by Gauri Sinh
‘Everyone saw this?’ Mhatre asked.
‘We were in the spot. Everyone could,’ I replied. ‘Everyone watching could see me I know, including the camera. There was no way I could’ve thrust the blade into Lajjo from behind, even if anyone feels so. She was already falling from the blow when she got to me. I caught her as her life slipped away, I know this …’
The officer locked eyes with me, he understood how tired I was now.
‘You have been an observant witness,’ he said gently. ‘But your enmity, real or imagined, is documented, mentioned to us by a few we spoke to earlier, here. She fell into your arms. The camera will tell us more, but we have to obtain the recording first. I want to know—will you be hiring a lawyer now, Ms Rai?’
People say I have always been peculiar in that my instinct is never wrong. It has helped me through a number of sticky situations and I have always abided by it. My instinct today told me there was a lot going against me. Especially should some ill-willed type, decide to malign me, as I had, no doubt, in the course of my blitzkrieg career, made as many jealous enemies as supportive friends. Also, I was publically thought to be Lajjo’s rival in this contest, and our fates were inextricably linked in that she had died in my arms.
I had never been in any situation like this before. In the hindsight of age and wisdom, it occurs to me, the first thing I ought to have considered then, was to protect myself legally. But I was younger at the time, flush with the naiveté of the foolish or the brave. Not knowing otherwise, I believed that my innocence would keep me safe.
The police could no doubt make my life difficult, should they choose to. But to what avail? The men in this room were seasoned, I felt their experience gave them foresight in their work. They didn’t believe I killed Lajjo, I could see it in their eyes. And despite his taciturn nature, Addl.CP Mhatre seemed both sensible and competent at his job.
‘I don’t think I need one yet, Addl.CP Mhatre,’ I said, with deep sincerity, willing him to understand that I trusted the process and his team so far. Trusted them to gauge my innocence.
If I had expected surprise at my fool-hardiness in refusing to hire some sort of safeguard to protect myself, there was none. Mhatre appeared to reserved judgement. Or he was trained not to show it.
‘I see,’ he said. ‘Now, if you would complete that drawing for me, please? Also, we’re finished at present, but don’t go too far. I would like to have you tell me a bit more about each contestant, if you can, a little later. And we would be asking this of everyone, once the initial questioning is complete. I’m not asking right now because I’m hoping the camera recording you’ve mentioned will answer some questions first. We’ll take it from there.’
I handed him the drawing of our positions on the ramp, with each girl’s name on it. I let myself out the door, checking my watch for the first time since rehearsal had started. It was nearing 8 p.m. and the police had barely begun their investigation. It was going to be a very long day indeed.
As I entered the waiting hall again, I saw the policemen Mhatre had sent to fetch the camera hurrying back with it from the amphitheatre—clearly they had found the piece and would now watch the entire rehearsal themselves. Thus gaining real-time, blow by blow knowledge of the unfurling of events.
Quite possibly they might also get a glimpse of how Lajjo had been attacked, perhaps even her attacker. It depended on the camera angle—this one was not a mobile unit, nor was anyone operating it remotely, so it only captured the ramp and centre stage. It had a simple function, to be recording the sequence from straight up ahead of us, facing ramp, facing us, so we would not be intimidated by all those cameras pointed at us from exactly that position on the final day.
But there was a fine chance that it might just have managed to capture something important, even so. Exhausted as I was, I was intrigued at the thought that the police might find a way to end this horror story that night itself—if they happened to actually spot Lajjo’s attacker on film.
The next girl, Samantha, I think it was, left to go in to meet the Addl.CP once I came into the waiting room. There was a hush in the hall now, the intense strain of the past few hours was beginning to show on everyone. We were all emotionally weary, our nerves shot. I think the girls wanted to just get away, go rest, process that day’s miserable turn of events in solitude. But that wasn’t possible yet. So they sat around in wait for their turn, listless, contemplative, or coalesced in small groups talking in low voices. The atmosphere was decidedly funereal.
