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Memory is the history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter and it paints pictures of the past and the day.
~Grandma Moses~
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Karunamoyee Hospital, Minakhan, North 24 Parganas
February 6, 2012
Sanskaar was bewildered, unable to fathom as to why the name he suggested should cause such a reaction. Swara, he was fixed on this name, it was quite frustrating not to have a name by which she could be referred to, had simply clutched her head on hearing Sanskaar and had then fainted, even as she started to gently bleed from her nose. But after Dr Amar had run some preliminary tests on her, which had ruled out any further complications, they decided to wait for her to regain her consciousness.
It was a couple of hours later that they obtained the answers. Amar da had banished both Sanskaar and Sudhir to his cabin, for he did not want to stress Swara any further. On being questioned, she replied that something which Sanskaar had said had triggered a memory for her and as she tried to make sense of those images she had collapsed. Dr Amar felt that the stress of attempting to hold on to that memory must have caused the nosebleed, which was minor and he asked her to note if there was a recurrence every time she faced a memory.
Once it was clear that it was nothing worrisome, they had gently informed about their plans for her, telling her only what they thought was pertinent, unanimously deciding to leave out the fact that they would be killing her', each having their own reasons, Amar was worried about how she would react, Sanskaar uncomfortable with the whole idea and Sudhir for ensuring secrecy.
She heard them state their plans for her and simply decided to go along with it, for at that moment she had no clue about anything. Swara did not raise many questions either, though she did not show any emotion on her face, she was befuddled and quite unable to make any sense of what she was feeling or thinking.
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Offices of J Ominda, Lagos, Nigeria
February 10, 2012
Jahnavi doodled on the legal pad in front of her as she listened to the caller say, "I have had their luggage picked up, and the journal is there. It is a dateless one and the last entry is dated December 18, 2011. There are a few blank pages left. Shall I have all of it delivered to Harsha?"
Jahnavi agreed to that and the caller continued, "I have not read much, it would be intruding on her privacy but could not help noticing that her handwriting is small and cursive, a little childlike yet cute."
This time Jahnavi could not supress the matrimonial pride that swept through her. But even though she knew that caller meant the words to be a compliment she could not stop voicing her true fears, "I hope it means that Swaha has not started another journal, if it is not with the luggage, it could be in her bag and I am scared if it falls in the wrong hands. She does not write in explicit detail but I am afraid. We failed Janaki and Kavita; we cannot and must not fail Swaha.
On hearing her, the caller appeared to become slightly perturbed and, after a short pause, slowly answered, "Maybe we should take it as a sign from the heavens, for all practical purposes we have failed three times, Swaha Shah is dead to the world. The one who is alive is Swara Bose and she will be safe."
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Flat 2601, Sunrise Apartments, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
February 11, 2012
Mr Thakur cast a critical eye around and made mental notes of what he observed. The flat was of a simple design, it occupied around one third of the space of one wing, with ample open space around the flat. The other two wings had nothing constructed on them and the three wings were joined by the stair way and elevator sections. The stairs and elevator were approximately thirty feet from the entrance of the flat. He paced off the length of the length of the flat, it was around thirty feet and there was a strip of open area behind the flat, which would be around ten feet and that, would make the entire wing approximately seventy feet. He continued with his observations and then looked at Sanskaar who seemed to regarding him with barely restrained annoyance. Undaunted, he requested, "Could I see the inside of the flat, please?"
Sanskaar was not too happy with the request, in fact, he was unhappy with the whole situation that necessitated the involvement of Ranjit Thakur. It had been with stoic grace that he accepted the fact that Swara staying in the small flat, which till then had served as both as his bachelor pad and temporary office, meant that he had to shift to the penthouse apartment, the one he had intended to bring Kavita to, as his bride. It was a painful decision and he did not bother furnishing the large three bedroomed apartment with more than the minimum furnishings he would need. He was not sure of retaining the flat for long either. But when he agreed to meet Mr Thakur he had no clue as to the changes it would bring about for him.
After being politely interrogated as to his lifestyle and daily habits, Sanskaar was tired and half inclined to withdraw his offer to help Swara. He would not have agreed to assist if he had the slightest inkling that it could entail such a detailed enquiry of his routine as well as that of the people with whom he regularly interacted. He was thankful that he employed only one person, Chotu, who came in for four days a week, Monday to Thursday. As Ranjit wanted as much as detail possible, Sanskaar recounted how Chotu had come about to be in his employ.
Bhupinder or Chottu, as he preferred to be called, was a young man of about seventeen years, from the small village of Sulkapara, who had arrived in the city of Kolkata after his parents had succumbed to the latest wave of Malaria that had stricken his village. He had reached the city with a few rupees in his pocket and stars in his eyes. Sanskaar had met him at tea vendor who occupied a regular spot at the Central Park and had been captivated by the boy's enthusiasm which had not dimmed despite tough times he had faced. Chotu had also taken a shine towards the suave Sanskaar, who had always had time for him and had once confessed that he would like to study and though the tea vendor was willing to spare him to study at the night college; he could not contribute to the cost. Sanskaar then stepped in and volunteered to fund the fee cost which Chotu accepted only on the condition that he is allowed to work the debt off. It was a great deal, Sanskaar thought, not only was Chotu a cheerful person who seemed take the presence of dust and dirt as a personal affront to himself, he loved to cook and produced great dishes.
Sanskaar sighed, not only would he have to show the Ranjit around he also had to break the news that he was shifting to the penthouse apartment to Chotu, who would have a few questions of his own regarding the transit. But for now he decided to deal with Ranjit, who thankfully did not spend any time more than required, inside the flat.
Ranjit, with his practiced eye quickly absorbed the floor plan of the flat; the foyer led one to the large central hall which could be divided into the living, dining and family room sections. To the left were the guest room, a study that could double as a library and the master bedroom which almost covered the entire length. To the right were the kitchen, which opened into the dining hall and two bedrooms beyond the kitchen. Both the utility room, off the kitchen, as well as the guestroom, which shared a wall with the study and faced the staircases, had separate entrances from the outside. If he noticed the sparse furnishings and the barely lived in condition of the flat, he did not offer any comment.
Grateful for the absence of any intrusive observations and hoping to learn further about the man who now seemed would be a part of his life; Sanskaar asked Ranjit, who had turned his attention to the bare roof and was walking around the flat, "So how did Sudhir manage to rope you in?"
"I knew his father and I owe him my loyalty."
When Sanskaar did not reply, Ranjit smiled, "A good man is always a good man and loyalty to such a man does not die with his death, as long as you remember him that loyalty lives on. You should understand, your grandfather was a good man and you are more like him than you realise."
Sanskaar shrugged his shoulders, he and his cousins were used to be told that fact, all of them seemed to remind the old timers of their grandfather and he was surprised at the astonishment with which this resemblance was noted, it was like the people were actually expecting them not to be like their grandfather, though at times, it struck him odd that nobody said the same about his father or uncle. But Ranjit's next question completely caught Sanskaar unaware.
"How do you want your garden to be?"
Ranjit Thakur was not a gardener, not by any stretch of imagination. He was a former policeman, who had soon been disenchanted with the politics that governed the police force and had retired a decade ago to start his own private security firm. When Sudhir decided that it was preferable that the protection cover for Swara be provided by someone outside the force, he had turned to Mr Thakur, who had been quite intrigued by the whole case and decided that he would personally undertake the task. He had come to check out the flat where Swara would be saying and when he learnt that Sanskaar would be staying at the penthouse, had requested to check that out too. And when he saw the bare cemented roof, the avid gardener in him was quick to appreciate the potential, as well as the near perfect cover it provided for his constant presence. Not obtaining any response from Sanskaar, Ranjit repeated, "How do you want your garden to be?"
Sanskaar shook his head in friendly exasperation, "I asked a question, Kavita, how do you want your garden to be?' And, As you like it' is not an answer, it is an excuse for not making a choice. And please, do not say, I do not want anything,' how can anybody not want anything?"
They were sitting beside the pool at Kavita's house, it was a relatively warm September afternoon and as there was still a month for their engagement, Sanskaar wanted to use that time to plan for their house. He had acquired the penthouse on a whim and had initially wanted to simply furnish and sell it off. But now that they would be getting married he decided to retain the flat for themselves. He had been trying to get Kavita's opinion regarding the furnishings of flat, the furniture arrangements and wanted to convert the large empty space around the flat into a terrace garden. He already had designed the space behind the flat, the one which the French windows and the bedroom windows looked out at, but wanted the rest of the garden to be exactly as Kavita wished. However, each time he wanted her opinion, she would just shrug and smilingly reply, "As you like it."
He knew what she would answer and looked away peevishly. Kavita shuffled closer and gently laid her hand on his arm and waited till he looked at her.
"I am a very blessed person, Sanskaar, blessed with a wonderful family. I am endowed with good looks and am lucky with the health that I have. I have two beautiful and loving sisters in Ragini and Uttara, a wonderful protective brother in Adarsh bhaiya and a cute brotherly friend in Laksh. I have a charmed life and everybody I know loves me, even Shekar uncle, though it is tough to believe that a man who could hate his child because she is a girl could like someone else's daughter."
Sanskaar just nodded, he did understand the strangeness of Shekar uncle, Ragini would have been liked if she had been anyone else's daughter, Shekar simply could not forgive her for being his daughter though he wondered what Kavita was trying to say. He kept looking at her face tenderly, it glowed with an inner joy but what she said next simply took his breath away.
"Sanskaar, life has blessed me with every conceivable joy and my greatest blessing is you, my best friend and soon, my partner for life. With you beside me, I do not need to want for anything. Do you now understand?"
Sanskaar looked at the man who had repeated that question to him, he had no answer, rather, he did not want to answer. He was not sure as to why a garden was needed by the man who was there for the purpose of providing a security cover for Swara, but the question had rattled him and he simply shrugged, "that is your call, do whatever is needed, I do not care." As he spun around, he stopped and said, "Just do not touch anything behind the house, that will not form part of any gardening project you undertake. You will leave it as it is, dry and barren." He marched to the house, and once inside, collapsed on floor, fisting his hands in raw agony. His chest burned and he wanted to scream, for that memory had unleashed a fresh wave of pain and loss.
Kavita had been so wrong, he thought, not everybody loved her, there was someone who hated her enough to kill her and he was not her greatest blessing, he was her biggest failure, he had not been by her side when she must have need him the most. He remembered how wistful she had sounded during the last call before she had disappeared, she had told him that she had called him on a whim and her last words were that she missed him. Did she have a premonition? He had been curt with her, the client whom he was meeting was a very picky one and he has simply brushed her off. Even on that fateful day, he had not answered her first two calls, maybe that few minutes would have made a difference, he thought, Kavita would be the one alive and with him, not Swara and her forgotten self.
