an old woman had come to their rescue when they wandered into her temporary asbestos hut during a rain.
“But the city was changing pretty fast. Vast and empty lands were being replaced by tall buildings. Each time we were thrown out of our slum, we had to rebuild our hut somewhere else. Most of the time, the places had mold on the walls and pests like cockroaches and rats. We had even gotten used to the smells due to lack of decent toilets.” One of the reasons why Nina suffered through a borderline OCD to remain clean was whenever she saw filth, it took her back to those days.
“Whenever we lay down to sleep, Devi and I took turns to make up stories for Uma. We’d tell her about the huge house we’d build for the three of us with dozens of rooms and bathrooms. We’d talk about what each of us would have in our room as decor.”
Nina closed her eyes. She did set up two of the rooms in the house where she and Suraj lived. Those rooms had the same decor that her sisters would have liked.
Nina took a deep breath to forge on. She knew she couldn’t stop her narration.
Although, she did wonder what was going through her captor’s mind as she narrated her story. Was her past able to get to him? Make him view her as someone other than a rich man’s wife? Or did he think she was making up a story to draw sympathy?
She had noticed that whenever she began talking, there was complete silence from the room next to her. Before that, she would at least hear the creak of the bed as her captor tossed about restlessly.
Sometimes, she paused in the middle of her narration, trying to listen for some sign to indicate he had fallen asleep. But there was complete silence and Nina knew he was awake, listening to her every word.
Nina was reminded of the story of an Arabian queen who saved herself from her blood-thirsty brutal husband by narrating a thousand tales—one for each night.
Nina might not have a thousand tales to tell, but she had one tale. It was her tale. She had seen and experienced enough in her life to be able to speak through the entire length of her captivity.
What if you remain his captive forever? A part of her mind asked.
Something said he wouldn’t keep her for long. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said she saw grief in his eyes. He was a man reacting to pain and was lashing out at the target nearest to him. If she could convince him to see that she wasn’t the evil he thought her to be, then she would be able to rewrite her and Suraj’s fate.
She suspected her captor was a good judge of character, and he would definitely know when someone was lying, so she made sure she spoke the complete truth, and that her words came from within her heart.
“A year later, we mourned the passing of Kamala. She was easily over ninety, but it came as a shock to us.
“Four weeks after Kamala’s passing, the school holidays began…” Nina felt her voice catch. She hated this part.
“Devi, Uma and I loved school,” she continued. “For most kids, school was boring and everyone looked forward to the holidays. But for the three of us, school meant survival. It cultivated our hungry minds along with providing us with refuge during the day. And more importantly, the meal they served in the school during lunch was our only source of sustenance. And when the holidays began, it meant… starvation.”
Nina realized right then that the problem with speaking from the heart, was that a person would be forced to re-live those memories once again. As she continued to narrate the events that took place many years ago, she re-lived the desperation and hopelessness of that time.
She should probably be embarrassed to be baring her heart to a total stranger. Some of the things she was telling him, she hadn’t even told Suraj, because she hated re-living the past. But now, when she narrated her life, even though it hurt a lot, it also felt cathartic.
“Ten days into the holidays, Devi and I gave Uma every scrap of food we could beg, steal or find, but that didn’t stop our little sister’s body from slowly shutting down and eventually giving up.” It was brutal to watch their sister fading away right before their eyes and not able to do anything.
“When Uma died, it was a shock for Devi and me. Our entire existence was defined by how we took care of our little sister. With her gone, we felt incomplete and aimless.” She had told her captor already about how Devi and she had been taking care of their sister until then.
“I stayed in the hot, sweltering asbestos house with the rotting corpse of my younger sister while Devi tried to get help. It took more than a day for someone to come.” Nina had several recurring dreams of waking up in that sweltering tin house with the dead body of her sister.
“Over the years, Devi and I have always felt guilty, thinking that had one of us tolerated the advances from the dirty old man with whom our mother left us with, then maybe, just maybe, Uma might have been alive…”
She took a deep breath. “It’s been close to twenty years, but I still mourn my little sister.”
CHAPTER 22
“What do you mean you still can’t trace where the video was sent from?” Suraj was furious with the private investigators.
From the moment he saw fear in his wife’s eyes while the unknown man touched her, he could barely sleep during the nights. He couldn’t imagine the trauma Nina must be facing being held captive.
So far, the police or the private investigators could not find any trace or even the slightest of leads regarding the kidnapper or the location of where Nina was being held.
“Sir, the video was sent from an encrypted site—”
“I don’t need excuses! I need to see positive results! Not one bloody clue as to where my wife is for two bloody weeks!”
“Suraj…” Radha placed a hand on Suraj’s shoulder, trying to calm him down and offering him comfort.
“Two bloody weeks, Radha! Nina must be—” Suraj broke off, unable to continue.
