Taklu and Shroom

by Ranjit Lal

  ‘At least he’s not going around shooting butterflies any more.’

  ‘I hope not! But, I mean, look at Shroom, for instance. Here’s this brilliant little girl struck by a life-threatening illness, has been through hell and back – but look at her! She’s taken it all in her stride! If Gaurav had any sense, he could learn a lesson from her.’

  ‘Rave, you care a lot about him…’

  ‘I just don’t like what he becomes from time to time.’

  ‘He must be, what, sixteen or seventeen?’

  ‘Yes, but don’t worry. He’s still crazy about his girlfriend; he’s not interested in anyone else. He showed me some sketches of her – she’s quite stunning. I wish she’d get in touch with him. That’s the other thing eating him up – not knowing where she is or what she’s thinking…’ Raveena shook her head. ‘But I can’t let him destroy himself like this.’

  Monica’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. I get this feeling that something horrible is going to happen. I hate it when he goes up to Shroom’s Perch with her. I keep thinking, what if he jumps off while Shroom watches – he’ll ruin her life, forget about his own and his family’s.’

  Monica knew Raveena was slowly winding herself up into a state of heightened anxiety. She would become increasingly restless and argumentative, and impossible to live with until her fears – real or imaginary – were allayed. She had been like this since she was a little girl. Normally laid-back and relaxed, but let a bee into her bonnet…

  ‘Rave, it’s just five,’ Monica said, checking her watch. ‘Let’s go to the estate and see what Mihi and Kanika are up to. Gaurav also may be back, so you can meet him again and relax.’

  ‘Okay.’ Raveena seemed relieved and looked around their garden. ‘Let’s take some of those apricots for Megha.’ Stepping out was a good idea; she might feel better. Maybe she was getting anxious for no real reason. Gaurav wouldn’t do anything stupid… she really hoped he wouldn’t.

  The sisters were passing by the bird researchers’ house on their way to the estate when Anantram came scurrying up to the gate. ‘Wait, miss!’ he called. He invited them in to hand over the CD with corrections.

  Anantram led them to the main room and asked them to wait while he went inside a bedroom. The room was spare and neat, with green curtains. Some magazines and old newspapers were piled on a rough wooden table, and in one corner there were a couple of haversacks. On another table against the wall, books – on birds as well as the flora and fauna and geology of the region – were arranged with the help of bookends. And Dr Sham was sitting at a laptop.

  ‘Sorry, I’ll just finish this and be with you,’ he said, then quickly shut down the computer. He smiled at them and stroked his beard. ‘I’m sorry, Anant said the CD had mistakes – must have been data-entry errors. But thank the children for pointing them out. Really, we have so much work here, sometimes these things happen…’

  ‘It’s okay; don’t worry about it,’ Monica said.

  ‘Please have a seat,’ Dr Sham said. ‘Anant will be back in a minute.’

  There was a fat book on the chair Raveena sat down on. She picked it up. It was The Handbook of Indian Birds by Hugh Whistler. The jacket was old and faded. As she flipped open a page, Anantram entered with the CD.

  ‘Here it is,’ he smiled. ‘You can show the children tomorrow.’ Before Raveena could react, he had taken the book from her.

  ‘Okay, thanks so much,’ Monica said as they took their leave.

  As soon as they were on the forest track, Raveena spoke up: ‘You know, Monica, you are probably right – there’s something fishy about those two. That book was not about birds!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, it seemed to read more like a Hadley Chase.’

  ‘You mean our friend Anantram is pretending to read about birds while actually entertaining himself?’

  ‘Something like that, I guess.’

  ‘Should Special Agent Shroom learn about this, she would be ecstatic,’ Monica smiled.

  ‘I know… Come on, let’s walk faster. Looks like it’s going to rain again.’

  ELEVEN

  Zara Shroff uncoiled herself from the car, looked around her and took a deep breath. She had done it – well almost. There was still a one-and-a-half hour trek through a mountainous forested track before she reached Emerald Eden – where she’d been told Gaurav and his mom and little Mihi were staying. The weather didn’t look very promising; huge thunderheads were massing over the mountains and shaking them with drum rolls of thunder.