After some time, when he finally opened his eyes and looked up, he glanced at the gigantic photograph that hung on one side of the foyer wall. It was then, in that moment of torment, he made a terrible vow, he would ensure that Swara would always be by his side, whether she liked it or not, and even if it was for all eternity, if that was the only way he could get answers for Kavita.
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Isolation Ward, Karunamoyee Hospital, Minakhan, North 24 Parganas
February 11, 2012
Swara sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room in the Isolation Ward that she would be leaving that day, trying to understand what had necessitated the change. She had been moved to the ward a few days ago and had not met either Sanskaar or Sudhir after the day they had informed her about what they had decided to call her. If she was supposed to be feeling sorry that she had a name which was very different from what her parents and family must have given her, she did not show it. In fact, if she were to be honest, she liked the name Swara, as she kept repeating it to herself the name appeared to sing to her and she thought that it had sounded very nice when Sanskaar had said it.
Swara then looked at Kumudini and hesitantly placed her hand in Kumudini's outstretched hand wondering what the older woman had to say. Kumudini held Swara's hand, firmly enough to be reassuring yet loose enough not to be threatening and said, "You have a right to know why we are doing this. You have been shot and we are worried for your safety, which is why we have shifted you to this ward where there are lesser people around so it is easier to keep an eye on you. And since we still have not been able to find out much about you, once you are discharged, Amar da will take you to his house, where you will stay before you shift to Kolkata. But you will leave the hospital in secrecy as a precautionary measure. And do not worry, Amar is a very trustworthy person and you will like his wife, Arunima, even though she would not be very open and friendly at first."
Swara simply nodded, still unsure of what to say. Kumudini gave her hand a gentle squeeze and left to finalise the preparations needed to pull the whole scheme of killing' Swara. She knew that with both Amar and Sudhir in the plan, the death and release paperwork would proceed without a hitch and Swara could be whisked off in the middle of the night without a hitch.
That night as Kumudini watched Swara leave, she wondered why she had to remember the other night and after so many years. But it was a memory branded, an incident that had changed her life as it must have, for all the others involved. It was the day, she had watched Janaki, a woman who was more dead than alive led out of the hospital by her friend, and her brother had mysteriously disappeared. She had left in the darkness of the night, her face shrouded to avoid the possible media vultures that could be hovering around. It had been with anger that she watched, anger at the callousness with which the world had treated the victim, anger that Janaki had given up the battle and anger at her inability to be able to do anything much to help.
And today, as she watched Swara leave with Amar she had a similar feeling of that anger and helplessness and a tiny part of her felt that she was watching history repeat itself, but also knew that despite certain similarities, there were significant differences too. Janaki had left as a victim, broken beyond repair on the arm of a friend, whom Kumudini knew, must have stayed with her. Swara was leaving with a practical stranger, her head held high, willing to brave the unknown future with no friend by her side. An involuntary shiver ran through her as another similarity struck her, both the women had a Maheshwari connection, tangible in former case, tenuous in the latter, a generation apart, but a connection nevertheless. That scared her, she could not shake of the slight fear that swamped her consciousness and she uttered a silent prayer that Swara would not be hurt by the Maheshwaris.
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Dr Amar house, Minakhan, North 24 Parganas
February 14, 2012
Amar da was a genial man, who seemed to be truly living up to the role of the big brother, he had even seen to it that he and his wife took her shopping for her clothes and other accessories. She had not been quite willing when he had suggested the trip, she protested saying that what Uttara had got for her would be enough to last for a few months but he was not to be fooled easily. He realised what her true worry was and once she had been assured not to bother about the monetary part, she relished the freedom of picking out clothes and while it had been a joyful expedition it had not caused any recall of memories. She enjoyed their company and could see that they were genuinely concerned for her health and wellbeing. He had also been quite impressed by her selections and had remarked as much, she still smiled when she remembered how he had complimented on what he termed as elegant choices.
She liked both Amar da and Arunima boudi, decided Swara. Amar was a very friendly person, who could always put her at ease, hence she had not been too worried about having to spend a week at their home. She had been apprehensive about Arunima after Kumudini's cautioning words, but surprising her, Arunima had warmed up to her almost instantly and after three days, Swara had relaxed quite a bit. She was aware that her stay with Amar was a temporary one and rather than dwell on how life would be after she shifted to Kolkata, she decided to enjoy the few days that she would be with them. She also used that time to try to learn more about Sanskaar.
Amar was more than willing to oblige her, as he recounted how he had come to befriend the Maheshwaris. It was more than ten years ago and had started when Amar had answered the urgent summons from Mihir Bhavan. Amar, then a fresh intern, had not been too pleased at having to present himself at Mihir Bhavan and the Maheshwaris, used to royal treatment were not too happy with him either, convinced that their imperial status deserved a visit from the senior most doctor.
Hence it was to a very cold reception that he was subjected to, with Annapurna donning an icy mask and Sujata in near hysteria, which caused her to blabber even more than usual, and the three Maheshwari sons, each clearly upset with what had happened. Adarsh, Sanskaar and Laksh had been polite in greeting him but had resumed their protective stances, around the bed. The only one who seemed unaffected by everything was the patient, young Uttara with a sprained ankle. She ignored her mother and aunt, glared at her three brothers and greeted him with a very warm smile and a genuine apology. Amar, who till then had been slightly offended, relaxed as the bubbly Uttara explained that her sprain was mild one and that her family was completely overreacting. Her brothers had the grace to be embarrassed when Amar confirmed that the sprain was mild but when he gently admonished Uttara for dismissing the concern of her family, he noted a distinct thawing in their attitude. Over the next few years, he had developed a friendship with the siblings and had become their trusted friend and doctor. He went to reminiscence that though he was closest in age to Adarsh, he shared a deeper friendship with Sanskaar as their outlook was similar. Swara soon realised that Amar da had a vast repertoire of anecdotes about the Maheshwaris and she eagerly filed away all the information she could glean from his stories.
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Kalpana, Belvedere Road, Alipore, Kolkata,
February 15, 2012
The grey dawn found Debobrata Roy and Kaveri sitting in the large living room which now appeared to be huge and empty. It had been their ritual since the day they had learnt that Kavita was dead and gone. Kaveri would sit in silence, throughout the night, unable to sleep, unwilling to speak, staring listlessly at the numerous photographs that adorned the walls of their living room. Towards dawn, fatigued from the night long vigil for their daughter, who would never come back, she would break into her routine litany, "Why, Debo, why would anyone want to kill Kavita? Who could have done it? How did we live all these days in this house, it is so huge and even the silence echoes." She rambled on, without waiting for any response and finally asked, "Do I stop being a mother, Debo, now that we longer have a daughter? Just how are we going to live the rest of our lives without her?"
He sat silent as usual, he had no answers to some questions and there were no answers for the others, how does one know how to survive the death of a child? He put an arm around her, pulled her closer and whispered, "I do not know, maybe, one day at a time?"
She stayed in his arms for some time in painful silence. And suddenly, she pulled herself free and asked, "Is it okay if I ask Ragini to keep coming over as she did earlier? I miss her and maybe, if she is around, this house would not seem so empty. Or am I being too selfish, stealing someone else's daughter..." She trailed off unsure of what else she could say when Debo nodded, he did love Ragini too, and even if he did not, he was willing to do anything to see Kaveri come out of her despondency. He had already lost his daughter and he was not willing to lose his wife. Finally having found something to do, he resolved to talk to Ragini and let her know that she was more than welcome in their home. He knew that Ragini was equally disconsolate with Kavita's death and hoped that it would turn out to be a good step and that both could help each other heal.
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Flat 2502, Sunrise Apartments, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
February 19, 2012
It was a small flat on the twenty-fifth floor, a one bedroom flat which was earlier used by Sanskaar as his office and bachelor's pad. When he had agreed to help her out, he had it refurnished and readied for her stay and had decided to move to the penthouse, which was directly above the flat. Initially, he had been apprehensive as to whether she would be able to manage on her own, considering that the nature of her injuries might be traumatic and felt it advisable that she should not be left alone. But after her psychological evaluations, Swara had been adamant that she could manage staying alone, for she was partly apprehensive of prolonging her welcome at Amar da's home.
Swara looked at the small flat as she tried to assimilate as many details as possible. To her right was the open kitchen which faced the long rectangular living area. She walked inside slowly, at the end of the living area, to her left, was a door which led to the bedroom into which she cautiously entered. It was not too large but appeared comfortable and the bathroom was at the far end. She stood at the bedroom door as she laid out the floor plan in her mind. The entrance to the flat was in the centre and was flanked by the open kitchen to the right and the bathroom to the left. She nodded and then turned her attention to the balcony; it ran along the width of the flat and was accessible from both the living hall and the bedroom.
Swara stepped into the balcony, it had a small well-tended green patch of grass that was bordered by a row of tiny flowering plants and had about a dozen large pots that held a few ornamental plants and some flowering plants, one of them still had some blooms. As the flat was on the twenty-fifth floor and the balcony overlooked the Central Park, it provided a magnificent view of the city. She stood there soaking in the sights and sounds of the city, as she regarded the distant skies.
The flat was not as small as Sanskaar had said and since she would be staying alone, it was more than sufficient and would do, she decided. She then turned her attention to Sanskaar who had stopped at the doors of the French windows of the living room; it appeared he wanted to give her the space she needed to judge the flat. Nice of him, she thought and went about her scrutiny of him.
She had already committed to memory, some attributes of him during the three hour drive to the city, which had passed in absolute silence except for the one clarification he had bothered to give her, the journey would have taken just under an hour in perfect traffic conditions and if did he not have to drive so slowly to avoid unnecessary jerks to her. She had been quite peeved and had wanted to tell him not to bother about her but had kept her peace.
He was tall, fair, with dark straight hair that sometimes fell over his forehead. Thick black eyebrows and deep brown eyes that could reflect every emotion, every thought of his, if he ever let his guard down, a very strong jawline that denoted a man of determination or stubbornness depending on the situation.
She had already judged him to be a very handsome man but now she realised that he also had an excellent taste of fashion. In indigo blue jeans and an icy blue dress shirt, he appeared to epitomise the definition of casual smart. He was dressed in deep brown quarter brogues, polished to a mirror shine, which, considering that he had driven in some very dusty conditions; was commendable. She continued her inspection of him, the jeans that hugged his waist, the rolled up sleeves that showed off his firm sinewy forearms and the broad shoulders that the shirt was snuggly stretched against. She continued with her upward perusal of the man who seemed so intriguing and realised what she was doing only when she caught his gaze and noted with chagrin that he had a glint of amusement mixed with slight annoyance in those deep brown eyes of his.
Sanskaar was used to being checked out by women and men, both in overt and covert fashion, but none seemed to be as brazen as this girl was, he thought. Most of them had the sense to look abashed when caught staring, but this girl simply held his gaze, with no apparent qualms at being caught, though there was no denying the blush that now spread on her cheeks. She is certainly a bundle of contradictions, he thought, not very shy, a little flustered at being caught but not one to back down. And somehow, that honesty of hers seemed to resonate with him, but he was not going to cut her any slack, she did not seem very embarrassed and he did not mind being looked at. He did not care much, so if she wanted to continue she could, he was not bothered, though he did wonder how much further she could be riled.
