“My name is Shankar and I was killed in this very town eight years ago,” the stranger said by way of introduction.
If this introduction was meant to induce fear then the stranger was disappointed. Neeraj, at that moment, was probably the least likely candidate in the whole town to be scared of death.
“What can I do for you?” Neeraj asked calmly, the fingers holding his cigarette were rock steady.
“Stay out of our way. We are taking over the town tomorrow, and only you and the other city folks can disrupt us. You people do not belong to this town, so I warn you stay out. Preferably be gone while the going is good.”
For Neeraj the going was none too good till Friday, when the boat to pick him up was due to arrive. He looked at the dead villager and took in his dirty kurta and dhoti, a large ugly maroon black stain of blood had dried on the side of his kurta and on the front of the dhoti. Neeraj knew instinctively the man was disemboweled by a blunt knife or probably a sword, must have taken hours to die, every moment a new study in pain.
“No offense meant friend, but looks like you sure died hard” Neeraj said with a smile that was meant to provoke. Shankar stared open mouthed at the insult and then swung his hand for a punch. Neeraj who had seen this punch coming long before the villager knew he was going to throw one, ducked and reached to the small of his back to withdraw his pistol . He leveled it at Shankar’s nose bridge and calmly watched his reaction.
The mad hatred in the eyes intensified, but the hands readying themselves for another punch hesitated. Neeraj was watching closely for the reaction. The man was afraid of the weapon.
“No need for all that son, I was just making small talk, now let’s beat our own path and hope they never converge because the next time I am going to fire.”
And that was the end of that.
Vinit kept the phone down in his police station and lit another cigarette. He had lost count of them by now. He had got on the horn with his district headquarter to report the gruesome double murders along with the attempt on his life. His Superintendent was sympathetic, although a bit bewildered. More to the point he promised a further reinforcement of twenty men to search the neighboring areas for the absconding teacher. Whatever Vinit had heard and known about the murderer, made the murder of the headmaster all the more worrisome. First, a corrupt doctor got whacked with his own medicine, and then ten sixth graders ripped their own pedophile teacher apart with such homely instruments as scissors and cutting knives. Directly beneath the room while the students extracted this terrible piece of revenge on the pedophile teacher, the headmaster, a real bad card if there ever was one, was murdered by a music teacher so meek that even the village women made fun of him.
What the fuck was going on?
The mood at Rajat’s farm house was decidedly somber. The news of the triple murder jarred even the urban dulled sensitivities of all of them except perhaps that of Alok. He did not seem disturbed much to the happiness of Rani. She had worried about her husband’s mental health and the effect of the violence on him.Surprisingly he seemed to be calm, almost resigned. Rani, not too keen a judge of character, mistook the resignation for stoicism and credited the seaside lay for her husband’s new resilience.
Rajat was the worse off by the look of it. When the housekeeper described the murders and the dead bodies, with the shameless glee that seems to be the character of the Indian villagers when describing anything grisly and gruesome, Rajat left the room looking as if he might puke his guts out, Ragini and Rakesh listened to the details with a certain unholy curiosity, but they seemed more worried about their unstable ex boss and their friend rather than the murders themselves.
Finally it was Rajat who made the decision. He came inside the room lighting a cigarette from the butt of the old one and said,” Guess Party’s over guys, let’s go. I have a bad feeling about this,” then he started towards his room, apparently to pack.
“Rajat do you mind if we wait for one more day please,” Alok said in a soft, almost pleading tone, and Rajat turned. Alok seemed a little embarrassed, just like he was when he had originally requested to come to Kumbhpur three days back.
“I feel a lot better after spending a day here, I can feel the effect here,” Alok said tapping his forehead and laughed. For no reason Ragini found the laughter creepy. Again, the strange sensation that people around her knew more, and were not telling her crept up on her. Especially Happy, what the fuck was he playing at?
On Rajat the effect was immediate; he seemed to have forgotten all his worries and all his bad feelings in a moment. He smiled and said, sure, maybe he was overreacting a little. His affection for Alok was so touching it was almost ridiculous. Grown men did not idolize manic depressive Ex-bosses, it was weird.
“Thanks man, really appreciate it, let’s eat. The walk on the seaside has made me hungry,”
“Bet it wasn’t just the walk Happy,” Ragini said and nudged Rani. Rani slapped her hand good naturedly, and they all proceded to the mess where they were to have their lunch.
They were all out of the house, when Neeraj walked in with an old lady in tow. The lady was carrying a couple of big baskets. The aroma of food came thorough strongly.
“Folks there was a little bit of a disturbance at the mess.The wife of the man who killed the headmaster used to work in the kitchen there. The villagers have threatened to burn the place unless the old lady hands over her husband. So, the owner was kind enough to pack lunch for all of us and send it with me,” with this Neeraj took out a liter bottle of Whisky from his jacket pocket. “The desert was my idea,” he said and winked.
Again Rajat looked worried and began to ask questions, but Alok did not allow him to complete. He thanked Neeraj, and ushered all of them inside. He was humming lightly under his breath. Ragini who was immediately behind him could recognize the tune at once.
