Sea of Innocence

by Desai, Kishwar

‘What have you told your parents?’

  ‘They don’t know. I didn’t want to worry them, especially my mother, who hasn’t been very well lately. Instead I’ve told them that Liza is on a tour of Goa and the phones here don’t work very well. Luckily I have lots of photographs of us on the beach and so I send those to my mother once in a while, to reassure her.’

  ‘But she’s only been gone for a few days, isn’t it?’ I interrupted.

  Marian seemed puzzled at my remark, a little hesitant as she replied.

  ‘Not exactly, it’s been much longer than that.’

  I noticed how she quickly batted away the answer to that. She was very good at the non-specifics.

  ‘Besides, my mother is quite a worrier. She expects an email update regularly. I have to send her something at least once a week . . .’

  ‘And what about Liza’s friends, did Fernando and Curtis say anything? Do you think they could have been involved?’

  ‘They seem to have a cast-iron alibi, because once she walked out of the shack, some eyewitnesses, as well as the waiters in the shack, said that both of them looked after me, after I blacked out. They took me back to my room. That’s what I was told when I woke up.’

  ‘And hopefully you were safe?’

  She nodded. ‘I think so. I don’t think I was messed about with, and for that I am very relieved. Except that . . . poor Liza. I wish I had known that . . .’

  But then she covered her eyes and her shoulders slumped with grief.

  ‘I feel so guilty, so terrible that we did what everyone tells you not to do. After all, she was my younger sister and I should have looked after her. At my age I should have known better – you are always warned not to accept drinks from strangers. And Liza . . . I’d feel responsible if anything has happened to her. I only hope and pray that she is safe.’

  She rubbed her eyes, wiping away tears.

  ‘How do you think I can help with all this?’

  Amarjit is full of praise. He says you’ve helped him crack some cases before – that you’re sympathetic, you’re interested, you’re—’

  ‘Nosy and quite opinionated, not an easy person to like. I’ve taken some rather tough decisions in the past and had some squabbles with Amarjit, so be prepared—’

  Suddenly I realized that we had been away from the party at Bambino’s for quite a while, and Durga must be wondering where I had gone. I began to worry about having left her alone.

  ‘We should go back. Let me think about what you’ve told me and see what’s possible.’ I leapt to my feet.

  Damn you, Amarjit! was my last thought, as I went back to the party and then to the room with Durga, who was understandably irritated with me for going away for so long. As soon as we returned, her friends, Siddharth and Renu, decided to walk back to their own guest house.

  When we got back to our room, Durga threw her handbag onto the bed and flung herself into a chair. ‘There’s no point coming on a holiday with you,’ she said angrily. ‘You just left us there and disappeared. I was dying to dance some more but I had to sit there and guard that stupid table.’

  For once her words did not cut deep – I was just enormously relieved that no one had misbehaved with her while I was away. The more I learnt about Liza, the less secure I felt about Durga. I also continued to wonder about Marian’s composure. She was definitely sad, but her lack of agitation made me wonder if there was something she knew, which she was keeping from me? And why hadn’t Amarjit told me that Liza had been seen around Goa recently?

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, as I had expected, a message arrived from Amarjit saying that he would like to meet me before he left town.

  He had presumed, after my meeting with Marian, that I had already agreed to help. It annoyed me immensely, but the fact that he often took my support for granted was the reason why we had remained (sort of) friends, even through the years when he, his wife and I had formed an uneasy triangle.

  She had come and gone through his life, usually creating turmoil. And I had flattered myself that he came to me, again and again, not because he wanted help with one case or another, but because he could not forget what we had once shared. It was another form of self-deception on my part, I suppose.

  Amarjit waited in the cafeteria of the hotel, in the same place as the day before, and with the same cautious look on his face. Once again he kept an eye on the door, one leg impatiently stretched out. Who did he expect might suddenly ambush him?

  He came straight to the point.

  ‘Did Marian explain what had happened?’

