“No, Prish. He died in my arms.”
I stare at him in disbelief. No one mentioned this to me! Not even Nik’s mother! A sense of peace passes through me. Nik didn’t die in that horrible explosion. He died knowing someone cared enough to get him out of it.
“I was with him, Prish,” Ajaz reveals quietly. “He..he was lucid enough to know who I was even though he was dying.” Ajaz drops his head in resignation. “He asked me to look after you.”
I stare at Ajaz as tumultuous emotions rush through me. Nik loved me to the end.
My lips quiver as I hold onto unshed tears. I will not cry anymore. It’s time to be brave. I lean in to kiss Ajaz on his cheek. “Thank you for being there for us. For being with Nik in his last moments. I’m glad he wasn’t alone.”
He gives me an absent nod. “I wish I could do something for you both that night. But I was helpless. After Nik passed on, I ran back to you. I couldn’t lose you, Prish. I died a thousand deaths that night when they piled you in an ambulance and didn’t let me ride with them because we weren’t related.”
I remember faint bits of that fateful night. Those red and blue flashes of light, the wail of the sirens, the bright hospital lights, the sound of Ajaz’s voice begging me to stay alive. I thought I had dreamt that part. But where had he disappeared after that?
“Seeing you again that night made me determined. I could feel there were stronger elements at work around you and me. I wasn’t educated in the art of protection as my family members. I had never bothered to know my legacy. But I knew then that something sinister was going on. Something that connected us.”
We thread our fingers and sit lost in thoughts. “After the accident, I was with you for three days and four nights that you were unconscious. You kept calling my name and then asking forgiveness from Nikhil.”
So I hadn’t imagined him through that unconscious state. I remember feeling his presence the hospital room. I had felt his fingers gently brush hair away from my face, kiss my face and shed tears that fell on my cheeks. “Why didn’t you stay?”
His sigh was full of resignation. “I didn’t know what to do. I was still married, still confused but I knew I had to sort things out. When Nikhil’s mother got there, I came back to India and met my family. I told them what was happening with me, with you, with us. I can’t tell you how difficult it was for me to tell them everything!” And to my amazement for the first time in my life, I saw Ajaz Markos blush! “My mother recognised the signs of something out worldly. She gave me some duas to recite for protection.” His eyes are liquid as they watch me with all his sincerity. “That was what I was reciting the first night we made love.”
I watch him stunned by the revelation. Ajaz was not only my life partner but he was also my soul mate and protector. Our lives were intertwined more intricately than I had imagined. Whether by Machiavellian design of a sex-crazed entity or something more divine. Life was finding a way to sort things out.
A soft chuckle gurgles out of me. No, I haven’t forgotten how twisted my life is. I haven’t forgotten Nik or Dad or Sudha. But I have accepted my fate. I take Ajaz’s face between my palms and give him a sound kiss. I am happier than I could ever be. Ajaz is mine and I’m his and will always be.
For now there are no more questions, I seek no answers. It’s just us under a billion stars.
Twenty - one
Questions.
Where is Partho Sangram? When did I last see him?
It’s been a week since Raati’s subtle warning and I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m forcing my memories to recollect when our families lost touch. A stray memory has sprung up. I am six, playing at his house, he is in an accident. It’s a miracle his injuries aren’t serious. But he suffers a concussion and he mentions seeing me through a fog.
Raati! I wish I can wrap my hands around her porcelain neck and snap it. She’s been a bane of my existence.
It’s late but I begin jotting down from my memory making a map as I go. It’s not only a way to track Partho but a timeline of all the events I can remember that connect me to Raati and her malevolent haunting of my senses. It is taking more space than anticipated and I begin tacking the papers on the walls as I go.
I’m aware I’m taking advantage of Azmath and Aamina’s hospitality but I can’t seem to stop my frenzied research. After four hours I’m able to have a decent hold on things. I glance at Ajaz who has fallen asleep on the bed. I smile feeling my love pour out for him. He’s my rock but he’s still human. I can’t expect him to keep up with my hyperactive mind all the time. I’m glad he’s resting. His presence distracts me and this is one time I need complete focus.
I perform a critical scan of the papers adorning the wall absently tapping a marker pen to my lips. Where are you Partho? How are you hiding so well?
No one has heard from him in the past ten years or so. A few days ago I paid a visit to his old workplace that I knew of as a child. They have no idea where he went after leaving them. I tried hunting for him through phone directories, calling up hundreds of Sangrams drawing a blank each time.
I walk back to my map, going over it with for the fine comb. I was six when the Sangrams shifted out of our neighbourhood. Enquiries with an old neighbour didn’t get me anywhere. No one knows where the Sangrams have disappeared. And no one cares. Except I do, for somehow I know he has the answers that can help me save my unborn child.
~ ~ ~
A fortnight later I’m searching obituaries. Raati can’t be this patient. It’s possible she’s already killed him. I find nothing, it’s like the Sangrams never existed. With all leads exhausted, I hire a private detective to dig in further. We’re due to meet at a restaurant today.