The PI fidgeted before attempting to speak. “Sir, I’ll follow up with the police again. They think someone from the opposition might have a hand in this. Even I think—”
“Think?” Suraj erupted. “My wife is suffering through God knows what, and you all think that the opposition might have a hand in this? Last week you were sure it was for ransom. I’m bloody prepared to give them anything. Hell, I’m spending a fortune on your useless services. All I want is my wife back safe!”
The investigator remained quiet. And so did Radha. There was one thought that ran through their minds. And that was—whether or not Nina Bhupati was still alive.
CHAPTER 23
“You are back,” Nina Bhupati’s voice said. “You were gone for two days, and I had no one to talk to.”
Gaurav grunted in response. He had given Khan strict instructions not to engage in any conversation with the captive.
“I’m not complaining,” she said. “It’s just that I’m not much of a talker, but I realized, talking to you has been quite cathartic. And you are a very good listener.” There was a playful undertone in the last sentence.
What about that bastard husband of yours? Isn’t he a good listener, too? Gaurav didn’t allow those words to escape from him. Instead, he closed his eyes and let her soft voice wash over him.
Only a few days of listening to her, he was getting addicted. He was away for two days to follow up on the bank transactions. And while he was digging into the information, he also made a detour.
He met with Nina Bhupati’s mother. She was exactly as how she was described. She was an aging beauty who was greedy and selfish to the core.
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
“I’m a reporter. I’m looking for any information you can give about your daughter.” He showed an ID that was associated with a popular newspaper.
“Still not found, is she?” the woma
n asked.
“No.”
The woman watched him with a shrewd look. “I’m not supposed to talk about her. My darling daughter sent her lawyers warning me that she would get me arrested if I did.”
Gaurav knew that the woman was paid a good amount of money not to give out any defamatory interviews or information about her daughter.
“I will not mention your name or anything,” he said. “I’m trying to find out what sort of person Nina Bhupati was before she married Suraj Bhupati.”
She gave him a sweeping look, talking in his casual dressing. “What is in it for me?” she asked.
He pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to her. Immediately, she began counting.
“Not a lot, but it’ll do. I’m sick of keeping quiet. Especially for that selfish brat who has no gratitude for her own mother.”
“Is she your only child?” he asked.
An uncomfortable look passed on her face. “No. I had two other children.”
“Where are they?”
“They… uh… died in an accident. They were both such good daughters. Had they been alive, I’m sure they would have taken care of me. They loved me so much.”
Gaurav’s jaw clenched at the lie.
“Unlike those two, my middle one was a back-talking brat. Never happy with what I did for her or her sisters.” There was a snort. “Just because she got married to a rich man and lives in a fancy house, she thinks she’s above me. You should have listened to her language when she spoke to me the last time. Still a street urchin despite her clothes or status.”
Gaurav listened to the older woman’s ranting for some more time and then he cut her off, unable to tolerate her presence anymore.
She leeched out some more money before he left.
He had gone to check whether the tales he heard each night were real or not. He didn’t know why he cared either way. So what if Nina Bhupati was speaking the truth about her troubled childhood and life? It shouldn’t make any difference to him.
But it did.
“So anyway, where was I?” he heard his captive ask. “Oh yes, our dressing.
“Devi and I always ensured that a layer of grime always coated our faces outside the school hours. And we cut our hair very short like that of most boys, not to attract any attention. For the longest time, people thought we were two dirty boys. Not that it helped in any way when it came to the child traffickers.”
She told him about how she and her sister had escaped kidnap several times. He also discovered why she had the presence of mind when he had placed a drugged cloth on her face. She had experienced it personally when she was a child.
“Unfortunately, a lot of children we knew couldn’t escape like us,” she said with a grim voice. Gaurav knew what the fate of the children must have been. Either they were mutilated and made to beg on streets, or they were killed for their body parts. The sad part was most of the children wouldn’t have been reported as missing and neither was anyone looking for them.
“As I grew older, I started to get shallower,” she said. “Do you know how it is like to be a teenage girl?” There was a couple of seconds pause. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t really know. It’s different for teenage boys.” Her tone was dry.
A reluctant smile covered Gaurav’s face at her silly joke, even though his heart ached a little bit at her story. He had a sister, so he had an idea how it was for teenage girls.
“Well, when I turned thirteen, I was sick of how I looked,” she said. “I liked a boy in my class. Unfortunately, he thought I was a boy too. He gave me an odd look each time I smiled at him.”
He imagined her as a teenager, wanting the same things as what other teenagers had.
“…but as time went by, despite the grime and layers of dirt, Devi’s beauty still shined through. Sometimes, that turned into a problem.”
CHAPTER 24
Gaurav was seated inside a seedy bar in the bad part of the city. He’d been barely there for an hour, and he had already seen at least four illegal operations happening out in the open. Drugs exchange, possession of weapons, sex- trafficking, and child labor.
