by Gauri Sinh
‘It’s scary to think like that,’ I confided to Jehaan. What connection could RAW have to a beauty contest, of all things?’
‘I’m still figuring that one out,’ Jehaan admitted. ‘It’s actually beyond the realms of comprehension, the two seem so unrelated! And yet, the only daughter of the chief of RAW, a serious and studious young lady I’m told, has suddenly decided to participate in a beauty pageant. This, in the year closely following the ones which had massive riots and blasts in the city.’
‘Put like that, it is even scarier,’ I told Jehaan sombrely. His journalist’s mind could analyse every occurrence to its bare bones and I was at time discomfited by it.
‘Be careful, Aku,’ Jehaan warned, his tone at once concerned and frustrated. He knew I would never let go now.
‘You think she had me screened?’ I asked him. ‘She requested we work together, you know.’
‘It could all be just coincidence,’ Jehaan demurred. ‘She is, after all, as you said, only nineteen. I doubt the RAW head would want his daughter involved in anything dangerous.’
‘Thanks for this, Jehaan,’ I whispered fervently. ‘At least I know now my instinct is seldom wrong. She isn’t a killer, she’s a hunter … but who is she hunting?’
Whilst on the subject of hunting, I told him about my dream that night, how I woke up screaming in fear.
‘Seems to me your dream is telling you something,’ Jehaan said light-heartedly, after sympathizing with my trauma. I loved that about him, as I loved everything else—his ability to tell my various moods apart, his dimples, deeper in one cheek … his down-to-earth steadiness in my sometimes-superficial world of glitz.
‘Your dream murderer seemed ghostly, Aku,’ Jehaan laughed, ‘But it was also … a contestant, wasn’t it? Wearing a crown, or holding one? Is that what your subconscious is saying to you?’
‘I didn’t think of that,’ I said to him, deeply troubled. It was true, we were all suspects.
‘Are you going to chat all day?’ Roxanne suddenly screeched, throwing at me the pillow she had been cradling, and breaking my cosy comfort zone with Jehaan. ‘It’s nearly 10 a.m. We need to get dressed for the speech session.’
I rang off hastily, assuring Jehaan that I would be careful and promising to call when I could.
As I got up to get dressed for the afternoon session with Lubaina Pervez, I found myself contemplative. Parvati and Jehaan, both of them were awakening a latent gift in me. My power of observation and retention had always been strong.
But to combine analysis and instinct—I was learning this here and now. And new as it was, It was a heady feeling. Perhaps it wasn’t just Parvati on the hunt any longer.
11
Akruti
‘Hurry up, we don’t want to be late,’ Roxanne urged as I headed to the shower, still contemplative about my dream. We were expected to help our roommates, arrive at sessions with them if possible. Roxanne had got ready before me at supersonic speed. She was nervous about the Q & A round on finale night and didn’t want to miss Lubaina Pervez’s session under any circumstance.
I knew Lubaina wouldn’t begin until all the girls were in the room. This was her last session with us. The finale was in two days, and if you were the nervous sort and thought of it as the day after tomorrow, you got butterflies in your stomach.
I had enjoyed Lubaina’s earlier sessions, in the entire two and a half weeks preceding this one. She was an elegant lady, a long-time theatre personality. The Q&A round, of course, was considered the most important in the pageant.
In fact, this year’s contest was her return to pageantry. She used to be a consistent mentor at the Miss India contest for years and years, but one year ago she had gone through personal tragedy and had withdrawn from mentorship.
Rumour had it that Lubaina had lost her twenty-year-old daughter in a botched surgery, but no one knew the details. Anyway, a year later, i.e. this year, she was back, and as cool and collected as before, her skin smooth and her voice well-modulated. She didn’t seem as if she had suffered tremendous loss at all. Of course, she never smiled, but a lot of people never smiled. In our own group Nuzhat, only ever smiled in malice.
Under Roxanne’s watchful gaze, I was ready soon enough. I wore a sunshiny-yellow dress, and slathered on the sun block, in case we had the session outdoors. As we grabbed our keys to leave the room, I realized the morning’s papers had been slipped through the door. And with a start, I remembered what Jehaan had mentioned about the news.
