‘Don’t get me wrong, I do feel sorry for this chap,’ Rajat said. ‘But . . .’ his words trailed away. Indu thought that perhaps he was starting to consider how it might affect his relationship if he refused outright the first real help his future wife asked of him.
‘I just want to be able to do all that is in my power to help someone I value,’ Indu said, and he looked at her strangely.
‘Even if I wanted to do it,’ he went on, ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on, I just returned from a different continent!’
‘We can try the same person who helped Roshan,’ Indu said.
By the end of the evening, Rajat had promised to help Indu, but not without asking her to forget about all this madness afterwards, saying that they must get away as far from all of this as quickly as possible.
‘We’ll move to London permanently, Indu, and I swear you will love it,’ he said, his eyes earnest. ‘There are so many bookshops there, and libraries! You like libraries, right? The national library is so huge, you can spend your days there, especially the rainy days, which is every day, really, and read as much as you want, and–’
‘Have you seen Number 7 yet?’ she asked him, and he shook his head.
‘But this library would still be very limited, right?’ he went on. ‘You can find all the books of the world in the national library there—’
‘Yes, but,’ Indu said, cutting him off, ‘Do you want to see it? I can show you.’
He nodded and Indu smiled. ‘Don’t worry, once we get him out, Fawad, that will be the last of it. We can then focus on the wedding.’
Rajat beamed.
* * *
‘Ah, I had forgotten your braids in the picture,’ Rana said, chortling shamelessly as he gazed at Indu’s campaign picture on yet another hoarding they could see from where they were standing. ‘How many marriage proposals did you get because of this picture, again?’
In a swift movement, Indu threw the water bottle she had brought along straight at Rana’s head. He dodged and caught it, used to the assault.
‘How many times have I told you not to aim for my face? It could take out my eye, you know.’
‘I only aim for your face so you can see it clearly and dodge it,’ Indu said, suddenly unsure.
‘Yeah, but you’re getting better at it.’
‘How many times have I told you not to comment on this picture?’
‘But you look so cute in the mini braids and the red ribbons,’ he said, laughing.
She was about to retort but held back, refusing to give in to his flattery. Indu knew he had been trying to pay court to her for the past few days, hoping that she wouldn’t see through it. But only an idiot wouldn’t see through it. She tried to keep the joking to a minimum. It was hard, though, because he found something to joke about even when his best friend’s life was under threat.
They were waiting outside the address Rajat had given Indu, waiting to see this mysterious Dhar uncle. She knew that Rana was indulging in more nonsense than usual because he was even more nervous than her.
Rajat had told her that Dhar uncle was known to ‘make trouble disappear’. But what made Indu really uncomfortable was that Rajat’s brother would also be coming along, and she had told Rana as much. She remembered how he kept checking Indu’s reactions to what Rajat said when they had dinner the first time together.
‘What’s his brother’s name?’ Rana had asked her.
‘Roshan.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Rana said, ‘I mean, what, he’s only going to be your brother-in-law, right? You only have to see him at the most important moments of your life.’
She threw him a dirty look, and he muttered an apology. A few minutes later, a Fiat arrived and Indu straightened up, sending silent encouragement to Rana. She clutched the end of her sari and looked over to find that Rana had his hands in his pockets.
Rajat was dressed in his usual shirt and trousers, while Roshan had his shirt untucked and wore sunglasses. From afar, he looked less menacing, but when they came closer, Indu’s heart beat faster. She stepped forward to give Rajat a hug and nodded at Roshan, giving him a little smile. He smiled back widely in return. Both brothers gazed at Rana without any sign of greeting and Indu cleared her throat loudly, introducing them.
They stared at each other without saying anything. ‘Uh, shall we go in then?’
Rajat nodded and Roshan led the way. Indu walked in step with Rana.
In the garden, they saw that Dhar uncle was already seated in the shade. When they walked in, he got up and folded his hands in a namaste, ordering tea for them. He was a towering personality, taller than most men, dressed sharply in trousers and a blazer. He had a full head of white hair and sharp eyes. He bowed to Indu and shook hands with the men.
