by Vish Dhamija
‘Male or female?’
‘Male.’
‘So, let me understand this correctly, sir. You want me to look for someone who resided here in the eighties without knowing his name or what he looked like? How would I even explain this to my boys?’
Boys referred to the real informants who would go around snooping. These infiltrators penetrated into places where the police couldn’t; they spoke to such people who wouldn’t even intersect the places any person in uniform was. Added to these merits was the fact that the infiltrators were very localised, which helped them know the neighbourhood, the residents and local folklores, and were networked across the country. The whole thing worked on reciprocity: If you do something for me that I can’t do for myself, I will do something for you that you can’t do for yourself — that’s how the entire underground snooping worked and thrived. If they couldn’t locate someone, you could rest assured that the target was not in the country. That, or it was only a matter of time before the death certificate emanated.
‘Well, I think you will need to find someone who resided here in Patparganj in the eighties or who knows of someone who inhabited this area at the time. Know anyone?’
Raja pursed his lips and looked upwards to think. ‘Not off the top of my head, no.’
‘There was a so-called Swamijee who lived in a hut around this area before this part was developed. I’ve done some homework using old maps. The extent isn’t wider than about three or four kilometres’ radius around this hospital.’ Bhīma provided more details about the location: it was near a municipal water hand pump — it was more than likely that blueprint would be available in the town’s records even if the pump no longer exists — and the hut the Swamijee dwelled in was in disrepair and obviously not a proper structure, a little about the surroundings and what the Swamijee looked like, based on a description provided by Jay. Nevertheless, how much could one trust the memory of a prepubescent boy?
‘How old was he then?’
‘Very old even then, probably in his late-fifties.’
‘So he could well be in the Heavens now?’
‘Probably.’
‘Did he have any family or an assistant or helper, anyone he lived with?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘That’s a really great help, sir,’ Raja cracked.
Bhīma smiled. He knew exactly what Raja meant. He was being commissioned to look for someone without details. The first task would be to establish who it was that they were looking for.
‘It’s not very different from the old days in the army, Raja — you had to identify the enemy before you fired.’
‘Yes, Lieutenant,I see what you mean, but the challenge is that none of the boys here are trained as well our soldiers were in the army. But, leave it to me, I’ll do whatever I can to find this Swami.’
‘Raja, this search is personal,’ Bhīma added solemnly.
‘Personal?’ If Raja wanted to probe any further, he didn’t. ‘It will be done, sir,’ is all he uttered.
‘Money will not—’
‘Please don’t slight me, sir. Money’s never been an issue when dealing with you.’
‘I’m sorry.’
***
Bhīma left Patparganj around midnight. He had yet another appointment to attend to in Connaught Place. Another guy — one of those he had instructed a few weeks back — was waiting for him. The business and tourist humdrum of CP was long over and the man stood in the dark corner in “H” Block outside the closed office of Cox & Kings office like some tourist who had been locked out and was waiting to buy his ticket the next morning. The meeting had been set up by Bhīma to get an update on the Glock. A lot of time had passed and the machinery had been unsuccessful in finding where the damn handgun had changed hands in the capital. That had been never the case in the past, which was worrying. Jay’s concern, and hence Bhīma’s, was that the weapon — that could alter the case — had disappeared. It was imperative that they, at the very least, identified the origin or the possessor of the Glock to decide whether Jay should include or exclude it from the defence strategy. It wasn’t sensible to remain ignorant till the prosecution pulled the rug from under them. To make his request more exigent, Bhīma upped the reward, which evidently translated into increasing the number of eyes and ears on the ground. He exerted pressure, highlighted it was important and asked that no effort be spared.
‘Bhīma bhai, do you have contacts in Mumbai?’
‘Yes, why do you ask?’
‘I have a feeling the gun changed hands outside Delhi,’ replied the guy.