It would be interesting to watch, he thought. So he uncrossed his arms, slipped his hands into his pockets, leant back against the French windows, raised an eyebrow and drawled, "Done? Would you like me to turn around so that you could check out my ass? I have it on very good authority that it is quite nice."
Swara was not embarrassed at being caught by him, she was mortified but being unsure of what to do had continued to stare at him, and when she heard his censure she was immediately on the defensive but was unwilling to concede. She just could not understand why she had to spend so much time and attention on a complete stranger and retorted sharply, "I am not interested in checking you out and especially not your a..." she bit her tongue, "your butt." She took a deep breath and decided to go on the offensive, "Why are you being so nice to me? Do you know me or do you habitually go around helping people as a hobby, you know, like some pick up forlorn plants lying on the pavements or adopt stray pets?"
Sanskaar sighed, this is the limit,' he thought, not only is mademoiselle rude, she is also quite caustic.' For the umpteenth time he wondered as to what had prompted him to help her out. It had sounded quite rational at that time but then it had not involved sullen silences and pointed conversations. On the other hand, if she was truly suffering from a memory loss and was not pretending, as a tiny part of him believed, he would have to be nice to her, at least polite on the surface. She would require time and he needed the opportunity to identify the veracity and the extent of her trauma. Maybe she was being frank, for the time being he decided not to classify that subtle sarcasm as rudeness, but thought that he could pay back in the same coin.
"Because you need it and because I can. And no, I do not know you but whether you know of me, that is an entirely different question which, only you, can answer."
It was her turn to sigh, she knew she had stepped out of line and had sounded acerbic, but she was confused and uncertain of what to make out of him, she felt she was a nobody and did not know what to make out of a stranger who appeared to be so kind and helpful. Her mind was suspicious but then she really had no choice, she needed help if she had to find out anything about herself and he seemed willing to help her. She let his remarks slide; it was no use picking an argument and resumed a detailed scrutiny of the flat that would now be her home.
She walked back to the bedroom where she noted the extra packs of tissues that had been kept for her. Impressive' she thought, at his attention to details as she recalled the events that had happened a few days ago, when she had collapsed with a bleeding nose, under the assault of those images that her mind had conjured. Amar da had said that the nose bleeds were minor, that it was not anything to worry about and could be on account of the stress brought on by her mind trying to make sense of those images. He had asked her to note down all her memory flashes and her emotions in a journal, which could help her, in both recovery of her memory and her reactions to the ones that her mind retrieved.
She continued with her study of the bedroom, hoping to avoid any further conversations with him. He intrigued and confounded her, his physical attractiveness coupled with that haughty attitude were at definite odds with his readiness to help an absolute stranger. Further, that readiness to help out total strangers, without a second thought, seemed to run in his family, she had been stunned and completely overwhelmed when she saw the clothes and other stuff that his sister had gotten for her. Both the gesture and the meticulous attention to detail, the personal kit had included a couple of bottles of nail paint too, had made her quite teary eyed, especially as the same had been made with kindness, rather than pity and with no expectation of any gratitude in return. Further, she was too tired to think any coherent thoughts or make rational assessments, leaving her no choice but accept whatever was dealt out to her.
"And here, this is for you," She heard him say, a trifle embarrassed, she thought with surprise. She turned around to see him hold out a rectangular wrapped package. She raised her eyebrow, curious as to where he had conjured it from, he is embarrassed,' she thought, and though she did not understand the feeling that thrilled through her when she watched him, she admitted to herself that he did look cute, while he continued with a flustered smile, "Well, it is nothing great, it is just a dateless diary, so that you can write down what you remember, if you want."
She gave a small smile in return, it appeared to be a sort of a peace making gesture and she was willing to return the favour. She reached out for the package and jested, "If it is a gift, you are not supposed to tell me, gifts are meant to be a surprise," and immediately regretted it. She really had to learn to think before she spoke, she thought, he was trying to be nice and she was being mean. Seeking to make amends, she hastened to add, "I am sorry, it is quite rude of me, thank you. I shall put it to good use."
Sanskaar nodded, it would be difficult to stay and keep talking, especially since both seemed to be intent on bringing out the worst in each other. With a curt goodbye and a polite reminder as to how she could reach out for him, he walked out of the flat.
After Sanskaar left, Swara bolted the door and went back to the balcony. She tumbled into one of the sturdy easy chairs there and closing her eyes, reflected on what she knew or rather, had learnt in the past three weeks. She had been shot in the lungs, had a brain injury and had successfully fought those injuries to survive with her memories gone. As she absently fingered the long scar which ran along the back of her left hand, she realised that what had been hurtful was that no one seemed to have a clue about her; it had been a little more than three weeks since she had been brought to the hospital and not a single person had come for her. Even Amar da had been vague as to how she had been found and brought to the hospital.
Once she had regained consciousness and discovered that she could not remember anything, she had undergone a battery of physical examinations, cognitive and diagnostic tests. The vocabulary tests revealed she knew no Bengali, which supported the theory that she was not from this state, had a working knowledge of Malayalam, which was astonishing and a good command over English and Hindi. The physiotherapist had been very excited with her general fitness and had very enthusiastically set up an exercise regime, fascinated with her ability to cross the bar at each stage. The psychologist had not been so impressed with her analysis and had actually droned on quite a bit as to how to tackle her thought process and finally ended the session with a few suggestions.
Swara could not help laugh when she remembered what one of the suggestions had been, she had received a ten minute lecture on how to meditate without intrusion of thoughts; Swara found it ironic, she had no memories so what was she really going to think about? About what to think or what not to think? Her life was as dark as her mind was and she really had no clue what to do with herself. That thought brought with it a nameless fear and a frightening realisation, that maybe she never had anybody who loved her and that her life was going to be one lonely vista of endless nights. There was a faint voice in her head, telling her not to go down that road of self-pity but she could not stop herself, the prospect was too staggering and she could not summon any strength to battle those dark thoughts and they simply threatened to drown her out. She was on the verge of breaking down, when she heard the ring of the doorbell.
She swallowed her cries and took a moment to compose herself, when she looked around, she saw that it was already dark and then realised that she must have been sitting there for quite a few hours. She stood up wearily, stretched her muscles and then went to answer the door.
She opened it a crack to see a flustered Sanskaar outside. He gave a wan smile and stood as though waiting for her to say something. She shook her head, as though to chastise herself and pulled the door wide to allow him to enter. He walked in holding a couple of bags, "I got dinner for us; I was sure you should not cook for yourself and I thought you would appreciate the dinner and hoped you would not mind the company."
As they helped each other set the places and settled down for dinner, a silence reigned which was welcomed by both. Unsure of each other and aware how they had been quite unfriendly to each other over the past few hours, both decided to focus on their dinner and not indulge in any conversation.
After he had gone back to his apartment, Sanskaar had tried not to think about her but had been unable to get her out of his mind and felt sorry for her, it must be tough he thought, to be absolutely alone. At that moment he was suddenly grateful that he had a wonderful family, one which he now fully appreciated despite the differences they had over the years regarding his choice of profession. He was also apprehensive as to how she would be managing alone, despite her strident protests and the psychological evaluations. Unable to decide on any future course of action, he decided to focus on the present and the problems which could be addressed immediately. This had brought him to the very practical issue of dinner, and on a whim decided to order in for the two of them and join her. But now that he was here, he was unsure of what to say, he did not believe in speaking much and was not sure as to what to make out of her.
Swara was now in a different turmoil, once she had decided to accept both the dinner and his silent company, she hoped it would be enough to keep that darkness at bay, a darkness that she suspected had been a constant company for her, it had familiar feel as though she had not been new to loneliness. As the dinner progressed, she felt peaceful, her mind at rest though she was surprised at how a virtual stranger's silent presence could bring such calm to her. But then she decided to take one day at a time, today she would simply be thankful for him being around, that was enough for now. She firmly pushed her darkness to a corner of the mind and set about enjoying the dinner.
After dinner, he helped her clear the table, load the dishes in the washer and then asked her if she would like coffee. She was not sure about the idea, but did not want to turn down his offer for she did not want to appear rude, when he took that decision off her hands. He gave a smile and said, "I love coffee so I usually do not give up a chance to have one, you do not have to drink it if you are not sure." She smiled in return and answered, "It is not that, it...I am not too sure of anything, I know that I should be able to remember my tastes but I am..." and even as she trailed off, she realised that refusing to share a cup of coffee could mean being left alone, for then there would be absolutely no reason for him to stay.
And as though he understood her, he said, "It is only coffee and it is absolutely fine if you are not in the mood for one. I shall make a small cup for you too; you can try it if you want without feeling bad for not finishing it off. And do not be scared, I make a good cup of coffee; in fact, it is the only thing I can make. Is it fine?"
She nodded her head, feeling relieved that the decision had been taken off her hands, wondering how she would be able to face life, if she found the choice to drink coffee was so difficult for her.
After he left, she could not help thinking, the entire time he had been there, they had not even spoken two sentences and yet it had not been uncomfortable. He had waited outside till she had locked both the double deadbolts before walking away, she knew that for she had heard his firm tread as he walked away. It was probably something he had done unthinkingly but for her it was a gesture of the greatest courtesy someone could extend to her. Maybe, losing her memory was not going to be such a bad deal after all, she thought, as she happily changed into her night pyjamas and tshirt.
Her confidence lasted less than an hour, exactly fifty six minutes after Sanskaar had left her, he found her outside his door, looking forlorn. When he raised an enquiring eyebrow, she apologised and mumbled, "I am sorry, but I just could not stay alone, if you do not mind, please, I will sleep here, a couch will do, even the floor is fine...I."
Without a word, he led her down the dimly lit foyer, showed her the guest bedroom and when back to his laptop, establishing what would become a routine for the next few weeks. Swara stayed in the flat during the day but come night time, she would be back in what she had begun to think, was her bedroom in Sanskaar's apartment. The guest room had been originally planned for a servant's room, so it also had a separate entrance and Swara was thankful that she could use that room without disturbing Sanskaar, she could be so quiet that Sanskaar often never even noticed her presence. She realised she was an early riser, irrespective of the time she went to sleep; she would be up an hour before sunrise. Swara would wake up, make the bed, leave the room absolutely clean and silently slip out of the guest room to go back to her flat. She felt so safe and secure in his apartment, that even in his absence during the weekends when he would go his parents' house in Minakhan, she did not feel lonely and scared.
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Pic credit: Webneel.com from the article "30 mind blowing Reflection Photography examples and tips for beginners" and PS
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"The mirror inside me shows. I cannot say what, but I cannot know.
