No Illusions in Xanadu

by Ruby Gupta

  But confounding the issue was the fact that the killer had no memory of either entering Xanadu or of committing the crime.

  This was strange.

  No matter how high he was during the hit, surely, he would have remembered having killed someone, Bhogle mused.

  The only thing that emerged was that it seemed that a contract had indeed been given for Rajvir Kapoor’s killing. But who gave the contract, and whether the death was indeed a result of the contract being carried out was inconclusive. They would know only once they caught up with the scar-faced history-sheeter who had taken the contract.

  Rapidly he deputed two constables to go the contract killer’s village and bring him to the police station for questioning. Maybe, just maybe, some clue might emerge. But for that he would have to wait for at least a couple of days. It would take a minimum of 48 hours to bring in the suspect.

  Till then he was back to square one – he did not really have any concrete leads. The case had him increasingly baffled.

  ‘Rajvir Kapoor’s will was a reasonable one,’ Professor Shantanu Bose said.

  ‘How do you know?’ Professor Dinkar Mishra asked, somewhat surprised.

  ‘I have my ways,’ Professor Shantanu smiled.

  ‘Oh, c’mon, tell me,’ Dinkar insisted.

  ‘It’s nothing – I just happened to overhear Pallavi discussing the will with Dr. Singhvi,’ Shantanu explained.

  ‘Pallavi and Dr. Singhvi are rather close, don’t you think?’ Dinkar asked.

  ‘Umm … that’s to be expected, he being their family doctor, I guess,’ Shantanu responded.

  ‘So how has Rajvir divided his assets?’ Dinkar asked.

  ‘Pretty fairly,’ Professor Shantanu went on to give details of the will.

  ‘Just as I thought. Rajvir has been most fair,’ Professor Dinkar nodded.

  ‘Only I think Mridula should have been given some more. I mean, so what if she is a girl. Isn’t she too entitled to what her father had?’ Shantanu said.

  ‘Yes. I agree.’

  ‘Granted that she was married and settled by Rajvir and was given a hefty dowry in all probability. But that does not justify her being given so little as per the will,’ Shantanu stressed.

  ‘Yes. I know you are a feminist of sorts, but you cannot expect everyone to have a similar thought process. You know how it is. The traditional thought is that the girl gets her share when she is married off and that is all she is entitled to,’ Dinkar spoke conciliatorily.

  ‘True. But I feel sorry for the girl. She is so sweet, quiet; has left her family back at home to take care of things here till everything is sorted out and life becomes normal. And what does she get for it? Not even her rightful share. She is just being taken for granted,’ Shantanu said.

  ‘I know. I think most nice people are taken for granted and get handed the short end of the stick,’ Dinkar became philosophical.

  ‘Yes, that’s the way this world is. What can you do?’ Shantanu agreed.

  ‘But tell me, do you think that there is some angle for the murder related to the will? Could the will be motive enough for someone to commit murder?’ Dinkar asked.

  ‘It does not seem like that. After all, everyone seems to have got something – and in most cases their fair share,’ Shantanu spoke thoughtfully.

  ‘Umm, I think Pallavi could have a grudge because Jyothika and Chandra Prakash have got a large share. But in that case why would Rajvir be murdered?’ Dinkar spoke.

  ‘Hey, staying with me, you are becoming something of a sleuth as well,’ Shantanu smiled.

  ‘Well, you are rather influential,’ Dinkar grinned back.

  ‘You have raised a valid point,’ Shantanu became serious. ‘I think it is surprising that Jyothika and Chandra Prakash got so much. Obviously, Pallavi must have resented it the most. But then, like you said, could it be a motive for murder? And who could have the motive?’ he paused.

  Professor Dinkar waited patiently.

  ‘Pallavi could have a motive to kill Rajvir so that he did not leave anything to Jyothika and her son. But he had already included them in the will. So then why would Pallavi kill Rajvir?’ Professor Shantanu paused.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Jyothika could have also killed Rajvir,’ Shantanu added a new twist.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Rajvir probably told Jyothika about the new will and that she and her son were major beneficiaries. Jyothika could then have been apprehensive that Rajvir might change his mind and remove them from the will, and so killed him,’ Shantanu explained.

