No Illusions in Xanadu

by Ruby Gupta

  An astounded Pallavi looked speechlessly at the doctor. Gosh, what was this?

  Rose entered. ‘Ma’am, Inspector Bhogle has finished with talking to all the guests and now wishes to speak to you,’ she said.

  Thankfully, a shaky Pallavi got up abruptly. ‘I’ll just take care of it,’ she mumbled in the direction of Dr. Singhvi and left.

  Dr. Singhvi sat alone for a long time in the alcove, abashed at his own temerity in saying what he had said to Pallavi. What must she have made of it? And it really was so stupid to say such stuff now, when she was already overwhelmed with everything that was happening in her life. He really was an ass. But then he had just blurted out what had been simmering within him for years and he could not take it anymore. Would she return after talking to the inspector? Or would she avoid him after what he had said?

  Dr. Singhvi had never been married. Being the eldest of a large, father-less household, he had been so busy getting all his siblings settled into good careers and happy marriages, that he had forgotten all about himself. By the time he thought of settling, it was too late. It was not that he had been untouched by Cupid. Love had hit him not once, but twice. But both times, destiny had ruled otherwise.

  The first time he had been in love was when he had been in his B.Sc. course. She was his classmate – the loveliest, most delicate girl he had ever seen. Perhaps she had been in love with him too. But those were conservative times. When girls had to be married off at the earliest. And the young Singhvi was in no position to offer marriage to her. The relationship had ended badly and it had taken him several years to recover. It was then that he had decided that he must make more of himself. Determinedly he had studied and cleared the medical entrance examination and joined the MBBS course.

  The second time had been when he was working in one of the top hospitals in Mumbai. By now, he had, had a couple of relationships during which he had taken care to keep his heart well out of the equation. He had learnt the hard way that getting the heart involved in any relationship was a sure recipe for courting unrelenting pain that lasted several years. This time round, the woman he fell for, was the head of plastic surgery. Cool, confident, the epitome of elegance, Singhvi could not help but be smitten by her. This was one classy lady, and a highly successful one too.

  He tried everything in his repertoire to woo her. Perhaps he succeeded too – he was not sure. For although they did start dating of sorts, she always remained strangely aloof. It was almost as though she kept a part of herself out of the relationship. Sure, she was passionate at times, but then she was equally remote at other times. Could it be that she too kept her heart out of the equation, as he had learnt to do so? But this time round too, Singhvi did not quite know how and when, but his heart had already slipped in. He knew that this too would hurt for a very long time to come. The break came when Singhvi could not take the half-and-half loving anymore. He wanted all of her – or nothing of her at all.

  Finally, he was here in his twilight years. Could it be possible that he would be lucky the third time? Would Pallavi reciprocate? The mere thought sent a shiver of delight coursing through every cell of his body. She was the ultimate woman for him. She had everything he could imagine. Beauty, intelligence, a loving compassionate heart. He had loved her from the moment he had first set eyes upon her on screen.

  Then many years later by some quirk of fate, he became the family doctor of Rajvir and Pallavi married him.

  And now, Rajvir was dead.

  Could it be that God was finally looking towards him? And had saved the best for last for him?

  Dr. Singhvi was unable to control the wide smile that broke across his face, at the thought.

  As Natalie stepped out of the shower into her bedroom, she stopped in shock. Lolling on the bed was a scowling Lucas.

  ‘Surprised, doll?’ he spoke with a twisted smile.

  ‘Wh … when did you come? And how did you get into my room?’ she stuttered.

  ‘Have you forgotten how ingenious I am?’

  Natalie was quiet.

  ‘What did you think? That you will leave me and I will let you go?’ Lucas spoke bitingly.

  ‘No – I never left you. Actually, when my agent got me this job offer, I – I could not refuse. And … and then things happened so rapidly that I did not have time to inform you.’ Natalie explained falteringly.

  ‘Really, and even after coming here you did not get time to call me and let me know where you were and how you were doing?’ Lucas’ face became grim.

