by Anmol Batra
“I can tell who he will be but I don’t think I should tell you when and where you will find him.”
“I have never disclosed the future to anyone in my life. I don’t know what its consequences will be, but all I can request is that you accept it as your destiny,” says Arjun with a concerned face.
Swati pulls out the fifth envelope and quietly looks at it. Another date and time on the right corner of the envelope. Her trust had grown in Arjun and so had her understanding of his powers. “Let’s get started then,” says Swati.
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Chapter 6
A Search in Preparation
22nd December 2012 5:30 PM | Green Park, New Delhi
Arjun & Swati return to Swati’s residence and ask a local electrician to install a purple beacon on top of the tower at her residence.
“Don’t you think the company guys will remove this light when they find it?” asks Swati.
“Yes, they will but we’ll install it again. After all, installing a light is not a crime,” replies Arjun with a smile.
After putting both the beacon and the wall clock up, Swati and Arjun take a seat in her hall. A clean and tidy place with everything well-organized.
“Believe it or not, but Ankita and I together don’t have a house as well-maintained as yours,” compliments Arjun.
After a stressful 2 days, Swati feels relaxed now and nods her head, expressing thanks. She brings coffee mugs from the kitchen and offers Arjun one of the cups.
“Do you have any plans ahead?” asks Swati, while she blows air on the steaming coffee cup.
“No, not really! Just take care of my body and I’ll search the entire world for Ankita. They can’t hide her anywhere from me in the entire universe,” replies Arjun.
Arjun burns his tongue while sipping coffee and screams “Wow!! That’s quite hot!”
“You didn’t know that the coffee would burn your mouth?” questions Swati.
“Well, I could have looked into the future for this but honestly, even looking into the future takes time,” replies Arjun.
“How much time do you think it will take for you to look through the entire world? And do you think Ankita will be alive?”
“I don’t know where to look. And I don’t know how much time it will take. I have looked in every corner of Delhi and I am still clueless. Now the only option I have is to look in the neighbouring cities of Delhi in the past, present & future. All I needed was a tower with a beacon. For six hours, I’ll fly up in the sky and look around for her,” replies Arjun.
“And what if you are in the future, in a time when the beacon is not working or has been removed by telecom Company? How will you trace your body then? There was no beacon in past. Can you risk not returning to your body for that long? ” questions Swati, shooting down Arjun’s plans.
Arjun remains quiet, feeling sad and powerless. In a tired voice he asks Swati, “What should I do then?”
“Let’s first find out when that body arrived at the hospital and where are the papers the staff is looking for.. We might find a clue there.”
“OK. I’ll go and look for clues in the hospital then,” Arjun replies with a nod and closes his eyes.
For a moment, Swati is cluelessly looking at his dead face but within a minute she understands.
“WAIT!” she screams loudly.
Then she says with a calm voice, “We’ll call Nidhi first.”
Arjun returns to his body and quickly replies. “Right, that makes more sense.”
“The accident happened on the morning of the twelfth,” testifies Nidhi over the phone. “The guy was hit by a truck on Aurbindo Marg nearby. We received the patient at around 12:30 PM. Any information about Ankita?”
“No, I haven’t received any information about her. Thanks Nidhi. Take care,” replies Arjun. He hangs up the phone and looks at Swati.
“Why don’t you go into the past on 12th December 12:30 PM and start following your sister for further clues from there. Don’t move forward or back in time. You can’t afford to lose track of time spent. Devote 5 hours up until her shift ends. Keep following her and look for the patient’s documents. Try and understand what she found in the packet. Or at least what Ankita understood that it contained,” says Swati in a composed voice.
“Why not six hours, I’ll follow her to her home?” asks Arjun.
“You are not going to your home. You are coming back here, and you will claim your body in present. The beacon was not installed on the 12th December. You will need more time to return here. Time for you to fly,” replies Swati.
