No Safe Zone

by Adite Banerjie

  ‘What’s this place?’ Qiara asked

  Kabir went to the window and drew the curtains shut.

  ‘Just a place we can talk quietly.’

  Qiara’s eyebrows shot up.

  ‘Is this where you conduct secret meetings?’

  ‘You wanted to talk about something,’ he reminded her.

  She fidgeted nervously, twirling a lock of silky hair around her fingers. The innocent gesture made him feel curiously on edge.

  ‘Kabir, what do you know about my father?’ she asked.

  His jaw tightened imperceptibly and she didn’t miss his reaction.

  ‘Not very much, apart from the fact that he works for Sonagarh’s royal family.’

  She gave him a penetrating look.

  ‘Is that all you are going to tell me?’

  It had taken him a hell of a long time to erase the bitter memories and talking about him was not on his agenda…now or ever.

  ‘He is your father. Why are you asking me?’

  ‘Because what you just told me is more than what I know about him.’

  Her cheeks were flushed and she was struggling to keep her emotions under check.

  After a brief pause, she continued, ‘Didn’t you say he’d threatened to ruin your lives? It seems to me you knew him even before you met him that evening.’

  He glowered at her for a long moment. ‘Yes, I knew him when I lived in Sonagarh.’

  She got up from the couch and stood in front of him, ‘And…?’

  ‘And, nothing!’ His words came out in an angry hiss. ‘This morning, you were not interested in talking about the past. What has changed in these few hours?’

  Her eyes flashed fire.

  ‘A lot. I need to know what happened. What are you hiding from me, Kabir?’

  He felt cornered. All of a sudden he seemed to be crashing into his past at every turn.

  ‘He was the Dewan of Sonagarh royal palace, and I was someone who was simply not good enough for his daughter.’

  Her gaze burned right through into his soul. But he knew talking about the events of his life was not going to bring any catharsis. It would only rake up old wounds and make them bleed.

  She jabbed an angry fist into his chest. ‘Not you too. God damn you, Kabir.’

  But before she could turn away from him, he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her into him. And the floodgates of tears burst open. Sobs wracked her body and the small sounds of sorrow twisted his gut.

  ‘Qiara, what’s wrong?’

  She rubbed the heels of her palms to her eyes and sniffed like a child.

  ‘My mother was my entire world. She was my best friend, my ally, my partner. We were more like sisters rather than mother and daughter. Now, I feel like I didn’t know her at all.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  Kabir gently wiped her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  ‘She lied to me.’

  Her eyes were swimming with fresh tears and her soft mouth turned down like a wilting flower.

  Kabir cupped her face in his hands, ‘About what?’

  ‘Who knows…about everything, maybe. Me, her, my fa…’ Her voice trailed off but Kabir knew she was talking about her father.

  She pulled at her shirt and pushed it down to reveal the tattoo.

  ‘She had always told me, this was some kind of a family tradition…every girl who is born in my father’s family is inked with it. And you know what I learnt today?’

  He looked at her intently. Her eyes held a flame-like intensity.

  ‘This,’ she hissed, ‘is how girls are inked when they are sold to buyers.’

  Her words sent shockwaves down his spine.

  ‘Who told you this?’

  ‘The tattoo man in the bazaar.’

  She told him the story he’d narrated about his lost sister.

  ‘You don’t know for sure, Qiara.’

  ‘You’re right about that. I don’t know anything for sure. I wonder what else my mother lied about? She hated talking about her past. She never mentioned anything about her marriage or my father’s family. And because it would upset her so much, I stopped asking.’

  ‘What about your mother’s side of the family?’

  ‘They disowned her after she married my father who was a lot older than her. What is strange is that my parents never got along. I barely saw him when I was growing up. He was like a stranger who visited us once in a couple of years for a few days. And when he did, my mother would go into a shell, would rarely talk to him or even to me. I think I began hating him then. I wanted my fun-loving mother back, the one who always had a smile on her face and a song on her lips. I’d count the days till he went back to wherever he came from.’

