by UD Yasha
I did not recognize the number. But instincts are not forgotten easily. Provide the right cue to the brain and even after years, neurons on a previously learned pattern are fired, triggering the same thoughts and the same feelings. When my phone rang, I knew something was not right. I forgot about my birthday cake and answered the call.
The person started speaking right away. I went cold. Even though I had not been able to recognize the number, I knew the voice far too well. One thing was certain. The person across the line was not calling me to wish me on my birthday.
And right then, I knew my wish for the new year was not going to come true.
‘Siya, are you there?’ the voice across the line said.
The voice belonged to Senior Inspector Kapil Rathod. I knew him from my time of practising law. He used to assist me in whatever way possible, often putting himself into jeopardy with the CID for helping out a criminal lawyer and private detective. But we had a similar understanding of justice. Rathod was also my brother, Karan's, childhood friend. That's how I had reached out to him in the first place. I had not spoken to him in the past three years. I could not muster the courage to tell him that I had made a mistake. Something else had also happened between us after which I thought it was best for us to keep our distance.
‘Siya, hello?’ Rathod said again.
‘Yes, Rathod. I’m here.’ I felt a trepidation build inside me.
‘Where are you?
‘I’m at home.’
‘In Pune?’
I realized he would not have known anything about me since I left practice. ‘Yes, in Pune,’ I said.
‘I need to meet you.’ His voice was urgent.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s about your mother. There’s a new development in her case.’
I felt my heart beat in my head. Maa had gone missing sixteen years back. She had been presumed dead by everyone. As per Indian law, if a person is missing for more than seven years, then they are considered dead. Yet, somehow Radha, Karana and I knew there was always a chance, even if the odds were one in a million, that our mother, and even father would return one day. There was only a slim chance, a miracle almost, that she was still alive.
I said, ‘What? Is she…?’
Rathod cut in. ‘Yes, she’s alive.’
I shivered. My expression and demeanour must have changed drastically because Radha asked me with hand gestures about what was happening. I shook my head. I was too overwhelmed to say anything to her then.
‘At least she was twelve hours ago,’ Rathod said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can’t tell you about it over the phone.’
‘Meet me at our usual place in thirty minutes,’ I said, referring to the restaurant we used to meet to discuss the cases we worked on together.
‘The usual place? You’ve been gone for three years,’ Rathod said.
Silence.
‘Thirty minutes. Be there,’ I said and clicked off.
‘Who was it?’ Radha said.
‘Kapil Rathod. He’s a CID officer I used to discuss cases with,’ I said and paused. ‘He said this is about maa. He said she’s alive. Or at least was twelve hours ago.’
Radha’s face went white. Very few situations fazed her. Our mother was one of them. The second was our father. She regained her composure the next beat.
‘What does he mean by that?’ Radha said.
‘I don’t know. He wants to meet me.’
‘We’ll come with you,’ she said, taking a step for the door.
I could not say no. The truth was that I needed Radha at that moment. Just like I had needed her for the past three years. ‘Alright, let's go,' I said and grabbed my pullover from the hook behind the main door and tossed Radha her hoodie as Rahul slipped into his sweater.
We stepped out in the cold night. I could sense the life I was trying so hard to get away from was screaming my name out loud.
Chapter Seven
Hope is dangerous to flirt with. We had gone through the pain of losing our parents too many times. Every time the doorbell rang, someone we did not recognize called out our name, we received a call from an unknown number, we felt someone's eyes in a crowded place or a lonely road, every time a reported missing person was found—we wished it was our mother or father returning to our lives. Each time we came close to believing they were alive. We had clung to the hope of them coming back, however minuscule it may have seemed. But hope can be a bitch. We had become accustomed to not taking such calls at absolute value. But this time the bearer of the information was Kapil Rathod.
He was a man of integrity in a world that tempted him with corruption every day. Not only did the Pune CID have to deal with gruesome crimes from murders to rapes, but they had to work hard for a considerably lower pay than others, who worked the same or even less. Staying honest and turning down tempting bribes was hard for most. But Rathod had never fallen for it. Not even when his father had been diagnosed with Stage Three cancer and the medical bills had mounted.
I had first-hand experience of it when I was investigating a Bombay High Court judge for corruption. I had then worked with Kapil Rathod for the first time. Several cops were under the payroll of different mafias operating in the state. That was my first case out of law school under a lawyer named Santosh Wagh. He eventually went on to become my mentor and shaped much of my world belief.
After we exposed the HC judge, both the mafia and media were confused about who had conducted the investigation. We were doing everything from the shadows because even one wrong foot would have resulted in a bullet in our heads. To date, no one knew the people behind [email protected]. Even then, Kapil Rathod had not buckled under the threats that were made to his family—his wife, old parents and three siblings.
When I eventually became a criminal lawyer seeking innocent clients and later a private detective, I knew I would get along with Rathod. It had been a decent ride. My work was often his release, especially when he felt hamstrung by the system.
Thinking about the old times, I felt guilty about how we had left things when we had last seen each other. He had no idea about why I had left practising law. My mind wandered again, as his words echoed in my ears. Yes, she’s alive.