Arjun walks to the bedroom, lies down on the bed where Swati had mounted the digital clock. He puts his cell-phone right under his hand. He gazes at the digital clock which shows 7:00 PM and closes his eyes. The next moment, he leaves his physical self on the bed and steps out as a soul.
“The Digital clock was not there on the 12th December,” thinks Arjun. So he glides near the wallclock in the kitchen and starts drifting into the past. In the past three days he had learned how to control his movements through time but is always dependent upon clocks to measure how far he has travelled in the past or future. As the clock’s hour hand starts spinning in front of his eyes, the sunlight starts rising in the kitchen again. Arjun starts counting, he needs to spin the time round as many as sixteen times, but then he swiftly drifts to the 12th December, in the afternoon.
12th December 2012, 12:30 PM Green Park, New Delhi
Arjun’s soul is still in Swati’s Kitchen. The house is empty. Arjun recalls Swati’s presence in the office on the 12th. He looks at the clock for the last time, quickly glides through the kitchen wall towards the exit and flies across the sky towards the hospital.
Arjun lands on the sidewalk on the road heading towards Central Delhi. “Oye! Ruk” shouts a traffic cop. Arjun doesn’t react. The cop starts running towards Arjun. He pulls out a stick, runs up and passes straight through Arjun. He catches a bike rider by his collar and shouts. “Helmet kahan hai?” Arjun takes a second to look back and then glides through the bus stop towards the clinic.
He waits outside the hospital. The ambulance arrives near the hospital gate and so does Ankita; a tall lady with a bright face and brown eyes hiding behind a rimless spectacle frame. She is wearing a coat and stethoscope around her neck as she swiftly walks outside while forcefully pulling her surgical gloves over her fingers.
It had been over a week since Arjun had last seen Ankita. Her presence gave him nostalgia of the old days when the two used to play patient-doctor games as children.
The hospital staff members pull out the stretcher and Ankita runs to check the newly-arrived patient’s pulse, a young North-Indian guy in his early 20s.
Ankita looks at one of the paramedics and commands him “Check if he has an ID card in any of his pockets.”
“No Doctor. I can’t find any ID in his pockets, but he has 3000 rupees in his purse and a few coins in his front pocket.”
While the paramedic hands over the purse to Ankita, she gently pulls out a plastic bag from her coat pocket and puts the purse inside it. Along with it, she writes a note on the pad under the section “receiving”: ‘Patient carrying black purse with 3000 cash in it. No identity card found.’
“He is still alive, but the pulse is slowing down. Move him to ICU,” calls Ankita to one of the staff members. She keeps the plastic bag carrying the wallet in her coat pocket and starts walking behind the stretcher.
The staff takes the patient towards a lift. Arjun paces along. He glides alongside the stretcher and the patients arm grabs his attention.
بلال
Arjun had never spoken Urdu but did recognize its script. He memorises the shape of the symbols.
The paramedics bring the stretcher into a room. They put the coins in a bowl along with blood-soaked cotton. Arjun tries to see the coins but somehow the cotton clouds them up.
From the cotton clouds he could merely see two coins. On attempting a closer look, he co
uld see more Urdu letters engraved on them.
After examining the patient with a stethoscope again, Ankita instructs a paramedic: “Take his blood sample and send it for tests. He also seems to have overdosed.”
Arjun dedicatedly follows Ankita, hoping to find more clues. After a few minutes, she visits the patient again along with the same writing pad. A room with a single bed tilted at an angle from the head rest. The hospital staff had cleaned his wounds and another doctor had started to attend to Billal.
“Has the drug overdose been confirmed?” Asks Ankita to her fellow doctor.
Arjun goes close to him to read out his name, written on the left side of his coat. ‘Akif Parvez’
“Yes, it is. He is critical, but I can take care of him.” Replies Akif with Confidence.
She remains worried but hands over the writing pad to Akif and walks out of the room. Ankita leaves, but Arjun decides to have one last look on the writing pad again.
