by Deva, Mukul
‘Nonsense. We are going to paint the town red! Let Delhi know that the Gill sisters are out tonight!’
Ruby tossed her hair back coquettishly. ‘Okay! Let’s go get them, girl!’
Ruby was turning away from the dressing table when she spotted a pistol in the open jewellery box.
‘You keep a gun?’ she asked, surprised. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, no, I hate guns.’ Jasmine gave a shudder. ‘That’s not mine. Daddy put it there. He even made me learn how to fire it.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘Ever since we moved here and he was put in charge of the ATTF, there have been threats. He says it is not a problem, but just in case… He even makes me carry pepper spray when I go out.’
Ruby was silent. ‘Well, it’s not so bad. You should have seen mom’s face when he made her go for firing practise. She was fuming!’
Her giggle broke the sombre mood. Jasmine held Ruby’s hand as they descended the stairs. Ruby found the gesture strangely natural. It made her feel sad. She realized that this was what life would have been like if her parents had still been together. She suddenly stopped and gave Jasmine a big hug.
‘Thank you, Jasmine. Thank you very much.’
Jasmine’s eyes were moist. Then she forced a laugh as they headed out. They were at the door when Jasmine remembered. ‘Oh! I need to tell mom when we will be back.’ She went to the base of the stairs and called out, but there was no response. Jasmine headed up.
When she returned, her smile had vanished.
‘She is upset?’ Ruby murmured, lightly touching her arm. Jasmine looked away. ‘I can understand. Anyone would be.’
They did not exchange another word as they got into Jasmine’s car, a silver Tata Vista hatchback, and drove out. The silence was awkward. Suddenly a car alongside swerved and cut them off, diving in front of them.
‘Screw you! Moron!’ Jasmine flipped her middle finger at the errant driver. She saw Ruby watching her with a smile and giggled. ‘That’s your first lesson in driving in Delhi.’
They both laughed and the awkwardness vanished.
‘What kind of food do you like?’ Jasmine asked as they hit the roundabout near India Gate.
‘All kinds. Tonight, you decide.’
‘Fine. Chinese it is then!’ Jasmine giggled. ‘I can never get enough of it.’
‘I like Chinese a lot, too.’
‘Strange, isn’t it?’ Jasmine said. ‘How similar people can be? Despite being so different. Look at us. I’m an Indian, born and bred. You are half Indian-half Palestinian, brought up in London. And yet, we both love Chinese food!’
Yes. We both laugh when we are happy. We cry when we are hurt, or sad. We bleed when we are cut. Then why so many differences?
Jasmine turned the car into the Oberoi hotel and handed it in for valet parking and walked towards Taipan, the Chinese restaurant.
They entered a large, well-lit room, with tables placed comfortably apart, and sparkling with crystal ware. Snow-white linen lent a pristine touch to the ambience. Soft oriental music was playing in the background, audible but not intrusive. Despite it being a weekday, the restaurant was almost full.
‘I love Chinese food, but am not very good at ordering,’ Jasmine said as they sat at a table in the corner. ‘Would you like to do the honours?’
‘Just go ahead and order what you like,’ Ruby smiled. ‘I am sure it will be perfect.’
‘At least help me pick the wine, please. I rarely get to drink. Mom doesn’t like me drinking alcohol.’
‘Let’s not have wine then… no point upsetting your mother…’
‘Nonsense! Of course we will have wine today.’ She consulted the waiter and ordered a Mao Tai, a fiery 55 proof concoction.
Ruby watched the young girl as she ordered the food. She seemed child-like, innocent, secure.
‘Didn’t you get a bit carried away?’ Ruby asked when the waiter left. ‘Are you sure we can eat all that?’
‘Of course we can. Just you wait… the food here is excellent. It’s not the usual “Chindian” stuff you get in Delhi.’
‘Chindian?’
‘Chinese–Indian. Like Chilly Chicken Manchurian. I bet most Chinese have never even heard of it, till we invented it for them. Sometimes I think they’d wage war on us if they realized what we‘ve done to their cuisine!’ They both laughed.