It was an odd scene. Rana was seated on one side of her and on the other, Rajat. Roshan sat next to Dhar uncle, his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded, staring at her unblinkingly. Indu decided to begin the conversation.
She introduced herself, and when Dhar uncle gave her a smile, she felt encouraged to continue. She introduced Rana, telling Dhar uncle about his excellent work in the magazine, his work as a lawyer and how he helped her build up Number 7. Rana did nothing but nod, and she wanted to nudge him into making one of his stupid jokes to lighten the mood, but he did nothing of the sort. She told them about Fawad, feeling nervous. As she recounted what had happened, the one thought that had plagued her—that Dhar uncle, or Rajat and Roshan, for that matter, had no reason to get Fawad released—made her voice shaky.
Dhar uncle gave a heavy sigh when Indu finished and stared towards the sky, apparently deep in thought. Thanks to Roshan, he was saved the trouble of replying.
‘This man, Fawad, he’s in jail?’ Roshan asked.
Indu nodded.
‘There are so many in jail.’
Indu’s heart sank. She knew it would come to this. She looked at Rana and saw the veins on his arm move as he clenched his hands.
‘And we are sorry for them all,’ Indu said, ‘but he is the one we want out. If there was a way, I would gladly help all those who have been imprisoned incorrectly. But I don’t, which is why I’ve come to you.’
‘Why do you care about him so much?’ Roshan asked, adding, ‘Indu bhabhi.’
Indu narrowed her eyes at him. ‘He’s my friend.’
‘You have interesting friends,’ he said, gazing at Rana.
‘Roshan . . .’ Rajat said, a hint of warning in his voice.
Indu shot Rajat a look of anger; she hadn’t walked in here to be insulted, and blamed Rajat for involving his brother. If he couldn’t help her, he should have just said so instead of making his jerk of a brother question her intentions.
‘What I mean is,’ Roshan said, putting his hands up, ‘how can rules be bent for one person?’
‘Listen, mister,’ Indu replied, ‘the rules have already been bent, and they have been bent especially for you. Everything that has happened during the Emergency, the arrests, the family planning programmes, all of that is illegal. If one man’s life can be saved by an extra effort, it’s important to us that we do all that is in our power.’
Roshan smiled widely. ‘Does your father believe all this is illegal as well?’
‘We’ll keep fathers out of this,’ Rajat said, looking from Indu to Dhar uncle. Indu was fuming.
‘I think what Roshan means is,’ Dhar uncle said, ‘in this time, arrests have been made for a reason. To get someone released will involve bribing all sorts of bureaucrats, threats, warnings, jeopardizing the reputation and position of everyone involved, right from the person who unlocks this man’s door, to me, Rajat, and even you. I see no reason why such a risk must be taken.’
Indu stared at blankly at them. Wasn’t it obvious? Because she was asking them to. She couldn’t believe that he was actually asking her what they were to gain by helping them let Fawad off. Perhaps her father was right; perhaps there was no point in getting yourself inv
olved. Maybe she should just move to London with Rajat, taking him as far away as she could from his monster of a brother.
‘What will be gained?’ she asked him. ‘If even one innocent person’s life can be saved in all this, wouldn’t you consider that a gain?’
Roshan shrugged, and then yawned pointedly.
Indu looked at Rana, who was now bent forward, propping his elbows on the table in front of him.
‘Well, what if you had no choice?’
Dhar uncle looked quizzically at him and asked, ‘What do you mean?’
‘What if you didn’t have a choice about whether to help him get out or not?’
Roshan bent forward as well. ‘And why wouldn’t he have a choice? You would threaten him in his own house?’
Rana shrugged and Indu tried not to look completely clueless; she had no idea what he was talking about.
Rana sat back again, now in the same posture as Roshan. ‘Fawad wrote anti-government rhetoric that was declared illegal, took part in protest marches, and joined a resistance movement seeking to destabilize this Emergency.’
‘I wonder why he got arrested,’ Roshan said sarcastically.
‘You really think he didn’t document all that he was doing? Or that he embarked on all this without having conclusive proof of what he found?’