Bhīma noted. The guy had a point. And Bhīma instinctively knew it would be a collective understanding between several such informants that this guy was relaying. He nodded in agreement and then asked the guy to dig for further details on Mrs Rita Kumar’s ex: where was he, what did he do and when was he in Delhi last? That info, he knew, should be easy to get hold of.
Back in the farmhouse he heard Sheeba whimper but, by now astutely aware of Bhīma’s predictable nightly outings, she quickly went back to sleep. He tiptoed into his room on the ground floor and switched on his computer. It was still only two in the morning, and he had some more work to do before the day formally began. He decrypted his address book and rummaged through his Mumbai contacts. He needed a robust partner on this one: the Glock, he reckoned, had most likely been brought from outside Delhi. That or he had missed something very significant. He fretted for a long time till sleep took him away.
NINETEEN
The preparations in the farmhouse were no less than for Diwali and they all began the day Manavi confirmed she was coming to spend the Saturday with Jay. Professional cleaners were called in to drain the swimming pool, give it a total scrub and get it ready. Fresh towels and bathrobes were ordered. The bar was replenished, as it carried no vodka. Absolut, Smirnoff and Grey Goose. Belvedere and Chopin — not easily accessible — were acquired at astronomical prices. The refrigerator was stocked with orange, cranberry and tomato juices and tonic water. You name it. Bahadur was asked to get labour in to clean every nook and cranny of the house as if Manavi might kneel down and slide her finger in one corner and, if she found any dust, walk away. Curtains and blinds were pulled down, vacuumed and rehung. Bhīma and Bahadur understood Jay’s anxiety; the extra hands employed neither knew the reason nor wasted their time asking. The car was valeted. The garden was tended. Flower baskets were suspended all around and any junk in sight was trashed or sent into out-quarters. The menu was decided and everything was chopped and ready to cook fresh in the evening.
Sheeba, too, was given a shampoo and blow-dry by a pro, a day before the day.
Despite Jay’s insistence, Manavi didn’t agree to be picked up from her place. She had some important work to do in the morning and hence, she said she wouldn’t be coming from home directly. However, she had confirmed that she would be with him around four on Saturday. She had no plans to stay the night. and they would see how the evening progressed. In all fairness, she was smart enough to keep the plan wide open. It was one thing to have a few drinks, dinner and a little chinwag with someone for the first time in a restaurant and go for a drive around town. It would be altogether different to commit to stay overnight at a man’s place, someone who she had met just once outside of her place of work. And what a place of work she had.
Jay had a barber brought in for a wet shave (for an extra close shave) and head massage at noon. He deliberated getting his hair coloured, but decided against it in the end. She had already seen his greys; there wasn’t much point in concealing them now. And a little bit of fur on his chest, too, had started to grey. If they actually got into the pool, as discussed, it would look bizarre. That reminded him that he hadn’t reiterated that a swim was on the cards. Calling her again would look like he was too eager so he dropped the idea. If she brought her swimsuit they’d take a dip, otherwise there may be other times.
Really? Would she come again?
Shampooe
d, blow-dried, he changed four sets of clothes before concluding that he should wear his usual white linen trousers and a white polo. Nothing fancy. He was ready by three and then the fretting started. It didn’t matter how old you were, first love always made one feel like an excited teen. He didn’t want to start drinking before she arrived, so gawking at the clock was the only option. The evening before he had picked up some CDs with romantic ballads, as his taste in music never included them. He rearranged the candles and instructed Bahadur not to light them. He would. How impressive. Jay was like forty-something going on fourteen, a butterfly trying to be a caterpillar again.
Bhīma and Bahadur were ready by 3:30 too. Bahadur giggled like a schoolgirl all through the day. That led to further fretting. He knew he had to introduce them to her today. Bahadur was justifiable, but Bhīma?
The four o’clock lasted for a full seventeen minutes in the living room. Nothing moved. No one did anything; they just sat or stood as statues till the voice entry system from the main gate beeped.
4:17.