  Six months ago, Natalie had been a struggling model in Brasília – one of many. Her father was a construction worker and she was the third of four children. Life was hard and the only asset she had, were her looks. Barely out of school, she had tried to earn some money through modelling.

  But there were hundreds of girls like her, and work was limited. Then she heard about the audition for an exotic-looking girl, by some agency. She applied and to her surprise learnt that it was for some role in a Hindi movie. Till then, she had no idea what a Hindi movie was. She knew nothing about India either. The money was good and she had nothing to lose, so she grabbed the offer.

  Soon she was in Mumbai and thrown headlong into the film industry. She had a small role in a film where the hero falls for a foreign girl, but his family prevails and he comes back to his senses.

  Natalie was delighted with her entire experience in Mumbai. Just because she was a foreigner, she was treated like royalty. If only these people knew how poor she actually was back at home, she thought at times. Here, she was provided a stay in a luxurious five-star hotel, and had people waiting to fulfil her every want. This was like a dream come true for her. She felt like a princess. Along with the movie, came an item number in another film and some modelling offers, all of which she was only too glad to accept.

  The best part of the whole deal was meeting the superstar Rajvir. He had charm, sophistication, gentleness and an air of old-world chivalry about him. She had never met anyone with so much magnetism. And the power that he wielded – it was to be seen, to be believed. To top it, he was a thorough gentleman. He treated her like a lady. He was the most amazing man she had ever met. He was just the right mix of the father she never had, and the lover she had only dreamt about. She had always believed that a man like him existed only in romance novels and not in real life. After meeting him and getting to know him, she could not help falling for him. That there was a huge age difference, or that he was married, did not matter.

  She forgot all about her boyfriend Lucas whom she had left behind at home. Lucas was the antithesis of everything that Rajvir was. He was Neanderthal, crude, possessive, and unbearably overbearing. He had archaic, sexist views about how a girlfriend should behave and expected Natalie to be the subservient little woman, while he lorded it over her. Frankly, Natalie had been sick of him and was just looking for a way to escape him. The Mumbai offer was exactly what she had prayed for.

  But now, Lucas was here. Natalie looked at him fearfully. He looked darkly at her, a scowl deepening the scar that ran down the side of his face – a legacy of a late night bar brawl. She wondered how he had found her, and what he would do to her, particularly after he found out exactly what she had been up to these past months.

  ‘Anyway, I forgive you,’ Lucas’s face softened. ‘My only condition is that as soon as this is over, you come right back home to me.’

  ‘Okay,’ Natalie said. She dare not counter him. It did not take long for Lucas to get violent. In the past, he had hit her often enough, at the slightest provocation.

  ‘Right. Then it is settled,’ he smiled. ‘Now come to bed – come to papa,’ his eyes narrowed with desire.

  Quietly, Natalie went to him.

  Rajvir Kapoor’s funeral was held the next day. Minutes before the procession, there was an ugly scene amongst the family members, as Chandra Prakash sought to be given pride of place next to his father’s dead body. He had as much right as Amar did, he stubbornly claimed. The peace
ful body, laid out in the midst of a tasteful display of flowers was to be carried in an open vehicle through a predetermined route to the burial ground. This would give a chance to the public and his fans to pay their last tributes to their beloved star.

  The names of all those who would sit beside the body in the hearse had already been decided. Naturally, Pallavi had ensured that Chandra Prakash’s name was not on the list. Soon Jyothika joined the argument and vociferously backed her son’s rightful place. There was no way that this impasse could be broken.

  They were now running behind the time schedule of the procession. The public was getting restive at the delay. TV crews stationed outside for live coverage began using various sources to find the cause of the delay. Some of them began speculating that there was probably some juicy story developing.

  This would not do, Dr. Singhvi thought. His friend deserved a decent last journey. He decided to sort out the fast escalating, ugly mess. There was only one thing to be done. Pallavi would have to accept Chandra Prakash. After all, this was what Rajvir would have wanted, the good doctor counselled Pallavi. Besides, the world had accepted Chandra Prakash, and Rajvir too had publicly supported his second son’s career. Pallavi had no choice but to gracefully acquiesce Singhvi explained to her. She could not afford to be petty and mean during this solemn occasion.

