Qiara’s eyes welled over as Mehender’s dispassionately told tale wrenched her insides. How desolate and desperate her mother must have been after she lost the man she loved and was abandoned by her own family.
‘And my father never came for her?’
‘Many months after you were born, we learnt he had been killed in a border skirmish.’
Mehender Singh, however, hadn’t finished his story.
‘I was working with the royal family here at that time. When I brought you both here, Raja Saheb’s eldest son, Suraj, told me you should be tattooed like all the princesses of Sonagarh. I was overjoyed. You would be treated on par with the royals. Little did I realize that he had other plans. He was deep in debt and Raja Saheb had refused to loan him any more money. While in London, Suraj had befriended a rich, childless couple who were desperate to adopt a baby. He told them you were a royal orphan and in return for the adoption they could donate for one of his pet charitable causes. Of course, the couple had no idea the ‘charitable cause’ was a complete sham. When your mother found out she was livid. She said Suraj would have to kill her before she would even let him come near you. So we hatched a plan – I told Suraj your mother had agreed to give you away as your future would be secure with the British couple. Suraj was ecstatic. He asked me to travel to London immediately. Once there, I made secret arrangements for you and your mother to stay in a safe place, where Suraj would never find you.’
The tears streamed down Qiara’s face. Mamma had virtually committed to living like a recluse, shunning social contact and learning life skills to fend for herself and her baby in an alien environment. Mehender Singh went about creating an elaborate subterfuge to convince Suraj that mother and daughter had died in an accident.
She felt drained by the emotions coursing through her. The echoes of the past were so loud, the sound of heavy footsteps coming towards them barely registered.
Mehender Singh whispered urgently. ‘Stay put. I’ll find a way to get you out of here.’
‘How?’
‘Don’t worry. I have saved you once from him and I can do it again,’ he said brusquely.
‘What about the girls? Reshma? Meera?’
He just stared at her. And for the first time, she noticed the deep grooves around his eyes. In the bright glare of the petromax lamp, she saw a tired old man who had spent a lifetime fighting his own demons and desperately needed a chance at redemption.
‘I can’t promise, but I’ll try.’ His voice sounded jaded, almost defeated.
‘Thank you for telling me about my parents.’
He paused for a long moment. ‘You should be proud to be their daughter.’
Fourteen
Kabir grabbed a rusty pail lying outside the stables and slunk inside. Horses stamped and snorted in their stalls as attendants rushed around tending to the animals while gossiping about the guests. To avoid attention, he started grooming a horse. A sense of calm enveloped him as the animal responded to his ministrations. Alert to the conversation around him, he overheard a cocky groomsman saying that even though the Jodhpur team was the better one, Kunwar Suraj’s team would be declared winner. He couldn’t agree more. Suraj believed in winning at any cost – by foul or fair means, as he knew from his own bitter experience.
Kabir spotted a black stallion and couldn’t help admiring it. It was a fantastic specimen and how he wished he could ride him on the polo field. No sooner had he stopped in front of the horse than a guard yelled at him.
‘Hey, you…get away from Kunwar Saheb’s horse.’
Kabir quickly pulled the hood of his jacket up, lowered his head and replied meekly, ‘I just wanted to see if you needed any help with grooming the horses.’
‘You think Kunwar Saheb will let anyone except his own trusted man to attend to his horse? Now get out from here before he sees you.’
Needing no further encouragement, he slipped away hoping to sneak his way into the main palace through a side entrance that had been used by the staff years ago. It had fallen into disuse after his father had a new annexe built to facilitate easier access for the army of minions that served the needs of the royal family.
Kabir ran in short bursts, keeping to the shadows, till he reached a large banyan tree that stood metres away from the unused stepwell. He was trying to figure out how quickly he could breach the rusty old gate, behind which the entrance to the old servants’ quarters lay, when he heard voices behind him. They were uncomfortably close and coming from the direction of the stepwell. Shielding himself against the large tree trunk, he saw the unmistakable figure of the silver-haired Mehender Singh deep in conversation with another man.
Their voices carried in the still night.
‘The one called Reshma is a handful…she is creating a ruckus…’
‘Can’t you manage a bunch of teenage girls?’ Mehender Singh barked.
‘A good thrashing is what they need but it seems the Europeans like their girls unblemished,’ taunted the man.
Mehender snorted a reply that Kabir couldn’t quite catch.
‘What about the one in there?’ The man gestured with his thumb in the direction of the stepwell.
‘Don’t worry about her. Kunwar Saheb will deal with her later. Did you come to whine about the girls?’
‘No, of course not. Kunwar Saheb sent for you.’
As they briskly moved towards the palace, Kabir frowned, wondering if he’d heard the man correctly about a girl inside the stepwell. Had he been talking about Qiara? The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the centuries-old, horseshoe-shaped stepwell. After the water in the well had dried up, the stepwell had been abandoned and the maze-like rooms, which had once been a cool hideaway for the palace women during scorching summers, had become a place for kids to play hide and seek. What better place to keep someone away from the public eye!