To Jay it jarred like the earth plates had moved. He felt his heart sink deeper than the Mariana Trench. Bhīma buzzed the gate open but stayed put. Only Jay walked out to receive her. Bahadur couldn’t help himself peeking out from the windows.
Manavi had decided to leave the cab at the gate and walk in. That’s when he saw her. She had a handbag and not the clutch that she had carried for dinner. An off-white knee-length floral dress made of some kind of stretch material that gave a porcelain feel and hugged her body; the cut off shoulders flaunted her toned triceps. Very classy. She wasn’t wearing any heels; her feet were in white and tan crisscross ankle wrap sandals with an open toe. The nails were painted in pastel blue. The girl had made the effort.
Jay smiled. She returned the smile and almost ran to him, and came straight into his arms like a long time friend.
Or lover?
‘How was the journey?’ he asked when the embrace ended.
‘Fine. Something as big as this,’ she looked around to emphasise, ‘can’t be hard to find.’
‘You embarrass me.’ He felt himself blush. ’To cut a long story short, I have a reason why I live here…’
‘Oh, we have no lack of time today, why not let the long story be long?’
‘Whatever you say, Manavi. I am so glad you came.’
Sheeba couldn’t contain her excitement any longer. Her tail wagging, she escaped from the confines of the house and ran towards them.
‘You didn’t tell me you had a dog.’
‘Sheeba.’
Manavi was already on her haunches to pat the lovelorn Sheeba. Then they walked toward the house trailing her. Bahadur, as enthusiastic as Jay and Sheeba, was already standing there with a tray of cold water. If they had delayed any further he would have surely stepped out to serve.
‘Hello—’ she smiled.
‘Bahadur, memsahib.’ He introduced himself in his Nepali accent.
‘Bahadur is the caretaker of this place.’
‘So you two live here with Sheeba?’
‘Three of us and Sheeba.’
‘Who’s the third person?’ she quizzed.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not a woman. Have some cold water.’ Jay smiled.
She took the glass from Bahadur’s tray, thanked him and looked expectantly towards Jay to explicate who the third person was.
‘Bhīma — he does everything else.’
‘Everything else?’
He gesticulated to her to sit, taking her towards the formal part of the house. She turned, looked around and saw the pool through the French doors.
‘Shouldn’t we sit outside?’
‘Of course.’
As they walked to the pool Jay explained he had received death threats a while ago — he did not mention the actual attempt on his life — and Bhīma had been hired to be a twenty-four/seven valet-cum-security-cum-chauffeur-cum-Man Friday.
She didn’t seem to think of it as any threat to her, which was good. In time he would explain it to her that she, too, could be targeted if she ever became his weakness. It would be premature to ask her to take a decision at the moment. Foolish even.
‘I’ve got my swimwear,’ she said as soon as they sat down.
‘Great. Let’s get a drink first.’
‘Good idea.’
Jay realised that someone had to enlighten Bahadur that he didn’t need to follow the pair everywhere like Sheeba. It would not only give her the jitters but also invade their privacy. He put his arm around Bahadur’s shoulder and walked him inside for the drinks leaving her at the pool chair.
Bhīma brought the drinks out. Introductions happened and Bhīma retreated inside the house. They went in to change after the first drink. Jay showed her the guest room, which hadn’t been used for years. Minutes later, Jay was at the pool. She came out in the bathrobe, and, almost immediately, took it off. She wore an itsy-bitsy-teenie-weenie — no polka dots though — olive coloured bikini that, at best, was made out of just about enough fabric to make a couple of eyewear cleaning cloths. Jay wondered if the angels were even worth dying for? He didn’t know if they were going to close the sale today though and he didn’t want to think about it. And he didn’t care; window-shopping felt exhilarating enough. Prurient thoughts, but what else was expected when sufficient blood — and adrenaline — had scurried to the wrong parts of the body?
Water glistened on her body as they sat down after the dip. She made no attempt to dry or cover herself. Bahadur brought cheese and biscuits, and took their glasses inside for a refill. The two chatted for a long, long, looooong time, as the sun retired and dusk started to settle.
