Fear Is the Key

by Juggi Bhasin

  Kripal turned to look at her with shrewd eyes. ‘How do I appear to you, Namrata Madam?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘No . . . tell me to my face. I appear like a dolt to you, correct?’

  ‘I . . . I . . . ’

  ‘Feel free, Miss Namrata, to tell me to my face. I won’t mind it. But I will be pissed off if you try to mislead me.’

  Kripal face’s darkened and he threateningly came up near her.

  ‘Namrata Devi, I am investigating both Suhel and your CEO. I know your office is split down to the middle between those who support Suhel and those that hate him. Don’t even dare to try and get others to do your dirty work. Stick to what is asked of you.’

  He straightened up and smiled weirdly. He seemed to have recovered some of his good mood. He made sucking noises and grinned some more.

  ‘I like to suck,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘With a straw that is. In case you are wondering what I am talking about, then know this. I was referring to the wonderful coffee you served a moment ago. That’s something to be proud of in this place. Not much else though. Have a good day, Miss Namrata. I will be in touch. And just to let you know, I dig really deep.’

  CHAPTER 17

  Rahul woke up with a start. He felt hot under the comforter despite the chill. He had switched off the oil heater before he had slept. There was no reason for him to feel warm, unless of course he had forgotten to turn off the heater. Worse, his bladder was full and that meant a trip to the bathroom, which could disrupt his sleep for the night. Of late, he had not been sleeping well. He would wake up in the morning with aching limbs and a heavy head. He made a mental note to fix an appointment for his annual medical check-up that was long overdue. He decided to brazen it out under the comforter. He was not a child who would wet the bed.

  He pulled the comforter over his face, but an irritating bluish light prevented him from going to sleep. He dragged the comforter to completely cover his face, but it was of no use. The damned light seemed to penetrate. He shrugged off the comforter and got up. Then, he screamed as if nothing made sense any more.

  Simone sat naked on a stool, covered in blue luminescence, not far from the foot of his bed. She was combing her hair, looking into the full-length mirror in front of her with wide eyes. He saw his terrified face and Simone in the mirror, her bare back looking hideous in the bluish light.

  His screams remained stuck in his throat as Simone finished combing her hair and continued to look at him through the mirror. Then she got up to face him and sprayed herself liberally with her favourite perfume. She lifted her leg and placed it on the stool. Then she sprayed inside of her as well, looking at him seductively all the time. He saw a bit of red flesh. To his horror he realized that the inside of her vaginal lips was crimson red, in sharp contrast to the sepulchral, bluish tonality of her body. The smell of the perfume filled the room. He gagged, feeling invaded as the strong scent seeped into every pore of his body. Simone walked to the bedroom door, spraying the room liberally, and closed the door behind her.

  It took Rahul a few seconds before he could breathe properly. He threw off the comforter and raced out looking for her. He switched on all the lights, but there was no sign of her. He sniffed around, but the trail of perfume had disappeared with her. He pinched himself to wake up from the nightmare, and it hurt. He knew that she had been there in the room. Or was his paranoia getting the better of him?

  He could not sleep, so he opened his laptop and went over the algorithm he had created to track the activities of the three men who had come into Simone’s life from nowhere. He tensed suddenly as his ears picked up a very faint sound. It sounded as if someone had clapped mechanically. He could not be too sure. It lasted barely a few seconds, and then stillness prevailed.

  It was then that it struck Rahul. Dead or alive, Simone was sending him a message. He had to go after these three men to find out what had happened to her. Like one possessed, he worked on the algorithm late into the night.

  *

  It was close to 9 a.m., and there was a mad scramble for the elevators at the Yummimages office. No one wanted to be late. Rumours were flying thick and fast that memos had been served to some employees. Some tearful exits had been observed in the array of glass cabins on the fifth floor. True or not, one thing was clear. The days of fun and frolic, chappals and shorts, and braless tops were over. A new dress code had kicked in. A new work ethic was being talked about. A new work culture was in place. The age of the dreamy-eyed, do-what-you-will millennial was coming to an end. Those displaying vestiges of disobedience were being hauled up or given pink slips.

