RIP

by Deva,Mukul

  ‘No, I’m in a bit of a rush. There is a lot happening in office and I really need to go . . . so if that’s all you wanted to talk about . . .’ She made to rise.

  ‘As a matter of fact there’s something else.’ Raghav was desperate to keep her there as long as possible. He felt he would be able to talk her down and convince her to relent if given some more time. So he decided to play the Azaan card now. ‘I want to set up a trust fund for Azaan and make you the trustee. Twenty lakhs to begin with.’ He gave a grand smile when he stated the amount, certain that it would impress her. ‘That is only to begin with. I will of course add to it from time to time.’

  ‘That’s a lot of money, Raghav.’ Reena was stunned. ‘Did you win the lottery?’

  ‘No, no,’ he guffawed, far louder than the situation warranted, ‘nothing like that. Just a couple of very lucrative consulting assignments that went well.’

  There was something in the way he said that, which roused Reena’s suspicions. When he had been cashiered from service, she had been taken in by his stories of political machinations and how he had been made a scapegoat, but since then a lot had transpired and she was much more savvy now. That, with all the stories that came to surface once the media got involved, had convinced her that Raghav had not been as innocent as he claimed. Even then she had stuck by him, till that day when she had caught him with that woman . . . in their marital bed.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Reena replied tentatively, feeling her way forward as she spoke. ‘Well, let me think about this also. And don’t you think that you should wait for the court case to be over before you do all this?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with my wanting to take care of my son?’

  ‘Well, nothing, but you can just go ahead and manage the fund yourself. Why drag me into it? I’m not comfortable being asked to manage such large sums of money . . . especially when it is not mine.’

  ‘Okay, if you say so.’ This time Raghav did not bother to mask his disappointment. His hair-trigger temper broke free and began to boil as Reena got up and left Route 04.

  *

  Lost in a chaotic caravan of thoughts Reena did not hear her name being called out. She only became aware when Sachin ran up and tapped her arm.

  ‘Hi Reena aunty, how are you?’ Sachin, still in school uniform, was giving her a broad smile. ‘See.’ He held up a large gift-wrapped carton. ‘We just got Azaan’s gift.’ After a pause, he added importantly, ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘But of course.’ Reena laughed despite her bleak mood and was ruffling his hair when Krishna walked up to them.

  He was smiling broadly too, obviously happy at the chance encounter. ‘How are you doing Reena?’

  ‘Very well thank you, Krishna.’

  But Krishna sensed her turmoil. ‘Shopping?’ Unwilling to probe he changed the topic.

  ‘Just for some work.’ Reena was suddenly wary, realizing that Raghav could be coming by any time. ‘Are you in a hurry or would you like to join me for a coffee?’ she asked, eager to get away from the alley; the exit to Route 04 was just behind her and she had no idea when Raghav would come out.

  ‘That’d be lovely. We’re just on our way to Payal’s house. I have to drop this young man off.’

  ‘Travelling again?’ She began to walk away, heading across the market, where several coffee shops abounded. A bit surprised at her speed, Krishna lengthened his stride and followed suit, with Sachin tripping along in tow.

  A few minutes later they were sitting in Café Coffee Day, sipping coffee while Sachin happily munched his way through a huge pastry. Sitting beside Reena, Sachin was partially masked from the window by the large carton with Azaan’s gift.

  As he spooned another large piece of pastry into his mouth a bit of it fell out, on the front of his shirt. Automatically Krishna leaned forward and wiped it off with a paper napkin.

  *

  Still fuming with Reena’s reluctance to give him another chance, Raghav tossed down the whisky soda he had ordered after Reena’s departure, and then left Route 04. He was crossing the market, heading for his car that was in the parking lot at the other end, when he spotted Reena through the large window of Café Coffee Day. Sitting beside her, almost completely hidden by the gift carton he thought he saw Azaan. Sachin and Azaan were the same height and build, and the school uniform reinforced Raghav’s assumption.

  Raghav was about to change direction and head across to the café when he spotted Krishna sitting opposite them. Krishna appeared relaxed and happy. She also seemed happy . . . much happier than she had been with him just a short while ago.

