Son of Bhrigu

by CHRISTOPHER C. DOYLE

  Maya fingered the amulet that hung around her neck, making up her mind about what to do next.

  The deafening silence persisted. Maya knew what she had to do. She opened the door of her room, and stepped into the corridor that led to the sitting area.

  The sight that greeted her eyes filled her with horror.

  Greater Noida

  Taj Expressway

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the plainclothes constable in the unmarked Gypsy spoke into his earpiece. ‘They made just one stop in Noida, to pick up something from a house. I don’t know what it was but they sat for a few minutes in the car before starting off again.’

  ‘Where are they now?’ SP Kapoor’s voice came over his earpiece.

  ‘They’re heading towards Agra. They don’t know that I am following them.’

  ‘And keep it that way, Harish. I want you to follow them right until their final destination. Call me anytime you find anything unusual. Even if it is at midnight!’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Harish, Virendra Singh’s shadow, signed off.

  Chapter Ten

  The Notebook

  Maya’s House

  New Delhi

  Maya stood transfixed by the scene before her.

  She wanted to scream but couldn’t.

  Tears of horror and despair welled up in her eyes as she stared, terror stricken, at the sight of her father suspended in the air in an upright position, two feet above the floor. His body was stiff and his face contorted, though whether in pain or anger, she couldn’t tell.

  One thing was clear, though. The enormous man standing in front of her father, with his back towards her and his arms folded before him, had him in his control. The man seemed to be chanting something under his breath.

  Maya caught the words.

  Sanskrit .

  Her father had taught her the language. She recognized it instantly.

  It hit her like a ton of bricks.

  The man was chanting mantras!

  Maya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was impossible!

  She had come across some mantras in the ancient Vedic texts that her father had made her read. But she had never believed that they actually worked. They were part of the rituals that she didn’t believe in. Yet this man was definitely chanting mantras and, as she listened, she understood, with horror, what he was trying to do.

  What was happening? Maya felt like her head would explode. All of a sudden, through her terror and despondency, she heard the whisper of a voice, caressing the surface of her mind.

  ‘Maya !’

  It was faint, as if emanating from far away. She almost dismissed it but then, she heard it again.

  And again.

  Like someone calling to her. The voice seemed familiar and yet sounded like nothing she had ever heard before.

  The large man had not noticed her yet. Or, if he had, he was ignoring her, focusing all his attention on her father, concentrating on getting what he wanted.

  Maya’s helpless eyes fell on her father’s face and she realized why it was contorted.

  The voice was his! He was trying to speak to her using his thoughts!

  Too many bizarre things were happening for Maya to pause and ponder on her father’s telepathic powers. All she knew was that he was trying to communicate with her. She had to respond, somehow, anyhow.

  She looked at him intently, noticing now how his eyes were fixed on his opponent, as if fighting back with his mind, trying to stave him off.

  Slowly, she backed away from the sitting room, deeper into the corridor, trying to focus on the voice in her head. The harder she concentrated, the clearer the voice became.

  ‘Listen to me carefully,’ her father’s voice urged. ‘I cannot hold him off much longer without letting him know I am in contact with you. Take the handwritten diary on my desk and run! Get away from this house! Call Virendra. Tell him. Go now! Don’t stop to think. Just do as I say. Don’t look back. And don’t come back.’ There was a pause. The voice seemed to be getting fainter now. ‘Always remember this: I love you .’

  The voice died and an agonized cry sprang from Upadhyay’s lips. His opponent had finally got the better of him.

  ‘You . . . will . . . never . . . succeed . . . Shukra,’ Maya heard her father struggle to get the words out. ‘I have fulfilled my destiny. You will achieve nothing even if you kill me now.’

  ‘It will be enough for me just to see you die, Dhruv,’ the man growled angrily. ‘You went to great lengths to cross me. Did you really think you would escape with your life?’

  Maya had heard enough. She knew she had to act on her father’s warning now or it would be too late. Holding back an urge to scream, she tore herself away from the painful scene that was unfolding in the sitting room. Unable to think straight through the clouds of fear and panic in her mind, she could only mechanically carry out the instructions her father had given her.

  She slipped off her shoes and padded down the corridor in her bare feet, shoes in hand, careful to not make a sound. She did not think Shukra — as her father had called the big man — knew of her existence yet. She planned to keep it that way.

  The corridor led through another door into the study, which was carpeted.

  She slipped on her shoes and walked as quietly as possible to the desk.

  There were three books on it.

  Her hands shook with fear. She had to act fast.

  Her father had mentioned a handwritten diary. She opened the first book. It was printed.

  The second book was an old leather notebook.

  Could this be it?

  Maya opened it to a page at random. A sheet of paper slipped out of the notebook, and disappeared under the desk. Maya saw that the writing was in the Devanagari script.

  A handwritten diary. This was it.

  She kneeled on the carpet to see where the sheet of paper was. She spotted it under the desk. Maya rose and picked up the diary, preparing to tiptoe around the desk to retrieve it.

  She found herself looking directly at Shukra. His gaze was fixed on her.

