All Yours, Stranger: Some Mysteries are Dangerously Sexy

by Novoneel Chakraborty

  Rivanah went to the Goregaon police station. Inspector Kamble who had been helping her with the case seemed more than happy to see her.

  ‘Miss Bannerjee. How are you?’

  She found it sweet that he still remembered her.

  ‘I’m fine, sir. How are you?’

  ‘I’m good too. My daughter finally got a placement here in Mumbai. Such a relief it is.’

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ Rivanah was genuinely happy for him.

  ‘What brings you here? Though I’m sorry nothing has come up about that person who was stalking you.’

  ‘It’s okay. I want to take back my complaint.’

  ‘As in, you want me to close the case?’ Kamble was taken aback.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t think the person will disturb me again,’ Rivanah said. Her main purpose was something else. And she hoped Kamble wouldn’t outsmart her by deciphering it.

  ‘Hmm. As you say. But do let me know if anything comes up.’

  ‘I surely will, sir. Thank you so much.’

  Rivanah was made to sign a couple of documents after which she was getting up to leave when Kamble spoke up, ‘I want you to suggest something to me on a personal level.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Kamble too stood up and said, ‘Come.’ He led her outside the police station where he stood with her and said, ‘Suppose you have chosen someone as your life partner and your parents aren’t sure about it, then what should your parents do so you don’t get angry with them?’

  For a moment Rivanah thought Kamble was asking about her own self.

  ‘I’m asking this because my daughter has a boyfriend whom I don’t like, but she says she wants to marry him. I thought, since you are of her age, perhaps you could help me understand how youngsters think.’

  ‘I think you should accept her choice. After all, your daughter has to live with her choice, you don’t. So let her have her way. Good or bad, she will have to live with her decision,’ Rivanah said, wishing someone would suggest the same thing to her father as well.

  ‘Hmm. Thank you.’

  Rivanah exited the police station and looked around for an autorickshaw. She was sure the stranger was watching her. If he could know so much about her then he would also know she had taken her case back. If the police was the reason he was hiding, he better show up now. She climbed into an autorickshaw, burning with curiosity.

  Her cold war with Danny continued. She was yet to forgive him for leaving her sexually frustrated the other day. Though she didn’t bring it up with him, she hadn’t forgotten it. Rivanah didn’t say anything when she saw him leave with Nitya. Instead of going to work in the morning, Rivanah went to Dahisar where she used to teach the ten kids: Mini’s Magic 10. She did visit the place a day after Abhiraj was wrongly caught as the stranger. But she didn’t find any kids there then. She asked around but she couldn’t get a lead. Her only consolation was that she had done her part by then. She had shared her good luck . . . the kids had learnt to write basic English. Standing near the space where her classes used to take place, she couldn’t locate any of the kids. In its place stood a tiny grocery store now. Perhaps the stranger had put those ten kids in some school somewhere as he had once told her he would. Rivanah stayed there for some time, keeping an eye out for any kid entering the place. A few did turn up but none were from the ten she had taught. Though she was crestfallen, standing under the sun and looking around, she somehow felt the stranger might be watching her. Or was it all in her head? Rivanah finally took an autorickshaw to her office.

  All along she kept an eye around her. Whenever the autorickshaw stopped at any traffic signal she stepped out of the vehicle and looked sharply at other cars, bikes and autorickshaws till at the third traffic signal the auto driver said, ‘Madam, aap utarta kaiko rehta hai? Main barabar leke jayega na aapko office.’

  Embarrassed, Rivanah quickly climbed back into the auto. She was convinced the stranger was behind her. But why was he still not making his presence felt? Especially when she needed him the most.

