The Trickster

by Vinaya Bhagat

  ‘All around you. We converted some of the original buildings and designed the new ones to give an authentic feel to the place. It was Shyam’s idea,’ Mala said.

  There was an unmistakable note of pride in Mala’s voice.

  ‘Would you like to stay in one of the cottages?’ Shyam asked.

  ‘No, Diya will stay in the house with us,’ Mala interjected

  ‘Yes, it does get lonely at night here in the mountains,’ Shyam admitted.

  Wind howled through the trees making them sway to its tune. A shiver ran through Diya as crazy shadows played peek-a-boo with the lights.

  ‘I have to check if everything is locked,’ Shyam said and vanished into the night.

  Diya was glad when they went inside and the warmth of Mala’s house embraced her.

  ‘Make yourself at home,’ Mala said. ‘I will be back in a few minutes.’

  The room, furnished with antiques looked ornate but not gaudy; beautiful yet restrained.

  ‘Hi Diya!’

  A tall girl dressed in an orange t-shirt and black harem pants was standing in the doorway leading into the house. A cherubic baby was saddled on her hip. The girl looked completely out of place in this atmosphere of traditional opulence.

  ‘Hi …’ Diya said.

  ‘I am Shyam’s wife, Anu, and this is Alok, also known as Aaloo.’

  The girl spoke with an American accent.

  The baby giggled as he heard his name. Anu cooed and Aaloo gurgled in response.

  ‘Aaloo, say hello to cousin Diya.’

  The baby shrieked with delight as Anu held his hand and waved to Diya.

  ‘I never knew Shyam had a cousin back home.’

  ‘Where is home?’

  ‘Atlanta. What about you?’

  ‘Boston.’

  Diya tickled Aaloo under the chin and the baby leaped at her trying to grab her hair.

  ‘He likes you,’ Anu smiled broadly.

  Diya was engrossed in playing with Aaloo and chatting with Anu when Mala returned.

  ‘Why don’t you freshen up before dinner?’ Mala suggested.

  Diya had expected to be shown to a spare bedroom but she was given an opulent suite.

  ‘This is one of our guest suites,’ Anu said.

  From the massive double bed to the ornately carved dressing table, the antique theme of the house stretched to this room as well.

  The impersonal luxury made Diya uncomfortable. She longed to go back to the messy warmth of Sunny or Albert’s home. She was not sure she had taken the right decision by coming into the life of her mother’s wealthy family.

  There was no turning back now. She had barged into their lives-uninvited-yet they had welcomed her without hesitation. She had no right to expect them to show the same warmth as her father’s family; her dad had stayed in touch with his family, while her mother had not even informed her family that she was alive.

  In her obsession to find her mother’s family, Diya had never thought about what she would do once she found them.

  After dinner, Mala and Diya relaxed in comfortable cane chairs on the terrace while Shyam and Anu went for a stroll.

  ‘Do you mind if I switch the light off?’ Mala asked. ‘It helps me sleep better if I sit in the dark before retiring.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful night and the stars are enough.’

  The girl who had served them dinner came back with a tray.

  ‘This is another thing which helps me sleep, especially when I am agitated,’ Mala said. ‘Would you like wine?’

  ‘I can do with a little,’ Diya conceded.

  They sipped the wine in thoughtful silence.

  ‘Did your mother ever tell you about her family or the reason she never got in touch with us?’

  ‘No, all she said was that her parents died in an accident and that there was no one else.’

  Had her mother eloped with her father to escape her own grief? Two bruised souls finding comfort in each other?

  ‘Did she tell you why she had not contacted her extended family?’

  ‘Well, I always assumed there was no one. A month or so before the accident, my mother wanted to come to India. I had already planned to go to Europe so we postponed the trip.’

  Diya tried to remember anything else her mother had said in those heated moments. Her mother had insisted that they visit India immediately, around the same time that she’d planned the Europe trip. She had never thought about her mother’s motivation behind the visit or the reason for her urgency.

  ‘She did not mention any other reason?’

