by Juggi Bhasin
‘I understand, Sir,’ replied Suhel. ‘Once again we are very sorry . . .’
The DCP cut the connection, and Suhel wearily sat in his chair. He knew Rahul was not out of the woods just yet.
That night, Kripal sent two constables to Rahul’s cell. They beat him through the night till he passed out. By noon the next day, bail was secured for Rahul, and he was rushed to nearby Medanta Hospital for a check-up. A week later, Rahul came out of the hospital and headed straight for his office. He went to Simone’s room and closed the door behind him. He sat on her chair, put his head on her table and cried like a child. He did not need any investigation to tell him that he had lost Simone forever. He knew deep within that she was gone from his life and the world. He was at the edge, staring at a sea of loss and never-ending pain.
CHAPTER 9
The next week onwards, Rahul walked into office looking like the CEO of any other company rather than the head of a start-up. He had shaved faultlessly, and he reeked of an aftershave that had been a favourite with executives in the nineties. He wore a tie with matching cufflinks and a starched shirt and carried a briefcase. Young girls in shorts and tops and men in bermudas stared at him as he walked past. They felt close to naked as compared to their overdressed CEO. Many wondered if one of the top private banks had taken over their fledgling company overnight.
Rahul closed the door behind him in his office and logged in to his computer. He quickly went over the financial data and the current status of the IPO. He called up his secretary, Prema, on the intercom.
‘I want a meeting with all the divisional heads and the KPMG team managing the IPO.’
‘When do you want me to schedule the meeting, Rahul? Sometime this week?’
‘No, I want them in my room right now. Get cracking on this.’
‘But, Rahul, it’s short notice’
‘Now, means now. I am waiting in here.’
With this, Rahul cut the line. News soon spread in the office that he was not his usual self, that something had got into him.
Meanwhile, Suhel contacted the team from KPMG. Soon, all the heads assembled in the conference room. They were not sure why they had been called in. Maybe some final farewell words about Simone had still not been spoken. Maybe the head of the company wanted to pep them up. They all took their chairs looking stoic; a sense of grief draped the room. Rahul walked in with his laptop and, without acknowledging anyone, sat down. He was all businesslike.
‘The IPO is at our doorstep. This morning, I had a look at what we would be offering to the public. Let me not mince words. It looks like a blunt instrument. If I was an investor and had money to spare, I would not cast a second look at this offering. It’s full of loopholes. There’s only so far the reputation of a company can get you. Some people read the fine print, you know. Dubash, why is the offering still a half-baked cake?’
Dubash, the head of finance, taken by surprise, was thinking hard about what to say.
‘The KPMG team is here. I have to get into the specifics with them . . .’
‘I have eyes and can see them seated at the table, Dubash. I don’t need you to pass the buck to them. I am not interested in what they have to say. The ball is in your court, Dubash, not theirs. Let some outsiders also see how fucking incompetent we are!’
Dubash’s face turned red, and he mumbled an apology.
Rahul snapped at him again. ‘I want you to get your house in order, Dubash, in the next twenty-four hours. Otherwise don’t show me your face tomorrow morning.’
Next, Rahul trained his guns on Simone’s second-in-command, Aasifya.
‘What’s happening to the McDonald’s account, Aasifya? I went over your creatives this morning. Are we catering to young adults gorging on fries and burgers or to seven-year-old kids eating Jell-O and popsicles? Were you sleeping during the company brief?’
Aasifya was too stunned to react. Simone was not there to defend her. She got up shakily.
‘Rahul, Simone only told me to . . .’
Rahul got up and screamed at the top of his voice.
‘Don’t you dare take her name. Not you, none of you! Simone is gone! Do you hear me? You, all of you, drank and danced and fucked and puked at the party! Now she’s dead and gone, and you still hide behind her name! Have all of you no sense of shame? You, Aasifya, want to step into her shoes, huh? You want to take her place. Isn’t that what you are thinking? You can’t differentiate between Jell-O and fries, and you want to take her place!’