  Namrata raced to the elevator as the doors began to close. From the other end, she saw Suhel walking up towards her. He waved to her to let it go. She was breathing hard as he came up to her.

  ‘A word with you in the cafe, Namrata,’ said Suhel.

  ‘Sure, Sir. Anything in particular?’

  ‘We will talk over a cup of coffee.’

  Suhel led the way to the cafe on the ground floor, which, under the new regime, had started to wear a deserted look. People would be glued to their workstations, driven by real or imaginary fears. Suhel selected a table and ordered coffee for both of them. He kept quiet for a moment and then asked her.

  ‘I believe that Inspector Kripal interviewed you. What was it all about?’

  She summarized the interview for him. He frowned and flicked a sugar particle from the surface of the table.

  ‘Oh, yes. That brief blackout. I had forgotten about it too. He’s bound to look into it. Did he ask any questions about anyone specific?’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘Like me, for instance. I was then the number two in the company.’

  She hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying.

  ‘No, your name did not come up.’

  ‘Good,’ he said and leaned back more expansively. ‘So, tell me your thoughts about the interview. Do you think he’s on to something?’

  She sipped her coffee, collecting her thoughts, and replied smoothly.

  ‘I think he’s fishing in the dark. He’s not really got anything. You can tell these things. He looks pretty incompetent anyway.’

  Suhel smiled and stirred his coffee with a tablespoon.

  ‘You did well. You held your nerve. Anything you want to add?’

  ‘No, that’s just about it. It’s too early right now, but I doubt if he has much to go on.’

  ‘Yeah . . . well, we shall see. Once again, any talk of me?’

  ‘No . . . no mention of you,’ she replied firmly. ‘If you don’t mind, I have a Skype call with one of our vendors. I need to rush.’

  Suhel looked beyond her shoulders at a man standing near the payment counter. He nodded at the man, who came up to the table with a box. Suhel smiled and turned his attention to Namrata.

  ‘There’s no need for you to go up, Namrata. You have been fired.’

  The man put the box on the table and walked away.

  Suhel continued. ‘All your personal possessions are in this box. There’s also a three-month salary cheque you can encash. You know, that’s what you get when you are fired.’

  For a moment, Namrata was unable to speak from shock. Her eyes stung with tears.

  ‘You can’t do this to me, Suhel, you can’t . . .’

  ‘But, I just did.’

  From the corner of his eyes, Suhel saw an ant chasing another particle of sugar on the table. He brought his palm down with force and flattened the ant. Namrata jumped at the sheer violence of his act. He looked up, smiling at the show of disproportionate force, holding up his palm to display the remains of the ant.

  ‘Do you know what a purge is, Namrata? Ever heard of the word? It’s a kind of deep cleansing, call it a kind of deep hoovering. I am cleaning this company of all rats and termites, especially those who oppose me. Did you seriously think I would not find out that you tried to rat me out to Kripal? God above created man in his image. I will
do the same with this company, putting my people in place. Goodbye, Namrata. If you need money for the cab fare to go home, don’t hesitate. After all, you are one of our oldest employees. We are a family.’

  Namrata wiped her tears and shakily got up, picking up her box.

  ‘You bastard. I hope you rot in hell . . .’

  ‘There’s time for that, Namrata. Till then, let me enjoy the fruits of heaven.’

  CHAPTER 18

  Usman let out a sigh of relief as half a dozen kids reluctantly left the pool. It was the worst part of his job. From 4 to 5 p.m. every day, he had to shepherd, teach, train and enforce rules in a pool full of kids out to have fun. Their chatter and attempts to defy authority would drive him up the swimming pool wall. Very often, he would give up and let them have their way. It was a job that entailed a lot of responsibility, and he would feel quite worn out after they left. During this not-so favourite hour, he had noticed a man with a thick beard, around the same age as him, hanging around the corners of the pool. The man wearing swimming trunks came up to him after the kids left. He put his toe into the water and withdrew it.

  ‘Salaam alaikum,’ said the young man with deep-set eyes.

  ‘Walaikum salaam, Brother,’ responded Usman. ‘Are you here to learn swimming?’