  Maya stopped in her tracks. Her mind, numbed by fear and pain from witnessing her father’s ordeal, desperately searched for a way out. Shukra was still in the sitting room, torturing her father but he seemed to have weakened him enough that he could now focus on Maya. He stared down at her.

  Something was happening to her. She couldn’t think straight.

  Shukra’s eyes bored into her, paralysing her. She felt as if they were invading the depths of her soul, reading her deepest emotions, rifling through her darkest thoughts. Something inside Maya made her resist it with all her might.

  Suddenly, she found the mists clearing. She was able to think.

  Something had broken Shukra’s stranglehold on her mind.

  It was her father. He was shouting.

  ‘Run, Maya!’

  She didn’t stop to think. The urgency in her father’s voice, the desperation in his plea, were enough.

  Tearing her gaze away from Shukra’s eyes, she sprinted away. The corridor outside the study led to the kitchen from where a back door opened out into a narrow lane behind the house.

  Escape was so close.

  Suddenly a blinding flash ripped through her head as she ran.

  She went blank and stumbled.

  There came a roar of anger from the sitting room.

  It was accompanied by a cry of anguish. Of pain.

  And death.

  Maya found herself sprawled on the floor of the study, clutching the leather diary.

  There was no time to wonder about what was happening. She had to keep going.

  Picking herself up, she dashed for the study door.

  This time, nothing stopped her. Down the corridor she ran, into the kitchen, where she struggled briefly with the bolts on the door leading outside.

  Then she was in the lane behind the house. The kitchen door shut behind her.

  Maya looked around, wild-eyed.

  She did
n’t feel safe here.

  Where could she go?

  Chapter Eleven

  Some Unexpected News

  SP Kapoor’s Office

  New Delhi

  Raman Kapoor snatched up his phone as soon as it rang. It was a call from Ajit, the constable who was assigned to shadow Upadhyay. His last report had been about the schoolmaster receiving a visitor. The man hadn’t reported in since then.

  ‘Yes?’ Kapoor barked, eager to know the development.

  Ajit’s voice was low and serious. ‘Sir,’ he began, then hesitated. ‘Upadhyay is dead.’

  ‘Dead?’ Kapoor echoed, shocked. This was the last thing he had expected to hear. The man had been hale and hearty just a few hours ago.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the constable began to explain, ‘I was waiting outside, keeping an eye on things as you had ordered. A few minutes ago, I heard screams coming from the house. Then, the man who had visited Mr. Upadhyay came striding out and walked away leaving the front door open.’ He hesitated again. ‘Sir, I know you had instructed me to keep a distance from Mr. Upadhayay and not contact him in any way. But the screams and the open door made me suspicious and I was concerned. So I decided to investigate.’

  ‘And you found Upadhyay dead. Are you sure though? Have you called a doctor?’

  ‘Um, sir, there can be no doubt of that. His body has been torn from limb to limb. There is blood all over the sitting room.’

  Kapoor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He collected his thoughts. ‘Call for a backup immediately. I am on my way.’

  ‘I have already radioed for backup, sir. I did that before I called you.’

  ‘Good man,’ Kapoor nodded approvingly. ‘Was there anyone else in the house?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘I thought Upadhyay had a daughter?’

  ‘Yes, sir. And they came home together. But I did a quick sweep of the house after finding the body. There is no one else in the house.’

  ‘What do you mean? Where could she disappear to?’ Kapoor was getting anxious. This case was getting more and more complicated.

  ‘I can’t say for sure, sir. I didn’t see her leave the house. But I did find another exit. The kitchen door at the back of the house opens into a lane that runs behind it.’

  ‘I suppose you checked out the lane as well?’

  ‘Yes, sir. There was no sign of the girl.’

  He rose. ‘We must find the girl. She is the only one who can tell us exactly what happened in that house,’ he said before disconnecting the phone.

  Kapoor’s mind raced as he considered the possibilities. The girl could have been a witness to what happened to her father. Or maybe she saw what was happening and ran for help. That seemed much more likely to Kapoor; a child seeing her father butchered may not find the strength to flee the spot. He only hoped the girl had not been harmed in any way.

  As Kapoor signalled to a constable to get his car ready, he wondered if this murder was linked to the murder of Trivedi.

  Two friends, two murders. There had to be a link.

  But what was it?

  The only way for him to find out was to locate Virendra Singh, and Upadhyay’s daughter.

  Now he had two people to hunt.

  Near Upadhyay’s House

  New Delhi

  Blinded by tears that streamed down her face, Maya sprinted down the lane, passing houses on both sides without stopping to think of asking for help. Her father had been emphatic about her leaving the house and not returning, even to help him. The sound of his screams and cries of pain still rang in her ears. She had to get as far from her house as possible.

  Maya knew her father must be dead by now. The urgency in his tone, his absolute insistence that she flee, had told her that even he had known his fate. Staying there any longer would have meant certain death for her. Even though she didn’t know who the stranger was or why he had burst into their house to kill her father, she knew that he would not hesitate to harm her.

