by Anirban Bose
Rajeev was stunned. He tried to say something, but found himself unprepared for Sam’s uncharacteristic outburst. ‘Yeah…yeah…but Toshi was my good friend, too, and Harsha’s and Jagdeep’s…’
‘You shouldn’t talk about being anybody’s good friend, Rajeev!’ said Sam, his voice dripping with condescension.
‘What do you mean?’ said Rajeev.
‘You know what I mean. Your “friendship” almost got us into trouble. Your friendship is the reason we couldn’t say goodbye properly to Toshi’s parents and family. Your friendship is the reason God knows what Toshi’s uncle thinks of us!’
Harsha looked visibly nervous. Rajeev tried to get a handle on the situation. ‘Look, we didn’t do anything!’
‘What didn’t you do?’ asked Jagdeep.
No one spoke. In the uneasy silence, Jagdeep looked around nervously. ‘What happened, guys?’ he asked. ‘I thought Toshi’s uncle got us out of that place in a hurry because someone had died…but what did we have to do with it?’
‘Nothing!’ said Rajeev.
‘What did Sam mean about Rajeev’s friendship causing trouble? What happened? Are we in danger?’ asked Jagdeep again, his fear mounting by the minute.
‘Look, Jagdeep!’ shouted Rajeev, ‘nothing happened! Just forget it and shut up, okay?’
Sam looked at Rajeev coldly and said, ‘Someone got killed, Jagdeep… And there was suspicion…that…’ He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
Jagdeep’s eyes widened. ‘Suspicion of what?’
‘Nothing!’ shouted Rajeev.
Suddenly, Harsha started crying. ‘We didn’t do it, man…we didn’t do anything!’ he sobbed, burying his face in his hands.
‘Shut up, Harsha!’ screamed Rajeev.
‘No!’ cried Harsha. ‘I won’t shut up…you got me into this, you fucking bastard… You did this to me!’
Harsha’s outburst shocked Rajeev. ‘Harsha, cool down,’ he said. ‘Get a hold on yourself, man! We didn’t do anything…what did I do?’
‘You did this, Rajeev! You convinced me to go into that room…you made me, because you know that I want to be like you and I wouldn’t say no to you… You used me! You couldn’t do it alone, so you used me! You’ve always used me, Rajeev! You’ve always used me!’
Rajeev looked like an air-filled puppet that had just been stuck with a pin. He sat back quietly and turned to gaze at the clear blue sky just outside the window. After a few seconds, he said softly, ‘She was still breathing when we saw her, man…’
Then, he began to cry as he related the events of that night.
TWENTY-NINE
After Adi had gone to bed that night, Sam, Rajeev, Harsha and Jagdeep sat staring into the depths of the valley in front of them, soaking in the silence of the hills. Their attention was sporadically diverted by the sounds emanating from the room they had seen the girl being escorted into. In the thin night air, the tinkle of glasses, the thump on a mattress, the creaking of wooden hinges and the light strains of laughter carried over like announcements and made their puerile imaginations conjure up images of lurid sexual acts. They smiled knowingly at each other and traded mischievous winks. Intermittently they stole longing glances at the room, wondering what fantasy of theirs was being played out in its confines. Afraid of making the wrong move, they sat about aimlessly.
Finally, when curiosity conquered their judgment, they decided to peek through one of the room’s windows. As they were headed towards the room, the cook spotted them and hurried out to let them know that the room had a ‘very-important-person’ who should not be disturbed. When pressed for answers, the cook informed them that it was the Home Minister of Assam along with his friend. The importance of that information quickly doused the erotic fires and readily convinced them that the minister wouldn’t want his extra-curricular activities spied upon.
They returned to their room where they sat around for some time and cursed their luck, before finally falling asleep around 1.30 in the morning.