  ‘No,’ Diya said. ‘Can you think of any reason why my mother would have wanted to visit after so many years?’

  ‘My brother died a few weeks ago. He had cancer. Maybe your mother found out and wanted to meet him.’

  ‘Was she close to him?’

  ‘No, he was a bit of a recluse. He never married; you and I are his only heirs. Now that you are here, we must see about the distribution of my father’s estate.’

  ‘I don’t want anything; my parents were comfortably off.’

  ‘Don’t be hasty. You must first find out the value of your inheritance before you reject it,’ Mala said.

  Mala’s curt tone made Diya feel uncomfortable and once again, tears stung her eyes. If she had not come, the inheritance would have been Mala’s alone. Did Mala resent her for that?

  ‘What a glorious night!’ Anu bounded out of the darkness, her orange shirt shimmering like a flame.

  Anu’s antidote of cheerfulness cleared the poisonous silence that had engulfed them. Even Mala seemed to recover her balance and was once again her gracious self.

  Anu accompanied Diya to her bedroom while Shyam and Mala chatted on the porch.

  In the dim glow of the few lights that were on, the opulent house was alive with shadows, ready to pounce.

  Soft rustles and hisses, creaks and ticks kept them company as they moved through the labyrinthine house.

  ‘Sometimes at night, I feel like an intruder,’ Anu whispered and laughed nervously.

  ‘Why?’ Diya was baffled. Why would Anu feel like an intruder in her own house?

  ‘It is like the real owners of the house hide during the day and come out when it gets dark. As you pass by, they hiss threats at you, warning you to stay out of their territory,’ Anu finished in a breathless rush. ‘Don’t get me wrong; I am not saying that I believe in ghosts. But the house is like a maze and sometimes it feels spooky.’

  Though Anu tried to smile, Diya detected fear in the girl’s eyes.

  ‘I don’t blame you. I got the same feeling. I think it has something to do with the old architecture and antique furniture. It’s easy to imagine monsters crouching in the shadows.’

  ‘I am not usually scared, just at night sometimes.’

  They quickened their steps and ran to Diya’s suite.

  ‘Let me show you the room.’

  Diya trailed behind Anu, admiring the furniture and fittings.

  They did not mention the fear that had prompted them to dash through the house; Anu did not leave until Shyam came for her.

  ‘Have you forgotten about me and Alok? When her sisters or friends come, she completely ignores me,’ Shyam complained.

  ‘Good night, Diya. Aaloo will wake up anytime and if I am not near, he will be upset.’

  Diya switched off the lights and sat near the window, admiring the bewitching beauty of the night. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she could make out the shapes of the trees and the mountain beyond. Diya took a deep breath of the fragrant night air.

  She had come here to learn more about her mother and there was no reason to deviate from that. The matter of inheritance, which she did not feel entitled to, could be settled later. Maybe it was a test, a way for her to gauge which of her mother’s relations she should keep in her life.

  A lone light shone on the mountain, but it dimmed in comparison to the canopy of stars in the velvety night sky. A gentle breeze billowe
d the curtains filling them with romantic possibilities of a brave knight climbing over the sill for a rendezvous with a princess.

  Diya missed Ronnie with an almost physical intensity. She had called him to let the family know that she had reached safely, but they had not really spoken. She picked up her phone meaning to send Ronnie a message when she noticed a figure on the mountain. Someone was standing near the light, their dark shape etched against the night sky. It looked human, but who knew in which direction its feet pointed?

  Diya closed the window, her heart knocking against her ribs with primal fear. If the Chakwa were real, a closed door or window would be as strong a barrier as a tissue paper against a tornado.

  Diya peeked from behind the drapes. The figure had vanished.

  The Chakwa was nothing but a metaphor for her grandfather, her father’s defence against the tsunami of betrayal and grief that had rampaged through his young life. A wave of sorrow swept over Diya. Her heart felt bruised, flayed by revisiting her loss through the day and undercurrents of emotions she could not fathom.