  ‘Yes, I am. I am not a regular member though. I have paid a corporate fee. They told me you are the best out here.’

  ‘That’s okay. What’s your name?’

  ‘Eh . . . Hyder. Hyder Ali.’

  ‘So step into the pool, Hyder Ali. You will have to come in, Brother, if you want to learn swimming.’

  ‘I would rather not. You see, I am afraid of the deep end. I fear I will sink.’

  Usman held out his hand from the edge of the pool. ‘Take my hand and let go of your fears. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me when I say that in a month’s time, you will be able to do laps on your own.’

  Rahul stayed back, giving the impression that he was deep in thought, debating the offer. He finally took Usman’s hand and came down the steel rungs into the deep side. Usman, with a lot of skill, positioned Rahul in a way that would allow him to float vertically without going down.

  ‘Pump your legs as if you are cycling and sweep the water around using both arms. You might bob up and down a bit, but the displacement of the water will push you up. Take care not to swallow water when your head goes down. Don’t defy the water. Flow with its strength. Do this and you will not go down.’

  ‘Don’t let go of me, please,’ said Rahul.

  ‘I promise you that I will not let you sink,’ encouraged Usman. He held Rahul from the back, and for the next half hour Rahul followed the drill. He did not come to know when Usman let go of him, and he went on exercising and floating. After forty minutes, Usman indicated to Rahul that it was time to pull out of the pool.

  ‘You did well today,’ said Usman as Rahul came out and dried himself with a towel. ‘It’s the end of my shift. Tomorrow, I will teach you how to breathe in the water.’

  ‘You are the best, Usman Bhai,’ said Rahul. ‘Hey, hope I am not imposing myself on you. I am new to the city. Would you like to catch up for a drink? My treat, you know.’

  ‘Drink?’ asked Usman. ‘You are lax with the principles of our faith?’

  Rahul winked and said good-humouredly, ‘Not consciously, Brother. But once in a while, I do let go . . . call it the cravings of the flesh . . . I can always seek forgiveness later.’

  ‘That’s the line I use when I feel like having some chilled beer,’ replied Usman with a straight face. Both men laughed, and Rahul asked Usman to meet him outside the club in a few minutes. Usman went in for a quick shower, changed into civvies and handed over charge for the next shift.

  The winter evening had set in, and the tree tops outside the club were cloaked in a grimy haze. It spread like a slow-moving, grey-tongued serpent making its way through every nook, corner and crevice of the city. The brightness of the day disappeared, and it looked as if the city was lumbering along like an unkempt, unsteady giant, handicapped with double vision. Both men came out of the club, called for a Zuber and soon settled in a beer bar in Khan Market. They raised a toast and Rahul ordered some snacks to get the evening going. The foam from the beer collected around Usman’s mouth as he asked Rahul, ‘So, where are you from, Hyder Bhai, and what brings you to this miserable city?’

  Rahul munched on peanuts and answered, a smile slowly drifting across his face. ‘I am from Kottayam in Kerala. I own a rubber plantation there. Well, it’s my father’s really. My old man passed away recently, and I have no interest in it. I am looking to sell the business.’

  Usman could not resist a laugh. ‘From Kerala, Brother! And you don’t know how to swim?’

  Rahul replied in good humour. ‘Call it the oddities of my upbringing. I was always afraid of water. But, wait, there’s more. I intend to sell my business and invest in a new one. My money will go into buying water scooters and waterski sports equipment, which will be placed along the beach at Mahabalipuram.’

  Usman looked at Rahul with incredulous eyes and burst out laughing. He finished the pitcher of beer in front of him, and Rahul quickly ordered another one. Usman spoke excitedly.

  ‘I get it! I get it, Hyder Sahib! New business, new beginnings! Now, it would be downright silly if you were in the water sports business and couldn’t step into the sea.’

  Rahul smiled gratefully. ‘You figured it out, Brother.’

  Usman poured generously from the fresh beer pitcher and lifted his glass, ‘Cheers and success to you, Hyder Bhai, in your new endeavour. Hope the day never arrives when you have to jump into the sea to save someone who falls off your water scooter.’