  She didn’t have time for a coffee with me and here she is sitting with that . . . now she doesn’t need to rush to office . . .

  A fresh surge of anger raged through Raghav.

  That’s why the bitch doesn’t want to get back with me. Pretending to be the virgin queen and all this while she’s obviously been shacking up with Krishna. Now they’re even shopping for birthday gifts together . . . for HIS son.

  Suddenly he saw Krishna lean forward with a paper napkin, obviously wiping his son’s mouth.

  So this is what it’s come to? Raghav’s anger exploded. I’ll teach them a lesson . . . both of them.

  He stormed off to his car.

  *

  Dropping Sachin off to Payal’s house Krishna called Kunal.

  ‘Where are you guys now?’

  ‘Right now we’re at NOIDA, Sector 16. With Mark.’ That was the code name they had given the target. ‘He’s at the local party office. Just got in a few minutes ago. From the looks of it he should be here awhile. Dozens of their local party leaders are here . . . more still coming in.’

  ‘Good. I’ll be there in a bit.’ Krishna also wanted to spend some personal ground recon time. He knew this was the big one; they had to get everything right. He trusted K-Team implicitly, but was aware that there was nothing like putting eyes on the target, and leading from the front. ‘I am already at New Friends Colony. Give me twenty.’

  He hit the main road, then turning right, headed for the DND Expressway connecting NOIDA to Delhi. The expressway led straight to Sector 16. The office hour rush had still not dissipated and there was a long line of vehicles crawling up towards the toll barrier.

  Curbing his impatience he joined the multicoloured, metallic, pollution-spewing queue of cars. Reminding himself that they would all need pre-paid toll tags for this particular mission, so that their cars could just zip past the toll barrier in the automatic lane.

  He made a mental note to buy the tags on the way back.

  *

  Even though the drive home took almost an hour Raghav was still raging when he reached the farmhouse. He headed straight for the bar and fixed himself a large whisky soda. It vanished in two large swallows. Pouring yet another he was headed for his bedroom when he spotted the pile of mail stacked on the dining table. It seemed to have grown by leaps and bounds in the last twenty-four hours. Grimacing he began to sift through it.

  The yellow-brown A-4 size envelope caught his eye almost immediately. In the last eighteen months since the divorce case had begun and then the custody case he had received enough of them from his lawyer.

  Ripping it open he hauled out two foolscap sheets from it. The first was a brief note from his lawyer telling him to come to court on the 19th . . . twelve days later. Attached to it was the judge’s order, confirming this was the final court hearing for the divorce.

  Raghav’s fury broke free.

  The bitch! Reena must have known about this all along, which is why . . .

  He did not even know when he threw the glass. It flew across the room, smashing into the large window facing the garden, shattering both. The sound of breaking glass also shattered something inside him. Collapsing on the sofa he began to cry. Loud, gut-wrenching sobs.

  Drawn by the sound of breaking glass the maid, who had been preparing dinner, rushed in from the kitchen. She took in the scene, ran back out. Returning a moment late
r with a broom and dustpan she began to clear the pieces of glass littered all over the floor.

  Watching her from behind tear-soaked eyes Raghav felt something stir inside him. Something dark and deadly. He called her to him. Petrified of him, yet unable to refuse the huge salary he paid her, she came. Her eyes were dull with the knowledge of what would happen next; it had happened several times before, whenever the darkness seized her master.

  There was no expression on her face as Raghav ripped her blouse off. Then her sari and petticoat. The smell of garlic and sweat coming from her reached out to Raghav. It irritated him, yet spurred his lust. She shrieked as he bit her breasts. Her cry fuelled the demons seizing him. Pushing her down he mounted her. Riding her mercilessly, like an animal. Right there. On the cold, marble floor.

  Somewhere deep inside his head Raghav could see Reena squirming with pleasure as he began to move, thrusting deeper and deeper. He came quickly, with a loud, explosive snort. Reality bit and Reena was no longer under him. Pushing the maid away with an angry cry he collapsed on the floor. Soon he was weeping again.