I run from body, I run from spirit, I do not belong anywhere."
~Rumi~
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Flat 2502, Sunrise Apartments, Third Avenue, DJ Block Sector II, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
June 1, 2012
The consternation on Swara's face was also mirrored on Sanskaar's, while Ranjit stood with a poker faced expression as the three of them waited for the elderly lady to deliver her final verdict, she had declared Sanskaar's kitchen as too modern for her tastes and Swara's was too small for her liking and was now scrutinising the three of them with a look of deep contemplation on her face.
The lady in question was Lalita Sahay, who had been finalised by Ranjit as the part time cook. She was a woman in her early fifties, with grey hair tied into a stern bun, a garish orange sindoor in the parting, a large bindi of the same colour, her cotton saree stiffly starched into perfect pleats and a face that was set in a perpetual frown. She had given a perfunctory glance towards Sanskaar when Ranjit had introduced them and had immediately turned her attention to his kitchen. She took in the four burner cooktop set in the centre island, the array of modern appliances that adorned the gleaming granite counters, the shining glass cabinets which held the bone china crockery and dinnerware and shook her head in disdain making her disapproval clearly evident. Ranjit, who had anticipated her reaction, nodded to Sanskaar and led her to Swara's flat where the kitchen was more along the traditional lines but she found it too small. Eventually, she decided that she would manage with Swara's kitchen, much to the relief of all concerned.
Swara was desperate for home cooked meals, it appeared that she could take neither the spice nor the oil in the food which they ordered in during the weekends and was not brave enough to venture into the kitchen again. She did try to subsist on bread and jam or cereal but somehow never found it satisfying. So she was quite relieved that they had found a cook to come in during the days that Chotu would not come.
But her relief appeared to be short lived when Lalita informed that she could come only on Fridays, which had Swara wondering how to manage the weekends and Sanskaar turned quizzically towards Ranjit. Ranjit was quite apologetic as he softly answered, "I could not get her to agree to work for three days and you know how difficult it is to get trustworthy people, we really do not have a choice."
Lalita stepped in with a solution, she said that she could cook enough to last over the weekend and Swara would only have to heat it up. She looked at Swara, questioning her ability to be able to heat up the food and Swara started to stare at the floor as she remembered how she had almost destroyed Sanskaar's kitchen. Lalita then went on to openly appraising Swara, not only did she look her up and down more than twice; she suddenly gripped Swara by the forearm and appeared to measure the same. Before Swara could pull her arm away, Lalita released her and said dismissively, "Just like the girls of this generation, who do not believe in eating enough and hence do not learn even the rudiments of cooking, how do you expect to survive if you cannot make a simple dal chawal for yourself? Look how thin you are, scrawny to the bone and yet you go about thinking that you are fashionably beautiful. You need to put some fat on, girl; men would prefer a little fat. If your husband hugged you, you would end up hurting him in the ribs with your sharp elbows. But do not worry, Lalita Di will both fatten you up nicely and also teach you to cook well."
With that charitable threat, she gave a loving pat to Swara and walked out of the flat, a poker faced Ranjit in tow. Swara had been too stunned at her words to react immediately, but when she saw Sanskaar, who seemed to be failing in his attempt to hold back his laughter, she indignantly asked, "Just what does she think of herself? I agree I do not know how to cook but that does not mean I cannot survive. And I am not scrawny. I am perfectly fit and have just the right amount of fat. And what does she mean, men would prefer a little bit of fat? Do you also think so? And that bit about my elbows..."
Swara spluttered to a stop when she realised what she was saying and squeezed her eyes closed even as she clamped her mouth with her palms, wondering why her brain seemed to shut down when she was with Sanskaar and she ended up saying things that she would regret later. She stayed with her eyes closed; hoping he would leave silently, but Sanskaar did nothing of that sort. Instead, in a very gently voice, he said, "Well, I would prefer to agree with Lalita Di that you are a little skinny, but that is only because I feel you are not yet completely healed and therefore not in the best of health. And regarding your last question, I think that you should never allow any man's preferences or any woman's opinion to define how you should look. So if you think you are perfect, you are. "
She snapped her eyes open when she heard him, her heated embarrassment turning to astonishment. He smiled at her and walked out of her flat, leaving Swara still standing agape, unsure of what she had heard and unable to fathom what he meant.
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Mukutmanipur, Bankura, West Bengal
June 15, 2012
The early morning monsoon breeze ruffled his hair, but the young man stayed as still as possible, his eyes focused on what he could see through the lens. The waters of the river were placid, as though frozen and acted as a gigantic mirror, the golden surface holding perfect dark images of the dam pillars and the glowing ball of the rising sun. He held his Canon PowerShot G12 steadily and each time he pressed the shutter button, all he though was about creating pictures that would convey an impression of being neat and simple, images created from the heart and soul. He had learnt that the language a photographer used to describe his work was a useful tool to make better photographs, that though powerful gear was important, at the end of the day; it was the creativity of the person behind the camera that drives the craft of photography.
Once he decided he had captured enough pictures of the scenic landscape, he rose and shook his cramped calf muscles. He stood still for a few minutes enjoying the silent dawn, broken by the wild birds' calls, before he realised that it was time to go.
He savoured the walk back to the guesthouse; the leisurely pace was a welcome break from the hectic schedule he usually packed his days into. As he ambled down the small lane leading up to the guesthouse, he could see his cousin, Sanskaar, pacing the veranda, apparently waiting for him.
Laksh smiled to himself, he knew that Sanskaar had something to share with him but was not sure how to go about it. Over the past few months, Laksh had noted that Sanskaar had become even more reserved following Kavita's death, but he respected his cousin's unspoken request to grieve in private and had not even questioned as to why the weekend visits to their home had been reduced. He knew Sanskaar quite well but still had been slightly worried.
Sanskaar had recently taken up the project of designing a house for the Menons, who were planning to settle down in the quiet village of Mukutmanipur, where Mr Menon worked as an Engineer for the Kangsabati Dam Project and wanted to continue staying there after retirement. However, they were great admirers of Laurie Baker and wanted their home to be designed completely in accordance with the Baker principles. Sanskaar had eagerly taken up the project and had decided to personally involve himself for he had always wanted to design a house completely adhering to the Baker ideology.
Initially, he had been apprehensive if he could spare the time, but with Ranjit's assurances regarding Swara and Lalita Di's entry, he took up the project. They were staying at the government lodge while Sanskaar did the initial survey and planning for the house that the Menons wanted. Laksh had leapt at the offer of accompanying Sanskaar for it promised a great opportunity for nature photography and would also give him a chance to be able to ascertain for himself that Sanskaar was holding up well. He too missed Kavita and knew that despite Sanskaar not letting it show, must be grieving. What he was not prepared for was the constant worry that shaded his cousin's face when he thought that Laksh would not notice him. He recognised that look very well and finally decided to help out.
So after they finished their breakfast and Sanskaar settled down to start on the initial plan, Laksh asked him, "So what is it that you were planning to tell me?" And almost laughed at the look of incredulity that Sanskaar had on his face, "Bhai, I have known you all my life, almost from the time I was born, you always have a slight guilty expression on your face, it is like you know you had reasons for not telling me things but are absolutely miserable about having to hide it from. So just spit it out."
Sanskaar sighed, Laksh was right, he always felt a twinge of guilt hiding things from his cousin and he would continue to do so till he was sure how much he could divulge to Laksh regarding Swara. However, he had to tell Laksh at least part of the truth, so he simply stated, "I have moved to the penthouse, a couple of months ago."
Laksh thanked his stars that he had already packed away his camera and had set it stably on a chair before Sanskaar had blurted the news. He was aware that Sanskaar planned to shift to the apartment with Kavita as his bride; the gigantic photograph which adorned the foyer wall had been his very early housewarming gift, as he had not wanted to wait till the wedding. He did not say a word, he knew that there was more to the matter and waited patiently for Sanskaar to continue. To his surprise, Sanskaar continued to look uneasy so he quickly injected, "Bhai, it is alright, you must have your reasons, let me know when you are ready to share it. But you are fine with the move, right?"
Sanskaar nodded his assent, far more relieved than he let on, Laksh was the only one he would let know about who Swara actually was, but for now, he wanted it to be kept a secret for as long as possible. This was the best thing about their bond, he thought, both knew that despite the closeness they shared, there were some secrets they kept to themselves and each respected the boundaries drawn. Glad to get something off his chest, he started sketching with an improved mood.
It was much later, when Sanskaar had finished a rough sketch that he got up and went over to where Laksh was working on his laptop. He looked over Laksh' shoulder to see Laksh seriously working on developing the photographs and once again marvelled at the creativity of his brother and, as usual, voiced it, "Lucky, you really have a way of making your photographs tell stories, why do not take it as a full time profession? I know how well you shoot, my designed buildings look much better through your camera."
Laksh gave a wistful smile, photography was his obsession though he went along with the proclaimed opinion that is was only a hobby for him, "Can you imagine the reaction at home? Actually, if I was sure of not being killed, I would do it only to see the reactions."
Sanskaar laughed, "Right, you would definitely be killed by Bade Papa."
Laksh nodded his head, "And Maa will not even stop him; she would shake her head disapprovingly and pronounce that nobody in the last ten generations of her family had ever done anything as menial setting up a shop. Considering that most of the men in those generations spent all their time cavorting with nubile young things and building up harems or chasing horses, when they were not fighting unnecessary battles, my wish of being a professional photographer is quite sophisticated. But they are not going to see it that way, so it is better that I work at your firm. And you are a great boss to work for, at least this way, Maa feels I am only helping the poor cousin and not hurting her royal legacy."
Sanskaar said nothing, he understood what exactly Laksh was trying to say, they all knew the pride with which his Badi Maa regarded her ancestry. Laksh seized the chance to change the topic and asked what he had been waiting to do so for quite some time, "And regarding those photographs for the Kapoors, you never said how they turned out? Did you even see them?"
Sanskaar had been waiting for it, despite Laksh being very good at his work; he always wanted Sanskaar's approval. He gave a friendly rap on his brother's head, "You do not need me to tell you, they were spectacular, as usual. But what it about that large print, the one which had Mrs Kapoor's face superimposed on the image of the house? You have added some fancy work to it; it looks more like an art print."
Laksh grinned, "You can invoice the Kapoors for all the other photographs on the Realty Check account, that large print is a gift from me to Mrs Kapoor, which you must have guessed already, I have signed it off."
"She is a married woman, Lucky, and old enough to be our grandmother; you cannot flirt with her like you do with all the other girls you meet."