Everyone froze even as Aasifya trembled from the firing she got. Rahul took off his tie and flung it into a corner. Tears stung at his eyes. He was looking at a point on the wall above Aasifya’s head.
‘They care shit about you, Simone! All they want to do is to protect their jobs. I work with a team of scavengers. Like pigs, they have wandered in the garbage, their snouts up, thinking of themselves . . .’
Suhel boldly got up and signalled to the team to leave the room. They silently trooped out, stunned by the turn of events. Suhel put an arm around his friend and made him sit. Rahul was shaking with tears and fury.
‘It’s too soon, old buddy,’ said Suhel in a soothing voice. ‘You should not have come to the office. You need time to deal with this. There is nothing you need to prove to anyone. These people are not at fault. They are also grieving for Simone. And why are we assuming the worst for her? Search parties are looking for her all over the country.’
Rahul wept uncontrollably and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t need proof, Suhel. I know she is gone. I know it in my gut.’
Suhel gripped his friend even tighter.
‘Even if that is true, we can’t stop looking for her. Go home and get some rest. I will come by in the evening. Everything in life is a process of time. It all settles down eventually.’
Wearily, Rahul got up and picked up his tie. He put his laptop in the bag and slung it over his shoulders.
‘Tell me, Suhel, and tell me the truth. Did we fail her?’
Suhel thought about the question and then answered.
‘It’s too soon, Rahul. The truth is somewhere out there. Hold the line; don’t give up.’
Rahul nodded, his eyes red and brimming with tears.
CHAPTER 10
Rahul stood outside the door to Simone’s apartment and inserted the spare key into the keyhole. The apartment was filled with a faint musty smell. The furniture in the room, the art decor on the walls, the collection of CDs in the music system looked oddly lifeless. After her disappearance, Simone had, as it were, taken the breath of life away from the apartment. Rahul quickly moved through the rooms hoping against all logic for a miracle. He opened cupboards, looked into the closet and went through the drawers, unsure of what he was looking for. He went to the bathroom, turned on the shower and sat on the pot, looking at the water streaming across the tiled floor to the drain. The flow of the water dulled his agitation, building a rhythm of its own. He lost count of time and space. Waking up with a start, he came back from a lost world. He turned off the tap reluctantly and walked to the living room. He moved around without a purpose and then sat on the easy chair that faced the television console. From nowhere, the scent of Simone’s favourite perfume drifted into the room. The trail seemed to spread from room to room. His senses became alert to the possibility that someone else may be in the apartment.
The hairs on his forearms stood up and he spun around to meet the unexpected arrival. There was no one there. He rushed to the bedroom, half expecting Simone to emerge from the sheets. No one there.
The perfume smelled stronger than before. In desperation, he again rushed to the bathroom and checked the wash area. The silence in the house was beginning to generate a noise of its own in his head. The perfume was so powerful that it almost made him dizzy. His eyes began to water, and then the doorbell rang sharply. It was his mind playing tricks, he thought. No, the bell had rung. And it was ringing again. And again, then again. He rushed to the main door and opened it with f
orce. The part-time house help stood outside, caught in the act of trying to look inside through the keyhole. She backed up when she saw him trembling with tears in his eyes.
‘Everything all right, Sahib?’ she blurted out. ‘I was in the neighbourhood when somebody downstairs told me you were here. Thought I should come up and have a word with you.’
He had a hard time focusing on this unexpected intrusion. He frowned and asked her harshly, ‘What . . . what is it that you want?’
The house help looked to the ground, feeling a little embarrassed.
‘I understand it’s a bad time for you, Sahib. We all really liked Simone Memsahib. But we are poor folk, Sahib. My last month’s wages are due, and there was no one I could turn to . . .’
Rahul tried to get a grip on himself. ‘I will pay,’ he offered. ‘How much is due?’
‘Three thousand rupees, Sahib.’
Rahul took out his wallet and looked at Simone’s snapshot encased in there. She looked so different from the last time he had seen her on the balcony. He took out a wad of notes and thrust them into her hand without counting them. A smile broke across her plump face.