‘Murders Most Foul: Is there a serial killer on the loose?’ asked one headline, graphics alongside in lurid red. The other simply screamed ‘Game of Terror: Hairdresser killed at Miss India, and below that, ‘Day after top model Akruti Rai caught first victim Lajwati Khan as she collapsed, hairdresser stabbed to death’.
Sickened, I left the papers on the floor where they were. Of course, they would make sure my name was there—I was the contest’s most visible face, an instant draw for audiences. But I didn’t want to upset myself by reading anything more just then. I would go through them later, see if the journalists covering this story had any information we hadn’t yet got.
As we all congregated in the hall, there was a sense of barely-suppressed panic. The hotel’s phones were ringing off the hook—it could just be guests, but we believed the calls were from our families and dear ones, who had just woken up to the day’s headlines. And perhaps the press, asking repeatedly for more information. No one was in the mood for small talk, hastily our chaperones escorted us to a smaller room where we would be addressed by Lubaina.
We were all outfitted for a sunny day, in dresses and minimal make-up. Lubaina walked in, her own appearance belying her age, which was close to fifty-five I think. She too was in a dress, formal black, and high pumps. With pearls around her throat, the complete look matched her salt and pepper French bun.
She seemed classy and confident, exactly how a mentor ought to look. Earlier on in the contest, I had had a distinct sensation of having seen her somewhere, but I couldn’t place quite where. As her face grew more familiar with daily sessions, I allowed that feeling to subside. Maybe she had been a model in her youth and I had noticed her, growing up. Whatever it was, I rather liked her cool hauteur and the practised professionalism with which she encouraged us.
‘I know it’s been a shock,’ she addressed us, after doing a quick head count to check that we were all in the room. ‘But the show must go on.’ Clearly, the pageant’s propaganda had found its mark in her.
‘So let’s address the Q & A round now. Random questions will be asked to you by judges, and you must all come across as poised, intelligent and confident.’
‘There will be only five of us for that,’ Vanessa, or Nessie as she was called here, spoke up. ‘The five among us who make it to the final round.’
We all knew when Nessie spoke, courtesy her distinct, posh British accent from schooling in a private institution. A curvaceous girl, with honey-smooth, unblemished skin, she had also won the Miss India Dream Smile pre-contest held some months ago. To me, though, she was now the girl who, along with Smriti, had taken a restroom break at a crucial juncture and shifted the entire formation on ramp the day Lajjo died.
‘Yes, indeed,’ Lubaina turned to her, courteous if unsmiling. ‘It is my intention that, in this session, each of you think of yourselves as part of that final five.’
‘When the judges ask us the questions, do we address them by their names?’ Vandana, outspoken and devil-may-care, addressed Lubaina now. From what she let on, Vandana’s father was a heavyweight politico, but she wanted the crown on her own terms and told us she had entered the contest without telling her parents.
Plain ambition marked her every move, but how could we hold that against her? We were all here to win. Could she be the elusive Laddo? I wondered. Did she know anyone here, had she bent any rules to be here, besides not telling her parents?
‘That is up to you,’ Lubaina said. ‘But basic courtesy, such a
s a ‘Good Evening’ to the judge asking you a question, always helps set the mood. You might be nervous up there, so if you decide to just hear the judge’s question and answer without preamble—that’s okay too.’
I caught Parvati’s eye. She was bored, I could tell. I knew she wanted to pinpoint Laddo’s identity. But we needed to sit through this session first.
‘What if you don’t know an answer or suddenly get cold feet?’ Mayuri, a doe-eyed, sing-song voiced ingénue, asked hesitantly. She was a waif-like beauty, her claim to fame among us being a high society boyfriend from Pune’s old money-horsing circles.
‘When in doubt, don’t shout it out!’ Lubaina parroted her favourite homily. ‘Stay centred, take a moment. Who will demonstrate this for me? Shilpi, sorry, Nina?’