There could be someone guarding the place and if Qiara was indeed being kept prisoner there, there was a danger of putting her in greater risk. He had to take his chances though. As he kept descending to the core of the well, his heart thumped hard and fast. His footsteps echoed in the long dark corridor. A bolt clanked open.
There was no place to hide and the closest exit point was a window which looked into the parched ground of the well thirty feet below. There was no time to lose. He climbed on to the sill. A few loose stones gave way and he nearly lost his balance. The beam of a petromax lamp lit up the gravel-strewn corridor and voices drew closer. Crouching, he slid one long leg out of the window and tested the narrow weather-worn ledge. It gave way and fell into the dry base of the well. Shit on toast! He would be totally exposed. There was nothing he could do about it.
Bracing himself, he counted down to the exact moment when the approaching men would be within striking distance. At the precise second, he launched himself at them. His lean body cut through the two men who fell to the floor with a surprised cry. The petromax lamp crashed to the ground. The light cut a swathe across the dark corridor. In a flash Kabir kicked out at the man nearest to him, who yelled in pain as he was thrown on to the shattered glass of the petromax lamp. His companion scrambled to his feet, the glint of a knife flashing for a brief second. But Kabir was quicker. Leaping over the man on the floor, he kicked the lamp which hit the second man before dying out. The man’s howls reverberated in the cave-like space. Kabir grabbed him by the collar and smashed him against the rock wall, knocking him out cold. He groped around for the knife that the second man had dropped in the dust, and grasped it tightly.
He had to find Qiara quickly before their companions came looking for them. Taking a moment to get his bearings in the dark, he headed in the direction from which the two men had come. He didn’t have to go far. At the end of the long corridor, he saw a prison-like iron gate with a huge lock in it. Using the knife, he fiddled with the lock for interminable minutes. Finally, it gave way. He slammed the door open and was greeted by the sound of quickened breathing. The smell of burnt wax – as if a candle had just bee
n snuffed out – hung in the air as he walked deeper into the darkness. Gulping down the dread that something terrible had happened, he struggled to keep the fear out of his voice.
‘Qiara!’
The moment stretched for an eternity in which a thousand fears bloomed, a million hopes were crushed and a zillion dreams died. He prayed for the tiniest sign of hope and dreaded the discovery that he was perhaps too late.
‘Qiara, where are you?’ he screamed.
Something in his brain clicked at the sound of a soft breath, the whisper of his name. ‘Kabir!’
The very next moment his heart exploded with light, joy and profound gratitude. His Qiara was safe!
Feet rustled, the air between them moved and the scent of her enveloped him in a soul-drenching sweetness before he found her in his arms.
‘Qiara.’
He breathed into her face, crushing her to him and revelling in the feel of her soft lips beneath his. Like a man starved for oxygen he sucked at her mouth, resuscitating himself with her life force.
The light of hundreds of candles glowed from the overhead chandeliers as a troupe of Kalbeliyas did the traditional snake dance in the middle of the grandly ornate hall. The murals on the wall and the ambience transported Suhas back to medieval times as his cocaine-fogged mind blurred the lines between real and fantasy. He was flying high and it took him a few minutes to focus on the man who was trying to draw his attention.
‘Huzoor,’ the man said deferentially. ‘Huzoor, more wine for you?’
Suhas lifted his goblet in answer.
‘Huzoor,’ I was told you are looking for some special nasha,’ the man said, filling the goblet to the brim.
Suhas sat up at the mention of pot. ‘Yes, yes, you have it?’
‘No, I couldn’t bring it here. But if you come with me...’
Taking a large gulp of wine, Suhas shook his head. ‘I can’t leave now.’
‘Then I’m afraid, it won’t be possible.’
Suhas grabbed the man’s arm before he turned away. ‘Wait. I’ll come.’
‘Please come quickly. I shall wait near the rose bushes outside.’
The man disappeared before Suhas could gather his wits and he wondered if he’d been hallucinating. Hah, couldn’t be…the wine was proof he was still grounded. Taking another gulp of the exquisite French wine, he turned to catch his friend’s attention who was deep in conversation with a German guest with a huge beer belly.
‘Rats…’
Rathod scowled at him.
‘Rats, I’m not feeling too well. I’ll go and lie down for a while in my room.’
Rathod was instantly all concern but Suhas waved him off, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back before the evening’s programme begins.’
Walking in a straight line was a bit of a struggle for Suhas but he managed without a mishap.
Once outside, he breathed in the fragrant air and immediately felt a lot steadier than he had inside the hall. He saw his bodyguard approach him.
‘Go away, I’m going to my room for a nap.’
When the bodyguard wouldn’t budge, he said sharply, ‘In thirty minutes knock on my door. I don’t want to miss the evening programme.’
Suhas walked away and the man reluctantly stayed back.
The lawns were now deserted as the entire party had congregated inside for the show, which would be followed by dinner and then the piece de resistance of the evening – the Unveiling of the Virgins, as Rats had termed the event.
