by John Harker
'He used to get delusions after the death of his brother, err... uncle and most of them had suicidal manifestations. Sometimes he would transform into this dead uncle.'
'Schizophrenia!' Pakhi coined.
'Exactly! However, he was treated for the same until he was in his thirties.' Parosh confirmed.
'According to the reports, the illness was triggered by an accident that occurred when he was seven years old. The trauma of watching an elephant stand over him, crushing his right knee left him crippled physically as well as mentally. According to the ortho reports, he could never walk without a limp ever.' He locked his eye with Pakhi and asked, 'Have you ever noted that?'
'I am afraid I have not. I mean, I barely get to see him walk. Most of the time he is either standing or sitting. Besides, it is normal for a seventy nine year old man to limp once in a while, so I never took note of that.'
'Speaking of which, we must expect him at the palace anytime today.'
'Yes, I know, but you must pretend that you don’t know a thing!’
'Obviously. By the way, what were you doing all this while in the mansion? Looking for the ghost?' Parosh teased.
Little did he realize that the joke he made was on him for Pakhi had learnt something far more surprising than the mere existence of the ghost. She pitched her left hand into her shirt's pocket and pulled out a square photograph, the edges of which were decaying.’
'Take a look at this, and I bet you will forget everything you ever knew about anything.' Pakhi claimed and waited for his reaction. Shiuli was also looking at her father in the rear-view mirror. They waited for his reaction.
Amidst chuckles, Parosh took the picture in his hand and looked at it. At first, the picture was not clear, he put on his specs and brought it close to his face.
'Dear Lord! This is not possible!’ He cried in disbelief.
Chapter 40
As the car entered the driveway of the palace, there was an Innova already parked in the porch. Pappan pulled out a huge trunk from the Innova’s dickey and carried it inside. The Duttas got out quickly and dashed inside. Suresh Gopi recognized his owner’s Innova and assisted Pappan with the trunk.
As soon as Parosh entered the drawing room, a familiar voice greeted him, ‘There is my young author! Come sit with me.’ He motioned towards the sofa set next to his, ‘My favorite reporter and a beautiful young lady are here as well.’ He welcomed Pakhi and Shiuli who followed Parosh to the sofa.
‘I think Shiuli needs some rest, it has not been a very pleasant outing for her.’ Parosh requested the minister.
‘What happened to her? Is she alright?’ He inquired with concern.
‘It’s a long story, but please let her go.’ Parosh said.
‘Of course, dear angel, get some rest. Do not bother yourself with the adventures of the elders.’ Jagannatha humored.
Shiuli got up and went upstairs.
Jagannatha Varma noticed the toy in her hand and asked Parosh in a surprised tone, ‘Is she really carrying a teddy bear with her?’
‘Well, that’s another long story. But we have got a more important story to discuss here, I believe.’ Pakhi interrupted with a quick reply.
Pappan walked past the drawing room and the minister immediately ordered him to bring tea and snacks for everyone.
‘Oh so what were you saying’ the minister asked Pakhi as if he had not heard her comment at all.
‘There was an attempt to kill you this morning.’
‘I think I have become unbearable for my rivals. Moreover, I am a soldier of this country. I am fighting for it, and death is equivalent to martyrdom in war.’ He spoke in his usual tone of a highly motivated revolutionary.
‘I think we have already heard enough of your patriotism, why don’t you tell us what happened?’ Pakhi cut short. She had always suspected his motives when the minister’s ideologies switched from left wing to the right two decades ago.
The minister was surprised at her attitude, for the reporter had always showed great respect towards him. Nevertheless, he asked, ‘Didn’t you watch it in the news?’
‘We are afraid we did not.’ Parosh apologized on behalf of his sister and himself.
‘What happened exactly?’ Pakhi asked with concern.
‘I was addressing the youngsters who had gathered in front of the Rashtrapati Bhawan. They had been getting very violent and were venting their anger in the wrong direction.. I thought I should talk to them and calm them down and lead them in the right direction.’ He looked at the Dutta siblings and both of them were listening to him carefully.
