by Unknown
Aditya and Virat had been observing the proceedings from opposite sides of the room. Now Virat made his way over to Aditya. “Just about ready to cut your wrist by now?”
“I like it, actually.” Aditya remarked. “It's an excersise in character study. I keep forgetting to keep an eye on the presents.”
“Just remember that's what we're actually here for.” Virat muttered. “In case the nurse isn't the thief, it wouldn't be amiss to look into some other possibilties. You think it might be the kid?” He nodded towards the teenager named Rajat, who looked thoroughly bored. “Earning some extra pocket money by pawning his family's jewels.”
“The ring wasn't valuable to anyone except Prahlad.” Aditya reminded him.
“Maybe he thought it was. Or it could be the girl. Saw a pretty piece of jewellery lying around and pocketed it.”
“A similar argument could be made for anyone in this room.” Aditya said with a shrug. “It's not a scarcity of suspects that's the problem. It's the overflow. And that's before we even get to the servants. We have the obsessive compulsive aunt. The compulsive liar uncle. The alcoholic chacha and the nuerotic bhabhi. Each of them guilty of several petty sins, and probably not above innocuous theft. The thing about the middle class is that it's people can rationalise the most repugnant behaviour according to their needs. Especially if there's money involved.”
“So someone from the immediate family circle stole the ring?” Virat asked.
“I wouldn't put it past them.” Aditya said.
Sheetal had wandered over to their side of the table and was watching them curiously. “Are you Prahlad mamu's friends?”
“From the club.” Aditya nodded. “He invited us over for the party.”
“Well, I hope you're enjoying it so far.” She said with a mutinous glance at her parents. “Must be fun watching everyone here acting like cartoons.”
“That's a bit harsh, isn't it?” Virat asked. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”
“They're all pretending.” Sheetal said bitterly. Her need to talk to someone who wasn't a family member seemed to outweigh caution against saying something indiscreet. “You'd see everyone singing a different tune if they really said what they felt. Rekha mausi and my mother can't stand each other, but you'd think they're long lost sisters from the way they're behaving here. And Kapil chacha has been avoiding Prahlad mama for months now, ever since he loaned him money. He knows mama won't bring it up during the party, and you can bet he won't stick around once the party's over.”
“What about your cousin?” Aditya ventured to ask as Sheetal took a breath after the rush of confidences. “He looks like he's sickening for something.”
“Probably looking for a place to light a cigarette.” Sheetal said, with a careless glance back at him. “I heard he's been smoking everyday after school at his friend's house.”
“Still, it's nice that all your relatives can put aside their differences and come together to celebrate your grandmother's birthday like this.” Virat pointed out. “I know a lot of families that don't see each other for years at a time.”
“That's because she's really rich.” Sheetal said bluntly. “That's why everyone is fawning over her. And that's why no one ever dares to stand up to her when she bosses us all around. They're all just waiting until she croaks to move in and make their claims on her property.” It finally seemed to have dawned on Sheetal that she was divuling family secrets to strangers. She blushed and stopped talking, and began to busy herself with the food laden table to avoid looking at the two.
Half an hour later lunch was announced. Servants swirled around the room handing out crockery and ladling food onto the plates.. Aditya lowered his head and said a brief prayer, crossing himself. He looked up to see Pammiji watching him closely.
“So you're a Christian?” She asked in a carrying voice, and suddenly the chatter died away as all the head in the room swivelled to observe him with new interest.
“Yes.” Aditya said, feeling as though a spotlight had suddenly been shone on him.
“Where's your cross?” Paami demanded.
“What?” He stared at her in confusion.
“Why aren't you wearing a cross? I studied in a catholic school, and all the nuns and priests wore crosses around their necks.”
“I don't.” Aditya said, trying to keep his tone polite. “It's not necessary that you wear a cross.”
Pammi snorted. “You must be the wrong kind of Christian, then.”
Aditya resisted the urge to ask her what the right kind of Christian was. He merely nodded, and backed away towards the foodtable. The chatter of voices swelled up again.
“I remember when I visited Dharsmala.” Kapil Chacha shouted from beside Aditya. “We'd gotten there very late at night. Just when we were crossing a stretch of empty road, a woman barged in front of our car. She gave us a look. Just one. But that look was filled with so much evil and menace that my heart almost stopped beating. Then she disappeared down the road. When we went to check the spot she'd been standing on we found a fifty foot sheer drop there. What do you make of that?”
“Why does Sheetal look so upset, biji?” Rekha bua whispered to a shrivelled, elderly relative on Virat's side. They seemed to take his presence for granted. There was a hazy impression among the guests that Virat and Aditya was distant relatives from somewhere within the clan. “Is she still cross about that whole Phd business?”