As I waited, went over what the camera might have recorded. in my mind. I ran over the faces of the girls edging the ramp in my minds-eye, trying to decide where exactly it was that I saw Lajjo falter.
She may have been the only one in spot, the rest of us invisible to the audience or even the camera perhaps, but we knew everyone’s placement like the back of our hands. Was it as she passed Pia? Nisha? Wait a minute … my brow furrowed in puzzlement, I suddenly recalled a face at the edge of ramp, shaded by the spot’s forced darkness (was it one of the girls?), that shouldn’t have been there. But why not?
I couldn’t quite get to it, what was it in that remembered scene that had so disturbed my memory? Weariness and emotions were making my memory hazy, but it was there, the reason for my uneasiness. It was right below the surface--the abstract sense of something not quite right about the formation. What was I missing? Maybe Avi would know. I decided I would ask him as soon as I saw him.
‘Did it go okay?’ Parvati’s voice interrupted my thoughts, I looked up to find her eyes on me, an unobtrusive but kind empathy evident.
‘Yes, I think so. They even asked me if I was getting legal representation. But I don’t think I will be,’ I said to her.
Parvati opened her mouth to say something but Helen, coming up close right then, pulled at her to ask her something. As Parvati turned, distracted, the memory hit me sharply, followed immediately by an awful foreboding.
Parvati—it was Parvati’s face I had seen in shadow as Lajjo stumbled … not close to her, no, but in the wrong place, five girls too far from her actual place on ramp. She should’ve been standing at midpoint, fairly near the place where Lajjo had tripped. But she hadn’t been … she wasn’t where she should’ve been … why?
As realization at the interchange dawned, my gaze met Parvati’s, standing in front of me again, now free of Helen’s intervention. It must’ve shown in my eyes, my sudden wariness, for Parvati it appeared was also adept at reading nuance. Just as clearly as Avi, maybe more so, I later realized.
In an instant, she had come up close, so close I could smell the mint on her breath, see the fine crinkly lines under her eyes courtesy the stage make-up. Caked and creasing now, much too dry after a relentless day. ‘Not here,’ she whispered, the urgency hard and brittle in her voice. ‘Come with me …’
4
Akruti
Parvati took my arm firmly, dragging my not-entirely-unprotesting figure to a far corner of the room, as discreetly as she could manage without appearing to be in a panic. She had the advantage of height of course, but we were evenly matched for strength should things get out of hand. In fact she was thinner than I was, lighter too, I was certain in that split second that I would be able to bring her down if she tried anything funny. But all she wanted to do was talk to me.
‘Akruti, you need to listen to me first, without interrupting, please,’ she spoke in a low tone, her resolute eyes boring into mine, willing me to acquiesce. I jerked my arm away from her hold, rubbing the sore spot where it had contacted the insistent strength of her fingers.
‘I don’t need to do anything,’ my tone was edged with the icy hauteur perfected over years dealing with assertive production in-charges, though I was doing her the courtesy of keeping my voice low. ‘I don’t like being pulled around or pressured.’
I would’ve continued in this manner, but something in her eyes silenced me. My unerring instinct took over, and I bowed to its wisdom instantly.
�
�Tell me,’ I capitulated, curt, all arrogance dissolved.
She understood the shift in the mood, and rose to greet it without preamble.
‘I wasn’t where I was supposed to be on ramp, when Lajjo walked that last walk,’ she said. ‘I know you know. But Akruti—I didn’t kill her. I couldn’t have, I was too far away in the formation, you know this too. Besides, I had no reason to.’
I watched Parvati. Her eyes, serious and intense, did not seem to be those of a murderer. But then, I hadn’t met too many murderers, so how would I know, really?
‘I’ll have to tell the police,’ I told her, still brusque. ‘They will need to know that the formation was skewed on ramp when Lajjo walked that walk.’
