Forever Is True

by Novoneel Chakraborty

  NOVONEEL CHAKRABORTY

  Forever Is TRUE

  PENGUIN BOOKS

  Contents

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Follow Penguin

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Novoneel Chakraborty is the bestselling author of ten romantic thriller novels. His novel Forget Me Not, Stranger debuted as the No. 1 bestseller across India, while the second in the Stranger series, All Yours, Stranger, ranked among the top five thriller novels on Amazon, India. Black Suits You also ranked among the top five thrillers on Amazon for fifteen weeks straight.

  Known for his twists, dark plots and strong female protagonists, Novoneel is referred to as the Sidney Sheldon of India by his readers.

  Apart from novels, Novoneel has written seven TV shows. He lives and works in Mumbai.

  You can get in touch with him at:

  Email: novosphere@gmail.com

  Facebook: officialnbc

  Twitter: @novoxeno

  Instagram: @novoneelchakraborty

  Blog: www.nbconline.blogspot.com

  By the Same Author

  A Thing beyond Forever

  That Kiss in the Rain

  How about a Sin Tonight?

  Ex

  Black Suits You

  Forever Is a Lie

  Stranger Trilogy

  Marry Me, Stranger

  All Yours, Stranger

  Forget Me Not, Stranger

  To every child who isn’t allowed a childhood

  Prologue

  Fortis Hospital, Bengaluru

  Private cabin, 10.35 p.m.

  ‘I’m sorry, Prisha, but I had no other option,’ the person said, standing close to the hospital bed on which Prisha was lying with her eyes closed. Beneath a blanket that covered her till her bosom, she was wearing a sky-blue patient’s uniform. Her forehead was freshly bandaged. Her right hand, with a drip, was placed on her belly while the left one was by her side, a pulse-monitoring clip attached to the index finger. There was a saline water stand beside the bed. Her left leg was plastered and her face bruised. It was quiet except for the occasional beeping of the monitor that was keeping a track of her heartbeats. The room was bathed in an eerie green-coloured light.

  ‘Just like I had no other option with Ishanvi. She was a good girl. So were you. But you both fell for the wrong person, bad person. And sometimes, even when you aren’t at fault, life still holds you guilty and makes you pay for it. But how do you atone for something you haven’t done?’ Silence. The person grasped Prisha’s left hand. It was cold.

  ‘Not that I expected you to be alive but now I can at least talk to you, unlike Ishanvi.’

  After a deep sigh, the person added, ‘I had tried warning you like I had tried warning Ishanvi but neither of you paid heed. Why? You were in love. Love! I hate that emotion because it is the most customizable emotion a human can feel. Its definition changes the way one thinks. Its syntax changes the way one feels. It is not like sadness or happiness. It is not absolute. Though we think it is. I hate it. In fact, hate is a soft word. I abhor love, loathe it. If you had been in your senses, I’m sure you would have asked what makes me so anti love. Well, it is a long story but I carry the moral in my heart every day. And will do so till I turn into ashes.’

  There was silence. The person caressed Prisha’s forehead.

  ‘Unfortunately, nobody will ever know my story. But that doesn’t bother me. The only thing that bothers me is that the person who mattered the most to me will also never get to hear my story. You tell me, Prisha, is it fair to live someone else’s story all your life? But . . . ’ The person leaned close to her left ear and whispered, ‘If you can listen, then listen well. Chances are you will die soon on this bed. But in case you survive, don’t push me into killing you again. Next time, there won’t be any passer-by to bring you to any hospital on time. One last request: don’t test me for I’ve been killing people for a long time now. You are my only failure. And failing is something which doesn’t go down well with me.’ After staring at Prisha for a while, the person said, ‘May your soul rest in peace, Prisha. Next life, choose someone better. Choose someone who’s worth it.’

  The person stopped caressing her forehead and tiptoed out of the room. Prisha had opened her eyes by then. She had been in her senses throughout. Or was she? She didn’t see the person’s face but she did feel the person’s touch. Contrary to the person’s words, the touch wasn’t threatening. The last statement had made her hair stand on its end.

  This was the first time Saveer had visited her in the hospital since she had regained consciousness. Why would he want to kill her? she wondered. Or for that matter Ishanvi? These, however, were the least of her concerns at that moment. There was something she noticed that was extremely disturbing. Prisha saw the person leaving the room. But in a woman’s attire.

  What’s wrong with Saveer? she wondered. Then she thought to herself: was she hallucinating because of the heavy sedatives she had been taking for some time now? Prisha couldn’t tell. She dozed off.

  1

  Six months later . . .

  The inners, the shirt and the trousers that her parents had brought for her fitted her perfectly. The clothes were old but after wearing them, she felt new. Two months ago, when Prisha had seen herself in the hospital’s washroom mirror, she had thought that she would never regain what she had lost in that fall. Oh, it wasn’t a wilful fall. It was a push. A deliberate push. And with it, she hadn’t just lost herself but a lot more.