‘Someone shot me from behind. We looked around but found no one.’
‘Well, that is the reason why even ordinary MLAs take protection while attending mass gathering. You are the next prime ministerial candidate, and you refuse to take protection.’ Pakhi reasoned, ’Sometimes you should let go off your principles. Biting too hard on them might leave you toothless.’
‘Maybe you are right, but like I said earlier, I would rather die the death of a martyr than live the life of a coward.’
There you go again, Pakhi thought.
‘Delhi Police has started its investigation and I wanted to keep myself away from questions and allegations, so I came here. I will stay here for a day or two.’
‘Don’t you think that the crowd in Delhi would miss your presence? Maybe they will think that you got scared and went into hiding.’ Pakhi alleged.
Before Varma could answer Pakhi’s allegation, his PA joined the scene with a tray of tea-filled cups and laid it on the center table. Pakhi glanced at the PA in a suspicious manner.
How come he is the only who shows up repeatedly after I am tipped with the info of MC being alone? The question came up in Pakhi’s mind more than once. Just like the last time she was tipped by her secret informer about the minister walking down to the Rajpath, she had found him with his PA. And now, when she had been tipped about the minister’s secretive visit to his hometown, he was with him. Now it is perfectly alright for the minister to take his PA everywhere, well that’s what they are for – personal assistants. However, it was the informer she was suspicious about. How did he know about Varma’s whereabouts unless and until he was told about them. Maybe the informer had an informer, someone who served as a close aid of the minister. Someone like the PA of the minister?
‘Is there anything wrong?’ The PA asked Pakhi as he handed her a cup from the tray.
‘Just trying to connect some dots.’ She said while receiving the cup.
‘Maybe you should just drink the tea before it gets cold’ He said piercingly in a voice that sounded chilling.
‘I would request you to leave us alone; we have to discuss something in private with Mr. Varma.’ Pakhi requested.
The request brought an ignominious retreat on the PA’s face. He looked at the minister who gestured him to leave politely. The minister’s PA obeyed the non-verbal instruction.
‘I do not trust him.’ Pakhi whispered.
‘Why don’t you trust Nissar?’ Varma asked the nation’s favorite journalist.
‘His presence triggers suspicion. Besides, what we are about to discuss is something excessively confidential.’
Varma placed his cup of tea back on the table, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward.
‘Parosh, as you were already aware, came down to research on your childhood and growing up days, the things in the past that shaped you as this dynamic political figure in the present. I came here to take some time off with my niece; however, I have been dragged into Parosh’s research by certain extraordinary forces.’ She said.
The minister chuckled when he heard the word extraordinary.
Pakhi continued, ‘And being a journalist, I could not keep myself away, you know, the passion to dig out the truth from a seemingly deep trench.’
‘And what is it exactly that you dragged out of this seemingly deep trench?’ The minister asked.
Pakhi drew out the medical r
eports from the file that she had kept next to her on the sofa and waved it in front of the minister, ‘These!’
The minster tried hard to look surprised.
‘Do you remember any of these, Mr. Jagannatha Varma II? Dr. Priyamvada Shekharan…’ she read out from one of the reports, ‘she says that the twelve year old boy occasionally invites some serious delusions leading us to use the sedative prowess of tranquilizers.’
Varma pushed back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and listened quietly.
‘It seems quite clear that you have or rather had a serious mental illness owing to the suicide of your identical relative… your uncle.’
Varma opened his eyes wide as if the last words from the journalist had punched through his spinal cord.
‘It is Him!’ He spoke, as if speaking within a trance, ‘It had always been him.’
The minister fell in a state of silence thereafter. Parosh and Pakhi looked helplessly at the minister and then at each other. The silence was broken when Parosh’s cellphone rang. He went outside to receive the call. It was an urgent call.
Pakhi leaned forward and asked, ‘Who is it?’