We all giggled. Lubaina was forever calling Nina by this name, we figured it was because she resembled a contestant from one of Lubaina’s earlier pageants.
‘Yes,’ Nina stood up. A tanned, muscular girl, she was the one who had fainted when Lajjo was stabbed. I had wondered how on earth she could be a student of medicine as she claimed she was, if she swooned at the first sight of blood. She seemed timid, which belied her stocky build. She was the one who had emphasized the fact that we were all suspects.
Her roommate, Nisha, was an effervescent, high-spirited girl. She was the exact opposite of Nina, and she always complained that she was tormented by Nina’s loud music from Hindi movies whenever they were together in the room. Nina was in this contest for one reason only—to win so she could meet her idol, the Bollywood superstar SRK, a. k. a. Saurav Roop Kamal. Posters of SRK hung all over her half of their shared room.
‘Nisha and Nina are at it again,’ the girls used to laugh, overhearing heated voices from their room on that floor. In fact, floor lore had it, Nina had actually met SRK in her small town somewhere in the interiors of north India when he was shooting for a film. The Eye India bosses might want to keep regions, religion and background out of the picture publically, but in a small group of girls thrown together, certain things were bound to be brought up.
Anyway, to get to the heart of the matter, so overcome was Nina by SRK that she had vowed to come to Mumbai and meet him here. Unbelievable, that a small-town girl had actually gotten into the final twenty of the contest now, inching towards her starry dream. Even if Nisha made her disdain of her roommate clear, I was actually quite taken by the story of Nina’s grit thus far.
Lubaina asked her a mock question and Nina replied with pauses, imitating someone nervous, but holding forth despite it.
‘Try and appear confident, even if you aren’t,’ Lubaina’s strong, deep voice permeated every corner of that room as she instructed us. She wanted us to speak just like she did.
As she spoke and took the session further, my mind wandered. Absent-minded, I looked outside the huge bay window at the lawn. Normally there would be no one there, hotel guests weren’t allowed around us now, this area was curtailed off. Only the chaperones, and I knew them all, or members from the organizing or sound and lights team, and I knew them too.
But today there was a stranger on the lawn. Of average height, salt-and-pepper hair, cut close. Nondescript clothes, a tee and khakis, over sneakers—a person who wanted to blend in, not stand out. I being the prima donna of making entries, understood the importance of an outfit in making someone stand out.
Addl.CP Mhatre? No, it was definitely not him. A cap pulled low over the eyes, disguising his face. A policeman in plainclothes? Possible, but why alone? Mhatre’s team hung around in twos and threes, I had noticed this.
The stranger looked around and seemed to be making mental notes. Then, as often happens when you are watching someone, his gaze was drawn through the window, straight at me. The glass was not one way, I was sure he could see me. And he had noticed me, watching him. At this point, almost serendipitously, the session broke for a restroom break. I edged cautiously towards the window, hoping to get closer to catching a better glimpse of him.
‘Akruti, we have work to do,’ Parvati suddenly appeared in the way, blocking my access to the window, impatient and restless.
Distracted, my gaze lifted, and when I looked again, the stranger was gone. Who was he? Could he be the person this mysterious Laddo was related to?
‘There was someone outside,’ I told Parvati. ‘Someone who looked rather suspicious, I’ve never seen him before.’
Parvati’s expression reflected something inscrutable, a brief, fleeting hesitation, I thought, but I may have imagined it. She appeared brisk and efficient the next second, having looked through the window.
‘There’s no one there,’ she said. ‘Might have been a journalist, looking for a scoop, y’know how they manage to get through the tightest security. Come, Akruti, let’s concentrate on finding Laddo.’
But just then Samantha rushed up, excited. ‘They’re announcing the winner of the swimsuit round. Miss India Perfect 10! Come quick!’
This was rather unorthodox, contest winners were announced immediately after the contest, but in this case Doreen’s unexpected and gruesome murder had changed the format yesterday. It had happened before they could announce the winner, so the results were to be unveiled today.
Lubaina Pervez had come back to the room. ‘Girls, we are more or less done. Let your chaperones know, should you need to meet me again. They have yesterday’s contest winners. Should we all go to the hall, please?’