Laksh replied, "Bhai, my intentions are perfectly honourable, she is a lovely lady, who is quite lonely as neither her husband nor her children have time for her. She just has to realise how beautiful she is despite no longer being young. That photograph will let her know that and she is intelligent enough to understand it, which is why it is a gift. And regarding the other girls, nah, Bhai those are not my girlfriends and I do not flirt with them, no way. That is me simply admiring creatures of beauty, nothing more to it. A conversation or two, a cup of coffee or maybe a drink, I never let it go beyond it. And definitely nothing intimate, even a simple kiss is a risk, they all start dreaming about bagging the Maheshwari name. Sometimes, I seriously think I should start up my own studio, maybe instead of killing me; Papa will just disown me, so it would mean freedom from the young girls. But then it would be a little boring."
"And if you finally meet the girl you fall in love with?"
"Are you crazy? Maa will kill me and Papa will shake his head wondering how in the whole world I turned out to be his son. I am not as brave as you are, Bhai, for if you fall in love, you will and can walk out on us for the woman you love, I cannot do it. I am simply going to get married to the girl Maa selects for me, it is better that way, whoever she is, she can adjust better and not suffer like Chachi..." Laksh stopped, unwilling to voice what everyone knew, irrespective of Sujata's obvious shortcomings, she always received a raw deal from Annapurna, primarily because Sujata hailed from a business family and not from a royal lineage.
They looked at each other, both knowing what the other must be thinking and realising that they had been quite young to recall what exactly had caused those rifts in their families. Sanskaar did remember that a significant part of his childhood had been spent at his maternal grandparents' house and just as suddenly all relationships had been broken off. Both the brothers sat in silence, wondering what exactly must have happened all those years ago, it was no secret that Annapurna and Sujata had no love lost between them and both merely tolerated each other, partly because their fathers would not have it any other way and partly because Laksh, even to this day, refused to be parted from his Chachi.
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Dr Sisodia's residence, Pachim Medinipur, (West Medinipore),
July 7, 2012
"It is Swara's birthday in ten days' time, how did all of you even think that I would not want to wish her? Ever since she has come into my life, her birthdays have always been spent with us, it is a sort of a tradition, and I am not going to break it this year. There must be a way to contact her, right? I am sure we can work out a way for me to be able to meet her"
Harsha was not a very admirable patient, his lucid periods of wakefulness alternated between sullen silences and stubborn argument. The substantial blood loss had weakened him and the bullet still lodged in his hip had made his recovery quite difficult and his frustration at being unable to talk to Swaha did not seem to be helping him. He had tried threatening, cajoling and pleading but nobody budged. And now that Jahnavi had come down to help with the matters he had resorted to whining. At her wits' end, Jahnavi decided to be blunt,
"Kavita is dead"
Jahnavi did not care that she sounded quite abrupt; she believed that sugar-coating that news would not soften the blow and as expected, Harsha took the news hard, considering it as his personal failure. He lapsed into a stunned silence and then asked "But Shashi..., he... he said she would recover. And, Swaha?" He whispered, almost afraid that he would be told that her being safe was just another falsehood.
Building on the lie that Shashi had told him, Jahnavi continued her tale, "Kavita did not recover from the coma she had slipped into, Sanskaar reached her a little too late. Swaha is fine, we managed to reach her in time; she has a new identity now, for she is Swara Bose, Dr Amar's cousin."
"I want to talk to her, it has been so long. And she must be alone"
There was a few minutes of silence as Jahnavi steadied her thoughts and in a stained voice lied, "that is not possible, she was so distraught in the first few weeks that we were sure she could not carry out the plan, so we told her that you died."
If the news of Kavita's death had stunned him then this incapacitated his ability to form any coherent thoughts and Jatin sank back into the pillows, closing his eyes. Worried about him, Jahnavi rushed on, "We were running out of time and options, Swaha is more like you than you think. In spite of not being in the best of health, you have been throwing tantrums wanting to talk to her. How did you expect her keep silent, she was a mess and simply unable to focus on anything. I was the one who broke that news to her. She had taken it quite badly but now seems to be recovering, though she is absolutely silent about what exactly happened. Dr Amar says it is because of shock and trauma, but she is holding up quite well. And now you listen to me, we have worked too hard to let up now, it will be someone time before we regain the lost time and smoothen our progress. So you will focus on getting better and not act like a petulant five year old."
She softened, grasped his hand and continued, "We have to do this, at least, both of you are alive and safe, for me that is enough. Now you have to tell us, what exactly happened and what did you see. You were quite incoherent when you called our friend but you had us convinced that Swara's life is in danger. We have taken steps to protect Swaha, as of now nobody has connected her with Kavita's death. It is vital that you do not do anything foolish."
"I am not a child."
Shashi replied, "Your behaviour over the past few weeks has not been supportive of that statement. You have been refusing your medicines, the physiotherapist is frightened of you, convinced that you would kill him and I am losing my patience. In fact, if I was just a friend and not a doctor, I would have beaten you into clarity. Now that you seem to have some idea of the situation, let set a few other things straight. Swaha is off limits, you will not try to contact her nor force us to do so for you. You and Jahnavi, and to a lesser extent, me and my family, have been preparing for almost twenty years for their downfall. Kavita's death is painful and unfortunate, but it is even more important not to give up now. And finally, it would be good if you remember that you are not the only one who has lost a sister to the Maheshwaris and the Gadodias, we have lost ours too, as well as our business. So while we do understand your pain and have been supportive all these years, it would be nice if you did likewise too."
Harshavardhan Shah stared at Shashi, transported to the long gone past when he, as a ten year old, had first set his eyes on the twenty year old Shashi. Harsha had found him towering over him as he lay sprawled on the ground when he had slipped from the mango tree, their sisters still hiding in the branches. After Shashi had confirmed that the only thing broken with Harsha was a ten-year old's ego, he had proceeded to give a verbal thrashing, also intended for their sisters, as to how irresponsible they were in being careless while climbing trees. Harsha felt he was ten years old again, being admonished for being careless and irresponsible for those entrusted to him. And for the first time, since Janaki's death, he felt tired with the desire for revenge. He closed his eyes, as he thought that he had failed, yet again. A weary sigh escaped his as the administered sedatives took hold and he slipped into a slumber, a sleep that had earlier had only nightmares about Janaki, and was now haunted by Kavita and Swaha.
Jahnavi watched him toss in a fitful sleep, her mind plagued by anxiety over him and Swaha and slightly daunted by changes in their plans that Swara's amnesia entailed. But nothing prepared them for the revelation that Harsha made later during the day, he was torn by guilt as he confessed, "I asked Kavita to run, Swaha must be wondering why I never called out to her." Jahnavi wanted to reassure him that it must be the reason why nobody connected Swaha with Kavita but kept quiet, especially when he shared his suspicions as to who the persons behind Kavita's abduction could be. Harsha admitted that he could be mistaken for he had not caught a proper glimpse of the face but the he was confident about the voice he heard. After a few minutes of silence, Shrikant, Dr Shashikant's brother queried, "Did Kavita say anything, did she have any clue as to the identity of her kidnappers?"
Harsha nodded, "she gave me a name, Parvez something, I think it is Manik, something similar, but I am unable to recall anyone by that name." The rest of them also looked at each other for none of them found it to be familiar either. Finally, Jahnavi spoke, "well, I shall convey both the names to our friend, let us see what we can unearth. And regarding your suspicions, I would prefer to wait till you are sure before we go telling about them."
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Flat 2502, Sunrise Apartments, Third Avenue, DJ Block Sector II, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
July 16, 2012
It was the largest bouquet of orchids that Swara had ever seen, memory loss or not, she was sure of it and it bought a large smile on her face as she reached for the flowers. She could not stop herself and almost buried herself in the flowers, the perfume and the silky petals, filling her with a sudden warmth. She blinked away her tears and looked in askance at Ranjit Kaka who had handed her the flowers. He smiled, there was no way he could admit the truth that Sudhir had asked him to do so, so he simply said, "I had just gone to the nursery to pick up some orchid tubers and plants for Sanskaar's garden and the flowers were so lovely, I decided to get them for you. You like them?"
Swara nodded, still a little dazed and surprised to feel happy at the sight of those luscious flowers, she knew that she had happy memories associated with them yet her mind stayed blank. But then she wanted to enjoy that happy feeling so she refused to think about anything else and focused on the flowers. To her surprise, she realised that she could name each one of them, though the images against those names were more like pictures from a book. She kept rubbing the waxy and satiny petals of the blossoms, a lost expression on her face and suddenly looked up to see Ranjit Kaka hold out a bar of chocolate. Keeping the bouquet to a side, she hesitantly reached for it and in what seemed to be a very familiar action, brought the bar to her nose and took an involuntary whiff. She was not sure why she did that but then she shook her head and said, "I do not eat chocolates, though I do not know why."
Ranjit Kaka stared at her for a few minutes, not sure of what to say and gave a nod watching an ecstatic Swara, who seemed to be bubbling in joy and happiness over the bouquet of orchid flowers. After a few minutes he asked if she would accompany him to the nearby yoga centre.
Swara looked surprised and Ranjit gave a quick laugh, "you do not need to start yoga now, it is just that you are very fit and with a few training sessions, you could become a yoga instructor. It would be good for you; you could help others, keep yourself occupied and maybe, even earn a stipend, good yoga instructors are always in demand."
Swara's face lit up and she quickly got ready and both set off walking, she was so engrossed in talking animatedly to Ranjit that she did not notice the woman and collided with her. Swara was profusely apologetic but the woman, dressed in a hijab, brushed off all her apologies and instead simply patted her head. Swara continued her journey, wondering why that woman felt familiar and kept looking back to see if she could catch another glimpse of her. But that woman had disappeared into the waiting maroon car and only when she was sure that they had reached the airport did Jahnavi remove the hijab. It was risky, she knew, but she could not resist seeing Swara any more than Harsha did, she had driven down to Kolkata early that day, despite having a late night flight to Mumbai, for she wanted to see if could catch a glimpse of Swara. She brushed away her tears, missing her daughter yet thankful that Swara appeared to be well and happy.
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Flat 2502, Sunrise Apartments, Third Avenue, DJ Block Sector II, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
July 30, 2012
The mirror shattered when Swara flung her diary at it, splintering into a million smithereens. She closed her eyes, uncaring of the fragments that flew around, some cutting her skin. She was distressed, tired of staring at the face in the mirror which gave no answers. She glanced at the fading blooms she had received two weeks ago; her happiness appeared to have wilted lust like those flowers.
Five months, she counted, since the day she had been found, wounded and left for dead. Twenty five weeks since she had woken up to find herself forgotten. Ninety days since she had finally accepted that she was a nobody and that her memories were treacherous as they refused to give up her secrets. In all this time, the flashes of memory that she had showed only images of three people; most prominent being that of a salt and pepper haired man, whom she addressed as Papa'. "It meant she had a father, but if that was so, how was it that he had not come forward? Why was she abandoned and why did this feeling seem familiar? Who am I?" her mind screamed and finding no answers, she broke down, clinging to the washroom counter as the tears flowed. After some time, she felt quite drained and yet continued to sob quietly when she registered his silent presence.