  Thankfully, Pallavi saw the sense of what Dr. Singhvi counselled. It was also important that she appear magnanimous and refined in the eyes of the public, even though she was the wronged woman here.

  Soon Rajvir’s last journey began with both his sons on either side of him. The crowds that thronged all the way from Xanadu to the cremation ground were unprecedented. Never before had such crowds been seen at anyone’s funeral, so said all the commentators covering the event. This was the way Rajvir Kapoor would have wanted it. Loved when he was alive, and loved when he was no more.

  ‘But why name it Xanadu?’ Inspector Bhogle muttered. He could not get over this palace of a home that had belonged to Rajvir. These rich people and their ridiculous quirks, he thought. He had come to Xanadu, wanting to clarify some of his doubts, question some of the people again, and examine the scene of crime. He was hoping to narrow down his list of suspects, and gain some clues. Till now he did not have any leads to go on. In particular, this time round, he wanted to closely question the family members.

  ‘Actually, Rajvir was a voracious reader – but a reader of comics though,’ smiled Professor Dinkar Mishra, who happened to be comfortably ensconced in the sitting-cum-interrogation room.

  ‘So?’ Bhogle was puzzled. He could not see the connection.

  ‘Well, one of his favourite comic characters was Mandrake the Magician.’

  Bhogle looked blank. He did not know who the hell was Mandrake.

  ‘He was a famous comic character. Surely you must have read his comics?’ Professor Dinkar was surprised.

  Inspector Bhogle shook his head. ‘I have only read Amar Chitra Katha and Tinkle, when I was a child,’ he said.

  ‘Oh! But you must know about Phantom?’

  ‘Yes, I did read Phantom comics,’ the inspector nodded.

  ‘Well, Lee Falk, the creator of Phantom, was the one who created Mandrake the Magician as well,’ Dinkar said.

  Bhogle did not respond.

  ‘It seems to me that Rajvir was inspired by Mandrake the Magician. And like Mandrake he also must have used some kind of magic to gain the kind of huge fan following he has,’ Dinkar continued musingly.

  Could this be possible? Bhogle wondered. ‘Anyway, I’m not interested in all this,’ he said, instead. He wondered when Rose would summon the head of security so that he could get on with what he had come here for.

  ‘Well, you were wondering why Xanadu, and that is what I’m trying to explain. Mandrake’s home was called Xanadu,’ explained the somewhat miffed professor.

  ‘Umm,’ Bhogle was non-committal. He had never heard of such a stupid thing in his life.

  ‘And Rajvir was so enchanted by Mandrake’s home Xanadu, that he dreamt of having a similar home. Of course, he could not recreate the original Xanadu. So, he did the next best thing and built the most lavish home, that money could buy,’ Dinkar was determined to give the complete explanation.

  These professors never miss a chance to lecture, and show off their knowledge, the inspector thought. ‘Well anyway, let me get on with the investigation – the thing that I have come here for,’ Bhogle became business-like.

  ‘And you know what Mandrake used to do? He used some kind of fast, hypnotic technique to create illusions in his quest to catch villains. And Xanadu was really hi-tech for those times with closed circuit TV, a road that divided in half, and other fancy stuff,’ Dinkar continued, undeterred by the lack of interest. Evidently, the professor was himself a great fan of comics.

  ‘The security cameras and fancy stuff are here also,’ Bhogle mumbled in an attempt to be polite.

  ‘Yes, and perhaps there are illusions in this Xanadu too as were in the original Xanadu of Mandrake,’ Dipankar said.

  ‘Xanadu was also the name of the summer capital of Kublai Khan's Yuan Dynasty in China, remember?’ commented Professor Shantanu who had just entered and caught the last bit of his friend’s conversation. ‘It was located in what is now Inner Mongolia.’