Parvati raised her eyebrows in impatience. She wanted to quiz the girls about Laddo, but there appeared to be too much happening.
‘In the hall,’ I mouthed, to pacify her. ‘We’ll talk to the rest then …’ But in the meanwhile, I already had butterflies in my stomach. The swimsuit round was very important in that it meant additional points towards the main tally on the final day, the maximum amount of points for a pre-contest, in fact. And despite everything that had happened thus far … I still wanted to win.
12
From the pages of Parvati’s diary
12:30 p.m.
We’ve been asked to relocate to the hall in five minutes, Lubaina’s session is over, thank God. Sitting through it was difficult. The Miss India Perfect 10, i.e. the swimsuit round winner is to be announced in the hall.
Akruti is looking nervous, but I’m almost sure she’ll clinch this one. All I want to do is get to who Laddo is. Wonder if the police know by now, especially after we briefed the Addl.CP yesterday?
1 p.m.
Akruti has swept the Miss India Perfect 10 title. In all this mayhem, the first serious title, because winning this one means 40 extra points towards the final tally. Everyone is looking like they knew the result, but I think Akruti herself wasn’t as sure. She looks relieved now, air kissing and waving, walking around with that sash and flowers. Good, she seems more relaxed, because I need help in sorting out the Laddo conundrum. The key lies there, I’m certain.
1:30 p.m.
My list of suspects for Lajjo’s stabbing:
All the girls who were off-stage in that thirty-second blackout. At present: zero.
I followed Smriti and Vanessa when I saw them leave the stage. Akruti doesn’t know that. She thinks I was ‘stretching my legs’ and this is what I told the police too. I needed to understand why they would leave stage suddenly like that during an important rehearsal.
The police and Akruti don’t know much of the big picture. The entirety of what Brij suspects, which is also the reason I am here—and I cannot tell them yet. I will have to wait for Brij to do that. They don’t even know about Brij, in fact—better left that way for now.
But the girls really did go to the restroom. It cannot have been them. It wasn’t me. Nor was it Sanjna, after what she told us yesterday. We’re missing something. I can feel it in my bones. The police will check the camera recording of that rehearsal. Zooming in step by step, maybe they will see what that is.
So, when I write ‘all girls who left the stage’, then at present I have no suspects. At least til
l the police re-examines the tape. I am almost certain that Lajjo was already stabbed before she began walking the ramp. Which is why the fact that the girls changed formation on ramp during the blackout doesn’t matter so much. Though it was a disturbing diversion initially—it had never happened before. But then, no one had left stage in the blackout before either.
And Akruti’s earlier observation also needs to be addressed: When Lajjo was stabbed, why didn’t we hear her scream? Not just before she walked—even during her walk, or whenever it happened? When you are hurt, you cry out. Why didn’t Lajjo? So many unanswered questions, so many things awry here. Murphy’s Law: Anything that can go wrong, will … and all at once too.
As of now, then—I’m at a standstill, perhaps till the police get the camera recording enhanced.
I am putting Nuzhat down as a possibility, but she couldn’t have driven the knife in. We still need to find that person. Maybe an accomplice, if Nuzhat’s the mastermind. But who? And, also: why?
My list of suspects for Doreen’s murder
1. The elusive Laddo.
Now for this one, we have better progress. Having spoken to all who were with Doreen last—Inayat, Pia, Aishwarya, Sanjna, and Akruti—we can conclude there was one more person in the green room: this Laddo. Who may or may not have killed Doreen, but we still need her identity.
What about the girls we already spoke to, all these last ones? No perceived motive. None of them are serious contenders for the crown. None of them knew Doreen well, they haven’t modelled previously. So why kill Doreen? Could one of them be the girl who bent the rules? They were in a group, and Doreen was a loudmouth, she would’ve let it out somehow. But she didn’t. Which means Laddo couldn’t be one of them. Besides, Akruti said she heard Doreen mention Laddo in the context of karma, i.e. she was the girl who bent the rules to be here. We really do need to find her.