“She knows her father tricked her when he made her the promise to pay for coaching.” The relative whispered back. “He kept her doing chores around the house to make sure she wouldn't be able to study properly. He was just looking for an excuse to get her out of college.” She shook her head. “Because several of his business friends have sons who want to marry her. She's a part of his business plans.”
“Men!” Rekha bua whispered with a sorrowful shake of her head.
Lunch ended several minutes later, and the company broke into a loose formation around the verandah to play a series of round robin games that no one seemed particularly interested in, but which everyone made a brave pretense of enjoying. Once again, Aditya and Virat stood near the back observing the proceedings. Pammiji flatly refused to play the music in a preliminary round of musical chairs. Rajat was brought reluctantly out of his corner to do the honours instead.
“Doesn't look like there's going to be a robbery today.” Aditya said in a low voice. “If we're going to take this case seriously, maybe we should start trying to get some of the suspects to talk?”
“How do we even start rounding up suspects? There's an army of relatives in the room, and they've all got nicknames. I'm pretty sure if I shouted Biji right now, at least three women would say, 'What?”
“Well, at the very least, we can get to know a bit more about the primary suspect.” Aditya muttered. Pammiji's nurse had come near them to put her plate back.
“You're a nurse, right?” Aditya asked her as she bent to deposit her plate.
She straightened up and looked at him with a mixture of surprise and wariness. “Yes.”
“So how long have you been working here?” Aditya inquired.
“Just about two and a half months.” The nurse said guardedly, watching Aditya through narrowed eyes. “The hospital sent me to take care of Pammiji.”
“She seems to get around all right on her own.” Aditya observed, watching Pammiji inspecting the dishes at the back. “I heard her say she felt quite well today.”
“She only thinks she's well.” Kusum muttered, following the direction of his gaze. “She was in a real bad way. Her digestion was a mess. She'd eat everything in the house in one go, and then throw it all up. She'd get moody and refuse to talk to anyone for days. Then she became addicted to vicodin. That was when I was called in, to keep a watch over her medication. Make sure she doesn't overdose.”
“Which hospital did you say you were with?” Aditya asked. “My sister might need to hire a nurse next month.”
“Parmanan
d.” The nurse said curtly, clearly wishing the conversation to end soon. “You'll have to talk to them directly.” She turned and walked quickly back to Pammiji. Aditya also returned to stand next to Virat, his expression thoughtful. He lowered his voice and began to say something to Virat.
A new game was being played where various relatives sat on a low stool in front of pammiji while she held there eyes closed. An object was then kept in front of the person and clues given by pammiji to guess the identity of the item. Pammiji seemed quickly bored with the proceedings and did little to conceal the boredom. After Rekha mausi had her eyes closed and guessed the item correctly, Pammji insisted they get on to playing Antakshari while she observed. The participants dutifully began a round of songs. But they were having a hard time keeping the parties attention on their tunes. Pammiji still looked bored, but she did not seem as irritable anymore, staring idly into the distance. In a corner, an argument seemed to be brewing between Sheetal and her father while her mother looked on in consternation. The voices grew louder rapidly.
“But I don't want to marry him.” Sheetal yelled at last, stamping her feet. The singing stopped abruptly as her voice carried clearly through the room. “I want to do my Phd. I just need one more year of coaching for the NET exam.”
“Listen to me, Sheetal.” Her father's voice rose as his breezy manner left him. “I've been very patient with you uptil now. I even allowed you to complete your M. Tech. But now it's enough.”
“What are you going to do with a Phd?” Her mother demanded. “Ankit's a chartered accountant. His father will leave all his property to him. You'll never have to work a day your life.”
“I want to work.” Sheetal seemed close to tears as she looked at her parents.
“We'll have no more of this talk.” Her father said sharply. “I've had up to here with this tomfoolery. You such a stubborn, mule headed-”
“That's enough now.” Pammi's voice suddenly rose above the din, and Mr. Kapoor stopped talking abruptly. “There'll be no more fighting at my party. Sheetal, come here.”
Sheetal made her way over to Pammi, tear streaming down her face. She stood in front of her grandmother, and the old woman reached out a wrinkled hand to hold hers.
“Now then.” Pammi's voice was suddenly soft and kind. “What's this about your Phd? Why haven't you done it yet?”
“I couldn't clear the NET on the first try.” Sheetal said, her voice quavering. “Daddy said he'd only pay for one year of coaching. I told him I needed one more year to prepare, but he refused.”