A little while later, Rajeev awoke to the sound of a car starting up. His grogginess disappeared quickly when he guessed that the car melting into the distance must be the one carrying the Minister. Rajeev crept out of bed and tiptoed his way to the other room. He peeked in through the window, straining to see in the dim light of the moonbeams pouring in from the vents. His heart began to race when his eyes fell on the lovely figure of the girl sleeping peacefully in bed – this time wearing only her anklets. He marvelled at his luck, ecstatic that the major impediment to approaching her was well on his way to Assam. He stared at her for a few moments, trying to summon the courage to step inside. His excitement, however, was dampened by a nagging fear, one that convinced him to return to the room and wake up Harsha.
Harsha awoke from sleep quietly, and although unable to share Rajeev’s excitement, he was eager not to displease him. The two of them slipped out and crept to the other room, where Rajeev introduced Harsha to the seductive sight.
They stared at her as she lay on her side, facing the opposite wall. Her back was towards them — the taut, flawless skin glistening in the velvety moonlight as it narrowed into an hourglass waist. Her buttocks were round and firm and disappeared where her legs curled away towards her chest. Lost in the tranquillity of sleep, she looked as comfortable with her nudity as someone posing for such a portrait.
As the two of them looked, their arousal, now set afire, blew away any doubts they’d had so far. A tentative knock on her door, to their surprise, actually caused it to open. In their excitement, it didn’t strike them as odd that she should be sleeping in the nude with the door open. They stood near the door and tried calling out softly so as not to alarm her. When she didn’t respond, they stared uncertainly at one another, unsure how to deal with the subtle inkling that something was amiss. After a few seconds of indecision, they tiptoed across the room to where she slept, straining in the dim light to tread a quiet path. Although reassured that they hadn’t startled or scared her with their approach, the fact that she hadn’t stirred even once during their stealthy trip across the room left them a little uneasy. But it was when they stood right next to her that they realized those marks across her chest were welts from a belt. Her right shoulder stuck out beyond its socket. Her eyes were swollen shut and her rapid shallow breaths formed bubbles of blood at her nostrils. The gag across her mouth was soaked with blood and a half-empty bottle lay dripping on the floor.
As they stared at her in horror, the enormity of their discovery left them panic-stricken. Unnerved and near hysteria, they ran out of the room, crashing into all the objects they had so carefully sidestepped earlier. The noise of their cumbrous exit shattered the silence of the night, awakening the cook, who rushed out of his room just in time to see their receding figures disappear into a room.
Rajeev and Harsha stood shivering in the room, burdened with the guilt of knowledge. The image of the dying girl haunted them, but afraid of implicating themselves they could only think of trying to hide from it. They shut the doors and crawled under their blankets, only to realize that it was the guilt of forsaking her, over and above the horror of their discovery, that was making them tremble so uncontrollably.
The cook discovered the battered body of the dying girl. Having seen Rajeev and Harsha disappear into the room in a hurry, he did what he thought was best. He called Toshi’s uncle. Toshi’s uncle arrived within the hour. Horrified at what he saw, he had a quick discussion with the two of them. Rajeev and Harsha recounted their story, after which Toshi’s uncle decided it was imperative for them to leave as soon as possible.
Pheru, Sam, Jagdeep and Adi had not known about the exact nature of the events, although Adi had read a fairly riveting description in the pages of the North-East Dainik. Adi was surprised at how accurate the report was. It mentioned that the Home Minister’s car had been seen in the vicinity that night, while a group of young boys were rumoured to have been staying at the same place. Being brutally anti-establishment, th
e newspaper had reported ‘seeing’ the official car, while the presence of the six boys was merely ‘a rumour’.
An eerie silence descended as soon as Rajeev finished his story. His eyes were red, the pain of having to recount the events taking its toll. He looked around for understanding, hoping to have convinced the others of their innocence.
Jagdeep looked mortified. Sam looked away in disgust. He kept shaking his head and sighing. Adi remained silent, his bitterness towards Rajeev oddly unaffected by his story. He felt very sorry for Harsha, now sitting on the floor and weeping silently.
Sam was the first to speak, his voice trembling with anger. ‘I thought you guys had witnessed something and that’s why Toshi’s uncle wanted us to get out so fast. I didn’t know you guys had actually gone into her room to try and fuck her, man!’