She gave a quick gulp, ran the water and washed her face, when she looked to up to the place where there should have been a mirror, she felt relief that there was no stranger staring at her from that metal frame, though the jagged edges did reflect distorted images of him, standing calmly and looking intently at her. Sanskaar had simply looked around and with no change in his expression, just raised an enquiring eyebrow.
Swara was bitter, "Are you not angry, I seem to be hell bent on destroying your house?"
"I was a trifle worried that you could be hurt, these are small things. What is it that is actually disturbing you?"
His calmness irked her, she was tired of him, his distant helpfulness, and his wariness as though he was unsure of her, she slowly turned to face him and glared at him.
"Do you want to know what is disturbing me? Everything! You, with your aloof politeness; Dr Amar, with his professional concern and me, with my lost memories. Why is it that no one wants me? Am I a nobody? I can recall vague images of one man, I still cannot hold to that image long enough for me to give details of his features, but he has a kindly look. He does love me, I think. The girl must be me, though she does not look like what the mirror shows, she is pretty and smiling and full of life, she calls him Papa and her voice holds a lot of love for him. Where is he, why is he not here? I only get flashes, and there has only one other man, an old man with long white hair and a brilliant streak of vermillion on his forehead, he is with a child, who must be the younger version of the girl I see. And that last is of a woman, old enough to be my mother but not my mother; I think I called her Maasi'. How is it that I do not have anybody else? Where are they, now?"
"And you still want to know why I am disturbed? My mind cries for answers and I have nothing to silence those screams." She was almost hysterical and suddenly held up her hands, as if to stall him, "No, I do not want you to come close, please, I am too tired, I am..."
She looked down at herself, her blouse was turning a dull shade of scarlet, as the tears mixed with blood, stained it. She gave a stupid half grin and said sorrowfully, "I am unable to cry properly too, even this is stressful," and she let herself fall, uncaring that the floor was littered with glass shards. And just as suddenly she found herself in his arms, his hold firm around her waist and his heart beat strong against her ear. Too drained to protest, she sank into his arms and surrendered to the welcoming darkness, somehow knowing that he would never let her fall.
Sanskaar lifted her carefully, as though she were a fragile doll and carried her out of the bathroom. He very gently laid her on her bed and stood for a few minutes, gazing at her features. Her hair was growing out and now gently curled around her face. She looked so angelic, so young and so vulnerable. He noted that she did not seem to relax even in her sleep, as though the pain she carried kept her chained all the time. He was thankful that he had come just in time for their daily dinner routine and then recalled her words, she must be so lost, so alone, he thought and it twisted his heart. Though he knew it hurt her, he realised that could never understand the depth of her pain.
Her words rebounded and echoed, 'Who am I? Am I a nobody? How is it that nobody knows about me?' He knew she was breaking under that hurt and he was a little surprised that he felt angry at being unable to help her. It was frustrating he thought and he looked at her; she had passed out for almost thirty minutes and he was worried that matters could be getting out of hand. He called Amar to come over as soon as possible.
Swara had regained consciousness by the Amar reached their apartment but still preferred to be left alone. It was very reluctantly that she allowed Amar to check up on her and he came to the conclusion that though she was a little weak, the main reason for her collapse was that she was getting stressed. He appeared to be equally worried as he quietly informed Sanskaar, "She needs to be kept occupied and diverted till we find answers"
Amar was far more worried than he let out, he was aware that amnesia was still a much less studied subject and each case was unique. It was also the first time that he had encountered a patient with a complete memory loss and considering the circumstances she was found in, calling in for any other doctor's opinion would only complicate the current situation. However, none of those factors would be of much help in dealing with Swara, there were too other concern which would now have to be addressed.
After ensuring that Swara would be fine, Amar prescribed a very mild dose of sedative, which she was instructed to take only if she found it very disturbing to relax or sleep.
It was much later, when both of them decided to relax over coffee in the terrace garden outside Sanskaar's apartment that a very apologetic Amar faced Sanskaar, "I am sorry, Sanskaar, that you were dragged into this, to tell the truth, I am not sure what I was thinking. Your involvement was to only to keep silent and provide her with a place to stay. I think we were a too optimistic when we expected that she would recover her memories as quickly as she recovered from her physical injuries. I am now worried as to what we do if she does not remember anything."
Sanskaar nodded and appeared pensive when he replied, "Well, that is what I thought and hoped too, but then it does not appear to be the case, right? And, yet we cannot leave her like this, she needs help and I think it is better if she continues to stay here, at least we are familiar to her and that could give her a sense of security. I am sure any situation which causes her anxiety or agitates her would only hinder the process of recovery. So as of now, there appears to be no other option but to let her continue to stay here."
Amar had been looking at Sanskaar and felt even more worried when he noted Sanskaar's apparent concern for Swara. He was apprehensive as how Swara would react to Sanskaar's continued involvement in her life and decided to voice them, "Sanskaar, be careful how you tread around her, you are concerned for her for selfish reasons, but what would you do if she takes it to be a genuine affection? And where do you draw the line between pretend friendship based on simple concern and a true empathic companionship? And how long do you think we keep hiding everything from her?"
Sanskaar could understand his friend's concerns but was not willing to be convinced otherwise, "I really do not have much of a choice, do we? It is a risk I am willing to take; there are two things at stake, her life and answers for Kavita. If I have to be a little more friendly to make her comfortable, make her feel cherished, there cannot be anything wrong with it. I could be a friend. And if we do come across more details about her and it is proved that she indeed has a hand in Kavita's death..." he stopped unsure of what his reactions would be if they discovered that Swara was involved in Kavita's murder.
Amar was now completely worried, "How long will we wait, Sanskaar? Please understand that there is a chance that she might never regain her full memories. I know she needs all the help she can get, I am not asking you to abandon her, but I just want you to be careful as to how deep you go in. Do not make the mistake of falling for her; we know nothing about her, her past will someday clash with your future."
Sanskaar shrugged "I think you are overreacting, I am just going to be friendly with her, not fall in love with her nor am I planning seduce her. And I am sure that despite being amnesiac, she can identify the difference between being a friend and being friendly. Further, I can only be responsible for my actions, you cannot expect me to change my attitude based on what you think she might construe from my behaviour."
Amar shrugged, he knew how adamant Sanskaar could get, "Give her a couple of months more, till we are able to fathom the extent of her mental strength, then we shall tell her more of the circumstances she was found in, but from now on, we would have to focus on what to do if we do not find anything about her and she does not regain memories. She cannot continue like this, she needs to get a life."
Sanskaar pinched his nose and wearily closed his eyes, he was aware that this was getting him a little too complicated. Five months and it seemed that there was no one to trying to harm her or even ask for her; it appeared that their ruse of having her killed had worked.
He hated lying to his family, and attempting to stay a little longer with her involved making stories about work pressures. No one questioned him, but there was a limit he could continue not visiting them over the weekends. They were used to him staying in the city during the weekdays but knew that the weekends were always spent at Mihir Mansion. He had been reducing the number of weekend trips he made as he was not sure of how Swara would be if left completely alone. He would have to tell them some part of the truth and wondered how long this charade would continue. Amar was right, she would also have to be eased into a routine and they also had to work about what had to be done in the event she never regained her full memories.
Amar however, knew what he had to do, and as soon as he reached his office he sent the cryptic voice mail message, Swara's health and Sanskaar's continuing involvement would have to be updated to their Chief.
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Cont'd in post below
Flat 2601, Sunrise Apartments, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
August 18, 2012
Swara diffidently followed Sanskaar as she stepped into his apartment; they had decided to meet Amar and Inspector Sudhir there. Swara had an idea it was to do with her, they would gently give her the news that they would be giving up the efforts to find out about her. She was prepared for it but then wanted to postpone hearing the confirmation of that fact, once they announced it, there would be no hope left. Hence she was very reluctant to meet them and had been looking everywhere when she caught sight of the gigantic photograph. She stood in the foyer; almost frozen and wondered how she had never paid any attention to what she was now seeing. Then she remembered that it was only the first day when she had been too distraught to think that she had stepped in the dimly lit foyer, she had never ever actually stepped into the apartment through the foyer again. She was so fascinated by what she saw that she stopped in the middle of her tracks.
It was a huge photograph of a number of families and it covered a sizeable portion of the foyer wall. Swara stood mesmerised at the sight of those delighted people, everyone had a smile on their faces; it clearly was a picture of happy times. Sanskaar had turned around to see why she had stopped, but seeing her wondrous expression stayed silent, he looked to see what had caught her attention. The photograph brought back all the memories, it had been taken on the day of his engagement with Kavita, that day which everyone had been delirious with joy and hope, all the three families. It had also been the last day that everybody had been that happy.
Laksh had decided that the photograph had to be a masterpiece, capturing what he termed was one of the happiest moments of their lives. He had made everyone crazy as he tried to adjust the seating and standing positions. The photographer had simply decided to stay quiet till Laksh finished, he was unable to withstand the frenzy that Laksh was worked into. Lakshya had wanted Sanskaar and Kavita to be in the centre as it was their day, but then all the parents could not be made to stand and if they sat then their faces would not be clearly visible. Everyone was in a good mood, but it was getting a little tiring to play musical chairs as Lakshya made everyone sit and stand a dozen times. Finally, Kavita had suggested that they consider the stairs, which at the centre of the gigantic hall of Mihir Bhavan, would provide a perfect backdrop. Laksh had been so impressed, he hugged her and exclaimed, "Bhabhi, you are the best" and set up directing everybody. Even though it had taken another thirty minutes, the photograph did turn out to be spectacular.
Laksh had his way, he made Sanskaar and Kavita sit beside each other, their parents on either side. The stair behind them was for the Gadodias; Shekar and Sharmishta, Dadaji and Dadiji, and bade papa and Badi Maa. The level below had the siblings, Adarsh bhaiya, Parineeta bhabhi, Uttara, Ragini and Laksh. There had been numerous shots, of smiles, giggles and friendly teasing. It was the last all the families had laughed so much.
Sanskaar looked at those faces, now in the light of the tragedy, he had simply forgotten that it had existed; it had been too painful to look at after Kavita had died but he could not bring himself to remove that photograph, he just learnt to completely ignore it. Now when he saw it again, he realised that she did look beautiful, with hope and dreams in her eyes, he had been content and happy, their parents had pride in their eyes, Parineeta Bhabhi still appeared to be flushed at Adarsh's arm around her, three years of marriage had still not made her comfortable with public displays of affection, he thought, a little fondly. It was then that he noticed that Laksh had mirrored Adarsh Bhai, as he also had an arm casually around Ragini's shoulders, who appeared to be slightly blushing. Between Ragini and Parineeta sat Uttara, her face beaming with uncontrollable happiness.
It surprised him that he had never paid any attention to the whole photograph, there were so many details that he had never noted before. Lost in thought, he took a step sideways before he froze, it had to be a trick of the light or simply a reflection but it appeared to be too real, from where he stood, visible in clear detail was Swara, reflected from Kavita's face.