  Diya tossed and turned on the soft bed, but sheer fatigue overcame her and she was soon asleep.

  Cheerful chirping of birds signalled the arrival of morning. By daylight, the mountain did not seem ominous.

  After breakfast, Shyam and Mala showed Diya around the estate. Finally, they were at the base of the mountain where Diya had glimpsed the lone figure last night.

  ‘Why don’t we go up the hill?’ Shyam said. ‘It will give you a bird’s-eye view of our estate as well as your grandfather’s.’

  ‘There are stone steps set into the mountain. When I was young, we used them regularly. Your mother knew all the shortcuts and could reach here in less than twenty minutes. They are not as well-maintained nowadays but are still useable,’ Mala added.

  Diya was not sure; the residue of fear from the previous night made her uneasy.

  She needed to get over the fear; her grandfather was the Chakwa her father had told her about.

  ‘Yes,’ she forced herself to say. ‘Sounds like a great idea.’

  ‘Our guests like the trek. It has the feel of wilderness without any risks,’ Shyam said.

  ‘It’s a moderate hike and the view is spectacular,’ Mala said. ‘I have other work, else I too would have joined you.’

  Shyam and Diya reached the top in less than ten minutes.

  White fluffy clouds were racing across the blue sky. Red and yellow flags flapped in the brisk breeze. The brilliant green landscape looked as if it was lit from within. It changed to a deep emerald as shadows of clouds fell over the valley.

  ‘Earlier, the shrine was nothing but a bunch of sindoor-coated stones under a tree. We realized that our guests liked to hear about the mysticism behind it, so we built the shrine three years ago.’

  ‘It looks ancient.’

  ‘We used stone from an ancient building on our grounds.’ Shyam looked pleased.

  Diya paid a token visit to the small shrine with the flower-covered idol.

  When she came out, Shyam was chatting with a man.

  The man was old but looked strong. His skin was dark as a sundried berry. He smiled at Diya, exposing a mostly-empty mouth studded with a few reddish-brown stained teeth. Though he did not look threatening, Diya could not help but glance at his feet. They were the right way around and encased in well-worn rubber sandals.

  The old man was looking at her intently. He said something to Shyam.

  ‘He says he knew your mother,’ Shyam translated.

  The old man asked Shyam something else. Diya thought she heard the word for dead, so he was possibly telling him about her mother’s death.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ the old man said.

  ‘Nice to meet you, too,’ Diya smiled back.

  ‘This is a beautiful place,’ Diya said

  ‘Yes, I am lucky to live among so much beauty and tend to the Lord who watches over us and keeps evil at bay.’

  ‘Do you live here?’

  ‘Yes, over there.’ He pointed to a grove behind which the roof of a small hut was just visible.

  ‘Have you always lived here?’ She was curious.

  ‘Not always. I used to live in the valley, but the ugliness of human heart became too much for me, so I left it behind.’

  His speech was clear with a musical lilt.

  ‘Do people come here often?’ Diya asked.

  ‘Not every day, but often. There is a public path and people come from there, mostly tourists. But this is not a popular place, so it’s not always crowded.’

  ‘Do people come here at night as well?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  Diya wondered if she should tell him the truth.

  ‘Last night I saw someone here,’ she finally said.

  ‘You must have seen me,’ he said.

  Diya was relieved. She was getting tired of her irrational reactions.

  ‘These steps lead down to Gowrish’s estate.’ Shyam pointed to a flight of steps barely visible in the dense undergrowth.

  Other than a thin stream of smoke rising lazily from the dense green valley, there was no sign of life on Gowrish’s estate.

  ‘Do you go down these steps?’

  ‘There are no hard boundaries, but we do not encourage our guests to go there. In my experience, it is better to keep away from other people’s territory,’ Shyam said.

  They chatted with the old man for a few minutes and walked back down the steps.

  Shyam took her around the rest of the estate. There were six cottages and two tree houses. At least a dozen people, dressed in neat green uniforms, were busy working on maintaining the guest accommodation and the landscape.