‘You know who, you already know.’ The minister replied.
‘But he has been dead for over sixty years now.’ Pakhi stated.
‘He never died; he said he will come back.’
Chapter 41
‘Hollo, Parosh dada?’ The youthful voice on the phone said from the other line.
‘Byom? Did you convey my message?’
‘Yes, yes. I spoke to Didima.’ Byom said.
‘Did she agree?’ Parosh asked curiously.
‘She has not been keeping well of late; she asked if you could shift your plan to the coming week?’
‘Byom, please listen to me. This matter is extremely urgent. It could affect millions of souls and it involves her. I cannot reveal anything to her, all I want her to do is board the next flight to Cochin and come here. I will pick her up from here.’
Byom, the young volunteer who worked for a charitable trust in Kolkata, sniffed the desperation in Parosh’s tone and like hundreds of other young Indians, Byom too idolized his favorite writer- Parosh Dutta.
‘I will convince her.’ He promised, ‘How is Shiuli?’
‘She is not well, that is why we need Didima even more urgently. Can you please make her understand that this is terribly important and I will free her as soon as possible? This will not affect her work. In fact, if things fall into place, This visit would be the greatest act of charity of her life.’
‘Yes, I will tell her.’
‘I am reserving a ticket for her, hope she can travel alone.’ The writer said.
‘She is as hard as a diamond; there is no need to doubt her willpower.’ Byom praised the woman who raised him from a homeless infant to a responsible adult.
‘Great! I will forward the ticket details in ten minutes.’
‘Sure, goodbye dada, please convey my regards to Pakhidi and Shiuli.’
‘Thank you, Byom, take care.’ Parosh hung up.
He opened the browser on his and booked a ticket for a senior citizen. Instantly, he got an sms from the website confirming the payment along with the ticket details. He forwarded it to Byom and walked inside.
Chapter 42
Ten minutes ago
Pakhi noted fear psychosis infused in the eyes of the man who had single handedly stirred the entire nation. Never before had she seen the man before her in such a state of mind and body. The wrinkles on his forehead drew themselves unexpectedly, so did the weariness in his eyes. He looked old and weak.
‘I knew… He will come back one day.’ He said in a spooky tone, his voice shook, ‘He said that he would.’
‘How can the dead come back?’ Pakhi questioned, although her indirect tête-à-tête with the ghost of Richard had changed her perceptions about life after death.
‘Because, he never died. He hated life and he hated me. He loathed my intelligence and revolutionary ideas. He found himself burning in the never-ending inferno of jealousy and sibling rivalry. And above all…’ he took a moment and pronounced in a hushed tone, ‘…he was a psycho…’
‘But you never mentioned anything about him, to anyone, ever.’
‘I was afraid. The only people who knew were the doctors and my father.’ The scared minister revealed, ‘my father never believed me. He thought that I had gone insane after his death. He took me to Dr. Shekharan who first deduced the reality in my claims. She understood the seriousness of the matter and how dearly it would mean to me if she could make my father understand the truth.’
‘But all those reports, they clearly state that you were suffering from…’
Pakhi was interrupted by Parosh who had returned after attending the call.
‘I am extremely sorry; it was an urgent call from a dear friend of mine.’ He apologized for leaving without consent.
The minister hardly heard the writer’s apologies; instead, he continued his story ‘Those reports were forceful.’
‘Forceful?’ Pakhi asked sipping tea.
‘Threatened were those who compiled the reports.’ The minister said.
‘I do not understand. Who threatened whom?’ Pakhi asked.
‘I am sorry, what did I miss?’ Parosh stated his unawareness.
‘Tell me, Mr. Varma, who threatened whom?’ the journalist pressed.
‘He threatened all those people to rewrite their reports in such a way that it would declare me mentally unfit for any profession.’
‘What?’ Parosh recoiled on his sofa.
‘Yes, he did that.’
‘Why?’ Pakhi asked.