  ‘Madam, maybe it would be better if you stayed at Anandpur for the night,’ her friendly taxi driver, Saxena, suggested. ‘I can check you in at the Lovely View Hotel. Big rain coming soon.’ It was just five-thirty and the light was fading fast.

  But Zara had come too far to want to stop now. ‘No, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ve done trekking before so I should be okay. I have a torch. Now how much do I pay you?’

  Saxena smiled. ‘It’s okay, madam, you pay on your return. Ajay sa’ab will tell you how much.’ Zara shouldered her backpack and picked up her small shoulder bag. All through the winding ten-hour journey from Kathgodam station – they had been held up for hours by landslides – she had recalled the events of the past month that had led to this moment

  Her older sister Yasmin had taken one look at her at San Francisco airport and knew something was terribly wrong. All her father had told her over the phone was that Zara and her mother would be coming over immediately, and would stay for at least a month. Within hours of reaching home, she had winkled out the whole story from Zara. She was a level-headed, no-nonsense woman and quickly cut to the chase.

  ‘If you really care for this guy, you have to find him – and get his version of the story,’ she said flatly. ‘You’ll never be at peace until you do, you’ll never have closure.’

  ‘But how do I find him? The police are monitoring his phone and e-mail.’

  ‘He’s in Delhi, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So go to Delhi, Zara!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Find him! Do you know where he lives?’

  ‘I don’t remember his postal address… Jor Bagh something… Besides, I’m sitting here.’

  ‘You can find the address…’

  Zara nodded eagerly. ‘I know which airline his father flies for, so…’

  ‘There you go!’

  ‘What about popsy and mom? They’ll freak!’

  Yasmin shrugged. ‘Too bad for them! If there’s trouble I’ll fly down and accompany you. They won’t object to that.’

  ‘Thanks, Yasmin. I’d like to return right now.’

  Yasmin shook her head. ‘Let things cool off a bit. If this is a police case, maybe popsy was right in sending you over here – you know what the cops are like. See, Zara, you have to think about your own situation too. There’s no point going back there and being taken into custody or something horrible like that – if Gaurav has done some badmashi. Let things settle down first… Actually, let’s see if we can find out anything on the net.’

  They had scoured the websites of Indian newspapers and television channels but got very little information from them; just a couple of short items about a hero pilot’s son’s attempt to disrupt the prime minister’s cavalcade by setting his dog on an elephant.

  ‘See, here’s another report,’ Yasmin said as she clicked on a link. ‘It says that the dog was allegedly a fully attack-trained German shepherd and was shot while attempting to spring on the police… The boy has denied this and apparently said that the cop blew his whistle and instigated the dog…’ Zara just shook her head in despair.

  There was no follow-up in the coming days. The websites were lurid with the coverage of a wave of ‘pram and cradle’ bombings that had taken place subsequently.

  For the next three weeks, they crisscrossed the vast country, sightseeing like there was no tomorrow, except that there was very lit
tle Zara remembered seeing. After their tiring holiday came to an end, Yasmin hugged Zara goodbye and held her close. ‘Best of luck, sweetie – and let me know. I’ll come right away if you need me.’

  Until the police had showed up at his gates, Mr Shroff had quite liked what he had seen of Zara’s chokra. True, he wore his hair a little longer than necessary and his shirts and shorts were a bit baggy, but all the essentials were in place. He was courteous and honest. He obviously adored the dog and had gotten her trained by the expert suggested by him. He had been very friendly with Zara and she was very happy. And just two days after Zara and her mother left for the US, the police had informed him that he could pick up all the confiscated computers and phones – the case had been dropped. Mr Shroff knew he ought to have informed Zara about it, but he hadn’t – suppose tomorrow the police came back saying they were reopening the case? Best he waited awhile. And then, ultimately, he had his daughter to contend with.

  ‘Popsy, I’m going to Delhi to see Gaurav!’ she told him flatly. ‘Please don’t try to stop me.’