Rajeev remained silent.
Sam continued, ‘God knows what Toshi’s parents think of us… My God, it is so shameful to even think about it! You guys… God knows what you did!’
‘We didn’t do anything!’ cried Rajeev in despair.
‘What do you mean, you didn’t do anything?’ Sam shouted back. ‘You went to fuck that girl, and when she lay there dying…you…ran…’
‘But we didn’t do anything, Sam! I swear…we didn’t!’
‘Then why did you guys run away? Jesus, Toshi’s uncle must be so ashamed of us being Toshi’s friends…’
Adi looked at Rajeev and Harsha cowering with the shame. Their actions seemed particularly abhorrent, but staring at them, Adi had a sinking feeling of his own wrongdoing.
Harsha was crying silently. He squeezed his head, as though hurting from the terrible memory. ‘Nobody believes us,’ he whimpered. ‘Nobody will believe us…’
Adi sighed and said, ‘I believe you.’
A sudden silence followed. All of them stared at him, surprised.
‘I believe you,’ Adi reiterated. ‘I heard you talking to each other at around two that morning. I think it was after you had returned from the other room. If Sam and Jagdeep had gone to sleep after 1.30, then you guys had less than ten-fifteen minutes to meet that girl and, you know…beat her or do anything. And besides, why would you?’
‘But they were in her room, man!’ said Sam, glaring at Adi. ‘They didn’t go in to wish her goodnight!’
‘Oh, come on, Sam. It’s easy now, but do you remember what it was like that night when we saw her walking up the hill in those clothes? She was so beautiful, so sexy, and we guessed that she was there for sex. All of us looked at her with lust in our eyes. So, how would you have reacted if you had gone into that room and found her all beaten up like that?’
‘But I didn’t, Adi!’ shouted Sam.
‘And they did. But they didn’t mean to harm her, Sam. They didn’t beat her. Just like you wouldn’t, Sam. Every time I imagine myself in their situation, I know I would have reacted like they did: scared, confused and ashamed…’
‘I’m not ashamed! I didn’t do anything wrong!’ said Sam.
‘Sure you did, Sam’, said Adi. ‘We all did. All of us share the guilt they carry. The guilt of an innocent girl’s death being hushed up and not seeing justice because of our own fears. We may not have hit her with our hands, but our silence will hurt her as much. We are all involved in the cover-up, Sam, all of us. Do you think they will believe your story or that of the minister when the cook describes how he saw the two of them rush out of her room or how we left in a hurry? Do you think they’ll believe us when all we did was run away? You and I are as afraid of telling everyone that we lusted for a girl who wound up dead after a few hours, as they were after seeing her dying that night. Would you go to the police and tell them everything that you know, Sam? Would you, Sam?’
Sam remained silent.
Adi sighed. ‘You know, Sam, for the first time I realize why all of us kept silent for so long. We knew something bad had happened in that bungalow, but none of us dared say anything. We were all running away, Sam, all of us…not from that bungalow, but from our conscience…our guilt of covering up the girl’s death. We are all guilty…all of us. We expect them to do the right thing, but we are so scared of doing it ourselves. We look at their guilt to hide our own. All of us are running away, Sam…all of us are running away!’
Adi fell silent, suddenly aware of what had been haunting him all this while. Yet surprisingly, the awareness didn’t hurt; instead, he felt tears of relief well up in his eyes.
His defense of their actions shocked Rajeev and Harsha into silence. It was as though the credibility their account received from Adi’s endorsement made them start believing in their own innocence. In relief and shame, they came over and hugged Adi. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Rajeev kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Adi.’
Adi patted them on the back in a feeble attempt at consolation. Then, in a spontaneous catharsis of their pent-up feelings, they huddled together and wept.
Adi’s heart went out to the girl. He remembered her youth, her beauty and her smile as she had walked away with the cook. One life, so beautiful and yet so delicate – the injustice of her death gnawed at his soul.
He had one more thing to do.