Jasmine noticed two young men at the next table throw suggestive glances at Ruby. Her hackles rose and she exchanged places with Ruby. Jasmine’s angry glares soon turned the men off.
‘I can take care of myself, you know,’ Ruby chuckled, touched that Jasmine felt so protective about her.
‘I‘m sure you can, but you shouldn’t need to, not here, not on my watch.’
Ruby laughed again.
Soon they were biting into pan-fried scallops in barbeque sauce. Seared in hot oil for just the right amount of time, their crusts were thin and crisp, and yet tender.
‘So,’ Jasmine asked when the waiter had served them. ‘Tell me about yourself.’
‘What would you like to know?’
‘Whatever you feel like telling me. Seeing that I know nothing about you, whatever you tell me will be new.’
Ruby was struck by the reality of who she was and why she was here, but kept a smile on her face and gave a bland synopsis of her life, steering clear of her true profession and of Rehana.
‘Your mother never pestered you to get married?’
‘No. Not really.’ Ruby shrugged. ‘I needed to devote myself to my career first.’
‘See.’ Jasmine sat back with a sigh. ‘That’s exactly what I keep telling my mom.’
‘She wants you to marry now? But you are so young.’
‘She says it’s our family tradition.’
Ruby remained quiet, sensing Jasmine might not take it well if she commented on her mother’s views.
‘I keep telling her that I need to finish my law degree first, but… it’s this damn royal blood…’ She stopped when she saw Ruby’s puzzled expression. ‘Didn’t you know? Both dad and mom are from royal families.’
‘No, I didn’t know that. I thought all that went out with the British.’
‘Yes, but you wouldn’t know it to hear mom go on and on… that I’ll die an old maid. And my aunts are even worse… they pump mom up every time they meet her. Luckily dad’s on my side or I don’t know how…’ she trailed off.
‘Do girls marry young in India?’
The waiter interrupted them as he served the braised bean curd with crab claw and steamed cod with garlic and preserved vegetables. Ruby felt she was in culinary heaven.
Jasmine resumed, ‘They don’t marry so young any more.’ As she picked her way through the cod, she said, ‘If they’re career-minded, they study as much as they want and work on their professional lives. It is just like in your part of the world. I have so many friends…’ She broke off again. ‘There I go, rambling on about myself. Tell me about yourself. Do you have a boyfriend?’ she giggled.
Ruby felt reality tug at her again. ‘I am not sure right now.’ She was surprised to find herself answering truthfully, as though happy that she was finally able to share her thoughts with someone.
‘What does that mean? You either do or you don’t.’
‘Is it that simple?’
‘Isn’t it? He is either there or he isn’t.’
Ruby pondered her beautiful simplicity. ‘Then I guess I don’t.’
‘What happened? You two had a fight?’
‘No. Not really.’ Ruby gave a wistful laugh. ‘I don’t know… somewhere, something just went off track.’ She fell silent.
Jasmine asked. ‘Did your mother like him?’
‘No! Mom never liked him.’
‘Fortune hunter?’
‘What?’ Ruby laughed. ‘No. No fortune to hunt. Not in my case, at least.’
‘According to my mom there are only three kinds of men. Fortune hunters, sex maniacs and the right ones.�
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Ruby asked after she had finished laughing, ‘Okay, the first two I get, but who are the right ones?’
‘My mom says the “right one”, firstly, has to be from a royal family… with more than a drop of blue blood. Secondly, he has to be as rich – if not richer than us.’
‘I see. Fair enough.’
‘Oh, but there’s more.’
‘Go on, please,’ Ruby smiled.
‘Thirdly, he has to be as educated, if not more. And lastly, he must be a Sikh. Trust me, Ruby. That is a heavy-duty checklist. It seriously trims the field down. In fact, sometimes I wonder if there is anyone still left in the world.’ They laughed.
‘By the way, I did want to ask you, do you go to the mosque or the gurudwara to pray?’ Jasmine asked. Realizing she may have strayed into sensitive territory, she quickly added, ‘I mean, because dad is Sikh and your mother is – was, sorry – Muslim.’