  Her hand tightly clutched the diary she had picked up from the study. She didn’t know why her father had considered it to be important. But if he had asked her to retrieve it, even at the risk of being discovered by the man he had addressed as Shukra, there must be something special about it.

  But what was she supposed to do with it? She didn’t even know where she was headed at this moment.

  Maya’s world was a storm of confusion and terror.

  So, she ran. It was the only thing she could do.

  The lane opened out onto a larger side road. Maya didn’t stop to choose. She turned left and kept running.

  After several minutes, she slowed down and took stock of her surroundings, her breath coming in gasps. The streetlights had just begun to wink on. Before her, just a few hundred yards away loomed a metro station.

  She stopped and thought for a moment. Her sides were aching and she needed to catch her breath. How far had she run? She didn’t know but she felt that she had put enough distance between the house and herself. For now.

  Her father’s words came back to her as she tried to collect her wits. She remembered now that he had told her to call his friend, Virendra.

  But she didn’t have his number.

  Arjun.

  Of course.

  She checked the pockets of her jeans and thanked her stars. She had her phone.

  She pulled it out and dialled Arjun’s number.

  Chapter Twelve

  An Urgent Call for Help

  The Taj Express Highway

  Uttar Pradesh

  Arjun glanced at his phone as it rang.

  ‘It’s Maya,’ he announced. ‘I know you said that I could only speak to her when we reach wherever we are going,’ he said, stressing on the ambiguity of their destination, ‘but if she’s calling now, it means her father has told her already. She wants to speak to me.’

  ‘Fine,’ Virendra said. ‘Go ahead and take the call. I guess it is only fair.’

  Just then the phone stopped ringing.

  ‘It’s okay, Arjun. No need to call back,’ Virendra remarked, a bit too casually according to his nephew. ‘If it is urgent, she’ll call you.’

  Arjun stared at the phone glumly, irritated. He badly wanted to speak to Maya. He couldn’t understand why there were so many constraints. Why was their departure so sudden and hush hush that he hadn’t even been allowed to call his best friend? He grimaced and fought back the resentment that was bubbling up within him.

  He fixed the phone with a stony glare, trying to will it to ring again. But the phone didn’t ring.

  Come on, Maya, call back! I want to talk to you!

  The phone remained silent.

  Near the Metro Station

  New Delhi

  Maya fought back her tears. Arjun hadn’t answered her call. The despair and helplessness of her situation were catching up with her.

  The dark shadow of the night was creeping up stealthily, pushing away the twilight and suffusing through the fabric of the sky.

  Maya tried to calm herself, she needed to be able to think. There was only one option left. Arjun lived a short distance away. It was a fifteen minute walk from where she stood.

  With a new found determination, she wiped her tears and strode down the road. She would walk to Arjun’s house and meet Virendra there. Maya didn’t know where her strength was coming from. All she knew was that something within her was goading her on, not allowing her to give in or give up. She reached the main road of the colony — it was the same road that ran past her house. She still couldn’t understand anything that had happened in her house a short while ago. But she didn’t want to think about it. She feared if she did, it would debilitate her. The only way to keep her terror and panic in check was to avoid thinking and keep doing. The more she dwelt on the ordeal she had just been through, the worse she would feel.

  Maya continued her walk down the lane to Arjun’s house. She distracted herself by looking around, watching the cars, motorcycles, scooters
and bicycles on the road, the birds in the trees twittering and chirping as they prepared to tuck themselves away for the night; and the occasional passerby. Anything to stop her thinking about her father.

  As she approached Arjun’s house, she noticed that the big Land Cruiser belonging to his uncle, was not parked in its usual place outside.

  Her heart sank. If Virendra was not at home, what would she do? She could ask Pramila or Arjun to call him, but it would take time for him to return and accompany her back to her house.

  The front door of the house was ajar.

  That was strange. Virendra Singh was as fanatical about security as her father had been. The front doors of both houses had multiple bolts fitted on them. And, in both cases, there were clear instructions that the door would not be opened by the children under any circumstances. It would have to be one of the adults who answered the door.

  Even when Updhyaya had to go out somewhere, as he often did, he would leave Maya with Virendra and Pramila. And in Virendra’s house, the door had to be locked and bolted at all times, as a rule.

  Something made her wary. She stepped up to the entrance and gingerly pushed the front door. It swung open.

  The house was dark inside.

  And deathly silent.

  Even the curtains seemed to have been drawn shut.

  Where were Arjun and Pramila? Her first instinct had been to call out for them, but a tight ball of fear, deep inside, made her check herself.

  Where was everyone?

  And why was the door open?

  Maya gathered her strength, stepped inside the house, and stood still, looking around in the fading light of dusk that entered the room through the partly open door.

  Abruptly, the air grew frigid and a cold blast hit her.

  Something was not right.

  Almost simultaneously, a foul odour assailed her nostrils. It seemed to be all pervasive, diffusing through the very air in the room and choking off the fresh air coming in from outside through the front door.

  With a shock she realized that she was not alone. There was someone in the room.