‘What time do you have to leave?’ Jay asked, conscious it was getting late for dinner.
‘Do you want me to?’ she whispered and came closer.
For someone kissing after a lifetime there are infinite questions. How does one avoid noses coming in between? Should he close his eyes or did only girls close their eyes? How long should it last? Was he supposed to do something or let her tongue do the exploration? Nevertheless, it was a long and deep and satisfying kiss. A passionate one, one that he felt deep down in his groin; if he pressed any closer he knew she would feel it too.
But, if he moved back wouldn’t she see the bulge?
Moment of embarrassment.
‘Jay,’ she uttered in a soft, mellifluent voice.
‘Let’s go inside, you’ll catch a cold.’
Bummer!
Both of them donned their robes, went up to their rooms, showered, dried and came back for dinner, which was a quiet affair. Despite the instructions, the zealous Bahadur had already lit the candles. Both carried on with their drinks, albeit slowly. Neither wanted the night to end, or to waste it. The delicious lamb curry Bahadur had prepared was more than appreciated. Manavi even asked for the recipe. The evening seemed to be going well. They sat out on the poolside after dinner with Rémy Martin, sharing a Romeo y Julieta. Jay, in a candid moment, admitted to her that she was the first woman he had brought home.
She laughed, thinking it was some kind of a joke.
‘You don’t have to make any such claims, Jay. You know I was living with my ex.’
‘I’ve never been with a woman before.’
‘Really?’ She said, suddenly serious. ‘Why?’
He took his time; her question was only completely answered by midnight. He told her all. Everything. For some strange reason he trusted her. And what harm could she bring anyway? If she wanted to walk away because of his past, it was best she did it sooner rather than later. Why raise any hopes? If it couldn’t survive the past what prospects did it have for the future? They stood in each other’s arms for a lifetime. The oak had started whispering again, the pool had become a mirror to the moon. Jay could feel her tears.
‘You’re crying?’
‘Tears of joy! Should we go inside?’
They kissed again. Jay was a bit more confident this time.
‘Last drink?’
‘One for the long road?’ she bantered and stretched her arm forward. He took the glass from her hand and refilled the drinks when they went in.
Thankfully, the well-spent evening had left no ambiguity if she was sleeping in the guestroom or the master bedroom…
His explosion was delirious. A lifetime of unintended restraint of unquenched thirst, of unrealised fantasies. He was willing again before he knew it and went on to rock her universe. The second time it took longer, but he worked all the way in. It was even more shattering an orgasm, like all the planets had aligned themselves to cheer and celebrate.
‘Jay,’ Manavi breathed out, throwing her neck and head back as the throes of passion hit her, like a series of lightning followed by the rain of his warm seed swimming inside her. Totally spent, she dug her nails into his back.
‘Yeah?’ he uttered and realised later — sheesh! — her calling his name wasn’t meant to be answered. It was soft mumblings of intimacy. Crying out his name to express the… the what?
‘Don’t,’ she said as he began to withdraw. ‘Stay in me.’
A frisson of delight went down his spine.
TWENTY
I woke up when I heard someone move around on the ground floor. With one open eye I glanced at the bedside clock. It was a few minutes past three. I turned to see if I had been dreaming a few hours before or was she really in my bed? Manavi slept peacefully like a baby with her back towards me. I could see her soft, smooth skin shimmering in the moonlight coming in from the sliver between the curtains. And it all came back in a flash. She hadn’t carried any changeover and she didn’t care. We had peeled each other out of the clothes and jumped into bed. She had, after a lot of caressing and smooching, guided me into her. My tutor. I smiled. I got up as softly as I could; I didn’t want to wake her up.
Donning my robe kept near my bed I trod gently, careful not to disturb Manavi. I knew it must be none other than Mr Cooper, and I wasn’t wrong. He sat in the dark, in his usual sofa facing the pool, and away from me. He had a drink on the table next to him.