  She turned around in the sofa and faced him. Her face was inches away from his.

  ‘Kabir, I no longer know who I am. Who is my father? What does this tattoo mean? What if…’

  She stopped as if afraid to voice the question. After a beat, she whispered, ‘What if, I was sold by my real parents?’

  She grasped at his collar and took a shuddering breath.

  ‘I need to know the truth. Or, I’ll go crazy.’

  Kabir put his finger on her lips and looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘Shhh!! I promise you, you will have your answers.’

  ‘Yeah, right, as long as you get to keep your secrets.’

  She tried to wrench herself away but he kept her in place. Pulling her into arms he touched her face softly.

  ‘I wish it were that simple. Sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunity to bare your heart and when you do get the chance, things are no longer the same.’

  She heard the catch in his voice. ‘You’ve never told anyone about that evening, have you?’

  A nerve jumped in his jaw. ‘The only person I could have told was you. But you had gone.’

  ‘Kabir…’ Her voice was choked with emotion.

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb. ‘Then there are some secrets that you want to treasure for ever. Like the time we spent together,’ he said huskily.

  The conversation had shifted gears. The atmosphere became sensually charged.

  ‘You thought of me during these years?’ she whispered, unable to pull away from his mesmerising gaze.

  His hard lean thighs brushed against hers. She rocked ever so slightly towards him and his mouth founds hers.

  Taking her hand he guided it to his muscled chest. The scent of her was driving him crazy. His heart pounded against her palm.

  She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck.

  ‘How could I not? Do you even know your own powers?’ He nuzzled her face, planting light kisses on her hot, honeyed skin. ‘I have been dreaming of doing this to you forever,’ he growled. ‘And last night you showed me a little piece of heaven.’

  Her breathing had turned shallow. Her long lashes swept down, veiling the passion he saw burning in them.

  His hand strayed under her shirt and lovingly fondled the lace-covered tip of one breast as he steadied her against him with the other.

  ‘All I’m able to think of is getting inside you,’ he whispered pulling her roughly against his hard length.

  Her pliant curves moulded into his hard planes, electricity sparking between them.

  He brushed aside the fabric of her shirt, exposing the soft skin of her abdomen and laved his tongue lovingly.

  ‘The sexiest belly button I have ever seen.’

  His voice was raspy as her skin quivered under his hands.

  She fisted his hair and moaned. ‘And you are some kind of authority on belly buttons?’

  ‘That’s my secret to keep,’ he muttered, continuing to seduce her with his words and body.

  His tongue found the sensitive spot behind her ear and he began a slow, sensuous exploration. After a few moments he pulled away and started peeling off his shirt.

  ‘So what else do you want to know?’

  ‘This is so not fair,’ she groan
ed.

  ‘Exactly my sentiments. You have shot my resolve to pieces.’

  His mouth found the base of her throat and she arched her neck to give him better access.

  ‘Here I was, going to be all professional about solving the case and keep my hands off you. But you’re simply irresistible.’

  He luxuriated in the lust-drenched look she gave him.

  ‘So are you,’ she whispered.

  His hands travelled down her body till they were under her bottom. He pulled her closer until she could feel the full force of his hard length.

  ‘You are simply the most enchanting woman I have ever laid my eyes on. Have mercy on me…I can’t take this any more. If you want me to stop – say it now, Qiara.’

  His words propelled her into action. Swivelling her waist ever so slightly she ground her hips against his. Her fingers found the zipper of his trousers.

  ‘Don’t you know when to shut up?’

  This was pure, unadulterated torture. His sexy, low laughter mingled with her breath.

  ‘Make me yours, Kabir. Now.’

  He groaned in frustration. ‘Honey, I don’t have a condom.’

  She edged closer to him. ‘I’m on the pill.’

