The Colours of Passion

by Sourabh Mukherjee

  Manav’s eyes welled up even as he tried to put up a brave front. Agni’s gun was still trained on him.

  ‘I think I know the answer, Mr. Chauhan. You needed a wife to act as a cover for your secret double life. You thought that you would be able to masterfully manage a regular married life, like so many other closet gay men. But, you’ve always been prey to the conflict between your loving heart and your thinking, calculating mind.’

  ‘ACP Mitra, empathy doesn’t sound convincing when you have a fucking gun in your hand!’ Manav’s eyes darted between Agni and Arya, as both of them aimed their guns at him.

  Unfazed, Agni went on. ‘You ended up breaking off your engagement with Neha with less than a month to go before your wedding. You could never bring yourself to marry her. And you didn’t want to lose a family friend. That was a decision you made from your heart, Mr. Chauhan,’ Agni inched closer to Manav. ‘Within days, however, your mind took over. Hiya fell in love with you, and you didn’t want to let the opportunity pass you by. But, your relationship with Hiya turned sour soon after. It was the same story all over again. She missed the emotional connect. She missed intimacy. She found you cold and distant. Everyone close to her I spoke to—her colleagues, her secretary, the director of the movie she was acting in at that time—noticed the emotional turmoil she had been going through. It started affecting her work. And then, something rather extraordinary happened!’

  ‘ACP Mitra, I admire your creativity! This is actually getting quite amusing now,’ Manav tried to fake a smile. Rocky and Arya looked intently at Agni.

  ‘Mayank and you took advantage of Hiya’s emotional turmoil and engineered that affair. Infidelity would be a justifiable reason to break off your engagement with Hiya, won’t it? Mr. Chauhan, it makes me curious. Who were you listening to, on that occasion? Your heart? Or, Mayank, who was probably getting frustrated with your vacillating nature, and the uncertainties around his future with the man he was madly in love with? Was he pressurising you to break off your engagement, and come clean to the world about your relationship with him?’

  Manav looked at Agni with unbelieving eyes. There was a storm brewing in his heart. He was suddenly consumed by hatred—hatred for himself, like always. He felt sorry for Hiya, all over again. He felt giddy. He leant back on the water tank, breathing heavily. Arya moved a few steps closer to Manav’s side, holding on firmly to his gun.

  Manav took his time to answer Agni’s question. His face hidden in his palms, his body shook every now and then, as he failed to hold his tears back. ‘It was Mayank’s idea...it wasn’t easy for him...but he did it for us...’

  ‘And the plan almost worked. You enacted a very public spat with Mayank in a movie set, of all places! You turned Hiya’s infidelity into a public spectacle and broke off your engagement with her. But, the girl was hopelessly in love with you, Mr. Chauhan. She realised her mistake, apologised and came back to you. You gave in, too. After all, that wedding was all that you had wanted in the first place. But, Mayank’s brilliant plan had gone haywire with your marriage.’

  Chapter 54

  The beats from the party at Vibe had stopped. The wind roared on the roof, as yet another chilly night descended on the city. Sirens bellowed at a distance. The police cars were on their way. Agni’s wait was almost over.

  ‘Once you were married, it probably started getting increasingly difficult for you to manage your double life, with Mayank’s impatience and his demands on your time and attention mounting by the day. Hiya was probably dangerously close to finding out about your secret life, too,’ Agni’s voice was cold as steel.

  Manav felt his stomach churning. The detective was playing out the darkest memories of his life right in front of his eyes like a show-reel. Memories he had been trying for months to run away from. He wanted Agni to stop, stop right there before he went on any further. But there was no stopping him that night, it seemed. It was the detective’s way of overpowering him, worse than the battering Manav had received on his body a while back. From that man kneeling on the floor in silence. The man who loved Mayank, as much as he did himself. There was no way one could not fall in love with Mayank.

  ‘That’s when you scripted Hiya’s accidental murder, Mr. Chauhan. That would finally get her out of your way. You probably thought that, bereavement would be an easier act for you than having to play the devoted husband at home and outside! Also, losing your new wife in a ghastly mishap would serve as a perfectly plausible psychological block against your willingness to get married ever again. Someone must have convinced you with that idea. Who was it? Mayank? Or, was it you, yourself?