‘What do you mean?’ Rajat asked.
‘Fawad had a stack of photographs that documented the government’s mishandling of things. Deaths of people. He planned to release the photographs to the BBC, that’s why he came to Delhi, and was arrested before that could happen. The photographs, however, are still with us.’
Indu thought that Dhar uncle was either a very good actor, or was genuinely unfazed by what Rana said. Indu heard Rajat’s breath catch, while Roshan just raised his eyebrow.
‘Sounds like an empty threat,’ Roshan said.
Rana shrugged. ‘As you wish. Maybe you’ve not realized this, but I’m in no position to make empty threats. All I’m doing is playing the last hand left to me. I have no other resort left except to barter these photographs for my friend’s life.’
‘It’s still empty, as I see it,’ Dhar uncle said. ‘First of all, we cannot be sure that these photographs even exist. If they do, what do they show? And whatever it is that they reveal, how does that affect us? If some photographs do come out in the BBC at some point, I hardly feel responsible for them.’
Indu couldn’t help but think he was right.
Rana bent forward again and looked straight into his eyes. ‘Are you sure about that? How will the other members feel about the fact that you could have prevented this leak, that you had the golden chance of these photographs never seeing the light of the day, but you . . . just didn’t?
‘I’m not liking your tone in this conversation,’ Roshan said.
‘Or maybe,’ Rana went on, ignoring Roshan, ‘these photographs come out, are widely condemned, and the Congress is suddenly under the scrutiny of the world media, its top members under investigation for their involvement in what could potentially be crimes against humanity itself . . . then what? Will you still be minding my tone?’
Indu caught on.
‘Dhar uncle, you asked me why you must put yourself at risk to get someone out of prison,’ she said. ‘Well, this is what’s at stake. This is what you would be averting.’
She could see from the corner of her eyes that Rajat was staring at her, maybe in disbelief, but she ignored it, and instead kept looking directly at Dhar uncle, with occasional glances at Roshan. At long last, Dhar uncle spoke, and he looked only at Rana when he did.
‘You threatened me,’ he said finally. ‘You came to my house under the pretence of seeking help, but it was actually with the intention of blackmail.’
‘You said you’d help us and now that we are here, you’ve started evaluating profit!’
‘Why would he not?’ Roshan spoke up. ‘Who are you to him? Who is she to us?’ Indu glanced sideways at Rajat when Roshan said that. His expression remained unchanged.
‘I’m sorry, but it’s my last hand,’ Rana said. ‘If Fawad is let out, we will turn the photographs over to you. If he is not . . . well, I can’t promise anything.’
A long silence followed, punctuated only by the dirty looks Roshan threw at Indu.
‘Very well,’ Dhar uncle said. ‘We will need to see the photographs first. I’ll need time to get things arranged. Once it’s done, I will give Indu a call. Then we make the barter.’
Rana clapped his hands, getting up from his chair. ‘Then there’s nothing more to bicker about. Roshan, shall we have another cup of tea?’
Roshan gave Rana a dirty look and walked away, followed by Rajat, who left without saying goodbye.
‘What?’ Rana asked Indu, turning to her, ‘What did I say?’
* * *
On the way back, Indu and Rana talked about all that had happened as Indu replayed their meeting over and over in her head, thinking about the wounded look Rajat gave Indu, Roshan’s insinuating questions full of suspicion, and his remark, ‘who is she to us?’ She knew that it wasn’t correct that they coerced Dhar uncle.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to use the photographs?’ she asked him.
‘I’m sorry! I just felt like I had to, there was no other option—’
‘No, it was brilliant! But why didn’t you tell me beforehand?’
‘I thought of it on the spot,’ he said.
‘Well, where are the photographs, then?’
His face fell. ‘That’s the problem. That’s the reason I couldn’t offer them right away. I don’t know where they are. I know Fawad must have hidden them, but I have no idea where . . .’
Natty stopped the Ambassador at a petrol pump and got out. Indu gave Rana a sideways glance, but turned away when he saw her. ‘Did you,’ she began, wondering whether she should go on, but then went for it anyway, ‘Did you think about me, at all, while you were away?’