  Gathering up her clothes the maid quietly left the room. She was aching to take a shower. To scrub herself clean. Of his touch. And his semen swirling inside her.

  The darkness shrouding Raghav grew deeper. He fell into a deep, almost comatose sleep, right there on the unyielding marble floor.

  *

  Turning into Sector 16 NOIDA, Krishna parked well away from the target building and walked across to Kunal’s car.

  Kunal had parked in the unruly mass of cars straddling the lane between two huge office complexes. He rapidly indicated the layout to Krishna and pointed out the location of the other K-Team members.

  By now daylight had faded and Krishna had to strain to see in the erratic street lighting. But it was also good; the darkness enveloped them in an anonymous cocoon.

  ‘We’re running a box surveillance,’ Kunal explained. ‘But maintaining a good standoff.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Krishna approved the extra caution they were showing. ‘Have they beefed up security?’

  ‘So far it seems to be the standard two-tier they’re following; four men close in, giving all-round protection and four men manning the outer perimeter at fifteen metres standoff.’ Krishna nodded; that was the SOP for all SPG (Special Protection Group) protectees. ‘There are four more men; two with the electronics vehicle and two with the backup vehicle.’

  ‘So six vehicles?’

  ‘That’s right. Three primaries for the target and eight men with him, one backup, one electronics and one ambulance.’

  ‘Right.’ Krishna mulled over that. ‘You’re sure there’s nothing else? No special precautions added on?’

  ‘Not that we could spot.’ Kunal sounded sure. ‘But we still have time and will watch out for it.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Pause. ‘We need to be very sure. The Mark is well protected. I don’t want any of you guys taking unnecessary risks.’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir. We’re being very careful.’

  They sat in silence for a bit as Krishna scoped out the party office the target was in. A yellowish, freshly painted, three-storey building, dwarfed by the tall high-rise office complexes strewn all around it.

  ‘Why don’t you chill and let us handle it, sir?’ Kunal suggested gently. Like the other K-Team members he had not forgotten the date. The next day was Pooja’s death anniversary, but he did not point that out to Krishna; they all knew he was acutely sensitive about anything to do with her.

  Lost deep in thought, worrying about his team, sharply aware that the SPG was not something to be trifled with, Krishna did not catch the unsaid.

  ‘Are you sure you guys can handle it on your own?’

  ‘Of course.’ Kunal laughed. ‘Haven’t we done it before, sir?’

  Krishna could not stop his grin. Of course they had. Many times. His mind fled back to the last time they had operated together . . . all those years ago . . . just before the hijack . . . that time they had crossed into Pak Occupied Kashmir.

  Kargil was in flames. Disguised as mujahideen, regular Pak Army troops had infiltrated across the border and seized the heights, threatening the strategically vital Srinagar-Leh highway. Then Intel had reported that the Paki general commanding the Kargil offensive was operating from a secret, newly established HQ in POK. SATINT (Satellite Intelligence) had confirmed the location and layout.

  ‘Take him out.’ The order came from NorthCom. ‘Demoralize them and throw the rank and file in disarray.’

  19th Para Commando had drawn the short straw. And K-Team was given the task. Krishna was commanding the team.

  Like ghosts they had used the darkness of a stormy night to infiltrate up to the Paki HQ. For two days, unseen and unheard they had lain in wait. Waiting for that one tiny moment when the Paki general would be exposed.

  For two days they saw neither hide nor hair of the general. Either he was being ultra-cautious or just plain lucky. But K-Team was patient. And silent.

  No one saw them. Not one person from the 120-men company guarding the Paki HQ. Nor any of the sporadic civilians who passed by every so often.

  It was only on the third day that the general ventured out. From his command post to his caravan twenty metres away. Just twenty metres. About forty strides at best. There had been six men flocking around him in a loose cluster; staff officers and his close-in protection group. It was on the ninth or tenth stride that he gave them the opportunity.

  Kashif and Kunal, watching him relentlessly through the scopes of their sniper rifles, both grabbed it.

  Crack!