  It was Gauri who had told her how she had been found and admitted to the hospital. She herself had heard half the story from the couple who had found Prisha and the other half from Saveer, who had rushed her to Fortis Hospital. After a search that lasted for six hours, Prisha’s body was found stuck between three rocks. Her dress was torn from behind. Her face was smeared with blood. There was a deep gash on her left eyebrow and her right leg was badly injured.

  Prisha was discovered through a selfie taken by a couple who had also gone to Nandi Hills that morning. The picture was a high-angle shot taken close to the edge of the cliff with the couple in the foreground and the abyss in the background. The couple noticed something untoward in the background while looking at the photo. They magnified the image and realized that a person seemed to be stuck between the jagged rocks. They immediately called up the police. By the time the cops arrived, Saveer had also reached the accident spot.

  Prisha was extricated using a crane. Saveer stood shivering on the hill. He felt his heart slowing down even though in reality it was beating furiously. When the crane pulled Prisha out and placed her on the ground, he froze. He was waiting for someone to confirm that she was alive. The doctor with the search party announced that her heart was beating even though she was unconscious. Prisha was placed on a stretcher and carried inside an ambulance. Watching the retreating vehicle in the distance, Saveer finally managed to find his voice. He called up Gauri and asked her to reach Fortis Hospital.

  Gauri and Diggy, clueless and nervous, met Saveer in the hospital lobby. He briefed them on the accident.

  ‘B
ut how did she fall off the cliff?’ Gauri asked, incredulous.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Saveer said and continued after a thoughtful pause, ‘She’d asked me to meet her at Nandi Hills. It is my birthday so I thought she must have planned something. By the time I reached there, there were cops, a search team and the family that had spotted her.’

  Since then, Prisha was told, Saveer had visited the hospital every single day for six months during visiting hours, sat in the lobby for as long as a visitor was allowed to and then went back home. Gauri had told Saveer to meet Prisha innumerable times. But he didn’t. He had asked Gauri to tell Prisha that he had never visited the hospital. No reasons cited. But now that it was the day of her discharge, Gauri thought Prisha should know the truth. But Prisha could only think of one thing once Gauri had told her everything: Saveer did visit her. In a woman’s dress. Who was he hiding from? she wondered.

  While Gauri and Prisha were talking, Mrs Srivastav entered the room and slid a pearl-studded silver ring on Prisha’s finger. She had consulted an astrologist, who had advised that Prisha should wear the ring the moment she was released from the hospital as a safeguard against any further accidents. The one she had survived was supposedly in her kundali. Though Prisha didn’t believe in astrology, she nonetheless wore the ring without any fuss. She had seen how her parents had been shuttling back and forth between Delhi and Bengaluru for the last six months. While her mother, Anupriya Srivastav, had moved to Bengaluru—she stayed at a hotel for a few days and then later shifted in with Zinnia—her father, Ashok Srivastav, and her younger sister, Ayushee, visited her every weekend. Their plan was simple. Once Prisha recuperated, they would bring her back to Faridabad with them. And today was the day.

  For the first time in six months, Prisha felt the rays of the sun kiss her skin the moment she stepped out of the hospital. For her parents, for Gauri and Diggy, for Zinnia, and for the nurses, who had now become acquaintances, she was finally free. But she knew there were a lot of questions that she needed answers to. The first being: why did Saveer push her? She loved him. Even he loved her. Or had said so. But his eyes . . . every time he had told her that he loved her . . . his eyes spoke of genuineness. The way he had made love to her couldn’t have been just lust. The way he . . . Lying on the hospital bed for the past six months, Prisha had fought only one fierce inner battle: against herself. The result: she had a gut feeling that Saveer hadn’t pushed her.

  ‘Now don’t be so quiet,’ Mrs Srivastav said. ‘By god’s grace, you’re completely fine now. Accidents happen but they won’t happen again.’ She caressed Prisha’s forehead. They were on their way back from the hospital in a cab. Prisha, her mother and Zinnia were sitting behind while Gauri was sitting beside the driver. Her father, sister and Diggy were following them in another cab.

  Gauri said, ‘I wanted to ask you this since day one but then your condition was such that . . . anyway . . . I really want to know how you fell off the cliff?’

  There was a momentary silence.

  ‘Yes, what happened?’ Zinnia said, turning to face Prisha. Mrs Srivastav too looked at her daughter expectantly.

  The wait for Saveer at the edge of the hill . . . her constant attempt at perfecting those words in Kannada . . . just for him . . . someone’s appearance . . . the person’s apology . . . the push . . . and the fall. Everything flashed in front of Prisha. She still thought that someone would tell her it hadn’t happened. That it was all a bad dream.

  ‘We are waiting,’ Gauri urged.

  ‘I slipped,’ Prisha said. She didn’t wait to see their reactions. She turned to look out of the window. No tears, she told herself.

  2

  He was doing the last set of shoulder push-ups—legs against a wall and head facing the floor, beads of perspiration on his forehead. It was morning and he was on the terrace of his house.

  Saveer knew which day it was: the one he had been waiting for a long time. The day Prisha was going to be discharged from the hospital. When the search team had pulled her out, something had told him that he won’t find her looking at him again. He won’t hear his name from her lips again. And he won’t feel her lips on him again, telling him that forever is, perhaps, true.