It took him a few seconds to recover and was glad that none appeared to have noticed him, as both Amar and Sudhir were looking at Swara. He called out to her and Swara followed him, a little dazed at what she gleaned from the photograph. Gone were her apprehensions at what they would let her know, instead her mind was absorbing the one fact she had learnt, Sanskaar was engaged. She was bewildered as to why Sanskaar had not told that to her and wondered where his fiance was. She was sure that they had not broken up, for Sanskaar would never have such a photograph in his house, which again brought up the question as to her whereabouts.
Hence Swara sat quietly while Amar da and Inspector Sudhir had confirmed what she had suspected. They had run out of leads and it appeared that the search for her identity was would now have to cease. Surprising everyone, she took this news with the same calmness that she had displayed when she had been told about her amnesia, though she did have a number of questions, the foremost being what was expected of her. But she could not voice any of them, not with her mind completely on that photograph.
However, she seemed adamant not to stay in Sanskaar's flat as she felt that she was actually abusing the hospitality by what would now be an indeterminate stay. Sanskaar was equally insistent that there was no way he would allow her to stay anywhere else, a stalemate which was resolved by Amar, who insisted that Swara listen to Sanskaar in this case and her other concerns. It was then that they had told her everything, as to how she came to be found and how they had declared' her to be dead' hoping to keep her safe. By a mutual agreement, the details Kavita's death and their suspicion of her possible involvement in that were left out.
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Flat 2601, Sunrise Apartments, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
September 16, 2012
Dawn had not yet completely broken out when Swara stepped on to the terrace lawn for her morning exercises. It was two months since she had taken up the part time job of a yoga instructor and she enjoyed her sessions, they helped her keep in shape and her mind sharp. The pay was not much but the very idea that she could still have a life, despite not knowing that anything about her past, was liberating. She was aware that these peaceful moments would turn chaotic at times, but at that moment she was at peace with herself.
When she had discovered that she was a Kalari practitioner, Swara had realised that her muscles remembered all the stances and in a couple of weeks she switched over to a full Kalari routine. Sanskaar had seen her stances and had felt that the balcony in her flat was too narrow, so Ranjit had incorporated a lawn space in the terrace garden which Swara could use for her exercises. And though she had been initially hesitant, she grew to enjoy the morning routines, ending her routing with a ten minute meditation session. And today, when she registered his presence, she could not help remembering the first time Sanskaar had decided to test her.
The first few days had passed without incident though Sanskaar found her meditation sessions quite comical for Swara practised her meditation in a standing position and he was full of disbelief of both the efficacy of the stance and the effectiveness of the practice. He learnt them both in a very painful lesson.
After watching Swara for over two weeks, Sanskaar decided to test her reflexes; he was convinced that in the standing meditation posture she must actually be quite relaxed. So he had quietly tiptoed up to her planning to give her a scare, instead had been shocked when Swara has pivoted on her left foot and had swung her right leg to stop an inch before his nose. He could not believe that she could move that fast and holding his unharmed nose in relief had complained that she had almost broken his nose. She had simply smiled and answered, "Almost, but that should be enough to teach you, just because I am in my meditation mode, it does not mean I am not aware of my surroundings and do not try sneaking up on me, you never can." He had glared in return, silently vowing that someday he would manage to take her by surprise.
Swara smiled, it appeared he was going to try again, she gave up on hoping he would stop trying, it was now a very enjoyable interaction, with the standard predictable ending. But today, he noted that she was feeling a little different, and he seemed to understand why she was so lost. He smiled and held out a hand and she timorously placed her hands in his, both of her hands disappeared in his. He gave a reassuring squeeze and said, "Memories are not in photographs, Swara, their place is in your heart."
"Yes and my heart seems to have forgotten so much, there are times when I am lose hope, what if I never get my memories back?"
"Memories are like the moonlight; they lighten up the night skies and make everything look nice and silvery, very poetic and beautiful. But then the skies are beautiful also when there is no moon, it only then that you can see the stars, so now that you do not have those memories, take it as a chance to rewrite who you are. Rebuild your life, make new choices and let go of what is gone. Your old life is gone as are your memories; maybe it is time to start again. You are still quite young, you have your whole life before you; you are brave and strong, start out."
Swara choked a sob and whispered, "I am scared and alone, Sanskaar and it is frightening, I am not sure I will be able to do it."
Sanskaar gave her hands another gentle squeeze and said, "No, you are not as alone as you think, I will help you, and I know you can do it."
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Kalpana, Belvedere Road, Alipore, Kolkata
October 19, 2012
Kavita appeared to be absolutely serene, calmly staring out of the huge photograph that Debobrata had hung in the centre of their living room. It was her birthday and a sombre mood filled the house. Ever since Kavita had been killed, Ragini had been a welcome and willing visitor to their house, often extending her stay for a few days at a stretch for both she and Kaveri took solace in each other's company their love for Kavita and the sitar keeping them bound.
Kaveri was an accomplished sitar player and had been a trifle disappointed that not only was Kavita not musically inclined she was also partly tone deaf. But Ragini's entry had made all of them happy, Kaveri for having found a gifted student to whom she could pass on her musical legacy, Ragini for having discovered that she was exceptionally talented in at least one thing and Kavita for being free of those forced lessons. Ragini was an avid and eager student, whose enthusiasm and dedication could tire out Kaveri at times.
But today, neither of them could play a single note, even though they tried desperately to bind their wandering thoughts with the . Finally Kaveri gave up and retreated to her room. Ragini continued to sit listlessly, with the sitar held across her folded legs, unsure of what to do and was mindlessly plucking the strings when Debo walked in. He stood for a few minutes, both the father and the academician in him, concerned with Ragini's continued depression. He agreed that she missed Kavita but felt that she was grieving far too much and longer than required. Seizing this as an opportunity to talk to her, he sat on the sofa across and questioned if she was alright.
Ragini was not alright, she knew it and when she heard the concern in Debo's voice, she blurted out, "I do not think so. I am confused as to what to study further and I am convinced I am a misfit, there seems to be nothing I am good at and considering the parents I have, from whom I have inherited their worst characteristic, I do not even think I can do anything right."
When she saw that Debo had a quizzical expression, she hastened to explain, "I can get very angry and most of you do not know because I am not able to talk openly to people. I have already lost a year and still do not know which field I want to pursue.
Debo gave a wan smile, "you will be fine, you could have a temper like your father, maybe you consider your inability to talk so freely to be cowardice like your mother, but I am confident you are different. As regards what you want to study, I could help you out, you tell me what your interests are and I will give you a frank assessment of whether you are academically inclined for that stream.
Ragini looked up, a brief of hope lit her face before her doubts made it vanish. It was then that Debo said, "I meant it when I said you are different, for you have been partly raised by us. Your upbringing in different and that makes you a very different person. Just give yourself time, beta, you have your whole life ahead of you, someday you will get a chance to prove who you truly are, and I am sure you will not let us down. Now will you let me know what you would like to study?"
It was much later, after a lengthy conversation, during which he had gently coaxed out Ragini's dreams and aspirations, that Debo realised what Ragini was, a very intelligent and passionate girl, who had a head for numbers and a heart for challenges. It was a pity he thought, that her father had never seen her true worth. In that instant he made up his mind, at a later hour he made two calls, one to Sanskaar and one to his lawyer, it did not matter if some people considered his actions as interference, he was convinced that Ragini deserved better.
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Flat 2502, Sunrise Apartments, Salt Lake City, Kolkata,
October 19, 2012
Her question hung heavy in the air, as Sanskaar could not help wonder how she managed to complicate everything. It was a casual question that Swara had asked but Sanskaar did not have a simple answer to that. When Swara saw Sanskaar's face, she knew she had crossed an invisible line and she inwardly sighed wondering why she always had to blabber in his presence. In was in a stained silence that they ate their breakfast while Lalita Di, who would lapse into absolute quietude when Sanskaar was around, finished off her cooking chores without uttering a single word.
It was the start of the Sharat Navaratri and Swara had casually wanted to know how Sanskaar's family would be celebrating the festival. It had been a very innocent question but it brought to fore the pain of losing Kavita, especially since today was her birthday.
Sanskaar had hoped that not answering the question could mean but when he saw the misery on her Swara's face, he decided that he had enough of skirting around the issue with Swara, it would be better if she was told some more of the truth. It would also answer all her unasked questions which he was sure she had ever since she had first seen his engagement photograph.
He waited till Lalita Di had left for the day and simply told her the truth, "we will not be celebrating this year, it is less than a year since my fiance was murdered," and before he could continue, Swara gasped in distress and started to say that she was sorry, which was when that Sanskaar simply lost his cool and asked harshly, "why are you saying sorry, Swara? You had nothing to do with it, right? You never even knew her." He knew what he was saying was quite illogical and uncalled for, but could not stop himself, "I hate it when people do that, what are they sorry for, what has happened or for allowing it to happen?"
Even though his words hurt her, Swara was determined to say what she wanted. She reached across the table and laying her palm on his arm, said, "I am not saying sorry because that is what people usually say when they hear such news. I am sorry that such a beautiful girl had to die so young. I am sorry that you have had to carry the pain of your loss alone and being unable to share it. I am sorry that I have been thrust in your care while you should have been given time to grieve." She choked back a sob and her eyes bright with unshed tears, continued, her next words more like a promise to herself, "And mostly, I am terribly sorry for feeling sorry for myself all these days, so what if I do not remember my family and they also appear to have forgotten me, at least I am alive and healthy..."
Sanskaar nodded his head, and gently removed her palm from his arm. Not willing to trust himself to be able to speak further, he decided to leave. But at the door way, he stopped and said, "Her name was Kavita," and left without a backward glance.
Swara, who had risen when Sanskaar started to leave, sank to her knees, as she stared at her pale reflection in the floor while the pale faced girl, with hollow sunken cheeks looked up and stared at the girl with the short bob. She gave an involuntary shiver and held her nose to catch those pesky blood drops, alarmed as to why her mind played that image when Sanskaar uttered the name of his fiance.
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Kalpana, Belvedere Road, Alipore, Kolkata,
December 25, 2012
Ragini was in a very pensive mood, bordering more towards depression rather than pensiveness. She knew she had a long way to go before she came to terms with her grief over Kavita's death. And today being Christmas, it brought back memories of all the past Christmas and the misery that was a constant companion since Kavita's death. She was sitting in the indoor pool at Debo uncle's house, staring at the still waters, unmindful of the cold. Ever since her tenth birthday, she had spent all her birthdays at their house, as well as most of her holidays and today even with Kavita gone, she could not discontinue that habit, it had been become a deeply ingrained tradition with her. And unbidden those tears flowed down.
"It is must be a very sad day indeed, my dear, if it brings tears in your eyes."