Ruby almost chuckled, but controlled herself, realizing that Jasmine could feel offended. ‘Neither, actually. You see, mom was a devout Muslim, but she never forced me into it.’ Suddenly sombre, Ruby looked away, her mind in a tailspin, sharply aware that she could only allow Jasmine to enter so far into her mind. Her… their father was the enemy. She could not allow herself to forget that. ‘And I guess I was too busy trying to fit in with the others at school and in the neighbourhood. I mean,’ she saw Jasmine’s puzzled expression and explained, ‘most were Christians, you see. Though we also had a lot of Jews… and some Buddhists and Hindus, and of course a number of freethinkers.’
Jasmine gave an understanding smile.
‘So I kind of grew up freewheeling. I mean, I do believe there is a god, but to my mind religion, well… most preach love and brotherhood, but in reality it’s the cause for so much hate and destruction.’
‘I agree with you.’ Jasmine gave a grave nod. ‘But you have to have some religion… or what will they do at the time of the final rites?’
That broke the tension and got them both laughing. ‘I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,’ Ruby said playfully. ‘Though of course I’ll have much less control over what they do to me once I am gone! I just hope they select the most eco-friendly option!’ They laughed louder.
‘Okay, maybe the last rites argument was a lousy one,’ Jasmine resumed. ‘How about this – what rites will you follow for your marriage ceremony?’
‘I guess I’ll worry about that when I find the “right” man.’ Chance returned to her mind unbidden, and she fell silent.
‘Me…’ Jasmine said between mouthfuls. ‘I wish I could find someone as good as daddy. He is so amazing. You know, he is my best friend.’ Jasmine could not imagine the impact her words were having on Ruby and continued innocently, ‘I feel so lucky… he is the best father a girl could want. He is so caring.’
Ruby felt a pang of regret. The dried Hashima that she was eating turned to ashes in her mouth.
‘I don’t know anything about him,’ she said. ‘I just remember that he used to call me princess when I was little.’
Jasmine nodded animatedly. ‘That’s what he has always called me too.’
Ruby’s pain turned into jealousy.
Jasmine rambled on, ‘You know, once I was very ill… I think when I was four or five, I don’t remember, but I was very ill and daddy never left my side even for a moment. He would hug me and sleep next to me. In fact whenever I’ve been ill or have got hurt, he has always been there. Mom gets upset that I cling to him, but he has always been cool about it. He said that whenever his princess is ill or hurting, he’ll be by her side.’
Ruby burned with resentment.
The bill arrived and Ruby reached for it.
‘No,’ Jasmine plucked it out of her hands. ‘Please, allow me.’ She threw a look at it and gave a low whistle as she pulled out a credit card. ‘Wow! That wine was expensive.’
‘I can afford it, Jasmine.’ Ruby held out her hand.
‘Dad can too, Ruby.’
‘I didn’t know that Indian cops are so well paid.’
‘They are not.’ Jasmine shook her head. ‘But I told you, dad’s family is loaded. So is mom’s, for that matter.’ She signed the charge slip with a flourish. ‘Might as well make the most of it is what I say.’ She laughed. ‘Otherwise what’s the point of having a rich dad?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Ruby hated the grim tone of her voice. Why did I say that? She felt ashamed… or was it a feeling of inadequacy? Betrayal? Anger? What had I done to be so deprived?
Jasmine fell silent.
The uneasiness between them grew as they left and waited for the car. The valet must have switched the car radio on, because it crackled to life when Jasmine started the engine.
‘We lose direction, no stone unturned’, Elton John’s song, ‘Sacrifice’, started to play. ‘No tears to damn you, when jealousy burns…’
Neither wanted the song to go on, but both were grateful for the sound filling the awkward void between them. The song finally ended and it was followed by Doris Day’s ‘When I was just a little girl I asked my mother… que sera sera, whatever will be, will be…’
Jasmine felt hurt about the change in Ruby, but was unsure of how to deal with it. Ruby made no attempt to make things better. On the contrary, something inside her made her want to nurture her yet-to-be-defined but decidedly ugly feeling.
They bid each other a muted goodnight at the top of the stairs and Ruby retreated to her room. Her resentment stayed with her as she lay down in the cold, strange bed.
