by Ruchi Kokcha
She looked at me and smiled. I cannot forget the look on her face. She wanted to kill me, push me out of the moving car into the river. I thank my reflexes for making me open the door and jump out of the car as soon as I saw her swerve to the left. Her car broke through the barricades along the side and fell into the Yamuna. Failing to kill me, she had killed herself. No one ever came to know why, not even Da. You are the only one to know the truth, but I request you to let it be unknown to the rest of the world.
As he finished reading the story of Kalki’s death, Avik seemed to have forgotten the questions he wanted to ask her. All he could ask was if he could keep the sheets of paper.
‘You can take the story with you, but within your mind only, and you must promise me that you will keep it buried deep in your mind,’ Ananki replied and tore the sheets of paper while he looked at her seriously.
‘I promise,’ he replied.
He felt the words came out of his mouth of their own volition, as if under her spell.
Is this the same spell that she cast over other journalists too? Did she ask them to keep her story a secret? he wondered as he stared at her, not knowing what to do.
Ananki and Avik went silent for a while. To break the awkwardness of the silence that followed the story, Avik thought of asking her if she would ever want to come out of this place. But it was Ananki who asked something first.
‘Will you come back to see me?’ she asked.
‘If fate permits.’ Avik gave her a faint smile and left.
What will I give Sahay now that I have promised her that I will not reveal her story? The question reverberated in this mind over a thousand times.
Sahay was not the kind of person who would accept nothing easily and Ananki was not the kind of woman who would let him leave the closeted space she was so obsessed with as and when it pleased him. He was trapped.
Before sleep dulled his memory, he wanted to write down every word that he remembered of the story Ananki had told him. He switched off his mobile phone to avoid being disturbed, opened a new Word document on his laptop and typed at a quick pace. The questions that had escaped his mind while he was with Ananki now came back to him. As he typed them out he realized he could not have asked them, at least not at that point of time.
Asking her how she could do what she did to her own family would have been pointless. He was sure that even if he had asked her, she would not have found the question important enough to reply to. Reason was not something she cared about, so how could he expect her to give him a reason for her actions? Madness was the only form of reason she was aware of.
‘It was indeed Ananki Rajput’s madness that destroyed the Rajput family.’ Avik typed the concluding line and saved the document. He edited it twice, adding and deleting information as he found necessary. For a while, he struggled with the decision of whether or not to mail the document to Sahay. He could not bring himself to share the document, at least for the time being.
15
Avik had achieved what he wanted. He could pack his bags, catch the next flight to Mumbai and leave without anyone having the slightest inkling of his doings in the cell. Instead, he decided to go to Ananki’s home to meet Mr Rajput. There were two motives behind meeting him. Firstly, Ananki’s story required confirmation and only her father could give it. Secondly, Avik thought that he had procrastinated enough. He had to confront Mr Rajput about the attack.
He called Dr Neerja to request her to set up a meeting with Mr Rajput. Without her help he would not be able to even see Mr Rajput’s toe, he knew.
Avik told Dr Neerja that since he could not get Ananki’s story, at least she could help him get an appointment with Mr Rajput so that he would not return empty-handed. Dr Neerja seemed reluctant at first, but Avik’s persistent requests made her give him her secretary’s number. She told him that she would ask her secretary to fix an appointment and in case he didn’t receive her call regarding the same, he could call her.
Dr Neerja’s secretary called him back in the evening to confirm the meeting. Mr Rajput had agreed to it on the condition that the questions Avik asked would be related only to his wife and her death. He would not entertain any questions regarding Ananki or her illness.
‘But how can I keep the conversation strictly related to Kalki?’ he blurted on impulse, feeling cheated, but quickly regained his composure, knowing that he couldn’t show that he already knew Ananki’s story.
‘Sir, you have no choice but to grab the opportunity. Do not ask him anything about Ananki,’ she instructed him before hanging up.
Avik was not happy with the condition, but he was not in a position to miss the opportunity to meet Ananki’s father.
When Avik arrived at the Rajput family’s bungalow, he was escorted inside the house by one of the domestic staff. He entered the huge drawing room as quietly as he could. The walls were the colour of ivory and hung with numerous paintings of all sizes. He must be a great admirer of art, he thought as his eye fell on a huge painting on the opposite wall. It was by M.F. Husain. Till now he had only seen reproductions of the work. He wished he could touch it, feel the texture of the paint under his fingertips. His thoughts were interrupted by his escort, who announced his arrival to Mr Rajput.
Ananki’s father was sitting on one of the four huge couches that formed an open cornered square at one end of the drawing room. Avik could not see his face yet, as he was sitting with his back to him. His hair was not completely grey; Avik noticed the black amidst it. It was the same colour and texture as Ananki’s hair. He walked towards the couch, crossing a mahogany dining table on the right.
Avik could smell cigar smoke as he approached Mr Rajput. He came to a halt beside him and put forward his hand for a shake, but Mr Rajput asked him to be seated instead. Avik forced a smile, but Mr Rajput did not return it. He had hardly smiled since Kalki’s death. Her death had changed him, causing his life to revolve in an infinite circle of emptiness, which was clearly reflected on his face.