‘How many roads must a man walk by before you can call him a man?’
She found the choice a little strange since Happy was never much of a Bob Dylan fan. Pink Floyd and Dire Straits were more his style. All of a sudden, the room went a little dark around her. She hoped Rani had not heard him singing, or at least not well enough to place the song.
Alok never liked Bob Dylan or the song, but still for some reason known only to him, he was listening to this very song on his MP3 player when he had first tried to kill himself.
Saket Nawathe was inside his room like he was most of the time. He was rereading ‘Rosemary’s Baby’, while the television was tuned to NDTV India. When Saket looked up to watch the television, it was only for reading the small captions running at the bottom of the screen. His name had appeared on the same screen as a fugitive a few days back, and he was now scanning the captions to see if there were any updates.
When the captions started reporting on the latest sports updates, Saket decided to switch the TV set off. Since there was no remote control he had to get up to switch it off, he bent to push the button when the picture on the TV set changed. The newsreader suddenly switched gears from reporting the weather in north east India and talked to Saket directly.
‘Yes she still waits for justice Saket. In fact she cries most nights for it, pretty soon we are going to make a special feature on her. The tribal villager raped and murdered by a coward but decorated soldier,’
Saket stood rooted, trying to take his eyes off the screen, but unable to.
‘It will be big news Saket, how you ran in to her as a coincidence, and how you raped her right there in the woods of Borgad where your car failed so fortunately. We know you were crying throughout the time, even when your pitiful little penis was inside her’
Saket started to shake, he was transferred to a different world, there was a strong smell of autumn leaves in the air (in the middle of June), and he was standing in a jungle with his Maruti Zen sputtering fumes from a burst radiator. And then she came………………………………………
‘We know all about you, you self pitying bastard,’
/> ‘Hey, you are not supposed to use that word on television’ Saket said and smiled nervously. In the closed room his smile gave him the creeps.
‘How you blamed it all on the war………. You think you are the only one who fought and sacrificed in that war? There are hundreds of brave men and women who have been through worse, and still they did not go about murdering and raping innocent teenagers, and then giving hand jobs to strangers in a skin theatre, as atonement. You know it was not atonement, you are a faggot and you killed that girl just to prove yourself wrong….,’
Saket felt the hot breath of the mill worker on his face, as his own hand fumbled for the worker’s zipper. The worker tried to stop him when Saket lost his nerve midway, but Saket twisted his wrist quick like a striking snake and broke it. The man had howled calling Saket a hijra, Saket had left the theatre in a hurry while the other patrons chose to continue watching the movie inside the darkness, rather than walking out in the sun and risking recognition. He had spent the night drinking and puking the whole night, and then confessed to his crimes the next day at the local police station.
‘I know, I know what you are going to say, you never did that, it was all your imagination. I got news for you, ha-ha what else do you expect from a news anchor. IT WAS TRUE……………..AND SHE IS COMING FOR HER REVENGE’ the volume of the TV was unbelievably loud by then.
“She won’t come, she is not real,” Saket said in a mere whisper. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. “I have suffered enough,”
“I said the same thing after watching the water boy,” Saket jumped and turned. The bald stranger was standing in the door, smiling an affectionate yet understanding smile.
“I brought you your food friend, and overheard your monologue,”
Saket smiled nervously and opened the door. He took a look at the TV screen as Neeraj walked in. It showed an ad for vests. The judgmental news anchor was gone for now.
Neeraj kept the Tiffin on the wooden table and started back. Suddenly he stopped and said, ‘What is eating you my friend?”
Saket smiled and replied, “Nothing, just a little bored in this small village really.”
“Looks like it is going to get a little more exciting soon,” Neeraj said and left.
After finishing his little business with the headmaster, Wadale roamed around in the woods behind the school for a little while. He felt strangely relieved; the way a father would feel, after marrying off his fifth and last daughter. There was music inside his head and he was feeling revitalized like never before. He lost track of time and place wandering around in the woods, while search for him outside reached a feverish pitch. But there was a method to his madness, he realized that when finally he reached a clearing about a few kilometers inside the woods. There was a surprising bustle and activity there unlike the rest of the woods. Wadale at once recognized that as the Base.
“Welcome Wadale, you have done us proud. Sticking the money in to the headmaster was especially a nice touch,” The Courageous Leader rose and embraced Wadale. Wadale recognized almost everyone sitting there. Most of them represented the poor, downtrodden class like him. However, most of the people were also dead. Wadale had attended almost all their funerals in the past five to six years. Among the women he suddenly saw Sushma the school teacher. She smiled shyly and walked over to him.
“Namaste Guruji, thank you for killing that bastard who made me end my life,” She said. Wadale gave an awkward smile and said nothing.
“However your work is not over yet Wadale, there is still one task to be done in this life,” Courageous Leader said. It afforded Wadale neither surprise nor fear that the Courageous Leader was telling him to do one final task in this life, or that he was among a bushful of dead people in the middle of the woods after committing a grisly murder outside.
“Your will will be done Courageous Leader,” he said humbly. The Courageous Leader smiled approvingly and placed a sword in the hands of the music teacher.