‘You are kind, Sahib. We all pray Simone didi comes back soon.’
‘Do me a favour,’ Rahul interrupted her.
‘Anything, Sahib . . .’
Rahul caught her by the arm and dragged her inside.
‘Tell me if you can smell perfume,’ he asked her with an edge in his voice.
She looked at him as if he had gone mad. She made a show of sniffing in the air.
‘No, Sahib. I can smell no perfume. But there is a musty smell. It’s my doing, Sahib. I haven’t cleaned the house in a week.’
Again he took her by the arm and roughly dragged her to the bathroom. The maid lost her composure and looked at him as if he could not be trusted. Again he spoke to her harshly.
‘Are you sure? The smell is so strong in the bathroom. Are you lying to me?’
The house help shrugged off his grip and backed away from the bathroom.
‘There is no smell, Sahib, and I think your mind has been affected. Don’t come near me. I thought you were a nice man . . . I’m not that sort of woman . . .’
She fled the bathroom and then the flat. All was quiet again until Rahul’s cellphone rang shrilly, tearing through the stillness. He took the call.
Inspector Kripal, breathing heavily, spoke to him. ‘CEO Sahib, the Delhi Police’s motto is “shanti, sewa, nyay”. We Gurugram police wallahs are their poor country cousins. I am not sure of our motto, not even sure if we have one. At the moment, I manage with “danda sewa se nyay”. It’s in the vernacular, so you might not understand it. Can you think of a better one?’
‘I don’t have time for this,’ replied Rahul sharply. The musty smell was affecting his nostrils once again. ‘Could you please not disturb me? I have a pile of work to attend to at the office.’
Kripal kept quiet for a moment, and Rahul could almost sense him smirking at the other end.
‘Why do you lie to me, Rahul Sahib. I have been working hard on your case. I want to update you. You talk of office, but you’re lying. Unless of course, Shamona Madam’s flat has become your new office. Is that the case, Rahul Sahib?’
The colour drained from Rahul’s face. He had underestimated the cop.
‘Are you following me?’ he asked him, his heart beating fast.
‘No, I am protecting you, CEO Sahib. It’s a big, bad world out there. Who knows which NH-8 gang is after you? I am coming upstairs. Don’t disappear on me.’
A short while later, Kripal sat on the sofa facing Rahul. He flipped through the pages of a notepad, taking notes. He spoke slowly, taking his time.
‘It’s rare that one gets to have a conversation with a big man like you. One should make the most of such occasions. A cup of tea would be nice . . . but, maybe . . .’
He looked at Rahul, who gave him a surprised look.
‘Got it, there is no one here to make the tea. Never mind. And you, of course, are sad that your friend has disappeared. So, we have a dilemma here.’
Rahul impatiently asked the cop, ‘You were going to give me an update?’
Kripal stared at him long and hard. Then he loudly sucked the air making rude noises. He smirked and his weathered face broke into a smile. He spoke softly. ‘I was imagining that I was drinking tea with you. If you don’t have something, I guess you have to imagine it.’
‘Can you come to the point please?’ asked Rahul in exasperation.
Kripal kept quiet. Then he spoke in his tough-cop voice, his eyes cold. ‘You were right on one account, Mr CEO. She has truly disappeared. Our teams have looked everywhere, all over the country. No sign of her. Now, this is the thing. You were the last person seen with her. We have talked to a number of your employees. She was last seen on the balcony with you. No one saw her after that. What are your thoughts on this strange occurrence?’
The anger showed in Rahul’s eyes. But he managed to keep the conversation civil.
‘Right. Let’s get the facts straight, Inspector. Indeed, I was on the balcony, and I was there for over half-an-hour before I went looking for Simone. By the time I went in, she had disappeared. So, I could not have killed her. What are the other possibilities? Maybe I threw her off the balcony? Or maybe, like the great magician Houdini, I made her disappear into thin air? Or better still, my accomplices, an NH-8 gang, climbed up to the balcony using a rope or the drain pipe and whisked her away. And later, they butchered her and buried her in a forest outside Gurugram. Is that what you are thinking, Officer?’