He ignored the first three, but it was the last one that got to him. He saw a small boy wiping down the vacated tables while a half-naked woman danced on the stage.
Gaurav watched the boy for a while. He was small in build with a shaggy haircut and a grubby face. The kid kept his eyes lowered while he performed his job with utmost efficiency. The adults hooted and whistled. Some of the drunks shouted, but that did not stop the boy from clearing up the dirty glasses and plates before wiping down table after table.
The boy was used to this place. Gaurav wondered if it was really a boy, or a girl disguised as a boy, while working at a seedy place for her survival. Just like his captive and her sister had done.
The world was filled with children in need. One cannot pass a day without reading or hearing some or other horror story involving a child. But something about his captive’s story got to him and was changing him.
He could not imagine a child of her age living on their own. Gaurav grew up with every possible luxury that a child could be given. Despite all that, he had still felt resentful when he wasn’t given what he wanted.
Gaurav tore his eyes away from the child. He needed to focus on his current job.
Ten minutes later, his target entered the seedy bar. A six-foot man with a distinctive eyebrow scar on the right side.
The man sat at the bar for forty minutes, having five or six drinks in the meantime. He sat quietly most of the time, watching the dancer on the stage. Soon, he was joined by a woman.
Gaurav could see them talking, but he couldn’t hear anything. They didn’t talk much. The woman kept her head lowered most of the time.
The man got up and began walking away from the bar. He went up the stairs accompanied by the woman.
Gaurav pushed away the drink he had been holding since the time he got there. Checking whether or not anyone was observing him, he casually went up the stairs.
There was a long narrow corridor and close to ten rooms with closed doors on either side of the corridor.
It didn’t take very long for Gaurav to know which room his target was in.
“Stay still, you bitch!” a drunken shout came from one of the rooms. It was loud enough to be heard over the thumping music that was blaring from the dance bar below.
Gaurav stood in front of the door and kicked it hard at the corner, until the rusty lock gave in. He saw a half-naked woman sprawled on the bed while a drunken man fumbled on top of her.
“Hello, Jeevan,” Gaurav greeted.
Gaurav looked at the girl who was watching him with widened eyes with desperation written all over her face. “Out,” he told her softly.
The girl squirmed out from under the drunk and began scrambling out of the room. When she passed him, Gaurav extended a wad of cash to her. “Don’t alert anyone,” he said.
She nodded her head vigorously, her mostly bare, skinny body shaking either in relief or fear.
Shit, she barely seemed older than thirteen or fourteen. Was she underage?
Another thought passed through Gaurav’s mind, jolting him. Was his captive forced into such circumstances for her survival as well? She hadn’t told him anything like that happening so far, and he hoped that was because she hadn’t been that desperate.
“How dare you are to send her away! Who do you think you are?” a slurred voice demanded.
“Get up.”
The man watched him with his red-rimmed drunken eyes. His pants zipper was open, and his flaccid member lay grotesquely exposed.
Gaurav’s gut churned imagining his captive being under a drunken man, suffering through the advances silently.
The man lunged at him suddenly, and Gaurav barely escaped from being stabbed.
Gaurav was pissed. He had not checked the goon for any weapons immediately. All because his thoughts ran towards his captive.
“Who are you?’ the
man shouted.
Gaurav smiled coldly. “I’m the man who is going to kill you.”
The man lunged again, but this time Gaurav was prepared. He dodged the knife and punched the man in the stomach.
The man doubled over, coughing and gasping. “What the hell, man!”
Gaurav punched him once again. “October 15th, who sent you on a job to kill a young woman and make it seem like a suicide?”
Even through the drunken stupor, the man’s eyes widened. “I-I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Another hard punch into the stomach, the man collapsed on the floor, mewling in pain.
Gaurav dragged him up by the shirt and threw another punch. This one was hard enough to break the man’s nose. The man squealed like a pig, and his blood sprayed on Gaurav’s shirt, pissing him off further.
“Tell me the names of who was there.”
The man looked fearful. “Please, I was just doing my job.”
Gaurav snarled into the man’s face. “Your job? You hanged an innocent woman and call it your job?”
The next punch dislocated the man’s jaw. Gaurav was pissed that it was going to be hard for the man to speak now.
The man began sobbing. His face looked like a bloody mess. It was misshapen with a broken nose and a dislocated jaw.
Gaurav made a fist and raised it on top of the man’s face. “Names.”
“A politician,” the man wailed and cried out. “A politician gave the order.”
Gaurav punched him again. “I already know that. Give me the names of the other people who were there that night and are involved.”
The man slowly confirmed the other names that Gaurav already had on his list.
Gaurav then proceeded to do his job.
He dragged the man downstairs from the backside of the bar. Vikram was already waiting for him.
Two hours later, after drawing out all the possible information from the man, they visited a funeral home during the afterhours.