Of course I have been cheated of a complete childhood, a childhood that can never be returned to me.
Outside it began to rain again. No thunder, no lightning. Just sheets of rain.
Ruby was crying when sleep finally claimed her.
Somewhere in the darkness of that long night, the dream reached out to her again, bringing with it the same faceless man who had been calling out to her all these nights.
Suddenly, his face became clear. Ravinder looked much younger, the way she remembered him in her childhood. She knew that face so well, it was embedded in her heart. He had a loving smile and was searching the house, every now and then calling out in a singsong tone, ‘Ruby, my princess, come out, come out… wherever you are…’
Suddenly his face vanished again. Slowly a new face emerged from the darkness. It was her uncle, Yusuf. He was calling out to her, pleading for help… the gaping cut in his throat was like a hideous smile. He was desperately trying to attract Ruby’s attention, struggling to point out something to her, but his dismembered arms lay limp beside him.
Ruby knew where he was telling her to go. She did not want to go, but moved helplessly down the long, dimly-lit passage into a cold, dark room. She was trembling. Now she stood in the darkness alone. Before her were the charred remains of Rehana – alive and pleading, crying. Tugging at her.
Ruby howled in pain but no one heard her mewing cries for help. The thick walls of the room and the violent drumming of the rain contained them.
Ruby was soaked in sweat when she jolted awake. Drawing a deep breath, she reached for the water on her bedside table. The jug was empty. She got up and went down to the kitchen with the empty jug in her hand.
Barring trickles of light from the windows, the house was dark and silent, though she could hear the faint rustle of security guards moving near the gate. Then she heard the clang of metal against metal… perhaps the guard’s rifle butt had collided with the gate. It was followed by a murmur of voices.
Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light and she finally located the refrigerator in one corner of the kitchen. She pulled out a bottle of water and refilled the jug.
On her way back to the room, she noticed a flicker of light coming from the room across the living room. The dim light emanating from the room cast eerie shadows on the wall. Ruby felt as if someone was hiding there, watching her. Her grip on the jug tightened; the filled jug was heavy, it would make a potent weapon.
Could it be an intruder?
‘Ever since we moved here and he was put in charge of the ATTF, there have been several threats,’ Jasmine’s warning echoed in her ears.
She considered raising an alarm.
‘Who is it?’ she called softly. There was no response. Hefting the jug, Ruby ghost-footed forward, ensuring she was clear of the door as she circled to bring the inner room into view.
The culprit was a laptop. It lay open on the study table, facing away from the door. The light from the screensaver flickered, casting scary shadows on the wall.
Ruby was not sure why she went up to it. Possibly only to close it and put it in sleep mode. But when she touched it, the screen came to life and displayed Ravinder’s inbox. Ruby hesitated only briefly before she put down the jug and leaned forward to read his e-mails.
The first mail was from a Govind Mohite. It confirmed that Mr Thakur, the home minister, had been informed about the LeT financier identified by the Mossad agent named Ido Peled. It went on to say that the financier – Rizwan Khan – had been placed under surveillance to enable ATTF to identify everyone who came to meet him, including the British woman terrorist they had been warned about.
Ruby’s blood ran cold. Rizwan Khan was one of the two names Pasha had given her. He was the one she had meant to call earlier that day.
Ruby drew a deep breath. For a moment she wondered if Pasha knew that the Mossad was on to his financier. Then a second realization – a British woman… So they knew a hit was coming.
She had just clicked open the next mail when the clapping patter of slippers hit her ears – someone was coming down the stairs. Swiftly shutting the lid of the laptop, she snatched up the jug and returned to the living room. She was halfway there when she saw Ravinder with a pistol in his right hand, level, ready for action. He gave a start when he saw her and thrust the pistol into his gown pocket.
‘Oh! It’s you. I thought I heard something…’
‘I came down for some water,’ Ruby said calmly, even as her heart pounded.
‘Okay. Did you girls have a nice time tonight?’
‘Yes, we did, thank you.’ Ruby smiled. In the dim light he did not notice that only her lips had moved; her eyes were cold and still.