  Their shots boomed out in unison. The muzzle break hiders fitted on their weapons hiding the flashes.

  The Paki general’s next stride was his last. He died while his foot way still in mid-air. Stopping abruptly before the twin high velocity impacts threw him to the side.

  Another second to confirm the target was down and K-Team melted away into the mountains like wraiths. They were a couple of miles away by the time search and destroy patrols left the Paki camp.

  All the way back to the LOC, only one of the Paki patrols came anywhere near them. Pretty close, but not close enough to die.

  ‘Yes, we have done it before.’ Krishna smiled, a tight, grim smile, as that memory drew to a close. ‘And we will again,’ he added softly.

  ‘Of course we will.’ Kunal nudged him gently. ‘Go now, sir. We will keep you posted. We’re almost ready to go . . . just a little while more, for us to confirm if there is anything we may have missed.’

  ‘Okay, fine. But don’t hesitate to call if you need me. Doesn’t matter what time of the day or night it is.’

  Feeling a little guilty despite Kunal’s assurances, Krishna finally headed back home. May as well spend some time with Sachin. He had been ignoring him the last few days, with the RIP missions on, one after the other.

  And who knows which of us will come out of this alive?

  That thought sent a cold shiver through him. It did not dissipate his determination to complete the task they had taken on. But it made him wonder how those who remained behind would handle the losses . . . if one or more of them did not make it out alive. And losses were inevitable . . . in every battle. Another pulse of worry plagued him, as he wondered which one of them would fall first.

  Realizing this was a dead end he did not wish to hit Krishna forced himself to focus on how to make up for it with Sachin. And Payal. He knew he had been ignoring both recently. Though neither had said anything to him, but he could sense their hurt. And Payal’s concern too.

  Somewhere down the road Reena also wandered into his thoughts. He wondered how she was doing.

  Does she also think of me?

  Do I have the right to expect it?

  Tomorrow I may not be alive . . . or behind bars.

  That left him feeling unaccountably low.

  He tried to perk up when he reached home and Sachin ran out to greet him. On an impulse he called Pa
yal and asked her to join them for dinner. A bit surprised since it was a school night for Sachin, but she agreed.

  Krishna knew that she was very fond of the Chinese cuisine at Golden Dragon on Khel Gaon Marg, so that’s what he suggested. It was also almost midway for both of them, an important consideration in the maddening Delhi traffic.

  Payal was already seated at a corner table when they reached.

  ‘I’ve already ordered.’ She grinned. ‘For both of you as well.’

  Neither Krishna nor Sachin had an issue with that. Their concept of Chinese food was restricted to honey glazed chicken wings for starters, and mixed fried rice, vegetable spring rolls and spicy minced lamb for the main course. Payal was well aware of that. And she had ordered hakka noodles and chilly chicken Manchurian for herself.

  They had just begun to eat when Payal’s mobile rang. She was making a face as she pulled it out of her handbag. Then she saw the calling number.

  ‘Reena,’ she whispered to Krishna with an apologetic smile and took the call.

  ‘I met Raghav today.’ Payal could make out that Reena had been crying. ‘He wants me to get back with him.’

  ‘Oh!’ Payal was nonplussed, but knew better than to suggest anything, aware that this had to be solely Reena’s decision. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Pause. ‘I’m not sure.’ Then. ‘I don’t think I do, but is it only about me? There is Azaan also to think about. I know he misses his father.’

  ‘Children will always miss the parent who is not with them. That’s normal. But think about yourself also. Or do you want to try and make the marriage work just because of Azaan?’

  Krishna heard that. He was able to fill in the missing pieces and guessed what Reena’s call was about. It added to the turmoil in his head.

  ‘Sleep over it and see how you feel in the morning.’ Payal was very perturbed by the call. She knew the agony Reena had suffered all these months and her anxiety for her friend deepened.

  The next hour passed uneasily. Barring Sachin’s incessant chatter there was not much conversation.

  Krishna had really wanted to ensure they had a good, relaxed time, but unfortunately his head and his heart, both were in too much turmoil for him to keep up the cheerful facade for long.