  ‘Yes, and Xanadu was also mentioned by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in his poem Kubla Khan, which he had created as a result of an opium-inspired dream. Thanks to the poem, Xanadu became a metaphor for splendour and opulence,’ Dinkar added one more bit of information.

  ‘If I remember correctly, Xanadu was also the name of Charles Foster Kane's estate in the film Citizen Kane,’ Shantanu smiled, trying to be one-up on his friend.

  Bhogle looked from one professor to the other in exasperation. Were they mad, to be talking of such irrelevant things, he wondered.

  Rose entered with the Head of Security.

  The inspector sighed in relief. God these professors! They were really made for each other. For a moment back there, he felt he was back in college; in a particularly boring class.

  Rapidly, the Head of Security took Inspector Bhogle to Rajvir’ study on the thirtieth floor via the lift. There lift opened into a corridor that led directly to the study. There was a staircase too that opened into the same corridor. There was a security camera on the wall between the lift and the staircase.

  Professor Shantanu leisurely sauntered in after them.

  Bhogle decided to ignore the professor and get on with his work.

  He examined the entire area closely.

  Given the angle at which body was found at the table, the shot had decidedly come from behind, without the star knowing of it.

  The gun used was presumably the one that belonged to the star. Ballistics would soon confirm it.

  So, the murderer was aware that a loaded gun was providentially kept in a drawer, the key to which was kept in an adjacent drawer of the table.

  The killer must have taken out the gun at some opportune moment and then lain in wait for the star.

  Bhogle walked out through the large fancy glass doors into the terrace garden adjoining the study. The garden was a riot of colours courtesy the exotic flowers planted artfully around a bright green lawn with a mini fountain cascading around the feet of a crystal Buddha. On one side of the garden was the tiny helipad with a helicopter stationed in what seemed like perpetual readiness.

  The killer could easily have hidden here. The shot too could have been fired from the terrace through the window that was at a tangent to the study table chair. The murderer could then have easily escaped either through the staircase, or the lift that lead to the lower floors, or the hidden passageway behind the bookcase.

  Bhogle walked back in.

  ‘The murderer must be someone close to the family or even a family member,’ Professor Shantanu said the very thing that Bhogle was thinking.

  ‘Hmm,’ the inspector was non-committal.

  ‘Where is the securit
y footage of this room?’ Inspector Bhogle asked.

  ‘This room does not have any cameras,’ the Head of Security replied.

  ‘That makes sense. Rajvir would not have wanted his privacy invaded,’ Professor Shantanu said.

  ‘So only footage of the corridor outside the study is available?’ Bhogle asked.

  ‘Yes. And also of the helipad,’ the Head of Security said.

  ‘Where all are the security cameras installed?’ Bhogle asked.

  ‘Well, Sir did not want the family’s privacy invaded. And the security cameras were just that -- a security measure. So, the cameras were installed at the main entrance, the entrance to the parking floor, the servant entrance, and where the lift and staircase open on each floor.’

  ‘So, there are no cameras in the hidden passage in the study or outside the secret lift going down from it and neither in his personal garage?’ Bhogle asked.

  ‘Unfortunately, no,’ The Security Head was apologetic.

  ‘Get a copy made of all the footage of all the cameras for that night and give to me. I will check it at my office,’ Bhogle paused.

  ‘For now, I will begin my next round of questioning,’ he continued. Bhogle flipped open his case diary, ‘First I will talk to those family members I have not spoken to as yet, that is his daughter, Mridula and brother, Girish,’ he said.

  ‘I think I will just hang around here in the study, while you go ahead with your interrogation,’ Professor Shantanu said.

  Bhogle did not say anything. He did not want to be impolite. He could not understand why the professor was interfering in matters that did not concern him. Anyway, it did not matter. He had more important things to think about. He walked out, closely followed by the Head of Security.

  Left alone, Professor Shantanu sat on the settee next to the study table for a long time, mentally going over the probable sequence of events that must have occurred here on the fateful night.