  ‘Umm … this sounds like a possibility,’ Dinkar said.

  ‘But why would Jyothika want to kill him? After all, Rajvir was also in the process of launching Chandra Prakash. He was actually fulfilling all his duties as a husband and father towards her and her son. So, there is no reason she would want him killed,’ Shantanu overturned his own theory.

  ‘Maybe Pallavi got to know about the change in the will and killed Rajvir because she was extremely angry about it?’ Dinkar raised the query.

  ‘No, Pallavi told Dr. Singhvi that she did not know about Rajvir having changed the will. And that she was very upset as the details of assets left to Jyothika were read out; even though she tried hard to control herself,’ Shantanu was quick to defend the lovely actress.

  ‘Maybe she did it only to deflect suspicion from herself. She is a consummate actress, you know,’ Dinkar pointed out seriously.

  Professor Shantanu looked at his friend quizzically. He did have a valid point. Could this be possible? Could this be the motive for Rajvir’s murder? Could Pallavi have done it out of anger and jealousy? Could she have been so upset at being thwarted and insulted by Rajvir in this manner, that she had taken this extreme step?

  Chapter 9

  It was a glorious day to be out of the city. As the car sped towards Swami Maheshanandaji’s ashram, located on the outskirts of Pune, Professor Shantanu gazed at the delightful Western Ghats.

  The lush greenery and undulating hills, reminded him of the Shivaliks of Dehradun. Admittedly, he missed the old place, and being in the midst of these Ghats made him feel quite at home once again.

  Providentially, it began to drizzle. The heavenly aroma of the rains mixed with the soil and the dense foliage immediately uplifted his soul.

  He forgot all about the murder, all about the sordidness of relationships that he had been witness to since coming to Xanadu, and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the senses.

  He looked towards Pallavi. A smile peeped tentatively at the corner of her lips as she gazed intently at the now heavy rains beating upon the trees lining the side of the road.

  He wished this could last forever; the insane thought took hold of him. What was wrong with him, and at this age? Shantanu berated himself. Was it possible to have such feelings? At this moment, he felt as giddy and light-headed as a teenager.

  He dragged his logical mind to the fore.

  After a few minutes he managed to succeed, and the academic in him re-surfaced. ‘You know, this heavenly aroma is termed Petrichor. The word originates from Greek Mythology. It is made of two root words, Petra meaning stone and Ichor meaning the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods,’ he said, albeit in a voice that was uncharacteristically gruff.

  Pallavi smiled widely.

  Professor Shantanu forgot all about logic.

  He had been reluctant to make this trip; but when Pallavi insisted, he had given in. He could not refuse her anything, he realized. She was keen to spend a day at the ashram, she had cajoled him. She really needed a break, away from all the unpleasant publicity and the ghastly police investigation. The swamiji’s discourses always put her in a calm frame of mind, she said.

  Pallavi had great faith in the swami. He had guided their family through various ups and downs in the past twenty-five years.

  Although of Rajvir’s age, Swami Maheshananda had a demeanour that immediately calmed frazzled nerves and created a sense of the sublime in
everyone around him. It was said that his vibrations were such that anyone within a ten feet radius of him felt immediately cleansed of all negativity.

  Rumours abounded of his numerous tantric powers; the practice of which helped him to generate powerful vibrations within himself, acquire limitless wealth, and build lakhs of followers, both Indians and foreigners, within a short span of time.

  Soon, they were at the swami’s ashram.

  Professor Shantanu marvelled at the opulent surroundings. These swamis really had it good. Maybe he was in the wrong profession, the thought made him smile.

  The ashram housed a central building that had a faux-rustic style architecture. The outer walls were covered with some kind of stone-like tiles that made it a look in harmony with the abundant greenery all around. There were several other smaller buildings scattered all over acres of undulating landscaped gardens, waterfalls and groves of trees and shrubbery.

  Upon entering, the immediate vibration that one experienced was that of peace and harmony. It was like an oasis amidst the chaos of the outside world. No doubt, all those who came here, in search of succour and calm, found it in plenty and then some.

  Professor Shantanu could see some people taking a walk amongst the salubrious surroundings. Some groups lounged by the waterfall, discussing something – something that was presumably profound. A few others sat on the various benches placed all around, either lost in quiet contemplation or reading a book. Most of them appeared to be foreigners.

