Second Lives

by Sarkar, Anish

  I ended up just an inch shorter than my father. The old man must have heaved a mental sigh of relief. You see, I come from a line of big, proud men. Who have been in military service from the time of the First World War. It’s our family trade. Every male scion was expected to join one of the three armed forces. Preferably the Army. The tradition had been unbroken for almost a century.

  The problem was that I had absolutely no desire to be in the military.

  I was convinced that the concept of war would be outdated in the twenty-first century. The Kargil operation of 1999 was the first instance of direct conventional warfare between two nuclear states. I was sure it would be the last.

  All my forefathers had seen battle in its true form. Conflict between nations of differing ideology or ambition. Even my father had fought in the 1971 war against Pakistan. He received a shrapnel wound which almost killed him. The last thing I wanted was to spend my prime years training to be a soldier, and then while away my time at some remote outpost. Or be pressed into action against terrorists. Which I firmly believed was glorified police work.

  What I really wanted to be was a naturalist. I have grown up in places close to nature. Spent countless hours tramping through forests or trekking up hills. All to observe birds and animals and snakes in their natural habitat. I never felt scared. Even when I came face-to-face with a leopard once. I remember backing away slowly. The majestic beast watched me indulgently until I was out of sight. It was an unforgettable experience.

  I have this instinctive connection with animals. They sense that I mean no harm. I recall approaching a solitary chital one morning in a wooded valley near our summer home in Kumaon. I spoke to it in a low, soothing voice. It actually allowed me to get near enough to pat it. Something almost unheard of with these shy deer.

  When I was twelve years old, my mother took me to an exhibition of a well-known nature photographer. I was amazed to see the beautiful images from around the world. There was one stunning picture of a pack of antelope fleeing from a lioness on the African savannah. It was shot in silhouette against the setting sun.

  I knew immediately that this was my calling. Wildlife photography is not just about an expensive camera. It needs good jungle craft. The ability to stalk the subject and understand its behaviour. Remain concealed for hours in a hide, waiting. I had all those skills in abundance.

  My father would have none of it. ‘You must be out of your bloody mind!’ he thundered, when I told him. ‘A hobby is a hobby. Don’t try to make a living out of it.’

  And so I was forced to join the National Defence Academy. After clearing a surprisingly difficult entrance exam. The course wasn’t too bad. I actually enjoyed the curriculum. It was an even mix of general and military subjects. The physical training was gruelling. I pushed myself harder than most. If we were asked to run five miles, I would run six. When we went to the shooting range, I would beg for a few extra rounds of practice. During the navigation training in the jungles around Khadakwasla, I was so fiercely competitive that the instructors would reprimand me.

  In hindsight, I was perhaps providing an outlet for my pent-up sexual energy. I had graduated from high school with my virginity firmly intact. Despite several desperate attempts to lose it. I remember my awkward efforts at courtship. The numerous rebuffs. One definite missed opportunity (if only I had recognised it for what it was back then). My insane jealousy at many of the other boys. Who managed to get laid so easily.

  My final year at the NDA was momentous. I finally had sex for the first time.

  It was the summer vacation. I was bored after three weeks at home. For some reason, we had decided not to go to Kumaon that year. Most of my friends were away. I had no one to hang out with. One evening, my mother asked me to drop off boxes of homemade sweets to some of the neighbours. It was the time of the New Year for our community. I would have normally protested against such a mundane errand. But there was nothing better to do anyway. I wheeled out my cycle and went on my way.

  The last delivery was at the house of an old Army buddy of my father’s. He had a son around my age. I used to play with him when we were younger. But I hadn’t met him in years. I figured it would be nice to catch up, if he was around. I rang the bell and waited.

  After several seconds, the door opened. A girl poked her head out and said, ‘Yes?’ I introduced myself. Pointed to the red box I was holding in my hand. She exclaimed, ‘Neel? My God, you’ve grown up so much! Come on in.’

  I had a vague memory of my friend’s elder sister. A tall, gawky female with glasses. But this was an attractive, curvaceous woman. She was wearing a kimono-like satin robe. Her hair was damp from a shower. She led me to the drawing room. I couldn’t take my eyes off her pert bottom swaying under the red silk. We sat down on an ancient sofa. There appeared to be no one else home.

  She asked me a lot of questions. I answered mechanically. Trying my best not to stare at the ample cleavage peeking out from the folds of the robe. She must have realised I was ogling. A strange look came into her eyes. It was time for me to go, I thought reluctantly. Suddenly she said, ‘Do you have a girlfriend, Neel?’ I shifted uncomfortably and mumbled, ‘No, not right now.’ Not ever was more like it.

  She moved closer. ‘Don’t you feel lonely?’ Before I could reply, she straddled me. And put her hands on my shoulders. Her robe fell open. She was wearing nothing inside. I gripped her naked hips and kissed her hard. She began to unbutton my shirt. I was in great shape from all the training at the NDA. She let her hands run over the hard muscles of my chest and back, moaning softly. I caressed her magnificent breasts. Feeling the nipples harden against the rough skin of my palms.