Ananki is an exact copy of her father, Avik thought as he looked at his face with astonishment.
‘How can I help you, Mr—?’ Mr Rajput asked him, puffing out a large cloud of white smoke.
‘I am Avik, a journalist with The Real Times magazine. I have been trying to learn the true version of Mrs Rajput’s demise and since you were closest to her, your story matters the most.’
Avik controlled his urge to jump straight into verifying Ananki’s version or asking about the attack. He wanted to build a more comfortable rapport with the man before bringing up those questions.
Mr Rajput got up from the sofa and went to stand in front of the painting by Husain. He stared at it intently for a while, puffing on his cigar.
‘This was Kalki’s favourite. She was a huge fan of Husain sahab. I gifted it to her on our tenth wedding anniversary. Often, when we would sit here, exactly where you are sitting right now,’ he pointed to the space beside Avik and continued, ‘she would explain the intricacies of this beautiful piece of work. I did not understand much, but I loved to hear her speak.’
Mr Rajput’s eyes were moist, partly from the smoke and partly from the absence that troubled him night and day. He turned back towards the painting to avoid Avik’s gaze.
He’s a man of memories, Avik thought.
‘I know it must be hard for you to cope with the loss and would like to apologize for the torment I am forced to inflict on you by asking about her death. How do you think she died?’
Mr Rajput did not turn around or answer. The only motion visible was the rising of the thick clouds of smoke from his cigar.
Avik asked another question in the hope of getting an answer from him.
‘What kind of woman was Mrs Kalki?’
Mr Rajput turned around and walked back to the couch to sit opposite Avik. He loved talking about her, which was what made him entertain all the journalists who wanted to write about her.
‘Kalki was a beautiful woman, both inside and out. She had a s
trong mind teamed with an equally strong will to achieve. There was grit in her character that was rare. She faced many ups and downs in her life and came out of every hardship a winner. As far as determination to solve life’s hardest problems was concerned, few could beat her; that was what I loved about her, her never-give-up attitude.’
‘But after she died, most people concluded that she had committed suicide. This seems antithetical to the kind of person she was, according to you,’ Avik probed, trying to confirm Ananki’s story without revealing too much of what he knew.
‘I know many people believe that she committed suicide due to some family issue, but I don’t believe it to be true. According to me it was an accident,’ Mr Rajput said, looking at him intently.
Avik was sceptical but did not let it show on his face. Only yesterday Ananki had told him that Kalki had committed suicide, knowing she could neither live with Mr Rajput nor without him after she believed he had betrayed her. Mr Rajput’s comments presented the events in a different light. He did not know whom to believe.
‘Pardon me, but some people accuse you of murder, saying that you were having an extramarital affair and when your wife found out about it, you had her killed,’ Avik emphasized the last few words in an attempt to hint at the attack on him as well.
Mr Rajput clenched his left fist on hearing the accusation. His eyes widened and despite the air conditioning, there were droplets of sweat shining on his forehead. For a moment it appeared to Avik that he would get up and smack him across his face. But he did not.
‘I did not have an affair with anyone. I could never have killed her. I love her. I have nothing more to say,’ Mr Rajput said with finality as he extinguished the cigar, his expression changing from shock at the accusation to a silent, painful acceptance of the fact that Kalki was no longer a part of his physical reality.
Avik could not tell from Mr Rajput’s expression whether he was guilty of the assault or not. He decided to ask about the shooting in a more direct manner.
‘Mr Rajput,’ he paused to ensure that he had his full attention, ‘I have been meeting your daughter Ananki in order to learn her version of Mrs Rajput’s death. A fortnight ago I was shot on the road; the attack clearly proved that someone tried to have me killed. I have been thinking a lot on who stands to lose the most if I publish Ananki’s story and her version of Mrs Rajput’s death, and the only person who I think might be behind the attack is you. I have informed Inspector Naaz that I am visiting you today. If I don’t meet him tonight and something happens to me, it will be clear to him who tried to take my life earlier and who would benefit by killing me.’
Mr Rajput was taken aback by the accusation. For a second he stared at Avik, his furrowed eyebrows, joined in the middle just like his daughters, forming a chasm across his forehead. He did not know what to say, but fearing that his silence might prove him guilty, he looked Avik straight in the eye and said, ‘I am not behind it. It’s up to you to believe me or not, but I have never in my life used a gun, not even for self-protection, forget about for hurting someone else.’
The little clarity Avik thought he had gained about the case now seemed to be fleeing from him.
Mr Rajput stood up to end the meeting when Avik stopped him.
‘I want to tell you what Ananki told me about her mother’s death. Don’t you want to hear what she said?’
Mr Rajput did not reply but sat down on the couch.
‘Go on,’ he told Avik and closed his eyes.
Avik told him how he had been able to make Ananki speak to him about Kalki’s death, how Kalki was infuriated with the letter and wanted to teach Ananki a lesson but failing to do so, took her own life. Mr Rajput gave him a patient hearing, wanting to know whatever she had told him. When Avik finished Mr Rajput got up, turned his back towards him as if to leave, but paused, looked back and said, ‘I hope you don’t trust everything that she said.’