  ‘Delhi is a dangerous city,’ he warned her, trying hard to maintain a calm exterior. ‘All those jungli lafanga ruffian types live there. And where will you stay? What will you eat? You’ve lost so much weight! You hardly ate in America…’

  ‘I’ll stay at Gaurav’s place.’ Zara countered. ‘Popsy, I have to go. If you want, Yasmin will fly down – she has offered to come along.’

  ‘I knew those two were hatching some plan!’ her mother remarked darkly.

  ‘Your mother can go with you…’ he said.

  ‘No, popsy. Anyway, mom is tired after all the travelling. Either I go alone, or I go with Yasmin,’ Zara said flatly.

  Mr Shroff couldn’t help but admire her guts. He’d always thought she was someone who would need to be protected, but there was whipcord steel in that petite frame all right. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, but took a deep breath instead and said, ‘Okay, I’ll organize your ticket tomorrow. You can fly out the day after, by the morning flight. But please give me the address and telephone numbers, and stay in touch all the time.’

  Zara found out the Roys’ residential address and landline number from Captain Roy’s airline office. But when she called the house, she was told by the maid that nobody was at home: Memsaab, Gaurav bhaiyya and Mihi baby were in some pahaad in the Himalayas, and were not expected any time soon. Sa’ab had gone to London and would be back in a couple of days.

  Her heart sank. Disappointed but determined, Zara decided to stick to her plan anyway. At least Gaurav’s dad was due back. She could meet him and find out exactly where they’d gone. Of course, she didn’t tell her father that none of the Roys was in Delhi then.

  Jet-lagged as hell, Zara took the flight to New Delhi two days later and, at ten-thirty in the morning, found herself outside the blue gate of the Roys’ house in Jor Bagh. Her heart thumping, she walked up the driveway and rang the bell.

  A plump, cheerful Nepali woman, balancing a tiny baby on each hip, opened the door. ‘Haanji?’

  ‘I’m Zara, Gaurav’s friend. I’ve come from Bombay…’

  The maid suddenly beamed as she hitched her babies up. ‘Zara baby! Mumbai se! I’m Shanta, Mariamma’s daughter. She has told me everything about you! Come in, come in.’

  Shanta fussed over her and cooked a huge meal, while Zara played with the babies and then fell asleep. According to Shanta, sa’ab was expected that night or the following day.

  When he entered his house at four in the morning, Captain Roy stood shocked out of his mind in the living room. His son’s girlfriend, clad in pyjamas, was snugly sitting with her feet up on an armchair, flipping through a magazine. ‘Zara?’ was all he managed to whisper, frowning and gaping at her.

  ‘Zara baby came from Mumbai, sa’ab,’ Shanta explained quickly.

  Zara was awake as she was still jet-lagged. ‘Hello, uncle,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve come to meet Gaurav…’ Tall and dapper in his navy-blue uniform, just beginning to grey at the temples, Mr Roy was a well-built version of Gaurav, Zara thought – though Gaurav’s eyes were different; he had his mother’s eyes.

  ‘Do your parents know you’re here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. You can ring them up and ask…’

  ‘Okay… But Gaurav has gone to Anandpur.’

  ‘Where exactly is it? I would like to go see him.’

  ‘It’s a very remote place. You won’t be able to travel there alone.’

  ‘Uncle, what did Gaurav say about what happened?’

  ‘What does it matter now? That’s all over.’ And fortunately his suspension had been lifted and he’d been cleared to fly.

  ‘But uncle, no one ever heard his point of view.’

  Mr Roy sat down on the sofa and let out a sigh. ‘He said the cop shot Rani deliberately, out of spite. He probably didn’t realize that a full-grown, highly excited German shepherd could appear dangerous to those who didn’t know her.’

  ‘I need to meet him and talk to him. How do I reach Anandpur?’

  ‘Do you really want to go all the way there? And are you sure your parents are okay with you being here in the first place?’

  ‘Uncle, you can call up my dad and check.’

  ‘I will, but if you’ve made up your mind… For Anandpur you have to take the Ranikhet Express to Kathgodam, then it’s five or six hours by car and then you have to walk for an hour-and-a-half.’

  ‘Okay, and how do I make my train booking?’