  ‘Not the details, just the broad picture. She was quite evasive about the time line and so on. I’ll meet her again and find out the rest. But Amarjit, you must realize that I can’t help on any of this immediately. It will take time, as Durga is already annoyed that I am not spending enough time with her. Perhaps after she leaves, in the next ten days or so . . . after the New Year’s Eve celebrations. And frankly, I need to think if I want to do this at all.’

  An irritated look crossed his face. But, to his credit, he quickly hid it behind a smile.

  And besides, you didn’t tell me Liza had been seen around here recently.’ My tone was also a little tetchy, and this was clearly not what he wanted to hear, having (supposedly) brainwashed me yesterday. So he would now have to recalculate his moves.

  ‘I didn’t mention it because while we are hoping she is alive, these sightings might just be a case of mistaken identity. After all, Marian says she hasn’t seen her either. She’s only heard about her reappearance. All of this makes our search for her really, really urgent,’ he said gently.

  Just then our attention was distracted by a commotion at the entrance of the cafeteria, voices raised in argument. I spun around and found the two men I had seen walking alongside Amarjit on the beach, and who had also been at the party last night, speaking to the cafeteria manager with more than a little roughness. I could only catch the occasional word, as the latter threw up his hands helplessly. They gave a swift glance around the cafeteria, obviously looking for someone.

  To my surprise, Amarjit did not react at all. That was odd, and I was about to comment on his silence when the men looked around the room once again and left. Their eyes skimmed over Amarjit without recognition. So I too said nothing, storing up the information for further thought. Meanwhile, Amarjit was carefully typing on his mobile phone. Was the men’s lack of interest deliberate? Had he already sent them a message not to approach him?

  Ignoring the incident, I asked, ‘Is there anything further I should know about Liza? And by the way, Marian said she knew there was a video, though she hadn’t seen it. Have you shared anything about it with her since we last met?’

  ‘Not as yet. We still think that some of the boys in the film might be local, so she could be in danger if she mentions it to anyone. Which is why I wish you could take up this case as soon as possible.’

  That meant that if I was going to be persuaded to help, I couldn’t delete the video clip from my phone as yet. Since the images were tiny on my mobile, I planned to transfer them onto my laptop, so that I had a better chance of identifying the boys if I saw them anywhere around the beach.

  In the meantime, I was worried that Durga might accidentally see the video. Its unpleasantness and sexual overtones would definitely disturb her. Uneasily I realized I had left my phone in my room before I had gone for my massage, once again, earlier this morning. I hoped she was still asleep.

  ‘Do you think it’s a genuine video? These days it’s easy to fake video footage,’ I said.

  ‘It looks authentic and it will be interesting to find out where it was shot. Just to warn you – it seems there is a healthy trade in pornographic material around here. In a few cases we know it’s not been staged with the participants’ knowledge, I’m afraid, and unsuspecting people get caught. A lot of honeymooning couples come to Goa, for instance. As do others who could be simply having a good time, such as you. All it takes is a hi
dden camera! So be careful.’

  Seeing my concerned look, Amarjit smiled and gave what I assumed was meant to be a reassuring pat on my hand. Though his words were anything but that.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s not just in Goa. This can happen anywhere in the world today, because the technology is so easy to use.’

  I knew what he meant, because I myself had surreptitiously collected visual evidence on a mobile phone for a particularly difficult case.

  But the papers were also full of incidents where the technology had been misused. In one case I had read about, the warden at a girls’ hostel in Haryana had been accused of making secret, indecent films of the residents. Elsewhere, a man had been nabbed for uploading a video of his wife having a bath. And then some British schools had reportedly installed CCTV in washrooms because they wanted to monitor the children. Whether it was justified or not, this technology was simple and people often did not realize the consequences of sharing the material, which was equally easy to do . . .

  Would we, from now on, have to scour each hotel room for hidden cameras and mobile phones? Fortunately, with my fear of flying, I rarely travelled and so was unlikely to be filmed in too many hotels.