‘Because he hated me; was envious of my accomplishments and good fortune. I had a loving father and family, while he had an illegitimate father who was notorious as the darkest hour of the night. Although we looked almost alike, people looked at him with sympathy or disgust, sometimes both.’
‘But at the time of the first report, the one that Dr. Priyamvada Shekharan inferred, you were eleven years old. Since your uncle was also about the same age, he should have been in his pre-teens too, right? How do you explain a twelve year old threatening an experienced medical practitioner who was three times his age?’ Pakhi asked.
‘He was no ordinary boy. He did not have a normal childhood. He grew up witnessing his deranged father molesting hundreds of women right in front of him.’ The minister spoke as if everything was being projected on an imaginary screen in front of him. He continued, ‘The first thing he did when he hit puberty was to pin down the janitor of our boarding school. He raped that helpless 60-year-old woman when he was just eleven. He had shear force in his arms and his shoulders could withstand heavyweights even back then. He was blessed with limitless physical strength and cursed with a deranged mind.’
‘Oh my God, so you are saying that this boy threatened to molest the doctor you were consulting so that she could fake a report and spoil your future?’ Parosh asked to clarify.
‘Did you check that name?’ Varma asked.
‘No.’
‘Well, she disappeared from the face of earth one fine day in 1956. Nobody knew where she had gone.’ He paused to look at the shocked faces of the listeners. He added, ‘I knew what happened to her because he told me.’
‘Yes, 1956. That is when you started consulting another doctor,’ Pakhi turned pages of the file and read out, ‘Dr. Martin Peter.’
‘But what happened to Dr. Priyamvada Shekharan?’ Pakhi inquired.
‘He killed her.’
‘But why?’
‘Because she was growing tired of faking my reports. She could not lie to her own conscience anymore. She was an able doctor and a great human being. He killed her because she was about to let the cat get out of the basket.’
This was followed by a momentary silence. Jagannatha Varma eyed the two siblings
‘Do you not believe me?’ Varma asked desperately.
‘I am not saying that I do not b
elieve you, I would like to believe your sibling rivalry has resulted in many a great homicides in the past, here the two of you were brought up together by your father like siblings, though he was your uncle. However, your story crosses the boundary and enters the realm of fiction when you started with a 13 year old manipulating a 36 year old psychiatrist by verbal threats.’
‘And when I tell you the extent to which he has gone to spoil my reputation and my life, you will not believe a word.’
‘Please go ahead, we are all ears.’
‘Do you remember one of the key events of 1971?’
‘The Indo-Pak war?’ Parosh asked.
‘No.’ The minister rejected.
‘Wasn’t that the year you contested an election, which you lost eventually.’ Pakhi guessed.
‘Yes, do you remember why I lost that?’
‘Allegations were made against you. The opposition claimed that the bomb blast at your opposition’s rally was chalked out by your men.’
‘Yes…’
‘Oh my God! No! You are not implying that…’ Pakhi made a gesture with her eye.
The minister nodded and revealed, ‘It was him. He did it, he knew that would add a nail into my coffin.’
‘The blast killed twenty five people. You were disgraced.’ Pakhi recollected.
‘Then there was the cannabis scandal in Idukki, the sexual harassment of a female government servant and half a dozen more cases to defame me.’
Pakhi had the most sensational news of her career and she could not believe the fact that his own look-alike psycho uncle had framed the man of the moment on a number of occasions. Despite all the attacks, the man only came out stronger than before.
‘I never heard from him after 1991. I thought he gave up or maybe he had died as he was also getting old like me.’ The minister said.
‘Yes, it was post-91, your golden rise in Indian politics.’ Pakhi said glorifying the minister’s achievement.
‘Today I know that he still lives and that he has come to kill me.’ Varma said lowering his head in shame. He pulled out his gold plated pocket watch from his kurta’s inner pocket and opened the lid. He looked at it and then snapped the lid shut, ‘I think my time has come. Luck cannot save me every time.’