Akif writes on the pad, “Patient critical due to heroin overdose.”
12th December 2012, 5:15 PM – Aditya Hospital, New Delhi
Arjun continues to follow Ankita for more clues. As Ankita is about to finish her shift, she receives a call from Akif.
“Ankita, the patient who arrived in the morning has died. Please come upstairs.”
Ankita goes tense, and she rushes upstairs. Arjun follows her to the patient’s room.
“I told you to keep a close watch on him!” Yells Ankita and pulls the writing pad away from him.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting him to deteriorate so quickly. And I also had other patients to attend to.” Akif replies in a stressed voice, and leaves with a tired, unhappy look on his face.
Ankita starts examining the dead body. The tests yielded a high dose of heroin but he didn’t had any syringe marks on his arms. Ankita reads through Akif’s observations. ‘No Smoke observed in patients lungs’
She pulls out her cellphone and calls Akif. “He didn’t have syringe marks on his arms nor had he smoked any joints. Can you guess how he had such a high heroin dosage in his bloodstream?”
“I don’t know. I will examine him tomorrow morning. I am leaving for home now.” Replies Akif.
As the clock strikes 5.30 PM, Ankita leaves the room. Arjun is tempted to continue but sticks to the plan. He returns to Swati’s residence, enters his body and wakes up.
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Chapter 7
When you know the Future
22nd December 2012 11:15 PM | Swati’s Residence, Green Park, Delhi
Arjun is awake and looks at Swati waiting for him beside his bed. She anxiously looks back at him and hands over a cup of coffee.
“You are late by 15 minutes,” says Swati, while sipping coffee from her cup.
“Am I?” questions Arjun, surprised.
“Seems like you can’t estimate how much time you take in moving your soul across time,” Swati murmurs, deep in thought.
“I don’t know. I am not sure how I can measure it anyhow. Hopefully someday I will be able to.” replies Arjun with a concerned look on his face.
Swati had been tense ever since Arjun had left his body. Deep inside, she perceived it as a risk higher than anything else.
“You already know that Ankita safely comes back home.” she says with concern. “You have seen her at your residence, healthy and happy. Do you think it is worth risking your life for?”
“When I discovered my ability to travel in time, this was the first thing I did the next night. I kept myself at home and slid into the future to see if Ankita was safe or not. I moved forward in time. I didn’t count how many days I had moved forward in time but there will be a day when I bring her home. I saw her, half wounded in my arms as we entered our residence.”
“A reason why you don’t see me more worried is that I have seen her happy in the near future, but I believe something I did before that day ended up in her being at home.”
“I derived the idea of sketches by looking into the future itself. Yes, I saw what I did in the future and I simply followed the path in the present to make it possible. But the truth is someone else wrote the idea behind it. My looking into the future was pre-written. Now when I know that it will be a bright day for me and Ankita, why not do what I believe is right?”
“I have the ability to look across the past, present and future, across space as far as the end of the universe but there is someone else who wrote my destiny. At the age of thirteen, I will discontinue travelling the world as a soul was pre-written. I discovered my ability to move across time just after Ankita disappeared; it was pre-written. I will share sketches with you convincing you to believe in me; it was pre-written. We all have our roles defined. All we need to do is do our best in terms of what we believe is right. So even if the power was given to me by God himself, he would not want me to just sit back at home and witness things. With great power comes greater responsibility,” Arjun explains his philosophy.
“I am with you on this.” Swati carefully listens to every word of his and replies, “Isn’t that last line from Spider Man?”
Arjun replies with a smile; “Yes it is, but to me it is highly meaningful.”
Arjun’s words motivate Swati and she sees a noble man in him. Though she is still not sure if Arjun will prove to be a real superhero or not, his words inspire her to help him. “So, what did you see today?” questions Swati.
Arjun takes a piece of tissue paper and draws the Urdu writing which he saw on the patient’s arm. After drawing it, he shows it to Swati. “Can you translate it?”