  We had sex right there on the sofa. I had heard that the first time is usually disappointing. For me, it was incredible. It was obviously not the first time for her. She expertly guided me through a series of sensations. Each one more exquisite than the previous. When I finally exploded inside her, I thought I would die of pleasure. I guess I deserved this after all that waiting. It would remain just the one time with her. But I had crossed the most important milestone of my life. Or so it seemed then.

  The final year went by. It was time for our passing out parade. I was probably the only one of the thousand graduating cadets who was miserable. I spotted my parents in the crowd. They waved gaily. I didn’t wave back.

  During all my years in the Army, the feeling of being trapped was never far from my mind. I told myself that I couldn’t be the only person in the world who hated his job. It was of no solace. My love for nature remained undiminished. Though I had little time to indulge that passion. I wistfully followed the work of noted photographers on the Internet. Watched wildlife documentaries on Discovery channel whenever I could.

  I am now no longer in military service. Thank God for that. But I’ve had to pay a heavy price for that freedom. I don’t know if it was worth it. And I still haven’t been able to do what I love. I first need to pick up the pieces of my life.

  As I said, nothing’s ever come easy for me.

  22

  Sara

  We were just stepping out for lunch when the phone rang. It was the landline and I wondered who it could be, since very few people had that number.

  The caller had a sexy baritone. I recognised the voice but waited for him to introduce himself. He was a well-known news anchor, a minor celebrity whose salt-and-pepper hair, neatly trimmed beard and hooked nose made him one of the most striking faces on television. His incisive questioning of studio guests and uncompromising opinions on everything from politics to sports ensured high viewership of his prime-time news show.

  Rachel used to work for the same channel at one time and had had a torrid fling with him, even though he was much married.

  It was a surprise to us because she had always frowned upon extra-marital affairs and thought that people who indulged in them had no morals. I guess even Rachel had her human fai
lings! I don’t blame her because the man was very attractive. It was not destined to last, however, and one not so fine day, he abruptly told Rachel that he wouldn’t be seeing her again because he wanted to give his marriage a serious shot.

  Asshole.

  He was saying, ‘…had no idea that Rachel was dead. I must be living on another planet.’

  I said carefully, ‘Yes, I’m aware that you knew Rachel well.’

  ‘I called Rachel’s mother when I heard the news. She gave me your number and asked me to speak to you.’ That explained the landline call, since Mrs Fernandes had only that number. She had told me she didn’t like mobile phones.

  He continued. ‘I’ve been out of the country on a short sabbatical and got back only last week but that’s no excuse. I really should have known about this earlier.’

  I couldn’t help retorting, ‘Well, considering that Rachel and you hadn’t been in touch since you broke up with her, I’m not surprised.’

  He ignored the barb. ‘Rachel did call me a few months ago, out of the blue.’

  ‘Really? What did she say?’

  ‘I was surprised, to say the least. She was polite but distant, like an acquaintance you bump into unexpectedly. For a few minutes, we spoke about various things. She asked me how I had been and I asked her about her new job. She didn’t bring up our relationship at all.’ He added hastily, ‘I mean, it’s not like I thought she wanted to get back together or something.’

  I rolled my eyes.

  ‘Then she said that she was doing a major story and needed my help. She wouldn’t tell me what the story was about, which intrigued me. I couldn’t understand all the secrecy. I begged for some clue but she refused. All she said was that she would call me later with specific questions.’ He sighed. ‘Rachel could be so stubborn sometimes.’

  I figured Rachel had first wanted to break the ice with him, and then get to whatever it was she actually needed. That was so like her. But she must have been quite desperate for his help because she had sworn never to speak to the man again.

  ‘Did she sound worried or tense?’

  ‘Yes, she did. I first thought it might be because she was speaking to me for the first time since…you know…’ He was embarrassed, because he knew I knew.

  I said drily, ‘I know. Go on.’

  ‘But then I realised it wasn’t that. Clearly, it was whatever she was working on that was bothering her. I’ve never heard her sound like that, even when she was upset or angry.’

  ‘Did she call you back?’

  ‘No. In fact, I tried calling her a few times after that but she never answered. I don’t know if she changed her mind about taking my help, or whether she just found the information she needed.’ He paused. ‘Do you know why Rachel committed suicide? She was such a stable and mature person.’

  ‘No.’ I didn’t see why I should tell him more than he needed to know.

  ‘I see…I hope it was nothing to do with me, right?’

  The male ego—it never ceases to amaze me! ‘I doubt it very much. Rachel was definitely over you.’

  ‘You know, I did…fall in love with her. Had things been different, we might still have been together.’

  I didn’t respond to that, since something else had just struck me like a tonne of bricks. I asked, ‘When did you say Rachel called you?’

  ‘Let me see, it was definitely over four months ago. I can’t remember the exact date, though.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  I was shocked, because Anna Grishin had been alive four months ago!

  23

  Omar

  ‘Somehow I always knew that this wasn’t just about Anna Grishin,’ said Neel.

  I looked at him disbelievingly.

  ‘It was actually Writwik who first suggested it.’ He sounded defensive.