Avik’s heart sank. Have all my efforts been in vain?
Who could he trust?
‘What are you trying to tell me, Mr Rajput?’
‘Why would you believe what a madwoman has to say?’ Mr Rajput asked him in return, lighting another cigar.
‘I don’t know. I have not thought about the why part much till now. But to be honest, I did not find the cell a worthy place for her. She has decided to stay in that dungeon forever just because you chose it for her. Don’t you think she deserves something better than that, especially when you can easily provide it? Don’t you think her story deserves to be heard?’
‘That witch does not deserve anything. She does not deserve to live after what she did.’
‘Sir, I know you are deeply disturbed by your wife’s death. I also know how much you loved her and I am sorry for your loss. But is it fair to hold Ananki responsible for it? As you said, it was an accident. Besides, the way she is living her life now is worse than death.’
At Avik’s words, Mr Rajput stood up, held him by his arm and marched him to Ananki’s room. A small closeted room, just as she had described in one of their sessions.
The grey walls were covered with pictures of Mr Rajput. Avik could see that she had frozen and saved the memories that bound them together. Old toys gifted by her father were still kept safe on a wooden shelf. A collection of books by authors he admired was placed in a row on her table. A corkboard covered in small chits of paper in various colours stared at Avik as if calling him, enticing him to read the notes. The small single bed was placed alongside a huge window that made up almost an entire wall. He could see the lush garden from the window. The roof over the bed was slanted and was made of glass. One could sleep with the stars every night here, he thought as he noticed the blind that could be drawn to prevent sunlight from entering during the day. In a corner a small table and chair were placed. A laptop lay on the table and he could see a thin layer of dust on it.
Every little memory associated with Mr Rajput had been kept intact in this small closet of hers. He looked at all of it with wonder, thinking of how much she loved this man. According to society, she committed a crime in loving her own father not as a daughter should but as a lover. But in her eyes, she just loved, and this room is brimming with that love.
Mr Rajput moved towards the bed as if to sit on it, but then pulled out the chair instead. His eyes were not filled with tears but showed some inner turmoil, as if a deeply regretful memory had just flashed before his eyes. Avik knew what perturbed him. Till now he had behaved as if he knew nothing about Ananki’s feelings for her father, but the sight of Mr Rajput on the verge of an emotional breakdown moved him to speak.
‘I know she loves you. She told me,’ he almost whispered, sitting on the bed opposite him.
Sometimes the simplest words can have a gargantuan impact. Mr Rajput froze. Then he held his face in his palms, hiding the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks.
Avik stared at the man, not knowing what to say to console him. Till now the only man he had seen crying was himself, in the looking glass. He had always been told that tears were not for a man. He could never understand why. He had always found such solace in weeping, and he was not ashamed of this fact.
He put his hand on Mr Rajput’s shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. He wanted to tell him that tears were good, that it was not his fault that his daughter behaved in the way she did. But all he could say was, ‘It is okay.’
‘It’s not okay, Avik. It’s not. One act of madness destroyed my love, my entire family. And what story did she feed you? That she loves me? She does not know anything about love. All she wanted from me was sexual gratification; my own daughter. Can you believe it? Will anyone believe me? If today I tell anyone that my daughter tried to kiss me in this very room, people will think that I was the one who pressurized her into it, that it is I who am wrong. My character will be assassinated right away.’
‘True,’ Avik agreed.
‘You want to know how Kalki died? Ananki is the reason for her death. She wrote some stupid anony
mous letter to me, asking me to tell Kalki about something that never happened. She might have fantasized about it, that I made love to her thinking it was her mother. I also found a letter she wrote to Kalki confirming that it was Ananki I had slept with. I tried to convince Kalki of my innocence, but I guess the letter had already done the damage. Kalki changed after that.’
Mr Rajput paused for a while, keeping his head amidst his palms.
“You can ask Radha, who has been looking after her since she was a little girl – Ananki’s hyperactive mind makes her imagine things that do not actually happen. She cannot differentiate between what is real and what is not. That’s why she had to be treated during childhood too. I asked Dr Kaul to keep her drugged, for she kept making sexual advances on me after claiming that if it could happen once then it could happen again. I could no longer be a victim of her fantasies and declarations of love. So I admitted her to Dr Neerja’s NGO, thinking that it would be better if she stays away from me. I could not prove to Kalki that it never happened. My marriage was easy prey for Ananki’s dangerous mind and I lost the woman I loved. No one will ever believe that she wants me and not vice versa, because the man is always the one who lusts. No one wants to know how much I loved only one woman all my life, even after her death. Even journalists like you will not entertain it. You all want a different story to fill your columns. Fidelity is not something that sells, so you don’t want to hear about it. All you want to write about is who had illicit relations with whom. I have nothing to offer you. Go and print whatever Ananki told you, she is good at generating stuff for you guys.’ Mr Rajput wiped his tears, trying to hide his emotional vulnerability from Avik.
Avik was silent. Only a few weeks ago his biggest concerns had been about his job and his relationship. But today those felt like nothing compared to Mr Rajput’s turmoil.