As we drove to meet him, I realized I was once again free falling into a world that had no compassion, where hellos were as common as curses and everyone held a knife under their namastes.
We drove in silence. The air in the car was tense. No one dared to speak a word. I was not sure what I was afraid of any more. My birthday celebrations seemed a distant memory.
We were going to a restaurant called Shelly’s Smokes. It served all kinds of barbecues, kebabs and sizzlers. Rathod and I had chosen it eight years ago as it was then towards the outskirts of the city, past an area called Pashan. So, the chances of any cop bumping into us were slim. Also, both Rathod and I lived fifteen minutes from it on either side. But because Pune was expanding so fast, Shelly’s was now very much a part of the city. We had seen her business grow over the years.
I pulled over in the almost empty parking lot. The last orders for the night would have started being accepted. I was coming to Shelly’s after three years. I used to go there only to discuss cases with Rathod. I felt a pit in my stomach as I walked down the stone walkway and up the shallow stairs to enter the open-air part of the restaurant.
I saw Kapil Rathod sitting at what used to be our usual spot. He had a cup of hot beverage in his hand. He had not changed one bit in three years. He was still lean, his hairstyle was the same buzz cut, his signature thin moustache was still intact, he still wore crisply ironed clothes and had an impeccable posture.
He saw me as well. He set his cup on the table, and then immediately got up and walked towards me, extending his arm for a handshake. I afforded a smile and shook his hand. It felt good to see a familiar face, one that I could trust.
‘How are you?’ he said and I could sense genuine concer
n in his voice.
‘I’m alright,’ I said and turned back. ‘This is Radha, my sister and that’s Rahul,’ I paused, almost saying her fiancé. ‘He’s Radha’s boyfriend.’
Rathod acknowledged them with a nod of his head. I could tell he was confused and had many questions, probably about where I had been since we had last spoken. He had reached out to me a few times after the last time we had met, asking about me. But he did not know what mistakes I had made and why I couldn’t stay in my career. I decided that I would tell him eventually but not now. I needed to know why he had called me. I needed to know about maa.
I sat at the table and said, ‘What’s the matter?’
Rathod jerked his head towards Radha and Rahul. ‘Are you sure?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘Alright. Like always, I’m talking to you in absolute secrecy,’ Rathod said, resting his hands on the table and leaning forward.
I nodded.
‘A woman was murdered in Koregaon Park. We found her some hours back. It was a brutal way to die. The crime scene was probably the nastiest I’ve ever seen. The reason I wanted to see you was because we found something there that connected your mother to it.’
What?
I stayed silent and let Rathod continue.
‘I don’t know how to say this,’ Rathod said. He poured himself a glass of water and took a sip. ‘We found a lock of hair at the crime scene. Not a strand. But an actual lock. Left behind purposely.’
My stomach sank suddenly. Panic gripped me. I realized I was not the only one going through this. I turned to Radha. I moved my chair closer to her and held her hand. Despite the chill in the air, I felt sweat gather on my forehead and palms.
‘I know this is hard,’ Rathod said, unsure himself of how to tell them.
‘We analysed the lock of hair. The forensic pathologist just called me with the results. The lock of hair belongs to your mother.’
‘And she… –’
‘Yes, she is alive. Or at least she was when the hair was cut. Forensics confirmed that.’
Rathod's words hung in the air. Radha's grip tightened around my hand. I put an arm around her. We feared this day would never come. Everyone around us had told us that she would be dead by now. Radha, Karan and I secretly wished that our mother would show up somewhere. I had heard of several cases where people who were missing for years suddenly showed up one fine day. They had no memory of what had happened or their kidnapper had a change of heart or they had managed to escape from their captor…. the possibilities were endless. All of which we had run in our minds, hundreds of times.
But I had never expected a lock of maa’s hair to end up at another crime scene.
After all these years. We now know she is alive. I could not believe it. But reality bit me like the cold around me. Maa was still missing. She was still being held captive by a killer. The thought sent shivers through my body.
‘I thought I should tell you before the police contact you,’ Rathod said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Where is Kishore Zakkal?' I asked. I had caught Kishore Zakkal five years ago for killing one woman and abducting seven more, one of whom was my own mother.
‘Still in jail. Chamber Number Twelve in Yerwada.’
‘So, there’s someone out there copying him. And not just that, but Zakkal must have told him where he had hidden my mother for all those years.’
‘Siya,’ Rathod said.
A heartbeat of silence.
I knew what was coming next.
‘Your father’s disappearance will also be brought up. You know he was a suspect in taking your mother. There will be talk,’ Rathod said.
‘I thought that talk was put to rest after I got Zakkal.’
‘You know how these things work. I saw a media van at the crime scene today. It’ll only be a matter of time before they start talking. I have also heard whispers within the CID. They believe there’s an outside chance that this could be your father.’
‘But Zakkal has been caught for that crime,’ I said.