  She got off the auto a little before her office. As she walked on the footpath she kept turning back. She thought one particular man was following her. She stopped and let the man pass by. He did. And he didn’t care to look at her even once. Any other girl would have been happy to know the man wasn’t interested in her. But Rivanah was frustrated. She would have been happy if the man had turned out to be the stranger. She entered her office premises, conscious that her failure to find the stranger was slowly starting to unnerve her. Why was the stranger not approaching her when it was clear that he was still interested in her? Why else would he send the police to save her? And how else would she know how the hell Hiya Chowdhury was linked to her?

  Once in her cubicle Rivanah was informed by one of her teammates that their company had invited a psychiatrist for a one-hour pep talk with all its employees on how to bust everyday-life stress and improve productivity at the workplace. Rivanah deliberately skipped the pep talk but went up to the psychiatrist during the lunch break.

  ‘I didn’t attend your session,’ Rivanah said, apologizing to the psychiatrist. Dr Bineet Ghoshal looked at her and said with a smile, ‘It wasn’t mandatory. Maybe you already know how to beat stress.’

  I wish! Rivanah thought and said, ‘I have a problem which I don’t think will be solved with pep talks.’

  ‘I’m glad you have at least identified and accepted your problem. We can meet in my clinic if you—’

  ‘I don’t want to go there.’

  The psychiatrist put his plate down on the table, wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, ‘Should we take a walk?’ Her vulnerable appearance told him she could be an interesting case study.

  Soon Rivanah found herself walking with Dr Ghoshal in the smoking zone of her office which was free from the normal office hustle of the lunch hour.

  ‘Tell me,’ Dr Ghoshal said.

  ‘I had this person in my life last year.’

  ‘Your boyfriend?’

  ‘No, not boyfriend. You can say a friend. Special friend.’ Rivanah chose her words carefully, knowing full well she didn’t know the right word to describe her relationship with the stranger.

  ‘He helped me a lot,’ she said. ‘Like, from pulling me out from a major emotional crisis to help me grow as a person.’

  Dr Ghoshal listened intently.

  ‘And now he has disappeared.’ Rivanah didn’t think the stranger’s ways of helping her were any of the doctor’s business.

  Dr Ghoshal was staring at the floor, listening attentively as he paced up and down slowly with Rivanah by his side. His deep frown told her he was thinking hard. He suddenly stopped. She stopped too.

  ‘And these days whenever you are stressed you miss this person?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Rivanah was happy the doctor knew what she was trying to say, without her having to tell him the entire story.

  ‘You miss him because you want him to guide you or de-stress you by giving you solutions to your problems.’

  Rivanah thought for a moment and said, ‘Maybe.’ A pause later she said, ‘Not maybe. That is it. I want support and solutions from him.’

  ‘Cinderella complex,’ Dr Ghoshal said.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You said he rescued you from an emotional crisis, helped you grow as a person, etc., which means in a way he made you depend on him. And now you have developed a complex.’

  ‘Did you say Cinderella complex?’

  ‘Yes. The name is taken from the famous fairy-tale character where the girl needs some external support to stabilize herself. Here too you need him to stabilize your problems. But don’t worry . . .’

  Dr Ghoshal walked ahead while Rivanah remained where she was, too stunned to move.

  Rivanah started to feel disgusted thinking about the stranger. Very cleverly and manipulatively he had pushed her to rely on him and now when she was an emotional loner yearning for him, he wasn’t re
ady to reveal himself but was still keeping an eye like a true sadist.

  After Rivanah went back home in the evening, she started searching the whole flat for possible bugs. She even squashed a couple of cockroaches but they were real ones, unlike the ones she had found in her Sai Dham Apartment. Frustrated and emotionally exhausted she cried out aloud, ‘What do you want from me, stranger?’ There was no answer. ‘I want to share things with you. And I also want to know how I’m linked to Hiya. Or was that a sadistic joke of yours?’ She hoped the stranger had heard her, somehow. Rivanah waited for a possible response, looking at her phone. There was none. She slowly collapsed on the floor, drew her legs to her chest and started sobbing.