“Your Daughter’s in-laws, she is already on her way there. They used to beat her black and blue, and then your son-in-law would sodmise her,”
Wadale felt the anger returning, as his mind tried to block the sick image. But it would not go, his daughter walked very stiffly when she came back, but Wadale had put it down to the beating that she was given. Now it occurred to him that the stiff walk was very likely due to another reason. He felt bile rising inside his throat.
“Of course she should not tell you that, we poor have our dignity and she suffered in silence, but here and now the SILENCE STOPS!!!
The Courageous Leader’s last sentence was like a war cry. Wadale picked up the sword, and hefted it in his left hand. In the other world, his weak aged forearms could have never lifted the heavy sword, but now he swung it over his head like it was an oversized matchstick and turned to follow his daughter.
A brisk walk through the woods brought him out near the beach. The surf was rising. The sound filled Wadale’s head like music from heaven. He did not notice the scared glances he got from the score of children playing cricket on the beach. He did not notice Ramu Wani, the local grocer spotting him with his bloody clothes and the oversized sword, and hurrying inside his shop to place a call to the police and Rajaji in that order. His mind was clear of all doubts.
He crossed the main street and walked through a narrow maze of by-lanes till he reached his daughter’s house. He stopped there and caught his breath.
His beloved daughter sat on the steps. She had a rolling pin in her right hand. Wadale saw her, and his heart skipped a beat with love. It was like old times once again, when the father-daughter were a team. He remembered, a long time back, when he and his daughter were a team in kabaddi in the backyard against his neighbor and neighbor’s son. He remembered the gleeful laughter of his child when they scored a point and then he remembered his daughter’s soft cheek rubbing against his. The memory was strong enough for him to feel the touch all over again.
“I knew you would come Baba, now let’s go inside and finish this business,”
“Yes baby let’s teach them a lesson. What else can a teacher do?” And with this little dry wit the father daughter duo walked inside their in-law’s house. Wadale followed his daughter and as he heard the startled cry of his daughter’s father-in-law, he could also hear the wail of a police siren rising in the background.
Sudhakar Wadale closed the door behind him and went about his teaching lessons.
“He was what?” Vinit heard Rajesh Ghate asking on the telephone, and knew that another layer of today’s nightmare was unfolding somewhere in this shitty little town. He sighed and left his teacup on the table. Rajesh Ghate slammed the phone and yelled at a constable to ready the jeep. He walked over to Vinit all breathless, to relay the news. The local shopkeeper had called. Wadale, the absconding teacher, was spotted walking in an apparent daze with blood on his clothes and he was carrying a double-edged sword. As Vinit processed this information another call came, this time from the wife of a local banker. She had seen Wadale too and he was going in the direction of his daughter’s home. A few moments before the banker’s wife had seen Wadale’s daughter going in the same direction, and she was carrying a rolling pin under her arm.
Vinit and Rajesh ran outside to their jeep and jumped in. As Rajesh Ghate, who knew where the Wadale’s in-laws lived, gave directions to the driver, Vinit hoped feverishly that they were not too late at least this time.
As the jeep crossed the main road and turned inside, they almost had a broadside collision with a Bullet Motorcycle coming from the other direction. Vinit saw Rajaji sitting pillion and talking into his mobile phone and his heart sank. His hopes of quietly arresting the demented teacher were gone. Whether they reached on time or not, there was going to be a confrontation. Two more motorcycles followed and Rajaji gave a cold glance to the police jeep. The bikes shot past them.
“Rajesh we need to reach there before this cocksucker. He will kill Wadale,”
“We can le
ave the jeep and climb over a couple of roofs. I know the place. We can never catch them in a jeep, but if we hustle we might reach there before the motorcycles.”
Vinit yelled at the driver to stop the jeep and jumped out before it came to a complete halt. Rajesh jumped out from other side and ran up a narrow lane between two thatched cottages. Vinit followed him.
Rajesh led him through the lane, till they came to an abandoned stable. Rajesh kicked the door open and ran through it. There was a window on the other side. The two cops jumped through it, and Rajesh pointed towards a single story house to their left. A narrow gutter separated them.
Now Vinit took over the running and as he jumped across the gutter and began the steep climb towards the house he heard a series of screams and howls of laughter. From the other side of the house, he could see the motorcycles emerging at the other end of lane. A small crowd of neighbors approached the house cautiously.
Vinit summoned every single ounce of energy in his body, and ran towards the house. As he approached the house he drew his gun.
Rajaji had a ten-minute start on the police force, since his party office was nearer to the place where the murder was presumably taking place. However, when he jumped from the motorcycle ordering his men to follow him, he saw the two young cops were already at the top of the climb, knocking on the door. He was furious. Obviously, they had gone on foot from the direction of the old stable, he should have thought of that himself. Now his chance to set an example for the errant rebellions was gone.
As he ran to the house, his mind ticked furiously. He could not allow the teacher to stand trial. For once, it would obviously mean a loss of respect for him; he would be handing over the power to people from law and order. More importantly though, the teacher knew too much about the corruption in the town, to allow him to open his mouth.
Kumbhpur Rising Page 12