‘I know. Zakkal was caught. The President even rejected his mercy plea today. He will soon be hanged till death. But this new murder might change everything. Zakkal’s lawyers will argue that there is a hint of doubt that Zakkal did not abduct and kill all those women. They’ll argue that the real killer is still outside. They would want to know how this killer got hold of your mother when Zakkal had taken her. There’s also another theory floating around. This new killer might not be a copycat at all, and might be the original deal.’
‘So, they would believe Zakkal is innocent?’ I said in disbelief.
‘I know that’s not true. But there are some in the CID who will go down that path as well.’
‘That’s absurd. This new killer is clearly a copycat and only linked to Zakkal somehow. Zakkal had pleaded guilty to taking those women and my mother. We had caught him red-handed.’
‘I know, but you know how these things work Siya. Apart from this, your father’s angle is ripe news for everyone to get more eyeballs and advertisement money. Just be prepared for it.’
Anger flared my nostrils as I said, ‘My father disappeared three months after my mother vanished. He was a victim as well. He would’ve never hurt maa. He also would’ve never left his children, especially after maa wasn’t there as well.’
‘I know. I believe you. I’m just warning you. It’s bound to come up.’
‘I’ll deal with it.’
Silence.
‘I know this is tough,' Rathod said. ‘I'm on your side. I believe you. I thought I could warn you so it wouldn't shock you. You'd want to be a part of this investigation. And you won't be able to do that if you piss off the wrong people. You know Zakkal the best. You'll be welcome to join any team that's investigating one of his cases. But that will only be possible if you don't lose your cool when your father is brought up. Remember, I'm on your side.'
I had not thought that far ahead—of being a part of the investigation. It was only natural for Rathod to assume. He did not know. But investigating the murder would mean going back to a life that had driven me insane. A life I had quit three years ago. Did I still have it in me? Am I capable?
Those thoughts faded fast because I thought of something else. I said, ‘Maybe the other women he abducted are also alive.’
‘I’ve thought of that as well. It scares me, Siya. We know Zakkal is a mad man. We don’t know why he’s doing this. Or even how.’
‘Does he get visitors in the jail?’
‘I am going to visit him tomorrow morning in the jail. The last I checked, he was still in solitary confinement. There’s no reason for that to have changed, especially after what happened today.’
Correspondence of all inmates with the outside world was supposed to be monitored. Yet, somehow all kinds of objects and information in jails across the world managed to evade the eyes of authorities.
‘The timing cannot be a coincidence,’ I said, shaking my head a tad, realizing the bigger picture. Maa was alive, but a nasty killer had her.
Radha squeezed my shoulder. A minute back she had the biggest grin I had ever seen on her face. Now, it had disappeared quickly. In the past three years, she had given me everything she could offer, she had been strong and not even one tear had escaped her eyes. But now, her eyes were watery. The tears trickled down when I looked at her. She buried her face in my shoulder and broke down.
Radha hugged me tightly for a long time. She stopped sobbing halfway through. We thought we were prepared for this day to come. But now that we knew she was alive, the initial wave of relief and happiness had washed over, only to be replaced by a tsunami of worry. Bigger than ever this time as we knew maa could die again.
Rathod was patient. He let our emotions play out. He rummaged in his bag for a file. He pulled out a pen drive from the pocket of his jacket and kept it on the table. He did not say what it was because I knew. The pen drive would have photos of the crime scene, a report made by one of
Rathod’s associates and other details about the murder that had taken place.
‘That’s not it,’ Rathod said, fishing out his mobile phone.
He manipulated its screen and turned the phone around for me to see it. He had opened a photo on it. I took the phone to get a closer look.
‘It’s from the crime scene,’ Rathod said.
The photo was of a luminol highlight. A message was written on the floor with blood. Left behind purposely. Lit up in blue. Radha leaned forward and peered at the phone to get a look as well.
I could not believe what I was reading. A shiver ran through my body and goose bumps crawled up my skin. I read the message again.
Hello again. There will be more.
P.S. - Tell Siya Rajput I said hi.
‘It was written in your mother’s blood,’ Rathod said.
Chapter Eight
I felt bile rise up my throat. The killer had my mother. He had murdered another woman. And he was rubbing it in. He was showing off, telling the world of his accomplishments. He was probably laughing right now.
I read the message over and over again. Seeing it, knowing the killer had written it with his own hands, made me angry. I wanted to channel the rage productively. I realized something.
Hello again. The again implied that we knew the killer. Tell Siya Rajput I said hi. There was a nonchalance in the statement. Like I was a long-lost friend. Maa’s connection to the murder certainly had something to do with it. There will be more. He was going to kill again. What was triggering him? Why now?
I knew Kishore Zakkal inside out. Probably better than anyone living right now. Maybe apart from this new killer, I thought. I was the one who had put Zakkal in jail in the first place. Was this some kind of revenge? A game that ends in blood and death? In that case, was this message actually left behind by Zakkal through the new killer?
Anger boiled inside me as I thought about Zakkal. He was the person who had taken my mother and seven other women. He was causing pain even after being punished for his crimes. Now, he was addressing me directly. He was challenging me. Teasing me. Daring me by saying, stop me if you can.