Ragini twisted around to see Laksh standing against the pillars, smiling and her heart skipped a few beats. Wiping her tears away she asked, "It is nothing, I was just remembering...anyway what brings you here?
He gave a smile that made her heart turn somersaults and he held out the package for her.
"What is it?" she asked, even as she shyly took the clumsily wrapped package. Laksh shrugged, "it is nothing much, just thought you might like it but was not sure if I should give it, which would explain the shoddy packing.
Ragini said nothing further as she quickly opened the package to see a spiral bound, large sheaf of fine papers, which she opened to see that it were prints of photographs of her from the age of six. All of them had been taken by Lakshya, from his first camera, a Kodak Hotshot to his latest acquisition, the Canon EOS 20D. She smiled as she remembered how she would freeze when he would say cheese'. The photographs were more of journey of his growth from an overenthusiastic kid who simply photographed everything, still or moving to the discerning amateur photographer that he now was. But it was a lovely gesture, especially when she realised that each photograph had been selected and printed by him and that meant a lot to her, there were so many of her with Kavita and Uttara and some of the five of them together. She hugged the album with teary eyes as she mouthed a silent thank you.
Laksh looked even more embarrassed at Ragini's delight and mumbled, "it is truly nothing much, consider it a Christmas gift or a special birthday gift delivered very, very late, I never did give you a gift this year."
Ragini shrugged, her birthday had been forgotten in the aftermath of Kavita's disappearance and subsequent death, and none had registered it. But she still felt it was nice of Laksh to give it to her now rather than on her upcoming birthday and wanting to fill the silence, she asked, "And what was so special about that birthday?"
Laksh shook his head in mock despair, "You turned eighteen and you finally are an adult and can exercise your right."
Ragini gave a mock shudder, "Please, I am just not interested in voting, I do not want to be held responsible for the politicians ruling our state or our country, so there is not much significance in me turning eighteen."
Laksh, "Tum bhudhu ke bhudhu hi ho. Who is talking about voting? I never have and will never vote. I am talking about the legal drinking age. Now that you are eighteen, you can have a beer or whiskey or..."
Ragini retorted sharply, "Bhudhu tum ho, the legal drinking age in our state is twenty one, and before you ask how I know, that is general knowledge and not because I am desperate to taste that vile smelling liquids. I hate liquor.
Laksh grimaced, he was being a tad untactful, having forgotten Shekar uncle's drinking tantrums. Mumbling an apology, he then decided to come straight to the point and asked, "Are you free this Saturday? It is that boring gala dinner that I have to attend."
He bent closer and in a conspiratorial whisper said, "Bhai will not get a girlfriend, and if I keep going with him, people could mistake us to be, err.. you know what, and that is not very nice for my image."
Ragini burst into peals of laughter, "Laksh, I have been an adult for almost a year and I am quite grown up and you do not have to treat me as a kid, say the word gay' and be done with it. Further, Sanskaar can never be mistaken for being gay, though I would reserve any opinion about you."
With her face still beaming, she teased, "I should have known you would never do anything without wanting something in return, even something as simple as a gift, you would have just given this for my next birthday. And, no thank you, I am not coming to that charity dinner. You would simply be there with me for five minutes before the latest female entrant to the premises would capture your attention after which I would be forced to spend time with Sanskaar."
Laksh protested, "Please, I would never desert a girl, especially one as pretty as you. Moreover, Bhai is a nice person, what is the problem being in his company?"
Ragini smiled and said, "Sanskaar is a gentleman, a term which could be difficult for you to understand, but then he is so reserved, we would have nothing to talk about. And any girl would expect to be with the guy she first went with, not dumped on some other unsuspecting gentleman."
Laksh sulked, "You would never find a guy like me"
"True that, most of the time, you surround yourself by so many pretty young things, it is difficult to find you."
Laksh sat silent, not heeding to her words as much as pondering over the changing Ragini, she has always been the silent one, perpetually in the background, paling before the bubbly Uttara and the confident Kavita. He had been worried as to how she must have been faring as she had taken Kavita's death quite hard. He was a little surprised to see this new one, who was actually carrying out a conversation with him, without mumbling and had managed to corner him too. The fact that he could not come with a smart enough retort was surprising to him. He clasped both of her hands and giving her his most captivating smile, pleaded, "One last time, will you come with me?"
When she shook her head in dissent he said, "I like this new Ragini, just do not put her back from where ever you found her." Raising her hands to his lips, he gave them a fleeting kiss and wished, "Merry Christmas and keep smiling like this, you are beautiful"
Ragini froze and kept staring at Laksh's back as he sauntered out, his words echoing in her mind and her hand still warm from his lips. She slowly turned back and looked at her reflection in the pool, at the blushing Ragini and smiled as she thought that maybe, there was some hope to live for.
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Flat 2502, Sunrise Apartments,
December 29, 2012
Swara stared at Sanskaar, or rather drooled over him, she recalled a quote she had read somewhere in another time, 'A well-tailored suit is to a woman what lingerie is to men.' She had never believed it till she saw Sanskaar, all dressed to the nines, in a deep blue suit, so deep that it looked to be black. She had always considered him to be a handsome man but at that instant she was sure that there were no adequate words to describe him, even gorgeous fell far short.
She had a vague idea that she looked like a gold fish with her mouth quite wide open but she was too frozen at the sight of Sanskaar to be able to summon the effort it need to close her mouth. But fortune seemed to be favouring her, as Sanskaar was quite busy adjusting the cuffs. He looked up just when she finally forced her mouth shut by pushing her jaw up with her hand.
It was the day of the annual charity ball hosted by the Roys, a well-established tradition where the Roys invited the who's who of Kolkata. In the initial years, when Debo Uncle had started it, the idea had been considered to be a too western by some and others had felt that he was still clinging to an idea so reminiscent of the British times. But Debobrata had never cared about what people thought, for him it was an opportunity to meet old friends and be thankful for a year gone by, the idea of making it a charity dinner had come a little later when his daughter had suggested it, she being of the opinion that the people in their circle and those interested in being a part of the same could also contribute their mite towards helping the less privileged. The idea had soon become a much appreciated one with the charity proceeds going to the NGO, Sanlaap, for which Kavita worked as a volunteer.
Sanskaar, though not much of a party going person, always made it a point to attend, apart from the fact that in the recent years it was a good way of expanding his potential clientele circle, he firmly believed that it was the least he could do as contributing to charity. This year, as it was also slated to be a memorial service for Kavita, there was no way Sanskaar would not be attending it.
It was on a whim that he had asked if Swara would come with him, she had appeared quite eager and had even shopped quite enthusiastically. She had not taken much time to finalise her selection, a deep bronze silk gown, with wide straps and a simple elegant cut that had a tapered centre pleat at the back. When he saw her, he agreed she looked quite a vision but he was not sure why she refused to come.
Swara pouted, she was not one prone to vanity, but the bullet scar left by the exit wound was on her back and was quite visible in that low cut gown. She was apprehensive at the comments the scar could invite and hence was not too keen on attending the party. That was the apparent reason she gave, though the actual fact was that she knew hardly knew anyone and was a quite tired at pretending to be someone she was not.
Sanskaar sighed, he could understand her reluctance but did not agree with her reason, a tiny scar was no cause for withdrawing into one self, so he answered, "No Swara, I want you to be comfortable with yourself, it should not matter what anybody thinks of you, irrespective of whoever that person is. Why should what they think matter to you?"
Somehow that statement irked Swara, she was really not one to care much of what others thought of her, but Sanskaar thinking that she did, rankled and she retorted, "Why not, would you like it if your sister or your friend or your sweetheart had a scar, I am sure you would have had her wear something that hid the scar from all prying eyes
Sanskaar who had already reached the door, turned around at her question. She was quite flushed and she looked down. He covered the distance between them in quick strides and stood close. Unsure of how she would react, Swara stared at the floor hoping that he would leave, but Sanskaar had place a finger beneath her chin and forced her to look at him. Holding her startled gaze, he said, "To reply to your question, I would have had the same answer even if it were my sister or friend. And if it is about the woman I love, if she had such a scar, I would be proud of her. It would not diminish her beauty, it would only enhance it; it would prove that she is a warrior princess, my Valkyrie."
He gave a smile at her stunned expression, released her and said, "But if you still need to cover it up, I can get you help, my friend, Ragini is very good when it comes to makeup." Swara too shocked to say a word, simply shook her head at which he continued, "No, you do not want it, fine, see you soon."
If Swara thought she looked like a gold fish out of water, she was certainly feeling like one now. A polite caring Sanskaar she could handle, a curt reticent Sanskaar she was familiar with, but Sanskaar who looked drop-dead gorgeous and spoke so softly to leave her breathless was beyond her comprehension.
She stood in front of the mirror, staring at the stranger who stared back at her. She slowly touched her fingers to the stranger's in the mirror and mouthed, "You are a warrior and you could be a princess, you could be Sanskaar's Valkyrie." She gave a soft smile as she noted that stranger blush to a pretty shade of pink.
Sanskaar slowed his tread as he stepped out of the lift, convinced that he was losing it all. He was supposed to be friendly and put her at ease so that they could identify who she was. Being a friend and a little caring was also within limits. He was not supposed to be elated at her noticing him, though she did look a little cute with her mouth open. And definitely not openly flirt with her, even if she appeared to like it.
He closed his eyes, straining to remember Kavita, and noted that she was slowly fading. He could no longer recall her fragrance, that musky, spicy and fresh floral scent that always surrounded her. It saddened him, he knew he had not loved her with a deep encompassing emotion but even then it was tragic that her memories were surely fading, he could no longer recall her face with absolute clarity. And there appeared to be no clues to her kidnapping and subsequent murder. To make matters worse, Swara was the only when who held a key to the mystery behind her death, and she appeared to be even more elusive than Kavita's memory. Every lead about her led to a dead end, every clue drew a blank. If he did not have the advantage of observing Swara from such close quarters, he would have come to the obvious conclusion that someone did not wish him to find out any answers regarding Swara. He had now known her for almost a year and was sure of one thing about her; she was simply unable to tell a lie. And yet he could not shake of the conviction that she was hiding a few truths.
As Sanskaar drove off, Sudhir straightened from his car seat where he had slouched and watch the retreating car from his side view mirror. He was a little upset that Sanskaar had left alone, he would now have to stay back to watch out for Swara. As he settled in for what seemed to be a long wait, he let his thoughts wander about, even though Kavita's case had been closed officially four months ago, he could not get it out of his head. He was quite disturbed as to why nobody else seemed to want the killer caught, but he wanted the answers. He had few facts but nothing seemed to make any sense, he knew he was missing something important. He closed his eyes and slowly started sifting the facts in his head, all he needed was one chance, one slim breakthrough which could crack the wall of secrecy built around the Maheshwari - Gadodia - Roy combine, and hoped that those answers would also unlock the secrets of his past.
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