  Lakhan, your trusted chauffeur who had been working with you for more than five years, knew Asif Bhai and approached him for you. Asif Bhai picked up the contract, engaged his boys who had a history of misdemeanour at Tipple, and took refuge abroad. You probably wanted him to stay in hiding till the dust had settled on the case.’

  Manav tried hard to feign ridicule, and the effort showed.

  ‘On that night, you enacted a public brawl with the three ruffians at Tipple, making sure there were enough witnesses to put the blame on the three for everything that would happen to Hiya and you afterwards. When I spoke to Kuldeep Singh, the manager at Tipple, he mentioned that Hiya and you had not been regulars in that club. What that meant was that the staged brawl had been planned by someone close to you, someone who had been privy to your plan of partying with Hiya at Tipple that night. Who would know your plans better than you yourself, Mr. Chauhan?

  When the two of you left Tipple, Lakhan drove the car to a desolate part of the town, instead of taking a busier alternate route. The hired goons had been following your car all along. When you reached the lonely New Town roads, they intercepted your car. You took a few blows yourself. So did Lakhan. The goons raped Hiya, before she was murdered. The rape would also ward off all suspicions of a pre-planned murder. Love does, often, bring out the beast inside us, doesn’t it, Mr. Chauhan?’

  Chapter 55

  Manav closed his eyes. Images flashed in his mind—him writhing in pain on the dusty road, the three men dragging Hiya to a shed like a rag doll, their car at a distance. When Manav opened his eyes and looked up at Agni, his eyes were red and his face was contorted in pain. And it was not just the pain he felt all over his body.

  The detective continued.

  ‘You took good care of Lakhan and his family. You saw him off with a hefty sum of money. Probably fixed him up yourself with the Awasthis. That way, you made sure that your accomplice was removed from the household, yet did not go entirely out of your reach, if he ever decided to act smart. Lakhan paid off his debts, left the slum and moved with his family to a rented house. But destiny had other plans. Lakhan had tasted blood. He started blackmailing you. You coughed up money for a couple of months. All along, you kept in touch with Lakhan using a mobile phone number that could not be traced back to you. And then you realised that you had had enough. You realised that it was not just about the money. But, Lakhan himself posed a threat. After all, he was the one who had engaged Asif Bhai for you and had driven you to the location of the crime that night. What if he started talking? And you struck again. Who did you hire this time, Mr. Chauhan?’

  Manav did not answer.

  ‘Who would have imagined that old bugger had so much blood in him?’...that’s what he said...the man who killed Lakhan.... Manav closed his eyes and whispered under his breath.

  Chapter 56

  The sirens were not so distant any more. Manav could feel the bile rise up his throat. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it.

  ‘You know, Mr. Chauhan, when I reconstructed this story, I was stuck at this point. When I met Mayank for the first time at The Nook after Hiya’s death, he looked hurt, distraught, uncertain. And I asked myself why. If the sequence of events had indeed been like I narrate now, why was he depressed when there was no threat to his relationship with you any more after Hiya’s death? And then I found the answer. He was d
isoriented all over again, because of your growing proximity to Neha.

  When I spoke to Neha, I realised she was ready to forgive you and forget everything she had gone through a few months back. She was contemplating a future with you. And you, Mr. Chauhan, even after Hiya’s death, refused to acknowledge before the world your feelings for Mayank. He found that humiliating. He had probably reached the limits of endurance. After all, this was the relationship for which Mayank was ready to put everything at stake. You, on the other hand, were desperate to hide your relationship with him, even using a fake identity for the mobile number you used to stay in touch with him. Yes, Mr. Chauhan! In addition to the numbers of Rocky and Rituja, there is a third number that features prominently in Mayank’s call records—one that we found out had been procured with fake identity proofs.’