It really wasn’t his kind of scene, Suhas thought. He would much rather stay in his room and do his coke, but Suraj had taken away his stash. Not to be browbeaten, he’d quietly put the word out among the staff that he was looking for good quality hash. The promise of baksheesh had worked like magic. He only hoped the guy – what did he say his name was? – would turn up. He wandered to the edge of the lawns bordered by sweet smelling rose bushes.
A figure sidled up to him, ‘Huzoor... this way, please.’
‘You brought the stuff?’
‘It’s just a short ride and I have got my horse.’
‘Right now, I can fly, my good man,’ Suhas laughed.
Bholu made a small bowing gesture and lifted his hand to his forehead as if in deference. At the very last moment, his hand brushed over Suhas’ face, who in the blink of an eyelid, collapsed in a heap. Dragging Suhas behind the hedges, Bholu piled him on to a waiting horse like a sack of potatoes, mounted the horse and rode away into the dark forest.
The steep climb up the stepwell steps had winded Qiara and her heart was pumping furiously. She still couldn’t believe Kabir had found her but that scorcher of a kiss was all the proof she needed. Even now her lips felt hot and swollen and her skin tingled from the rush of sensations that sizzled through her. She wanted to stay in this moment forever and yet the danger all around got through to her making her edgier by the second.
They emerged into the open expanse between the stepwell and the palace, and a fresh wave of anxiety swept through her. Would they be able to rescue the girls? Kabir’s plan had been to get her out of the palace precincts before tackling Suraj. But when she’d told him about Reshma, Meera and the other girls, he’d agreed they couldn’t be left behind.
They were at a rusty old gate, half hidden by growing vegetation. Kabir scaled it and leapt on to the other side, landing like a sleek cat. She followed in his footsteps with some difficulty and they stealthily moved through a long channel leading to an outhouse of some kind, including a kitchen where not too long ago royal feasts were prepared by a retinue of bawarchis and their attendants. She spotted the disused tandoor and the cooking station where the royal chefs would have made sumptuous meals.
‘How do you know so much about this palace?’
‘This is where my mother ended up spending most of her time,’ Kabir threw back at her. ‘I virtually grew up in these quarters.’
His answer stunned her but before she could say anything he pulled her along.
In a bit, they found themselves in a different wing of the palace, and she could tell from the condition of the building, it was a recent addition. The architectural style matched that of the old annexe. As they took the stairs to the upper floor, she could hear the screams of a girl. They emerged in a long veranda running in front of a row of rooms.
The veranda overlooked the courtyard below. Strains of music floated up. She figured access to the palace hall would be through the courtyard.
Kabir jiggled the doors one by one but all were locked. When he got to the last door, the screams got louder.
Gripping the knife in his hand, he pushed the door open. Inside, the girls were huddled in a corner while one of them was tied to a chair. A man was bearing down on her.
‘Stop right now unless you want me to slit your throat,’ growled Kabir, thrusting the sharp edge of the knife against the burly man’s neck. Instantly he let go of the girl.
Qiara ran to Reshma and untied her.
‘Reshma, it’s Qiara. You’ll be safe now,’ she spoke quietly, soothing the hysterical girl.
At her quiet voice, hope flashed in Reshma’s eyes. ‘You came for me, Didi!’
‘Qiara,’ Kabir barked, ‘take the girls and run as fast as you can. Wait for me inside the stables across the stepwell. Go now.’
She hurried the girls out of the room, her heart pounding with fear. With a fervent prayer that Kabir would be able to get out before Suraj and his men discovered the girls were gone, she raced down the way they had come, the girls at her heels.
Rathod scoured the banquet hall. There was no sign of Suhas yet and the evening’s ‘unveiling’ was getting delayed. Uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach. He sought out Suraj who was holding forth among a group of polo enthusiasts.
‘Suraj, we have a situation.’ He whispered quietly into his friend’s ear.
Excusing himself, Suraj walked away from the group. ‘What happened?’
‘Suhas is missing. He was supposed to be in his
room napping but he can’t be found.’
‘The bloody idiot must be lying doped out somewhere. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.’
‘That’s what I thought too. But if we don’t find the Prime Minister’s son soon...you get my drift, right?’
‘We can’t afford to have the police crawling all over the place.’
‘So, let’s get on with the ‘unveiling’. I’ll get Mehender Singh to send out people to look for Suhas.’
‘Good idea.’
Suraj signalled to a couple of attendants. ‘Go get the girls. And tell Mehender Singh to come at once.’
After Mehender Singh was despatched to look for Suhas, a harried-looking attendant rushed to Suraj’s side. His hands were shaking and his voice quivered.
‘Huzoor Saheb, the girls are not in the room.’
‘What?’ Suraj’s loud voice caught the attention of a few of the guests who gave him strange looks. Struggling to keep his voice down, he added, ‘Have you looked in the other rooms?’
‘Ji, Huzoor Saheb. Jeet, who was with the girls, is dead. Snake bite.’
‘Have you gone out of your mind?’
Suraj rushed out of the banquet hall with Rathod at his heels. But no sooner had they reached the far end of the hall than they were approached by a couple of nervous stablehands.
No Safe Zone Page 14