  The first thing he did the next morning was ring up Zara’s father. Mr Shroff, somewhat embarrassed, confirmed that he knew his daughter was in Delhi, and would Mr Roy please see to it that she didn’t get into trouble… ‘Sure, no problem,’ Mr Roy said. ‘I’ll look after her, don’t worry.’

  He then managed to get Zara a booking on the Ranikhet Express the following night. He was about to call Ajay at Emerald Estate to let him know she was coming when Zara stopped him.

  ‘No, uncle, please don’t tell anyone I’m coming. I want it to be a surprise,’ she insisted.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Her sudden arrival would not give Gaurav any time to concoct a cover story – if indeed he had set Rani on the elephant.

  ‘Well, all right, but on one condition,’ Mr Roy asserted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you’ll call me the moment you reach Kathgodam, and again after that when you reach the estate. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll have to ring up Ajay and let him know. Deal?’

  ‘Deal! I’ll stay in touch, I promise.’

  Mr Roy showed Zara around Delhi over those two days. They went shopping in Janpath, and also visited Lodi Gardens. He had really taken a liking to her and realized that meeting her might be just the thing Gaurav needed to get back on track. ‘Try and knock some sense into him, please,’ he told her as they sipped tea at the India Habitat Centre on her last evening there. ‘He’s going around feeling sorry for himself and looking like a thug. He’s shaved his head but not his face – he’s quite a sight.’

  ‘I will,’ Zara assured him. ‘Just as soon as I know what happened. Did aunty tell you how he is?’

  ‘She says he seems better. The last time I talked to her, she said he was making “peace overtures” with Mihi. And there’s a little girl there who has befriended him apparently, and turns up every morning to take him for walks.’

  ‘Oh…’

  Mr Roy dropped Zara to Old Delhi railway station. ‘I’d have come with you, but I can’t take any leave,’ he said. ‘Do you have enough money? You have your ticket?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks so much for everything, uncle.’ She looked at him. ‘I’ll give them your love.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek and boarded the train.

  As the train pulled away, Captain Roy was sorely tempted to break his promise and call Ajay. Then he thought the better of it; he’d wait till eight the next morning, by which time
Zara would be on her way up to the mountains. If she didn’t call, he’d ring Ajay right away.

  Zara had arrived at Kathgodam Station at around seven-thirty the next morning – the train had lost time during the night. She looked around uncertainly and made for the exit. She needed a taxi. Five drivers converged on her eagerly, asking her where she wanted to go. Four dropped out when she said ‘Anandpur’, leaving a tall jovial fellow with a Groucho Marx moustache and very white teeth. Zara told him that she needed to get to Emerald Eden Estate. He nodded and smiled at her. ‘Come, madam, I know Ajay sa’ab and Megha memsaab very well. Myself Saxena – fifteen years I worked in public sector; now I’m having my own taxi.’

  ‘How much is the fare?’ she asked.

  ‘No worry, madam. You can ask Ajay sa’ab and pay what he says.’

  He opened the door of his battered Alto and Zara got in. ‘So is it very cold now up in the mountains?’ she asked shivering slightly.

  ‘No, not now; very cold in winter! But now it is raining heavily in the mountains.’ He waved a hand expansively to the north. ‘All streams becoming big very quickly.’

  Zara was surprised, as it was sunny during the drive. At eight o’clock she called Gaurav’s father, and told him she would call again as soon as she reached the estate.

  They drove through the dappled forests, looping up the mountains and Saxena stopped the car every now and then so she could admire the great Himalayas stretched out in a panorama to the north.

  ‘How long will it take us to reach?’ she asked.

  ‘About five hours, and then one-and-a-half hour walking.’

  At around nine, they stopped at a place called Bhowali for breakfast. As she was idly looking through the glass doors of the freshly whitewashed cafe, a green Bolero drove past with a couple in the front seat and two women in the back. Taken aback, Zara instantly put her hand to her mouth – the lady sitting on the right… could that have been Gaurav’s mother? Her face had looked familiar. She shook her curls; maybe she was just tired and excited, and imagining things – she hadn’t really got much rest since her US trip, after all. She ate her omelette with gusto and thought about Gaurav instead.