  It was as if he had been handed the keys to heaven. The clothes peeled away from them and all that remained were the barriers of flesh, bone, muscle. Their bodies melded, blood pounded, urging them on to a climax that pushed them deeper, faster, higher into a rocking rhythm of desire and need. The secrets of their past fell away leaving behind only the truth of the moment.

  Ten

  Hawamahal Bazaar

  It was well past 6 p.m. and Qiara had been walking the streets for more than three hours. Sweat poured down her back and she took a swig of water from the bottle. The slight breeze cooled her brow and she wiped off the beads of perspiration dotting her face with the back of her hand.

  Kabir had got a call from Zayed informing him that the third man in the picture along with Khanna and her father was a guy named Harisingh Rathod who ran a string of hospitals in Rajasthan. He had also tracked down Rishi Mathur’s secretary who had revealed that her boss was currently in Jaipur, meeting up with a client, who happened to be none other than the mysterious Rathod.

  At Kabir’s insistence, Qiara had called up an extremely agitated Rishi. But once she promised to meet him he’d calmed down. He’d given her directions to Mithapur Haveli, situated forty kilometres north of Jaipur. The call had been a short one but it ended with Rishi’s ominous warning, ‘Come alone.’ He was in for a shock because the person he was about to have a rendezvous with was Kabir.

  The plan was to trick Rishi into thinking she was following his instructions. Kabir was pretty confident her cell phone was being tracked by Rishi, and she had given it to him, so he could keep texting Rishi till the time he got to Mithapur Haveli.

  Kabir had been most reluctant to let her ‘wander around the streets of Jaipur’ as he had put it. Finally, they had come to an agreement – and he had given her a ride to the Bazaar but not before buying her a cheap mobile phone and a local connection so he could stay in touch with her. She’d promised him she would do nothing more risky than be a regular tourist and soak up the ambience of Jaipur. But being a tourist was no fun when she was on edge and worried about Kabir. She wondered if meeting Rishi was a good idea at all. What if he was walking into a trap?

  Kabir had assured her the element of surprise would work in his favour. ‘Rishi has no clue I will show up.’

  ‘What if…’

  He’d cut her protest swiftly. ‘Look how desperate he is to contact you. Don’t you want to know why?’

  ‘Yes, but how smart is it to walk into the lion’s den?’

  Kabir gave her a dark look. ‘Sometimes the only way to do it is by bearding the lion in its den.’

  So, that was that. He had set off on what she could only think of as a wild goose chase. But why was she suddenly afraid of the risks? Hadn’t she embarked on one such chase herself in order to locate Reshma? Surely, Kabir, given his professional experience had a better chance of achieving his goal than she did? The difference, she realized, was now she was worried for Kabir. The man who had taken permanent residence in her head space. Her nerves were still tingling from the wild passionate encounter they had had in the bungalow. Colour crept into her cheeks unbidden at the thought of how she had given play to every sexual fantasy she had harboured about him. If it hadn’t been for Zayed’s insistent phone calls – many of which Kabir had ignored – they would still be wrapped in each other’s arms, playing merry hell with all their inhibitions!

  Nothing about their relationship had ever been tame. Not then and not now. It was almost as if they drew out the most intense emotions in each other. When she had first met him, it had all been about hate at first sight which had quickly morphed into attraction and love. And finally heartache. Somewhere in that equation, trust had not come into the picture. She felt ashamed she’d been the one with so little trust. In herself. In Kabir. In their fragile first love.

  Even now, she was conflicted when it came to her feelings for Kabir. She couldn’t deny they shared a sensational chemistry and she was a heartbeat away from falling in love with him all over again. What future was there for a relationship that had already been snuffed out once, thanks to the interference of her father? Was it fair on her part to reel him in to help her piece together the fractured picture of her past? Why was everything such a mess, she wondered glumly.

  Lost in her thoughts, she found herself standing in front of the tattoo shop. Should she make another attempt at coaxing some info out of the shop owner? Chances were he wouldn’t reveal anything more than what he already had. At best, he would shoo her off.