  I smiled. ‘Ah, your new buddy…’

  ‘Fuck you, Omar. The guy’s an asshole but I think he was right on that count.’

  I turned to Sara. ‘Do you think that news guy could have been wrong about when Rachel had called him?’

  She said, ‘I don’t think so. He sounded quite certain.’

  We were at Souza Lobo for lunch. Our table was next to a window overlooking the wide expanse of Calangute beach, and I had rolled up the plastic blinds to let the strong breeze blow over us. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun was shining brightly. There were a good number of people lined up near the waterline. We could hear their clamour mixed with the crashing of the waves.

  We had ordered a pitcher of draught beer and a collection of the house specialties. Fried calamari, tiger prawns in pepper and garlic, Goan sausages and pao. Not to mention separate portions of French fries, cooked with the distinctive flavour you don’t get anywhere else in the world.

  Our waiter in an orange Hawaiian shirt came up, balancing two trays expertly. The portions were enormous but not for a moment did I doubt that we would finish it all. The combination of chilled beer and spicy seafood was incomparable, especially in a Goan shack—I felt like I was on a surreal, Kafkaesque vacation.

  ‘The plot thickens,’ said Neel, biting into a fat, succulent prawn. ‘What do we do now?’

  I said wistfully, ‘Maybe we should just pack up from here and go back to our respective lives. And hope that all this will blow over.’

  Not that I wanted to go back to what lay waiting for me.

  Sara said, ‘Don’t be silly, Omar. We can’t give up now. I keep remembering Rachel’s last words to me. We have to find out what she meant.’

  I was suddenly irritated. ‘But Sara, we can’t stay here in Goa indefinitely, fishing around and hoping the mystery unravels itself for us.’

  ‘So what do you suggest? We forget about Rachel and the terrible death she died, without fighting for any kind of justice for her!’

  I felt my temper flaring. ‘We’re not the police, Sara, nor are we private detectives. I loved Rachel as much as you did but this is not an episode of Remington Steele, it’s real life.’

  ‘What did the police do? Tell me that. If it wasn’t for us, no one would have even known that Rachel didn’t commit suicide!’

  ‘And what good has that done for anybody? It won’t bring her back, and we’re hardly any closer to understanding what really happened. Maybe it would have been better for all of us if her death had remained a suicide.’

  Sara’s voice had risen several decibels. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this!’

  ‘Well, it’s my opinion, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll go ahead alone. You guys can leave whenever you want.’ She looked out at the sea, her face dark with anger.

  I realised that I had been rude but I didn’t feel like apologising. I meant what I had said—what we were doing had started to make less and less sense to me. If our lives were in danger, I wasn’t sure we could do anything about it, and if something was going to happen, it would happen. Maybe I was getting a death wish.

  Neel said mildly, ‘Guys, calm down. The stress is getting to us. I think we all want the same thing here.’

  Neither of us said anything.

  ‘Let’s give it a few more days, and see what happens.’ Neel paused. ‘And I think we need to go see Mrs Fernandes again.’

  24

  Sara

  When Roy started seeing a girl, it was the talk of our school.

  Her name was a Tamil tongue-twister with more syllables than you could count on both hands but someone decided to call her by one of them—Jo—and the name stuck.

  Jo was quite the plain Jane. She was short and her face was so ordinary that I couldn’t imagine anyone giving her a second look. She wore these big glasses which made her look like a female Dilton Doiley. Her only redeeming feature was her unusually fair complexion, som
ething I’ve always been wistful about. Frankly, I had no idea what Roy saw in her—I guess opposites do attract.

  Jo did have another thing going for her—she had an outsized bust which looked even more prominent on her small frame. I guess men can’t help themselves when they see a pair of big boobs! But Jo was also smart, very smart. She was consistently top of our class, and obviously intelligent enough to snare the best-looking boy in school. Poor Roy—he didn’t stand a chance.

  Well, maybe not quite, given everything that happened later.

  We started seeing less of Roy, as his romance with Jo blossomed. There were any number of secluded spots on our sprawling campus but they liked to sneak out as often as they could. We were generally not allowed to leave the school premises, except by special permission, and that too on weekends and holidays only. But it wasn’t unusual for both boys and girls to scale the boundary wall and slip away without the warden’s knowledge. There was a particular spot at the edge of the compound, hidden by a clump of trees, which was very amenable for a quick and invisible getaway.

  Jo knew we were Roy’s closest friends and made a special effort to get to know us well. She could be really sweet when she wanted! Both Neel and Omar were quite charmed by her, and Rachel was her usual warm self whenever the six of us met.

  But I hated Jo, and I think she was aware of it. Maybe my feelings towards her would have been different had I known what was going to happen. Then again, maybe not.

  One Sunday just before our mid-term exams, Jo went missing.

  We realised it only the next day when she didn’t turn up for class. Roy said he had last met her at the tuck shop the previous afternoon, after which she had gone off to study. Except that none of the girls in her dorm had seen her, and her bed had not been slept in either. They had assumed she had gone out with Roy but never before had she been away for the entire night. Once it was clear she wasn’t with Roy, we knew something was wrong.