  ‘I loved Ekansh.’ She was talking to herself. ‘He dumped me. I loved Danny. He isn’t bothered about me the way I want him to be. I can’t share everything with my parents. I don’t have any friends in Mumbai any more. The ones outside are busy with their life. I thought I would have you at least.’ She rubbed her eyes, took her phone and once again sent messages to all the numbers she had saved as ‘stranger’.

  Please come back into my life. I really miss you. I need to talk to you. For God’s sake . . .

  She kept staring at the messages waiting for them to be delivered. One minute . . . two minutes . . . three minutes . . . she sobbed uncontrollably. A few minutes later she lifted her head and unlocked her phone once. It opened directly to the message screen. There was a small tick against one of the messages. Rivanah immediately called that number. Someone answered after the second ring.

  ‘Hello?’ Rivanah said, holding her breath.

  Nobody spoke.

  ‘I know you are there so why don’t you bloody speak up?’

  Still no sound.

  ‘I know I went to the police against you but you didn’t leave me with any other option. Hello?’

  Some breathing was audible now. Rivanah too paused for some time.

  ‘So you won’t talk, huh? You think only you can play games with me? I know I’m still important to you; otherwise you wouldn’t have called the police the other night to save me. So here’s the deal: I’ll wait for an hour. Only one more hour. If you don’t call me back I’m going to kill myself. And I’m serious about this,’ Rivanah said in one breath and cut the line. Her heart was racing fast as she waited for her phone to ring. He couldn’t not call.

  He will call . . . he will call . . . he will call, Rivanah kept repeating under her breath. One minute became twenty with no call flashing on her phone. And with each passing minute fear ate away at her. What if the stranger didn’t call? When the fifty-ninth minute came she found herself perspiring with every second. And then the doorbell rang thrice in a row, just the way Danny rang it. She was slightly taken aback. Rivanah stood up, realizing Danny and Nitya had been out since morning. Somehow she didn’t desire any company right now. She wanted to be alone. Rivanah reluctantly went to open the door. As she was unlocking it she turned back when the lights of her flat suddenly went off. She turned back to the front door to see who was there but by then the corridor’s light had gone off too. In the pitch-darkness a strong fragrance of Just Different, from Hugo Boss, filled her nostrils. Rivanah knew who it was but before she could call out to him she passed out.

  8

  Rivanah shifted a bit, trying to open her sleep-laden eyes. She felt something soft touch her skin, a white satin bedsheet, and realized she was lying on her stomach. In a flash she turned and sat up. Her clothes were the same as the ones she was wearing the previous night. She looked around and didn’t know where exactly she was. It was a tidy room with everything in its place, the interiors were posh and the ambience was cosy. But there was a haunting silence in the room which scared Rivanah. Looking around she knew she was alone and yet she had a feeling she was not. She turned right to see a small bedside table atop which there was a lamp, a menu and a telephone. The menu card had the name ‘The Taj’ written on it in bold. Below it was the reception’s number. She drew herself closer to the table and picked up the phone. She dialled the reception.

  ‘Good morning. The Taj, reception. How may I help you?’ said the light voice of a man.

  ‘Hi, I’m Rivanah Bannerjee. I am speaking from your hotel . . . I guess.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. You checked in last night. Any problem?’

  ‘Who brought me here?’

  ‘One second, ma’am.’ Rivanah waited with bated breath.

  ‘Hello, ma’am.’ The receptionist was back on line. ‘You were brought in here last night by Mr A.K. Bannerjee.’

  For a moment Rivanah thought she was hearing the name for the first time and then realized it was her father’s.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mr A.K. Bannerjee,’ the receptionist repeated.

  ‘But he is my father,’ she blurted.

  ‘Oh, okay.’ The receptionist didn’t know what else to say. It didn’t matter to him who this guy was. The fact that he had already paid for her room’s expenses as well as the breakfast was all that mattered to him.

  ‘Ma’am, we have been instructed to serve you breakfast. Please let me know whenever you are ready. I’d be happy to inform room service on your behalf.’

