Chapter 15
Alteram Partem
Sahir ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. More poignant than the way Arzoo had been wrenched away from his life, more poignant than the way she had detached herself from him, was the steadily growing belief that he had perhaps never known her after all. Who was Arzoo?
Was it the somewhat naively idealistic intern, ever so bright and peppy, with a thirst for learning and a child-like stubbornness about her? Or the woman whose voice had trembled when she had confessed that she found it difficult to focus on her studies, and whose confidence and positivity had crumbled down in that instant to reveal painfully entrenched insecurities? Was the former optimistic Arzoo merely a facade to deceive others, or had she been lying to herself as well? Was she his dedicated friend who had stood by him in his most difficult times, in silent support, as a perfect companion would? Or was she the one who had coldly turned away from him asserting that her husband loved her and firmly relegating him to the status of another colleague and nothing more?
It was possible that it was her husband who had sliced those scarring blows on her back, and that she was under some kind of compulsion and could not share this with him. But it was also possible that she had not lied, and that she did have bipolar disorder. Perhaps he was trying to convince himself that her eyes had conveyed a truth that her words had belied, because he was desperately holding on to false hopes that he had built in his heart.
He felt as though his thoughts were veering away dangerously towards the brink of insanity, and fought to anchor them in reason and logic, in the familiar realm of scientific deduction that he once swore by. And he was forced to remind himself that there had always been a wall between them after all. He had respected the fact that she needed time to open up to him, and had never tried to push her. But in hindsight, it seemed that that ought to have been his first clue - she was his friend, but he was not hers. She had her secrets, her pain, her scars, her husband - and he was not to be privy to any of it. He had unnecessarily tried to impose his presence onto her life, and just like when he had asked her about her scars the first time, he had received in response, an angry glare that had resounded as a slap, putting him in his place.
The phone rang.
"Rathod," announced the voice on the other end of the line. It was his trusted aide in the police force, Vikram Singh Rathod.
"Yes? What did you find out about Shiraz Ahmed?" Sahir asked.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. No criminal records, no FIRs. He is completely clean."
"Right," he muttered, disappointed, even though he should have been happy that signs were indicating that there was no cause for concern.
"Anything else?"
"Yes, he works in a multinational company in Dubai, and he is going back there tomorrow morning. The private investigator followed him to some travel agent's office."
"Is he leaving alone?"
"No, he has booked a second ticket as well, in the name of Arzoo Nawsheen Khan."
Sahir felt as though a dark, heavy cloud had fallen upon that slight glimmer of hope he had been holding on to precariously. He only had one day to do implement whatever crazy idiotic plan his heart would insist upon. For his resolve, even in the face of all the dissuading arguments thrown in by the forces of rationality, was unshakeable. He would trust his intuition... just as he believed she would have. Granted, he needed to be cautious so as not to jeopardise her marriage, in case it turned out that his suspicions were ill-placed, but that did not mean he would allow their paths to diverge without knowing for sure that hers led to happiness.
He continued to rack his brains for any clue that she may have unwittingly conveyed. The one thing that most obviously clashed with her version of the story as she had related to him, was the fact that she had not disclosed to Human Resources that she was married. She had declared herself "single" on the form. Why would she have hidden the fact that she was married?
And then, as he was remembering how, earlier that day, he had tried to elicit the truth from Arzoo by using Mrs Mehta as a pretext, somewhere from the dusty recesses of his memories, a recollection occured to him... There had been a paragraph in the opinion that she had written on the Mehta divorce case a few months ago, that had, even at the time, struck him as very odd. He dug through his email inbox for the opinion, and sure enough, there it was:
While Mrs Mehta has indicated that she would abide by her husband's wishes and opt for divorce by mutual consent, this compromise on her part is not necessarily the best option, from both a pragmatic and psychological point of view. Not only will divorce on the ground of adultery allow her to benefit from a higher alimony, it will also help her to deal with the social stigma and unjustified guilt and shame that relentlessly follow a divorcee wherever she goes. A divorce on the ground of adultery will confirm, in an official rubber-stamped manner, that the blame of the marital breakdown rests solely on her husband in this case. My advice would be that Mrs Mehta be referred to a counselor who can provide her with the necessary reassurance to fight the case as it ought to, in the interests of justice, instead of settling for the so-called "safe" option.
The rest of the opinion was couched in strictly legal terms, thoroughly backed by statutory provisions and case law. But that one paragraph was incongruously lyrical and emotional, as though Mrs Mehta's situation had struck a chord in Arzoo. Why had she been so persistent in wanting to fight Mrs Mehta's battle in a particular way, even when the client had clearly communicated her intention? Was it merely idealism, or something more personal? At the time, he had dismissed her point of view as being influenced by over-the-top movies. But she had never been so unreasonable in other cases. There was something about the divorce case that had curbed her ability to reason in the colourless, pragmatic manner expected from legal professionals.