Kripal continued to stare at Rahul. Then he smiled again. ‘Anything is possible, dear Sir. Now tell me. I have been told that Mr Suhel and Miss Shamona repeatedly fought at company meetings. Ugly words were exchanged. Could Mr Suhel have had anything to do with her disappearance?’
Rahul tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. ‘Fights for turf are routine in most offices. We are no exception. Suhel is full of bluster, but he has the heart of a mouse. Let me say one more thing. Simone made friends more easily than enemies. I think there is hardly anyone out there who would have wished her harm. And that includes Suhel.’
Kripal smiled expansively and shrugged. ‘Then what happened to her remains a real mystery, a real whodunnit disappearance. Never mind. One more question, Sir. Did Shamona Devi suffer from what you people living in high rises and earning fat pay packets suffer from? I am looking for the right word . . . Ah, yes! . . . they call it depression.’
For a moment, Rahul was at a loss for words.
Kripal continued. ‘In our village, people suffering from this ailment jump into a well sometimes. I guess they do it differently in the high-rises of Gurugram. The depressed would probably go up to the tallest building and stand up and stretch their arms like that boy in Titanic. And then, like in the movies, they flip backwards and go down thirty floors.’
Kripal leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. ‘The result is the same, whether you jump from a water tank in Bawana or from a high-rise in Magnolia. Your skull will split open and your brains will be splattered over a wide radius.’
Rahul looked Kripal in the eye and said, ‘I have no idea what shit you are talking about.’
Kripal stood up, and the sneer was back on his face. ‘It would be very convenient for you, would it not? If she jumped and ended her troubles? I will be in touch, Mr CEO.’
CHAPTER 11
There was no escaping her perfume. It followed Rahul when he returned to his apartment. The apartment itself still looked as if it had not recovered from the party that had been uninhibited in its scope of revelry and then tragedy. Since that day, Rahul had been dismissing the part-time household helps from coming in to clear the mess. He wanted to be left alone in his misery.
Rahul crashed on to the bed and woke up the next morning, feeling grubby and in need of a wash. He stumbled into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. A three-day thick growth covered his f
ace, and the stubble was prickly to the touch. He pulled out his razor but changed his mind. He walked to the kitchen to prepare some coffee.
What he saw there almost left him breathless.
The refrigerator door was half-open, and a loaf of bread rested against the window sill. A butter knife and a quarter plate were positioned at the precise angle that Simone preferred. He turned around to meet her, but there was no one. The perfume trail returned. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead. He desperately searched for Simone in the apartment. There was no one. He opened the window in his bedroom and heard the wind whistling outside. The banshee-like sound increased in pitch, and his body shook as he cried. He could bear it no longer. He put on his jeans and ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
The cold winter air cleared his head a little. He made up his mind to visit all their favourite haunts. He crossed the road and took the metro from the Cyber City Metro Station. It was afternoon, and the coaches were half-full. The train sped across familiar landmarks on its elevated run from Gurugram to Delhi.
Rahul debated whether to get down at Green Park station and walk to Evergreen Sweets. Or should he disembark at the Qutub Minar station? Simone had a weakness for spicy rasam, and Evergreen Sweets was their regular haunt. He had not eaten well since the last few days, but the thought of sitting in a sweet shop and tucking into food made him feel nauseous.
Ultimately, he got down at the Qutub Minar station. Like a curious tourist, he purchased a ticket to visit the historical site. He walked in and clicked photographs on his cellphone. He eyed the iron pillar, which was popular because of the folklore associated with it. According to this, if you manage to get your hands behind your back and clasp them around the iron pillar, then any wish you make will come true. The iron pillar has been barricaded from all such juvenile attempts for decades, but Simone and Rahul had substituted the pillar with a tree in the rolling greens around Qutub Minar.