  ‘How did my father look?’

  ‘Sorry?’ The receptionist did have an inkling when she was brought in an unconscious state the previous night that something was wrong. Now he was sure: this girl was mad. Why else would anyone ask what his or her father looked like?

  ‘I mean, what did the person who brought me here look like?’ Rivanah rephrased the question. It sounded the same to the receptionist.

  ‘He was tall, with a wheatish complexion, long curly hair and . . .’

  ‘And . . .?’

  ‘I’m sorry but that’s all I remember, ma’am.’

  ‘Hmm.’ So it wasn’t Baba, Rivanah thought.

  ‘Should I send the breakfast now?’

  ‘In some time,’ Rivanah said and put the phone’s receiver down. The last thing she remembered was opening the flat’s door. She had threatened the stranger before that. And now she was here. A slight smile appeared on Rivanah’s face. The threat worked! The stranger didn’t want her to kill herself. It only meant he was still interested. And he was interested because she was important. But why here in this hotel room? Another thought dawned on her. Neither her parents nor Danny knew where she was. She looked for her mobile phone but it wasn’t there. She picked up the hotel landline once again and dialled the reception.

  ‘Good morning, The Taj reception.’

  ‘I’ve lost my phone and I urgently need to make a call.’

  ‘Please press zero first followed by the number you want to call,’ the receptionist said.

  ‘Thanks.’ Rivanah put the receiver down and then picked it up again to dial Danny.

  ‘Hello.’ He picked it up pretty late.

  ‘It’s me.’ She wanted to sound normal but she couldn’t.

  ‘Hi.’ Danny was cold too. ‘How is the seminar going?’ he added.

  ‘Seminar?’

  ‘You messaged me last night saying you were going to Pune for a seminar?’

  Rivanah couldn’t believe it. And yet she believed it. This was nothing compared to what the stranger had done before to her, for her.

  ‘Yes. The seminar is indeed going well.’

  There was an awkward silence.

  ‘When will you be back?’ Danny asked.

  ‘Soon.’

  Both wanted to say ‘love you’ but neither said it and the call ended with a dry ‘see you’ instead.

  She called her parents next. God knows what the stranger had told them, she thought.

  ‘Mumma!’

  ‘Mini, thank God that you messaged; your baba and I were really worried.’

  ‘Messaged what?’

  ‘That there’s some network issue in Mumbai. And you aren’t able to call. We tried to call but your phone was unreachable. Is the network all right now?’

  ‘Yes, Mumma, how else do yo
u think I’m calling now?’ In a way Rivanah was thankful to the stranger that he did inform her parents else they would have been in Mumbai this morning. She was talking to her mother when the room’s bell rang. She said bye quickly and went to open the door. It was room service.

  ‘French breakfast for you, ma’am,’ the man in the hotel uniform said, holding a tray. Rivanah moved aside as he entered the room. He went in and put the tray on the centre table. The man went to one side and pressed a button on a wall. The curtains in the room slowly began to draw themselves to a side. And the view that came up left Rivanah spellbound. She could see the Gateway of India at some distance and the bustling crowd around it. She had never seen Mumbai from this point of view.

  ‘Enjoy your breakfast, ma’am.’

  Rivanah turned to see the man leave and locked the room’s door behind him. She came forward and inspected the tray. It had some fresh fruits in a bowl, a couple of crepes, a croissant and jam and cafe latte in a long glass. The timing of the breakfast couldn’t have been better. Rivanah applied some jam on the croissant and took a bite—it was delicious. She was full after having half of it, gazing out the giant window. Picking up the cafe latte, her eyes fell on a tiny pen drive lying below it. She kept her coffee aside and picked it up. On it was written: Mini. She frowned. Did the hotel boy know about it? Or had it been placed here without anyone’s knowledge? She looked towards the big LED television in the room. She went and plugged the pen drive in, and in no time she was checking its content using the remote. There was a video there. She played it.