  Each cottage was unique and in harmony with its surroundings. The suite in the main house where Diya was staying was by far the most luxurious, but she would have preferred one of the cottages with its minimalistic décor or even the tree house.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Shyam asked.

  Diya wondered if he was seeking her approval. But why would he need it? He must receive enough appreciation from his customers.

  ‘Diya, I know my mother has already told you about your inheritance, that you and I are fifty percent owners of her father’s estate.’

  ‘Yes, she mentioned it last night.’

  Diya felt her spirits sink. Why did he have to bring up this issue just as she was beginning to feel a sense of exhilaration from the hike?

  ‘My mother is under a lot of stress, so she might have seemed abrupt. I can assure you that we are delighted to meet you. She is still reeling from the shock of discovering that your mother was alive and well all these years and that she is no longer with us. She blames herself for not having made any efforts to find her.’ Shyam paused.

  ‘Anyway, what I meant to say was that you are a welcome addition to the family, and I just want to settle this unfortunate matter of the inheritance so it doesn’t loom over us.’

  ‘I understand, please continue.’

  ‘You have seen this estate, and I have similar plans for my grandfather’s estate. In fact, it is even more beautiful than my home. Before my uncle’s death, with his permission, I had already started some work there and was planning to have it completed by the end of next year.’

  ‘And my coming here has complicated the matter,’ Diya said.

  ‘So I am proposing that instead of dividing the estate, why don’t we join forces and be partners?’

  This was too soon. How could anyone expect her to take a decision about something that probably involved millions so soon? She had no idea what she wanted to do next month, let alone committing to something as big as this.

  ‘I need time to think about this. I am just getting used to the fact that my mother had a family and a past that I know nothing about.’

  ‘No pressure, take your time and we can discuss things when you are ready,’ Shyam said.

  Their final stop was a small museum near the garden. A pair of old stone statues gu
arded the antique wooden door studded with brass ornaments.

  ‘This was the original door of our home, but it was taken down when the house was rebuilt.’

  Diya ran a hand over the flat brass figures on the door. There were lions, and deer, a tiger, a rat, the sun and the moon, and figures of various gods and goddesses repeated in a pattern.

  At the very bottom was a figure of a man, his shoes pointing backwards.

  A shiver ran down Diya’s spine. She scanned the door but the Chakwa did not have a companion. While the others were built into the wood, the Chakwa was nailed to the door: one nail each through its torso, head and feet.

  From the corner of her eye, Diya noticed Shyam staring at her intently.

  Diya took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the brass plaque determined not to succumb to irrational fear. ‘What a marvellous piece of history!’ she said, forcing a smile.

  ‘This door has been in our family for generations. It’s supposed to keep the evil eye away,’ he said.

  Soon after, Diya escaped to her room, under the pretext of needing a bath after the hike.

  The mountain was clearly visible in the daytime and there was nothing sinister about it. Here, mysticism was as common as the mist that filled the mountains. The Chakwa was clearly just one of them.

  RAGHAV

  D

  iya woke up to the insistent ringing of her phone.

  ‘Good morning!’

  ‘Who is this?’ she asked. Her head was still heavy with sleep.

  ‘Your uncle,’ the voice guffawed.

  ‘I am coming to pick you up; I will reach in twenty minutes,’ Raghav said.

  ‘I thought I was coming with Mala.’

  ‘Change of plans.’

  ‘Aaloo is teething,’ Anu explained later. ‘Mother is doing puja; you go ahead with Raghav. We’ll come soon.’

  Diya wasn’t sure she wanted to go alone with Raghav. Their previous encounter had been awkward to say the least, but she had no choice.

  Raghav was waiting near his car.

  ‘Good morning, dear niece.’ Raghav smiled at her. ‘Honestly, I’d rather call you Diya. And don’t call me uncle; it’ll make me feel ancient. Just Raghav should do.’

  ‘Sure, Raghav.’

  The car smelled of a mix of musky aftershave, a citrusy air freshener, and something else Diya could not identify.