“I can’t but we can ask Zara to read it. She is originally from Kashmir, and works in the payroll department.” Swati suggests.
Swati takes a picture of the tissue with the Urdu letters on with her mobile and sends the image to Zara.
The next minute, Zara messages back.” Who is Billal?”
“Okay, thanks!” replies Swati to the WhatsApp conversation.
Zara replies. “But who is he and who gave you this tissue?”
Swati swiftly replies with a smiley. “Will talk to you later. :-)”
She looks at Arjun and says, “So what else do you know about Billal?”
Arjun narrates the entire day to Swati and she anxiously listens to him. The moment Arjun finishes Swati starts with the questions.
“Two things still remain unanswered. How did Billal die of an overdose when he hadn’t either smoked recently or injected anything? Also, where is his dead body now?” She says.
“I don’t know. I will follow Ankita on the 13th December now. Let’s see what she did the next day,” replies Arjun.
“You said Ankita received a call regarding Billal at night. Why was she offered money and threatened, when the callers knew where Billal was?” Asks Swati with curiosity.
“Not sure, but it is possible that Ankita moved Billal’s dead body the same night itself,” concludes Arjun
“Where are the coins, the wallet and that writing pad with Billal’s report?”
“The coins are in the room where Billal was kept,” replies Arjun.
Swati looks at him and pulls away the empty coffee mug from his hand. “You need some rest. Visit the hospital tomorrow and look for the coins,” says Swati, and walks out of the room.
As she reaches the door she turns and says to Arjun, “I will visit you in the middle of night to see if you are asleep or away as a soul.”
Arjun pulls the quilt up over his face. With his face hidden under the quilt he says back, “Good night.”
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Chapter 8
A Messenger in Dreams
22nd December 2012 11:20 PM | Jhang Bazaar, Faisalabad, Pakistan
From the old clock tower in Faisalabad runs a narrow street surrounded by fish, meat, chicken and a few vegetable shops. Small damp rooms built above the shops have been used as storehouses for almost a decade.
An abandoned butcher’s house on the top floor of a meat shop is now occupied by Zaffar,
who sleeps on a wooden bed, wrapping himself in a blanket. Zaffar had been living at this place ever since he escaped from Tihar Jail. The biting breeze leaking in from the broken window often gave him chills but tonight it was different. As he breathes heavily while he sleeps, his mind summons him to a dreamworld, back to the archery range of the Yamuna Sports Complex in Delhi
Zaffar finds himself facing an archery target mounted on a wooden stand, placed in front of a fence. The target is placed fourth from the left in a line of targets.
A moment of déjà-vu for Zaffar, as his heart starts pounding. “Zaffar Haneez from Pakistan claims the gold for archery.”
The next moment, he hears the sound of a whistle. He quickly turns around and finds an archer dressed in purple with mask on his face that only reveals his eyes, standing fourth from right along the shooting line. To his shock, the archer takes an aim and shoots an arrow towards him.
“STOP!” exclaims Zaffar, covers his head and kneels down. The purple archer unleashes an arrow which glides past his right eye, brushing his ear. The arrow strikes the corner of the target. Zaffar holds himself in a kneeling down position. He puts his hand on his ear, which is soaked in blood. He swiftly swivels round to see the arrow, as his ear starts to bleed.
Ferocious Zaffar, gets up and runs to pull out the arrow. A whooshing sound, and another arrow hits the target, drawing blood from his hand but missing a direct hit once more.
Zaffar gets behind the target board and starts running towards the nearest end. He jumps over the fence where a few arrows embed themselves, but miss him by a few centimetres. Zaffar circles the purple archer, running around, struggling to get closer to him, while shielding himself with different objects.
And then a moment comes when he sees an opportunity to strike back. He stands facing the archer as he loads another arrow and the next second, he throws an arrow back with his bleeding hand but to his surprise, it passes right through the archer without hurting him at all. The Archer shoots back. Zaffar manages to make a narrow escape.