“Because you can't do it.” Her father's voice was raised. “The NET entrance exam is no joke. And I'm not wasting lakhs of rupees on a degree you're never going to use.”
“Sheetal.” Pammi's voice became softer as her granddaughter's shoulders began to shake. “Look at me. Do you really want to do this Phd?”
Sheetal raised her face and nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Why do you want the Phd?” Pammi asked.
“I want to teach. And I want... I want to live on my own so my parents don't keep trying to get me married to their friend's sons.”
“And do you really love chemistry?” Pammiji asked. “Love it enough to think of nothing else for a year while you prepare?” Sheetal nodded slowly.
“Then you shall do it.” Pammiji said.
“Absolutely not.” Mr. Kapoor's voice was raised. “I'm not wasting any more money on her studies.”
“You won't have to.” Pammiji said, gripping Sheetal's hand tightly. “I'll pay for it myself.”
“Pammiji.” Mrs. Kapoor's voice was placating. “You have to understand. She'll turn twenty five in a couple of years. She needs to find a suitable match soon or there will be no one left to marry her. What's the point of becoming an old maid with a Phd but no husband?”
“The point is independence, Rekha. Something I don't expect you to understand.” Pammi said drily. “There'll be no more argument about this. Sheetal will finish her Phd, and then if she wants to marry whichever champu you want, she may.” Virat let out a snort that he hastily tried to turn into a cough.
“I must protest this.” Mr. Kapoor was breathing heavily. “This is my private family matter, and I cannot allow you to dictate-”
“You can if you want your part of the inheritance after my death.” Pammiji cut in. “Otherwise I'll leave it all directly to Sheetal.”
“That's not fair, Pammiji.” Shanti mausi said spiritedly while Mr. Kapoor opened and closed his mouth. “We all want what's best for Sheetal, and you're encouraging her to defy her parents. Why, if Suraj was here-”
“Oh, shut up, Shanti.” Pammiji said irritably. “We need at least one girl in the family who wasn't carted off to a sasural before her twenty third birthday.”
A silence fell over the room. Mr. Kapoor was looking mutinous but cowed. Sheetal was avoiding looking at her parents. Various aunties and uncles showed different degrees of concern and disapproval on their faces. Finally, Prahalad's high pitched voice broke through the quiet. “I... I suppose we should get on to the cake cutting?”
“Excellent idea, Prahalad.” Kapil chacha said, with an attempt at a hearty manner. “Just what we need to change the mood.”
“First, I have to go to the toilet.” Pammiji announced. “No, you stay here.” She added sharply as Kusum made to help her up.
“It'll be a lot quicker if I help.” Her nurse said with the air of one who had had the same argument many times before.
“What for should it be quicker? Everyone can wait for fifteen minutes.” Pammiji grunted. She got up slowly and made her way with a slightly limping gait to the back of the verandah.
Everyone else gathered around the table. A large, chocolate frosted cake was laid out on the table to murmurs of admiration from the guests. Virat was nowhere to be seen. Rajat had perked up considerably following the argument and begun to take an interest in the party, while Sheetal had transformed into a happy young girl with a big smile on her face.
A low buzzing of various murmurs around the table lasted for scarcely a few minutes when a sudden cry of horror erupted from the table. Everyone looked up from the table to see Rekha Mausi frenziedly running her hands through her dress and over the table.
“It's gone!” She said in a panicked voice as she turned to scan the surrounding area.
“What's gone?” Kapil Chacha enquired.
“My necklace is gone!” She wailed. “My solid gold necklace. It was a gift from my uncle on his last visit.”
“You're wearing a necklace.” Kamala mausi pointed out.
“I was wearing two of them!” The tears were falling thick and fast from Rekha mausi's eyes as she touched the necklace around her neck. “This is a cheap one I always wear when I go out. I wore the other one because this was a special occasion.”
“The other one must have dropped on the floor.” Brijesh said in a soothing voice, raising a placatory hand. “No need to panic. We'll find it somewhere. Sheetal, Rajat, help your mausi look for her necklace.”
Sheetal and Rajat rose and moved to Rekha Mausi's side and joined the hunt. They peered under the table, rifled through the corockery and examined the space between chairs. But the necklace could not be found.
Prahald had been watching the proceedings with a mounting excitement, glancing repeatedly at Aditya and Virat. Finally he could restrain himself no longer. “Detective Joshi!” He called out, rising to his feet. “Now is our chance to catch the girl with the loot on her person!”
“Detective?” Kapil Chacha shouted as the babble rose again. “What do you mean? I thought he was Jayant's nephew?”