He had asked Rathod to investigate Shiraz Ahmed's criminal record, but he had not yet considered the possibility of any civil proceedings involving Shiraz. He knew he was grasping at the wispiest of straws at that point, but it was all he had... and perhaps, that was where the answer would lie. In a final act of bleak desperation, he called up a contact at the Lucknow High Court, asking if there had been any divorce case entered by Shiraz or Arzoo in the past few years. It would take hours, he realised, if not days. The clerks at the Court were extremely busy with ongoing cases and the rapidly increasing backlog that clogged up the judicial system as it was. It was unrealistic to expect that they would call back any time soon.
And then, right on cue, Linda entered his cabin with a file for him to look through, looking more hassled than usual, for some reason.
"Is everything okay, Linda?" Sahir asked, after signing the papers.
"Oh it's nothing, Sir. Just this guy who is insisting on having Arzoo's home address. I have been trying to explain to him that we cannot give out our employees' personal information like that but he just refuses to leave."
"Send him in," he said at once, his heartbeat quickening with anticipation at the possibility of a breakthrough, at last.
A minute later, a smartly dressed young man sprung in. There was something about his jovial, sincere demeanor, that made him almost instantly likeable. He introduced himself as Zaki, a college friend of Arzoo's, who was studying in the US and had come to India for the holidays. He had intended to surprise Arzoo at her place of work, unaware of the fact that she was on study leave, and now wanted the address to her apartment because she was not answering her phone.
"Is Arzoo married?" Sahir asked abruptly, unable to filter out his feverish impatience through any of the common niceties that should have characterised a normal conversation with a complete stranger.
"Uh, yes," Zaki replied, understandably taken aback, "I mean, she was married, to that Shiraz fellow, but she got divorced a few months ago, before she moved to Mumbai."
Sahir felt as though he was suddenly enfolded by cool, soothing breeze, as the strangling ache that had held his breaths captive began to dissipate. Tears of relief began to prickle at his eyes, and he almost felt like embracing the laughably perplexed man in front of him. The fact that Arzoo had lied about being married when he had gone to meet her, was in no way to be trifled with. The fog began to melt away to unveil the path ahead.
"Do you know why she got divorced?" he asked.
"No. We... we kind of lost touch after her marriage. We were really good friends when we were studying English together. Then she went on to do law, and right after her graduation, her family got her married. We spoke a few times afterwards, but I had a feeling Shiraz did not quite like me, or maybe she just got busy... We only started speaking again after the divorce, via Skype, but we had somewhat drifted apart by then. She never told me the reason for the divorce, she would just change the subject. Sahir... is... is everything okay? Why are you asking all these questions? Where is Arzoo? Is she okay?"
He seemed to have sensed from the urgency in Sahir's tone, the frenzied fretfulness that could not quite be masked. In truth, Sahir was exhausted from putting up the wall of dispassionate professionalism in front of everyone else, while everything within him appeared to be crumbling away to an inexplicable sense of fear and anxiety.
"I ... I don't know," Sahir replied honestly, and he proceeded to tell Zaki about everything that had transpired in the past few days and his suspicions. He did not know why he did it, why he was able to trust this man whom he knew nothing about, who had barged into the office with a story that nobody else could confirm. But the relief he felt in sharing his apprehensions and seeing his own sense of concern for Arzoo being mirrored in another face was invaluable.
"Do you think she may have reconciled with Shiraz?" Sahir finished. The answer was not unknown to him... it reverberated somewhere deep within himself. But he felt the need to exhaust that last alternative explanation, before finally throwing all caution to the winds, and being as impossibly reckless as his heart wanted him to be.
"No!" Zaki replied vehemently, "She never exactly told me this, but she seemed to hate him. In fact I never quite liked Shiraz myself, because I never felt that she was happy with him. Given how conservative her family is, she must have had a strong reason to ask for a divorce. I don't see then why she would reconcile with him. It's impossible, really. Unless she's under some family pressure or something. I know they cut off all ties from her after the divorce."
Sahir could see the whole picture unfold before his eyes. The pain of betrayal, the shattered hopes, the loneliness, and the brave, brave front she had put on, in not giving up on her dreams and trying to make a name for herself. She had spread happiness all around her, hidden away her own tears behind her smiles, and forged ahead, fearlessly. He felt his heart swell with pride at the courage and resilience she had shown. No, he would not allow that, after everything that she had been through, she be forced to compromise on her previous resolve. Her strength and her struggle was what made her who she was, and nobody had the right to take that away from her, not even her family. He had to speak to her, alone, without that Shiraz hovering around them.
He looked up, his eyes still burning with tears of rage, to find that Zaki was smiling slightly, for some reason.
"What?" Sahir asked, momentarily distracted.
"She spoke about you a few times, you know, and I felt that she has a soft spot for you. It's good to see that the feeling is mutual."
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Chapter 16: Page 67
Edited by _.serendipity._ - 10 years ago
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
Real Estate
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