Rana tilted his head before giving a rueful, lopsided smile. ‘I did. Every day.’
Indu raised her eyebrows at him.
‘Did you think about me?’ he asked her.
She shook her head in a clear no, and he laughed. ‘You don’t have to lie, you know.’
When Natty got back in the car, he began in his baritone, ‘Yeh dosti, hum nahi todenge . . .’
‘How dare you sing this Bachchan song? In my presence!’ Indu hissed at Natty.
‘What can I do, madame?’ Natty asked. ‘There isn’t any recent movie of Rajesh Khanna to sing from.’
‘Hello? Which world, hun? What about Prem Kahaani?’ Indu replied.
‘But I was singing it all of last week, madame, and you didn’t like it.’
‘Well, I don’t like this either, and I’m going to turn off this non-stop Natty radio if you don’t stop promoting your Bachchan hero.’
Natty chuckled, looking at Rana resignedly, who was laughing as well. ‘Madame has started feeling insecure about Rajesh Khanna. Everyone has, ever since Bachchan has come up.’
‘Oh but Rajesh Khanna is the original superstar,’ Rana replied in a high-pitched sing-song voice, in what Indu presumed was an imitation of her.
18
Indu’s most vivid memories as a young girl were of the times when people would crowd around her and ask her what she would like to be once she grew up. The aunties would pull at her cheeks, making pouty faces, yelling their favourite suggestions at her, ‘Indu, say princess! Say you will be a princess when you grow up!’
Indu usually ignored them. Instead, she would flip her hair, which was generally tied up in a ponytail by her mother, and say, ‘I’m going to be a Bollywood superstar,’ while everyone would laugh and compliment her mother. ‘Look at the next Madhubala!’ they would say to her mother and pat her on the back. But for a brief period before Indu decided she would become a Bollywood superstar, she not just wanted to be, but was sure that she would be, the prime minister of the country. She knew it in her heart that
if there ever was a post for her, it was to be that of the prime minister of India.
When her namesake was appointed the prime minister, Indu, who had just become a teenager, decided that while that Indu would rule the country, she would rule people’s hearts: she would be the superstar of Bollywood. Age had brought its own lessons—Indu had learnt that Bollywood was not for her, and that she was content with an Indu being the prime minister. The prime ministership meant just one thing to her—the post held by Indira Gandhi. Nobody else, not even herself, Indu had decided, could take that place.
With every passing day, however, Indu felt her faith and reverence dying in the face of all that she saw and understood. It didn’t matter, whatever the reasons behind the Emergency and whatever else they said. Someone Indu knew and valued was suffering unjustly, and there was nobody they could go to. She certainly couldn’t broach any of this with her father, as he would immediately seek to put an end to it, questioning why she felt the need to take such measures for Rana. She couldn’t appeal to the police because they were most likely mixed up with everything going on. She couldn’t reach out to the newspapers because they weren’t allowed to report these things. She couldn’t even ask for the support of people, because how could people protest something they didn’t even know was going on?
Indu thought she felt a similar helplessness in her father, but even of that she couldn’t be sure.
When she tried to speak to him, all she had received in response was grunts and hmms, with a complete refusal to divulge any information about the Emergency. ‘It is not to your interest, any of this,’ he had said to her. ‘Just concentrate on enjoying your library. Anyway, you will leave soon.’
‘But what if I want to stay?’ Indu had asked fiercely. ‘What if I want to stay here and fight?’
‘Fight what?’ he had asked, exasperated. ‘This is not your fight.’
‘So you admit that it is yours!’
Her father bowed his head. ‘I cannot do anything to stop what is happening. All I can do is make sure that I keep my family out of trouble.’
* * *
Rajat visited Indu’s house and insisted on taking her for a drive. Indu sat in the car with one leg crossed over the other, looking outside at the road going by. She could feel Rajat’s sideways gaze boring into her. She finally gave in and looked at him, asking if he wanted to say something to her.
Once Upon a Curfew Page 22