  ‘He was being absolutely unreasonable!’ Manav blurted out finally, opening up his buried chambers of pain. ‘He was no longer the man I had fallen in love with, the man who I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the man in whose arms I used to find solace! I could not just pack my bags and leave my business here overnight! And I could not possibly stand on a fucking podium and declare my love for him, could I? Would the law of the land allow me to do that, ACP Mitra? But, he refused to see sense! He was fucking blind!’ Manav gasped for breath, as his outburst exhausted him. ‘We fought every day. He started threatening me. Started talking about his contacts in the television channels and the Press...‘

  ‘And how could you let that happen, Mr. Chauhan? You’ve always been the man in control. You’ve carefully handled your double life for years. There was no way you could throw all of that away at the whims of an irrational lover! In fact, you had, as usual, a change of mind and you were getting ready to marry Neha, having reconciled with the Awasthis. The wedding must be round the corner, right Mr. Chauhan? Deepak Awasthi even got a plush restaurant set up in your mall that you inaugurated! Who knows? Maybe there are more in the pipeline! Which is good news for his business as well. Mayank was now a threat for you, perhaps the biggest you had encountered all these years!’

  Agni’s words and their ominous implication sent a chill down Rocky’s spine, whose eyes were fixed on Manav, spewing venom.

  ‘You pacified Mayank by talking about a beautiful life in a more liberal society. You promised to him that you would give up your empire here and move to London with him. Maybe you yourself wanted the same too, during moments when you were closer to your soul than your scheming, plotting mind. Mayank believed you. He was ready to throw away his career here—for you, for a future he had only dreamt of. He worked in confidence with Preeti and crafted a plan for the two of you flying out of Kolkata for London. The day before he died, Preeti informed him that the tickets and travel documents for the two of you were ready. Rituja and he talked about this at Tipple. He wanted to tell Rocky when they met the next morning.

  But you, Mr. Chauhan, had other plans. You left the inauguration of the new restaurant in this mall, and went to Galaxy. Doesn’t take long from here, does it? About fifteen-twenty minutes at that hour of the night? You already had the key to the main gate at Galaxy. You’ve been one of Mayank’s regular visitors in his flat, as we found out from the visitors’ register. You walked in unnoticed when the security guard was away.

  You took the elevator to Mayank’s flat. Mayank was only too happy to see you and let you in. And then, things turned nasty. Mr. Samaddar, Mayank’s neighbour, heard him cry and shout before...‘

  Manav raised a hand, tears flowing down his blood-stained face. His temples throbbed in pain. He coughed out the bile.

  ‘Please, ACP Mitra, please...’

  ‘I won’t continue, Mr. Chauhan, if it pains you to remember your heinous act. But I have to say, it was clever of you to sneak out with Mayank’s gadgets, making sure no one had access to any incriminating photos, messages, writings—for that matter, anything that would have revealed your secret love life...’

  Manav rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. The chill in the air further exacerbated his laboured breathing. He looked at Agni and spoke through his clenched teeth. ‘You tied everything up nicely, ACP Mitra. Just as you had promised. But do you even have any evidence? Your story will sound compelling in a class of human psychology, but I doubt if it will pass muster in a court of law unless you have evidence to back it up.’ It sounded more like a desperate attempt at figuring out the severity of his problems, than the arrogant challenge that Manav had meant it to be.

  ‘This is what brings down the sharpest of criminals, Mr. Chauhan. Narcissism. God complex. This belief that one is a genius in a world infested with idiots!’ Agni smiled, ‘Mayank’s friends—Rocky, Rituja—are ready to testify in a court of law. Mayank had told them that he was going to leave the country with his lover and your name is in the travel documents which Preeti has handed over to us. You managed to leave your fingerprints all over Mayank’s flat. We’ll now have a match right away. I’ve already got a search warrant issued for your houses to track down Mayank’s gadgets. I’m sure you wouldn’t have risked disposing of them. Who knows? Maybe the duplicate key to Galaxy as well, if we are lucky. You sure knew your way around Galaxy, Mr. Chauhan. You visited Mayank in his flat eleven times in the last two months. We figured that out from our scrutiny of the visitor book at Galaxy, which presently is with us. And here comes the clincher, Mr. Chauhan. Interpol has tracked Asif Bhai down in Dhaka. We have already sought Bangladesh’s response to an extradition request through the office of Foreign Ministry. The repatriation would be an easy process as the two countries have an extradition treaty. And from what I’ve heard, Asif Bhai is ready to sing!’