  Done with the push-ups, Saveer took a break and sat down on the floor, his heart racing, struggling to stabilize. He looked at his reflection in an old mirror in front of him. He could see a man who wanted to love but was not destined to. With locked jaws, he stood up and walked towards the mirror. He took off his gym vest and turned his back to the mirror and craned his neck to read it for the umpteenth time in the last six months: I will fuck your every happiness.

  Saveer had no idea who had tattooed it on his back. And when. It was so weird to wake up one day and see those words tattooed on his back. Unless it had been there before, and he had never realized it. That’s weirder, he thought. He had rarely looked in the mirror before. But that was beside the point now. He had no enemies. He didn’t even have friends for that matter. What did it mean? Did the answer lay behind the truth that he had hidden from Ishanvi and Prisha? He had consulted the police as well but there was no lead beyond those six words. The police agreed to lodge a complaint if something else happened. Except for frustration on Saveer’s part, nothing else had happened. The fact that Prisha fell off the cliff, that too on his birthday, wasn’t a coincidence. Ishanvi too was killed on his birthday. His brother, his dog, his first crush, everyone had died on his birthday. And all these deaths were such that there were no leads. That’s why it had always seemed to him that perhaps they were a coincidence. That’s why he had grown up believing what his mother had once said: that he was cursed. Whoever loved him, died. As he grew up and following the deaths of his loved ones, Saveer’s belief only grew stronger: I’ll kill the ones who love me.

  It was twenty-five years since his brother, Veer Rathod, had died. Saveer was ten years old at that time. It was the first death in his family. And it was on his birthday: the beginning of the trend. Saveer’s train of thoughts was interrupted as an alarm went off. He had set it himself. It was time for him to take a shower and leave. Prisha would be discharged from the hospital in a few hours.

  Three hours later, Saveer was in his Audi, which was parked close to the hospital’s exit. His eyes were fixed on the gate. He had seen Gauri, Diggy, Zinnia and Prisha’s parents enter the main gate an hour and a half ago. After forty more minutes of impatient waiting, he spotted them coming out of the hospital. He wanted to reach out to Prisha and kiss her red. Hug her tightly. And dare anyone who thought they could be separated. His fingers tightened around the car’s steering wheel. He relaxed his grip only when the group left the hospital. Saveer started following Prisha’s cab.

  He maintained a safe distance from the cab and thought that he wouldn’t meet Prisha again. If at all their love story had to continue, then it would be a silent one. She had all the reasons to hate him. Especially if and when she learnt about what he had hidden from her. Not that he hadn’t tried to decode the tattoo, reach a conclusion and eliminate it in order to weed out the fear that Prisha maybe snatched from him again. But nothing had worked out. And seeing Prisha walk out of the hospital, Saveer thought that it was too much of a risk to involve her again. It would also be selfish on his part knowing that there was someone behind the accidents. Until he was sure who had tattooed the line on his back, he wouldn’t meet Prisha. Just that he was itching to know how she had fallen off the cliff. That could possibly give him a clue. Her falling off and him discovering the tattoo on his back on the same morning could not have been a coincidence. But when and how he would get to know the reason behind the fall was something he wasn’t sure of. Saveer took a turn as he saw Prisha getting down from the car in front of Zinnia’s apartment.

  Sitting at the dining table at home that night and staring at the protein salad in front of him, Saveer prayed that Prisha wouldn’t try to reach out to him. He wouldn’t be able to face her and tell her the truth. How can a series of deaths in
the family be related to a single person? Unless he himself was killing them. Nobody would believe him. In fact, it would not be uncommon for people to dismiss Saveer’s claim as mere superstition. But only Saveer knew it was anything but superstition. It had happened for far too long and for far too many times to be a coincidence any more. And Prisha was the only one who had survived. But . . . what could it be if it wasn’t a coincidence . . . if not a curse?

  Saveer finished his dinner with a clogged mind. He went to his room, lay down on the bed and tried to think about it. By now, he knew only his memory could lead him to any possible clues. Why did Ishanvi die? Why did Prisha fall off the cliff? And whether his love story with Prisha too had reached its expiry date? He closed his eyes . . . and the first thing that flashed in front of him was the cute face of a young girl . . . Aditri . . . his first crush.

  * * *

  From Saveer’s memory

  His crush

  1996

  I remember it was on the first day of Class IX when I saw her for the first time. It was during the morning assembly. She was a newcomer asking around for her class’ assembly line. I intentionally approached her, offering help. Everybody’s eyes were shut during the prayer but mine were open. And they were on her. When I think about it now, it seems funny, but back then she had suddenly become extremely important for me. In just one glance, Aditri Agarwal had snuffed out all my other priorities.

  She had bewitched me. It felt as if I went to school not to study but to see her. Since she was in a different section, we never really talked unless I intentionally asked her random questions if I saw her in the common corridor or next to the water cooler or in the canteen. But such occasions were rare. On those rare occasions, though, I discovered an even rarer satisfaction. I named it love. You know the kind that happens when you know nothing about anything but feel that you know a lot about everything? The kind that happens for the first time?