  Before she could change her mind, she stepped inside. The man who had rescued her was nowhere to be seen.

  A young boy of about eight was sitting in a corner copying an intricate sketch on a pad.

  He glanced up. ‘Uncle is inside working with a client. You’ll have to wait.’

  She sank into a plastic seat that was the only other chair available. After a long wait, the curtain to the inner room was brushed aside and a heavily tattooed man left the shop. The young boy continued to draw as he yelled out.

  ‘Chachaji, there is a Madam waiting for you.’

  The curtain rustled once more and the shop owner appeared. On seeing her, his smile disappeared.

  ‘Madam, why have you come? I told you whatever I know. Please go.’

  Qiara got up from the seat and eyeballed him.

  ‘Why did you tell me? Did you think you could make some quick money?’

  The man was taken aback at her vehemence.

  She wasn’t ready to back off. Not yet.

  ‘How much do you want?’

  Discarding his dismissive tone, he pleaded, ‘Please understand, it’s not about money. If they find out, I’ll be in deep trouble.’

  ‘Who is this ‘they’ you keep talking of? The cops, goons, who? Don’t you get it? I need to find out why I have the exact same tattoo.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Please.’

  ‘Being sorry doesn’t change anything. The damage has been done.’ She glared at him. ‘I will pay you ten thousand rupees. Just take me to the place where you found out about the tattoo. I won’t bother you after that.’

  She saw the uncertainty in his eyes and charged on.

  ‘But if you lead me up the garden path, I will send the cops after you.’

  The man was now agitated. His gaze darted around, avoiding her eyes.

  She went for the jugular. ‘Did you see the man who came to get me earlier? He is a cop and I promise you, you will be in so much trouble…’

  Her words galvanized him into action. Grabbing a pen and a notepad he scribbled something on it and thrust the piece of paper at her.

  ‘Madam, I don’t want any trouble. Not from cops and not from the gang. Please, I don’t need your money. Just leave me alone.’

  She
glanced at the words he had written: ‘Garima Nursing Home, Phulera’.

  ‘Hospital?’ She looked at him.

  ‘It’s about fifty kilometres from Jaipur. You should go there tonight. You will see for yourself.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You don’t believe me, right? Go and see for yourself what happens. Now please leave.’

  Turning away from her, he walked back into the inner room. She noticed the boy looking at her curiously. The sketch on his pad was nearly finished.

  Fear stabbed at her heart as she recognized the drawing on the pad. It was her butterfly tattoo.

  Kathputli Nagar, Jaipur

  He surveyed the rows of shanties stuck to each other on either side of a narrow lane. Finding a needle in a haystack would be easier than looking for one person in this stinking sea of humanity spread before him. Urchins brushed past him, as they engaged in a boisterous game of tag, unmindful of the filth all around. He shot out his hand and fisted a boy’s shirt, bringing him to a halt. Not too pleased at the interruption, the boy threw an annoyed glance at Kabir.

  ‘Where can I find Bholu Sapera?’ Kabir asked in Hindi.

  ‘You have come to the wrong basti, Saheb. The snake charmers live on the other side of the field.’

  Before he could ask for directions, the boy was running down the narrow lane, stepping over the open drain and avoiding the litter strewn around like a fleet-footed cat.

  Kabir turned towards the field that stretched out in front of him. Feral pigs and ragpickers were poking around in the garbage. The stench was overpowering. In the distance, he spotted more blue plastic-sheet-covered shanties and wondered how long it would take him to reach the place. The shortest route would be to cut across the dumpyard even though it would be one heck of a nasty walk. He wished he’d brought his motorbike, but then he would have had to park it somewhere while he looked for Bholu in the slum. He had no doubt that if he so much as left his bike unattended for a couple of minutes, he would never ever see it again.

  Steeling himself he briskly walked down the field, immediately drawing the attention of a few ragpickers who tittered among themselves.