  Chapter 57

  Manav’s face had a deathly pallor.

  The sirens were heard downstairs. Agni knew there were armed policemen streaming out of the police cars and running towards the entrance of the mall that very moment. Agni looked at his watch. Exactly the time Agni had wanted them to be there, when he had spoken to the officer-in-charge over phone immediately after reaching Vibe with Arya. Of course, he had not foreseen the events that had unfolded over the last half an hour on the roof of the Town Centre Mall.

  ‘ACP Mitra, why don’t you finish off this...this mess of a life?’ Manav screamed in agony as he straightened up gingerly and tottered towards Agni’s gun. ‘I am tired running from myself!’

  ‘I don’t give in to provocation, Mr. Chauhan. You’ve blood in your hands. You are responsible for three murders...two of them were in love with you. I’m not going to let you die a hero’s death here. You deserve to rot in jail!’

  ‘Love? You talk of love? Ever lived in fear of being branded a criminal because you are in love?’

  ‘Mr. Chauhan, I could fight for your rights till the last day of my life. For everyone like you. But I will never stand by a murderer!’

  Agni could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs. Almost at the same moment, there was a movement he noticed from the corner of his eye.

  It was Rocky. He stood up and made a dash for Manav, his insane rage suddenly getting the better of him. Like Manav himself, Rocky did not want him to land up in jail. He had to get to him before the police did. He had his own reasons.

  ‘Rocky, I tell you again, get a hold on yourself!’ Agni cried as he turned his gun on him. Arya had swivelled in his direction as well.

  Out of the line of fire of both, Manav gathered the last vestiges of his energy and made a dash for the edge of the roof.

  Before Rocky managed to pounce on his prey, before Arya had the time to close the distance from him, before Agni’s shot missed his right foot, Manav Chauhan had jumped into the night.

  ‘I said no one dies tonight!’ Agni cried out, firing into the air, falling to the floor of the roof on his knees.

  Epilogue

  I can hear sirens below as I fall through the chilly air of the night.

  Sirens. I have always been afraid of them. Whenever I went out with Mayank and returned late in the nig
ht in hired cabs instead of my own cars, the sirens of police patrol cars would scare me. So much that I would hastily take my hand off his and make sure we did not sit too close to each other. Because the society and the law had no name for our relationship. And when you do not have a name for a relationship, you conveniently end up calling it immoral, illegal and even ‘unnatural’.

  When one chooses to walk down a path less trodden, one is likely to face roadblocks galore—self-doubt, resistance from the family and aspersions of the society in general. All that people have are weird looks and hushed whispers. I remembered the time when I had gone out shopping with a boy when I was in college. We happened to hold hands. I threw caution to the wind and in a careless moment, I knelt against him as we came down an escalator in the shopping mall. A security staff in the mall approached us and asked us to ‘behave’. Later that evening in a café, when my friend put an arm around me, we were warned that it was a ‘family café’! Of course, there was no way that we could dream of ever being ‘family’! The world taught me my lessons—quick and early.

  The proof of our inner strength lies not in making unconventional choices, but in seeing them through. If we believe in the choices we make for ourselves, none of these resistances should really matter. I am a staunch believer in this philosophy. And going by this yardstick, I know I am definitely not strong. No doubt about that.

  Because my mind and my heart, if they can indeed be called apart, are always in conflict. ACP Mitra was right! There is a part of me that is ever willing to surrender everything at the altar of my love, my true selfless love, the love I felt for Mayank. To fight traditions and customs that get in the way. To hold on to my love like it was my life itself and never let it go. And then, there is a part of me that fears ridicule, that cannot handle rejection, that seeks validation. And I realised early in my life that the only way to gain acceptance was to conform—to hackneyed customs, to outdated norms in what we proudly claim to be a progressive society. All these at the cost of my feelings, and the tears I shed in the solitude of my room every night.