A few hours later, they headed for their train. Before boarding, Adi bought some envelopes with pre-printed stamps from the post office. Inside one, he put the sheet from the guesthouse ledger that prominently displayed the license plate number of the Law Minister’s car. Carefully sealing the envelope, he wrote in block letters.
TO
MR ARUN GOGOI,
‘THE NORTH-EAST DAINIK’
133, BHADRAKALI BUILDING
MAIN ROAD, GUWAHATI, ASSAM
He held it for a minute and then dropped it into the bright red mailbox at the station.
Then he started writing another letter.
THIRTY
My dear Isha,
I’m writing this letter well aware we’ll get home before this letter does. In fact, if anything, this letter should be addressed to me. But who writes a letter to himself? Someone confused? Or maybe someone stepping out of confusion? I’m not sure which category fits the state of my mind…but that is the point of this exercise: I’m writing to myself through you, because sometimes it is easier to put thoughts down on paper than think about them randomly.
Our return journey to Bombay has been remarkably free of incident and yet the end of innocence mauls us emotionally. Although you don’t know about her, the disturbing thought of a dead girl weigh heavily on our minds. This trip to meet Toshi’s family has become a journey into our souls.
The night is the hardest; there is nothing to see outside and nobody to talk to as we ride the train in silence. Ten years have flown by in these ten days.
Rajeev has changed the most. He is a shadow of his confident, narcissistic, cocky self. He sits at the window, silently staring out into the darkness on the other side of the glass. Occasionally I see a tear course down his cheek, betraying the emotions behind the barren face.
The conscience is such a terrible taskmaster
Now I know why he disliked me: he felt threatened by my popularity. Ten days ago, I despised him intensely for what he had done to me – a sentiment I’m sure he reciprocated. But today, I feel no joy at seeing him suffer. Forgiveness may be the greatest act of vengeance, because I have nothing other than pity in my heart for him.
Harsha lies on his bunk, weeping with his face buried in his air-inflated pillow. He reminds me of the quintessential nice guy who finishes last. I admire the simple honesty of his character; only such a person would think of verifying Princess Diana’s HIV status before making love to her, even in his imagination. But simplicity, unless rooted in certitude, is a handicap in the real world. It is heartbreaking to see him so ravaged with guilt. I let him weep – I hope the tears wash away his pain and turn him into a sensitive, caring and idealistic man, who will break the shackles of conformity to find his own bearings. I wish I could show him the silver lining in the cloud o
f guilt that weighs him down.
I look at Sam and wonder who it is I see as he stares impassively at the train’s ceiling with blank, glassy eyes.
There is such dissociation between what the eyes see and what the mind envisions. The final thought is just a matter of interpretation, coloured by our experiences. We all saw Toshi, but perceived him differently: some saw a Naga, some an Indian, some a privileged student, a friend, or a combination thereof. And is Sam the class clown, a friend, a Maharashtrian, an Indian or a Christian?
There are so many shades of grey in the world. Sam and Toshi looked nothing alike, shared few common experiences, spoke different languages at home and, even though they shared the same faith, they felt a kinship because they saw the similarity in their dissimilarities. It was that shade of grey that matched. I suppose there is comfort in belonging to an order, a disposition, even if it means sharing an imperfection. Sam’s self-deprecating buffoonery – his attempts to overcome this imperfection – have failed to gain him acceptance in the ‘other’ crowd. I saw Sam cry for the first time. I’ve never been so shocked, Isha – the tears of a clown look like drops of blood.
It is 2.30 in the morning and Pheru should be getting ready for his exam in a few hours.
Life is so strange, Isha. The only thing certain about it is its uncertainty. When we started on this trip, Pheru had jokingly dedicated his failure in Pharmac and the subsequent end of his career in medicine to the memory of Toshi. Ironically, it is Toshi’s death that will give Pheru his first real chance at passing the exams. Toshi’s untimely death was as unexpected as Pheru’s having a fair shot at passing the exam. And the two events are so closely related! I think the randomness of events in the world is so lacking in logic that we give it names like destiny, fate, karma and kismat to deal with the irrationality of its sequence.