‘Yes,’ Parvati was still maintaining eye contact, her gaze troubled, but her eyes clear. ‘You should. I will tell them myself, when I am called in. But you understand why I dragged you away just now, right? I didn’t want you creating a commotion, letting it be known the ramp formation was not correct. Because, Akruti—whether or not you believe I killed Lajjo, I know I didn’t. It is possible that only you and I realise that the formation was awry, at present. Everyone appears to be too confused. Your yelling just now would’ve alerted them all, even those who weren’t aware … including the real killer …’
‘I wouldn’t have yelled,’ I told Parvati coldly. ‘You don’t know me, so I won’t push the point. But I do agree with you. It does make sense that only the police know the formation was different this rehearsal. If anyone else hits upon it, they would’ve spoken up or spoken to the police. Better for the investigation, this silence. And safer for us, I guess,’ I voiced what she had left unsaid. That if whoever had murdered Lajjo understood we were thinking hard about the circumstances surrounding that last walk rather than just ourselves, realized we knew the formation was skewed, they might also fear we’d uncover their identity soon enough. And get to us, before the police intervened.
‘Let’s start over,’ Parvati’s voice was cool, in response to my tone, but I picked up on the peace offering nuance. ‘You and I—we were there, the police weren’t. This affects everything, and I still want the contest to end in a positive space, despite everything. Besides, Lajjo didn’t deserve this—we should help find the culprit the best we can.’
I met her earnest gaze. The sincerity in her tone had appealed to my forthright nature immediately. I recalled her previous composure while dealing with Mhatre, the calmness and efficiency even earlier at the ramp itself—her willingness to step forward to help me first, when all the rest were frozen, stiff with shock.
‘You are right, Parvati,’ I said, all hauteur dropping from my voice. ‘Lajjo didn’t deserve this. I want to help any way I can. So, let’s figure this out, think, match notes. If we hit upon something we need to let the Addl.CP know. Because I too want this contest to finish better than this …’
In hindsight, I think this was the exact moment when our pact of mutual support was born, though we didn’t know it then.
‘We need to reason on two levels,’ Parvati went on. ‘The first—what exactly was the formation when Lajjo walked? Besides me, who else was not in their place? Were they close to her?’ She produced a diary and started jotting down points with a pen as she spoke.
I always knew Parvati to be quiet, even bookish, but this diary business went a step beyond.
‘You’re writing this down?’ I asked, incredulous.
‘And the second … difficult as it is to process, let’s think about each of us—as a murderer,’ Parvati ignored my outburst and got to the heart of the matter at hand. ‘Who among us would want Lajjo dead?’
‘You mean apart from the obvious suspect—me?’ Clearly the strain of the day had crept up unannounced. My out-of-character retort, with its dark, unsuited humour wasn’t taken to at all. In fact, Parvati ignored my comment, as if she hadn’t heard it.
‘We need to think of all the contestants, their relation to Lajjo, friendships, enmities, who we know them to be. Writing it all down will help.’ She said.
I knew this was logical, and there was a sincerity to her efforts. But my instinct was not to cooperate. At nineteen, it is a rare personality who will go about trying to help the police and solve a horrible, emotionally exhausting crime in such an organised manner.
True, Parvati’s very personality was efficient and orderly. And yet, this documentation, this meticulous and precise approach—it seemed much too practised. Almost as if she knew how to go about an investigation. How could she, though? So there were two things that needed my immediate attention.
‘Let’s outline each of the girls’ positions, also adding what we think of them, and their relation to Lajjo,’ I concurred, holding my hand out to Parvati in a simple gesture of camaraderie.
That was the first thing—compiling a list of suspects. The second one had to be done on my own. I made a mental note to get on it, as soon as this awful day ended and I had some me-time. It would hold till then, but only just.
‘Let’s get started,’ Parvati replied, shaking my outstretched hand cursorily, then re ordering the pages in her diary. ‘We don’t have much time.’
‘Myra?’ I said. ‘Shall we start with her?’
‘Myra,’ Parvati murmured, writing the name down in her notebook. ‘Let’s discuss each, I’ll write down what we think as we do.’