Ajaz covers my hands to still my fingers that are beating a restless tune on the table. He brings them to his lips and places a quick kiss.
“Prisha Sanghvi?”
I look up to find a stocky, dark woman standing near our table. She has on a tunic with a stole and jeans. She has on dangling earrings, a ‘mangalsutra’ necklace, a leather strap watch, muted make-up and a large shoulder bag. She also has a wide smile. Her hand juts out for a shake. “I’m Kirti Lohri.”
I share a quick look of surprise with Ajaz. This is our detective? She looks nothing like one.
Kirti grins showing her pearly teeth. She drops her arm after a quick shake with me and takes a seat opposite us. “Don’t worry, I’m get that expression a lot.” She places her business card on the table and I glance at it.
K.A.Lohri, B.Sc. (Chemistry)
Private Detective
My eyebrow raises impressed with her credentials. She’s educated. I had found her name in the yellow pages and her assistant fixed the appointment. At no point did she reveal that K.A.Lohri was a woman. Not that it makes a difference and yes, I’m impressed she has an assistant. Or it could be her, pretending.
“So, Mrs.Sanghvi, how can I be of assistance?”
“It’s Markos, Prisha Markos. But please call me Prisha.” I inform her. Ajaz squeezes my hand. He’s happy I’m using his name. He knows I’m not sure I want to use Sanghvi anymore. My mother’s confession made me lose my identity. “I got married recently but I’m still registered with my maiden name across query services.”
Kirti looks at Ajaz and me with a bright smile. “Oh, that’s great, Congratulations!”
“I’m looking for a man,” I get to the point, placing relevant notes for her to go over.
She takes her time browsing through them before nodding. “I can give it a shot. I’ll need three to four days.”
“I don’t have that much time, Mrs.Lohri..”
“Call me Kirti, please.”
“Kirti, I don’t have that long. I need to know where this man is as soon as possible.” I pass an envelope across to her. “This is an advance payment for your services.”
She discreetly checks the crisp notes in the envelope. Satisfied, she nods and gets up. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
~ ~ ~
She passes along an address. “That’s where you should find him.”
I read the address in surprise. Partho Sangram has been living in a village in Nepal?
“Are you sure you have the right man?” I’m sceptical. I never put Partho down as a mountain person. He was suave and sophisticated enough to prefer hectic city life.
Kirti’s nod is hesitant. “I have my sources and they usually lead me to the truth. But I have to admit, this man went through a lot of trouble to cover his tracks. My initial investigation places him at Matunga area in Bombay. He lived there with his family for several years. From there, he quit his job and relocated to Kanpur, UP. His wife, Uma, was from Kanpur.”
“Was?”
Kirti looks almost apologetic. “I’m afraid she’s no more. She passed away some years ago. Mr.Sangram disappeared six months after that. He was the prime suspect in his wife’s murder as she died under mysterious circumstances.”
The fine hair at my nape rises. “Mysterious how?”
Kirti pretends to look down at her notes, stuffed between an old, leather binder and reads tonelessly. “I have a police report. The victim, a thirty eight year old woman, was found naked with her hands tied behind her back. She was bludgeoned with a blunt object and suffered many injuries throughout her body with blunt trauma to her skull. Death was due to strangulation. She was also brutally raped.”
By the time she finishes, I know my face is ashen. I lick my lips and try to gulp because my throat is too dry. I’m aware, Ajaz’s arm around my shoulders has instinctively tightened. He’s as worried as am I. “Why does the police think the husband is the suspect? And what of the daughter?”
The detective glances at her notes again. “The daughter, Anushri, lives with her maternal grandparents in Kanpur. They were given custody of the child after Mr.Sangram disappeared.” Kirti closes her binder and threads her fingers placing them over it. Her expression is grim. “Mr.Sangram’s fingerprints were all over the crime scene. Of course, it was his house so that doesn’t count entirely. But,” she pauses looking uncomfortable, “The victim was raped and his semen was found on her.”
I’m usually not at a loss for words but a thousand thoughts are racing through my troubled mind. I don’t want to believe the man who is my birth father is also a ruthless killer. There had to be something more to this violent crime. “He..he was her husband..so isn’t it possible that’s why it was there?”
Ajaz’s grip changes ever so slightly but I’m aware he’s tensed. There’s no way he likes these revelations.
Kirti nods. “That fact is what let him escape because the reports came in late. But the medical report states the victim was not just raped but brutally raped. Her private parts suffered severe trauma and,” she pauses again, looking clearly uncomfortable, “she was raped anally as well. It was just as brutal. The worst part was she had marks all over her body. Like she was scratched by nails.”
My mouth goes super dry if that’s even a thing. I stare at her wide eyed. This whole thing was turning into an enormous nightmare. I try to calm the fierce beating of my heart. Somehow I know it wasn’t Partho Sangram who killed his wife. It was Firion!
“After his escape, Mr.Sangram covered his tracks with perfection. It was as if he didn’t exist at all. For almost five years there was nothing then this.” Kirti re-opens her binder to remove a paper that she slides towards me. It’s a copy of a bank statement with transfers in the name of Anushri Sangram.