  I wondered if cameras were recording us even as we sat here. As I looked around, to my surprise, I saw Durga, Siddharth and Renu coming up to our table. All three, strangely, seemed quite tense and upset.

  As they reached our table, I caught a glimpse of fear on Durga’s face, as she was confronted by the man who had let her down so badly three years ago. Even though I had warned her about his presence nothing could have prepared her for this sudden meeting. Before I could say anything, Amarjit was on his feet, and put an arm around Durga. Thankfully the man had not lost all his good sense. After all, he had seen her grow up, and initially, it was he who had brought me into her life. Perhaps she remembered all that, while he hugged her. As she looked at me over his shoulder I smiled at her with as much reassurance as I could manage.

  ‘Your mother told me you were here, but we thought we shouldn’t disturb you since you would still be fast asleep! I hope you don’t mind my wanting to catch up with the two of you. I happened to be on holiday here, and couldn’t resist meeting you.’

  His voice was steady and his words plausible. But Durga was still quiet, not exposing the fact that she knew why he was really there. She quickly stepped away from him. There was a momentary, awkward silence.

  I cleared my throat and added, ‘He’s here just as a friend, Durga. There is nothing to worry about, darling. And how nice to see Renu and Siddharth so early in the morning.’

  The colour had begun to return to Durga’s face. But obviously something more than this unexpected meeting was upsetting her. Her friends, usually very forthcoming, were equally quiet, and hung back, visibly disturbed.

  Alarmed at their depressed demeanour, I drew up more chairs and made them sit down.

  All of you are very quiet. I’ve never seen the three of you so out of sorts. What’s wrong?’

  Durga obviously decided to forget past issues with Amarjit and focus on her friends instead.

  ‘Renu and Siddharth had a bad encounter with some men last night, and they . . . they don’t want to stay on,’ she said in a hushed tone.

  Her friends certainly looked as though they hadn’t slept at all. Durga frowned worriedly as she put an arm around Renu, who kept wiping away her tears.

  Trying to calm them down – after all, these were just three schoolchildren, supposedly on a holiday – I ordered breakfast for them.

  ‘I’m sure we’ll deal with whatever is bothering you,’ I said, trying to sound cheerful and confident.

  At the same time, I found I couldn’t bear to look at Amarjit directly. Would there be a triumphant glint in his eyes? Was he, quite unexpectedly, being handed a big prize: Durga’s departure?

  ‘This is quite serious, Ma,’ said Durga, grimly. ‘Siddharth, why don’t you tell her what happened?’

  Looking a little embarrassed, she said, ‘We really had a great time at the party, but as we were going back to our guest house afterwards, two men came up and started walking alongside us. In fact, I think I’d seen them at the party. They seemed nice, said they were living close by and began chatting. Initially it all seemed harmless.’

  ‘Only two of them?’ I asked, wondering if they were part of the group of voyeuristic junior executives who had been staring at me rather rudely the night before. I looked at Renu, adding, ‘And I hope they didn’t misbehave with you?’

  Both Renu and Siddharth were just turning eighteen, slightly older than Durga. They were capable of looking after themselves, and holidaying without parental guidance, but being accosted by strangers at night couldn’t have been pleasant at all.

  ‘They didn’t misbehave,’ said Renu. ‘But they were very intimidating. There was something very odd about them. We thought they may have been local, because they spoke to each other in Konkani. And yes, certainly only two came up to us. If there were others we didn’t see them. We tried to ignore them but they just wouldn’t leave. It’s like they had been given an agenda. They said they just wanted to talk to us, and—’ She stopped abruptly as fresh tears rushed into her eyes. She brushed them away equally swiftly.

  I was relieved. At least there had been no physical assault or sexual harassment of any kind. That had been my main fear.