‘She stood the closest to me on ramp,’ I began. ‘At the edge of head ramp, in fact, very far from Lajjo. And hadn’t moved, not since I began my climb via the stairs to ramp from up front. I saw her as I made my entry from stage, was conscious of her there all along, being closest to me. Just behind her, on the other side of the ramp, was Helen. She too didn’t move, nor changed position.’
The formation was such that the girls were interspersed, one behind the other who was standing on the opposite side of ramp, the continuous diamond formation and gaps necessary so everyone could be seen by the audience.
‘Myra appeared very nervy—so nervy she requested to go first to the police, even before you,’ Parvati said. ‘That could be a point to keep in mind. She may not have actually felt what she so convincingly put on … panic.’
‘Perhaps,’ my eyebrows had furrowed in concentration. ‘But what motive could she possibly have to kill Lajjo? She wasn’t a front runner even in the sub-contests. And her fear appeared genuine. In fact, being closest to me in the formation, she was the first to spot the blood flowing from Lajjo as I held her body; no wonder Myra was the first to start screaming. Also, she did not change position at all, remember?’
‘Strike Myra’s name, then,’ Parvati mumbled, cap in her mouth as she whisked it off the pen and struck Myra off her suspect list. Till now we weren’t really conscious as to our own actions, but as we put pen to paper in this methodical fashion, it hit us—we were actually investigating a fellow contestant’s murder, albeit in a rudimentary manner.
‘Helen, ditto,’ Parvati continued. ‘No reason to kill Lajjo, not a front runner in sub-contests nor a media favorite. Plus she didn’t move from her position at all.’
Without saying it, we were both relieved, I think. Helen was one of the nicer girls at the pageant, a desi with an NRI accent, having been schooled all over the world. Her father was a diplomat and she, with her little-girl-lost sweetness and intrinsic charm, had managed to befriend most of the other contestants. For all her sweetness though, Helen lacked ambition, I felt. ‘We’ll move the discussion one girl at a time, front of ramp to back,’ Parvati murmered. ‘So far there’s Myra, Helen … you.’
‘I was near the audience seating the whole time,’ I spoke softly. It shouldn’t matter what Parvati thought really, it was the police who were most important. But if we were doing this even in a small way, better to do it right. ‘I was visible at all times, and always up front, not in the wings. I even approached ramp from the front.’
‘You did,’ Parvati looked up to meet my eyes for a fraction, before dropping her gaze back to the diary. ‘It’s more than p
ossible she was stabbed before she reached you, she was walking so funny when she passed me.’
‘Glad for the vote of confidence,’ I said, a trifle wryly. ‘The police will rule out nothing yet though, because she fell into my arms.’
‘I can understand their reasoning,’ Parvati said. ‘So could you, if you think unemotionally, as if it were not you but another person in exactly your place. Because it’s just too pat—beautiful model stumbling a few paces, then falling into the arms of a contestant who just happens to be her arch-rival in the contest … only to die immediately after, like in a luridly written novel. Unreal.’
‘That’s just it, Parvati,’ I said. ‘This whole thing, from the word go, has had this air of unreality. “Staged” may not be the appropriate word, but just artificial, you know. Somehow, appearing created.’
‘How odd you say that,’ Parvati looked at me. ‘I thought the same thing. Could it be because it was … how can I put this—pre-planned? It was supposed to happen, only differently than it did today, because something was different, became different, because it happened out of the blue? Like our formation, for instance, which had me in a different place and two or three other girls as well … we hadn’t rehearsed it, or planned it, it was circumstance. But it could’ve changed a well laid plan most drastically.’
‘You mean perhaps someone plotted for days or weeks or months to stab Lajjo like this,’ my voice was hushed as I first took in what Parvati was saying and then realized it could be no other way. This was no crime of passion, sudden anger or temper resulting in grievous consequence. Not up on ramp like this—it was most certainly premeditated, carefully carried out in a cold-blooded kind of way, audacious, public and final.