Kirti places more such statements. “I found this when I combed through Anushri’s personal savings account.” She places a finger on the amount mentioned. “The amounts are less than fifty thousand rupees so as not to draw attention of the authorities. But they are consistent coming to a stop a few years ago when Anushri got married.”
Curiosity gets better of us and Ajaz and I both scan through the entries. They are all direct cash deposits into Anushri’s account from several Asian cities. Male-Maldives, Colombo-Srilanka, Dhaka-Bangladesh, Kuala Lumpur-Malaysia, Jakarta-Indonesia, Kathmandu -Nepal.
“How did you conclude he’s in Nepal?”
Kirti crosses her arms. She looks smug and she has the right to be. This is brilliant work. “If you take a closer look, they aren’t account transfers. They are money transfers from private service providers. You need to walk-in there, deposit your money with them and they do the transfer. Given the lengths this man has gone through to hide, I doubt he has friends in all these places willing to help him out with the deposits. He had to have gone there in person to make them.” She taps her finger over the entries towards the bottom of the last page. “He has never repeated transfers from the same place but these two deposits from Kathmandu are back to back. They are the last ones. I’m assuming he was not well enough to travel. And if he’s not well enough then chances are that’s where he’s hiding.”
I regard her with the respect she deserves. “This address that you have given me is for a village out of Kathmandu.”
She nods. “I traced the name used to make the transfers to that village. It is a woman’s name but I’m sure it’s him using an alias.” Kirti accepts the envelope filled with her final payment from me. She slides out of her seat, drawing her bulky handbag over her shoulder. “I’m curious to know if it’s him. He’s a dangerous man, Mrs.Markos, be careful. He’s not going to like his cover blown up even if he knows he can’t hide forever.”
I watch Kirti’s retreating back. Something she said nags me. It’s true that he’s hiding. But something tells me he’s not hiding from the authorities.
Does Partho know about Raati and Firion? Is that why he’s hiding because he’s afraid of them? But Raati and Firion are entities. They will hunt him out regardless of the identities he changes. He would know that. So is he hiding to protect his daughter Anushri? Something bothers me. He knows Raati and Firion can still get to Anushri. But they don’t want her. They want me.
Then it hits me; Partho is hiding from me.
Twenty - two
The strength within.
I’m little over four months pregnant. Apart from a slight tell-tale bump on my belly, my figure is still intact. I’m also lucky enough not to suffer from the usual symptoms like morning sickness or food cravings. I can’t eat much but then that’s a regular habit Ajaz is trying to fix. He thinks he can stuff me like a turkey and that’s going to make me healthier. As if!
Now that he knows Partho’s accused of murder, he isn’t happy I want to go to Nepal to seek him out. He’s right to feel that way. But I need answers and I’m almost sure Partho has them.
Ajaz knows he can’t change my mind, so he insists I visit a gynaecologist, go through preliminary scans and rule out any complications. He doesn’t know Raati like I do. She’d annihilate the world before letting harm come to this baby. She needs her alive.
But, I indulge him. There is something singularly beautiful in a sonography scan even when you’re searching the monitor in the wrong place for your unborn child. When the doctor points out the shadow it suddenly makes complete sense and now I can see her.
Ajaz is holding his breath and squeezing my hand in fascination as he stares at the baby on the monitor. A child is perhaps the most intimate bond a man and a woman can share. I’m grateful I get to share it with Ajaz.
The doctor gives some basic guidelines and a green signal to venture into an adventure in a foreign land. I hug the file that contains the slides from my sonography. Doing this for you, baby, doing this for you.
~ ~ ~
The plane dips a steep left as it comes into descent at Tribhuvan International Airport, Kathmandu, Nepal. The terrain is hilly in the distance with modern buildings dotting the landscape all the way to the airport. When the plane lands, I can see the hills have turned into snow-capped mountains rising in the distance welcoming me in their fold. Why do I feel I’ve come home?
When we exit the plane, it’s cold outside. It’s monsoon and the city is known for chilly rains. Fortunately, the cold doesn’t bite into my skin to making me uncomfortable. Ajaz and I are wearing waterproof anoraks that keep us toasty as we head out of the airport with our baggage and take a private cab to our hotel.
The address given to us by Kirti is for a village on the outskirts of Kathmandu. It takes around two hours to reach there by car. Since we arrived in Kathmandu late afternoon we decide to move out early next morning.
If you want to go back in time, Kathmandu is the place for you. Steeped in tradition, it throws up numerous places to visit. Restless as I am, I drag Ajaz for an exploratory tour almost immediately after checking in at the hotel. The hotel offers the services of a local guide.
He’s a soft spoken young man named Mahesh Tamang. He stands short at five feet two inches, wears simple brown pantaloons, a plain button-up shirt, a woollen vest and an olive jacket. With the setting sun, the temperatures are sinking faster than expected and I’m glad I packed sensible winter wear.
True Rising: Mark of the Defenders Page 20