  Siddharth added slowly, ‘That’s right. They were very strange, as Renu said. Because we didn’t know them, but they wanted to know everything about us. And yet, when they started talking, we realized that they already knew quite a lot about us. At one point they even spoke about you and Durga. And then they asked about how long you were planning to stay, and so on. Renu and I thought it was as though they wanted information about you from us.’

  ‘Or,’ I said slowly, ‘they wanted to let you know they were keeping an eye on us. Particularly me.’

  Amarjit leant forward, and for once he looked genuinely sympathetic.

  ‘And what did you tell them?’

  ‘I thought they would go away if I gave some noncommittal answers, but they were very persistent. I think we told them too much about all of us . . . I’m really sorry. But both of us got a little scared. It was dark and . . .’ Siddharth looked at us, obviously mortified. Had the men said or done anything else to frighten these children? If so, Renu and Siddharth obviously didn’t want to disclose it. They were far too crushed to say more, thinking they had unwittingly endangered the four of us.

  But then the thought struck me: could we have been targeted not for some prurient reason but for my recent interest in Liza’s disappearance?

  ‘I don’t think we should stay here any more. We should all go home. They know our hotel room numbers, which beach we go to, our plans for today,’ Renu said.

  ‘Even the school we study in,’ Siddharth added. ‘When we reached the hotel we simply ran in – and this morning we quickly packed and left, because I thought they might come back.’

  ‘Can you describe them?’

  ‘Neither of us got a good look, because they met us at that patch between the guest house and the beach where there’s no light at all. I think they were almost identically dressed . . .’

  Could it have been the two men who had been at Bambino’s and who had come to the cafeteria? Could they have followed Renu and Siddharth out here just now? While the two had gone upstairs to our room, to meet Durga, had the men barged in here looking for them? But in that case, was Amarjit part of this plot as well?

  But before I could ask anything more, Amarjit spoke up quickly. ‘Do you want to register a complaint with the police?’

  ‘No!’ Durga and I spoke up simultaneously. There was little doubt in our minds (even though we were sitting with a police officer) that problems always began to multiply when you entered a police station.

  He frowned, disappointed, and his keenness to register a complaint made me think he might not be involved in this, after all.

  �
��So,’ I said, trying to look at the positive side – and relieved that it was only the two over-inquisitive unknown men that had caused the panic, and nothing else. ‘What would you like to do about it?’

  ‘If . . . if you don’t mind, I think Renu and I would rather go back to Delhi. As I said, we’ve already checked out of our hotel, and left the luggage at the lobby here. We’ll just stay here for a while, till we get our flight tickets confirmed. As soon as we talked to Durga, we made the calls to the airline from your room. All this has made us both feel uncomfortable; it was quite scary. I don’t know why those people asked so many questions. And I really do apologize, because I think we might have given too much information about us all to them. Believe me, these were not nice people. I certainly don’t want to run into them again. We both spoke to our parents and they would like us to return.’

  Durga sighed. ‘Ma, I think I’d like to leave with them.’ There was a note of determination in her voice. I knew that once she made up her mind, it was difficult to dissuade her.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make her stay under these circumstances.

  I felt a wave of sadness overwhelm me. I had really wanted a holiday with her.

  ‘Who could they be?’ I wondered aloud. The thought that our holiday was being so swiftly curtailed changed my sorrow to anger.

  I contemplated briefly whether Amarjit was devious enough to have set it up. After all, just a while ago he had asked me to send Durga away. This was very convenient for him, wasn’t it? Right now, though, he still had a concerned and sympathetic expression on his face.

  ‘Well, I’m leaving for Delhi by the afternoon flight, and if you want to leave or want help with the tickets let me know. I could even take you with me to the airport,’ he said, a little too swiftly, perhaps, and then getting up, turned to me: ‘Simran, can I have a word with you?’

  We walked a few steps away from the teenagers. At that point I was completely unsure whether I should also leave Goa or stay on for the case. Or whether I should let Durga go under pressure. I hated having decisions forced upon me.