  Both men laughed and clinked glasses. Slowly, the empties piled up. Usman slowly relaxed and Rahul kept ordering more beer. Usman chewed on a kebab and asked Rahul casually.

  ‘I am a bit intrigued. What’s there to fear about water? Maybe I have always been a water baby, so perhaps the problem escapes me. But help me understand . . . Why would someone be afraid of water?’

  Rahul raised his beer mug up to his eyes and looked at Usman. ‘Usman Bhai, do you know what I am seeing now?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I see piss in the water.’

  ‘Your point being?’

  ‘When you drown, besides the hundreds of other reactions that hit you, you could also end up pissing and shitting in your pants. Then the water would look like this beer.’

  Usman put his mug down, the mirth gone from his face. Rahul elaborated on the point. ‘I am an engineer by training, Usman Bhai. The laws of physics take over when you drown. It is the most horrible way to die. There can be nothing worse than the moment when your airway fills with water, your bloodstream is choked with carbon dioxide and there is insufficient oxygen reaching your brain. You thrash around in complete panic, but there is no end to it. It keeps getting worse till you come to the point when you feel that your lungs and brain will implode. It is the loneliest and toughest way to die. You will, in that moment, experience what I call the sum of all your fears. I experienced that when I was in junior school. I dived and went down because I opened my mouth at the bottom. The water rushed in. I was nearly brain-dead when our swimming coach pulled me out.’

  Usman licked some of the salt left behind on his lips by the peanuts, looked into the beer mug and then looked up to read Rahul’s grim face.

  ‘The fear stayed . . .’ Usman said understandingly.

  ‘Yes, it never goes away. It changes context and shape, but it always remains a part of you.’

  ‘So, why water sports then? Why not some other business?’

  ‘Maybe that’s my way of confronting my fear.’

  Usman nodded in appreciation and emptied the mug. His speech was slurred, but the conviction was real.

  ‘I like it when a man has the capacity to face what he runs away from.’

  ‘Tell me about your experience,’ asked Rahul with deadpan ser
iousness. ‘You look like the kind of man who makes others live in fear.’

  Usman checked himself. Then he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe. But I was as fearful as you once. I could not stand the sight of blood. It would send me into convulsions. Then Abu changed it all for me.’

  ‘Abu?’

  ‘The man who raised and mentored me. One day, he put me to a test. You could call it a rite of passage. He brought a cackling hen into the humble dwelling where I grew up and called me to the ghusalkhana, the bathroom. He held the frantic hen in one hand and a knife in the other.

  ‘Kill it,’ he ordered. ‘Decapitate it slowly to let the blood spurt out. Do it slowly the halal way. Then pluck out the feathers. After that, slice the hen from the abdomen and take out the guts. Cut off the legs. Then proceed to carve pieces along the breastbone. Collect the waste, and put it in the waste bucket. That will be your task for today.’

  ‘I wet my knickers when he told me that,’ said Usman. ‘He pushed me into the deep end in one go. At first, I flatly refused, but he held his ground. He locked me in the ghusalkhana. He shouted that I would remain inside for an eternity if I did not complete the task.’

  Usman spoke looking stone-faced.

  ‘I sat in the ghusalkhana all night with the hen, unable to do my mentor’s bidding. The cackling drove me mad. Perhaps the hen had sensed its impending doom and was nervous. So was I. I pounded on the door, but it was of no use. He was not listening. He had probably gone off to sleep. I was desperate with hunger. I had had a roti with tea but that was almost twelve hours earlier. I could bear the hunger no longer. It must have been early morning when I decapitated the hen.’

  Usman refilled his glass and continued to tell the tale.

  ‘The half-cut head lolled to one side. The first spray of blood hit my face. I can never forget how the rest of the body continued to twitch involuntarily after the head was completely chopped off. I puked and cleaned my face. After a while I had no choice but to continue with the task. I howled and shook like a leaf, but I did not give up. Soon, the ghusalkhana was drenched in blood and waste. I collected the waste and banged on the door to let him know that the task was complete. He did not come. I was frantic with hunger. I thought my sanity had left me. Then I understood that I had passed only half the test. Around late noon the next day, I had no choice but to eat a piece of raw chicken to satisfy my hunger.