  Professor Shantanu breathed in the invigorating air as he followed Pallavi on the cobbled pathway that led to the central building. Inside, he found himself in the reception area that was manned by a young lady, seemingly of foreign descent. She smiled at Pallavi. ‘He is expecting you,’ she spoke in a soft melodious voice. She seemed to know Pallavi well enough.

  Pallavi walked on ahead, towards the left wing of the building. Clearly, she knew her way around. They passed some people who nodded and smiled at them. Pallavi walked on ahead and entered a medium-size sitting area. He followed.

  The room he found himself in, was furnished in cream and gold. Everything – the opulent curtains, the plush sofa, the luxurious carpet– all followed the same colour palette. The swami sure had good taste, thought Professor Shantanu.

  The man himself was sitting on a settee beside the window, seemingly lost in the scenery outside. Hearing the muffled sound of their footfall, he turned. A beatific smile engulfed his entire face.

  Professor Shantanu could see where the charisma lay. The man was unbelievably handsome, sexy rather. He was diametrically opposite to most other swamis he had seen on television – who were either ugly and lanky, or benign and portly. Although he had met the swami at Xanadu, at the time of Rajvir’s death, this was the first time he had the opportunity to examine him at close quarters.

  Swami Maheshanandaji was tall by Indian standards – a good six feet two inches. His skin was luminous, owing either to the meditation regime he followed, or a throwback to some Afghan or Caucasian blood, in his genetic lineage somewhere. The latter was probably the more logical explanation for his striking good looks; for, in addition to his rather sharp features, he had the most piercing green eyes, Professor Shantanu had ever seen. His goatee-style beard contrasting with his fair, ruddy complexion only heightened his appeal, whilst simultaneously adding to the expected swami persona. This was a man who would have had no difficulty charming the ladies. When this was his appearance at this age, he must have been an absolute Greek God in his youth, Professor Shantanu thought.

  He felt an uncharacteristic stab of jealousy within him. Had Pallavi been more than just a disciple to him? the sudden thought troubled him.

  ‘I hope I have passed the test,’ swamiji spoke smilingly.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the professor was somewhat embarrassed at being caught staring. He hoped the swami did not have the power to read his mind. The swami’s voice too, was impressive – deep and sonorous, Shantanu could not help noting.

  ‘I hope your journey was comfortable,’ swamiji continued.

  ‘Yes,’ Pallavi smiled. ‘I really needed to get away from all the madness and I thought that your ashram was the best place for it.’

  ‘Absolutely! In fact, you should have planned to come and stay here for an entire week, instead of just one day.’

  ‘I know, but you know how it is. There is the formality related to the execution of the will scheduled tomorrow, the periodic intrusion by the police in their quest to investigate the entire thing and the information they keep wanting from me, from time to time.’ Pallavi looked forlorn.

  ‘Tell me, how can I help,’ swamiji spoke earnestly.

  ‘You can help firstly by helping me to divert my mind; then help me to deal with it all calmly; and lastly take Amar under your fold and get him to clean up his act. Since the death, he has gone into an absolute well of darkness. His debauched lifestyle will soon destroy him; plus, his mind is increasingly getting crazed by the indiscriminate use of drugs and well…’ Pallavi faltered.

  Professor Shantanu resisted the urge to hold her and comfort her.

  ‘Swamiji, I want my son back, I want my sweet, innocent son back. Get him for me,’ she pleaded.

  Swamiji patted her head. ‘Don’t you worry. Just coax him to come and spend the next week here at the ashram and I will do my best. We will put him on a complete detox program, flush out everything from his system, and then with the help of all the tantric powers I have at my disposal, we will soon have him back to normal, don’t worry. More than you, I owe it to my best friend, Rajvir, that I should take care of his family after he is gone. This is the least I can do for him now that he is gone. This is what I had promised him as well,’ he spoke resolutely.

  This swami was certainly unlike any other he had heard or read about, Professor Shantanu thought. By all that he had observed, Swami Maheshanandaji seemed genuine and everything that an accomplished god-man should be.

  Tea and a sumptuous spread of refreshments were brought in. The sight of it made Professor Shantanu realize that he was quite hungry. As he munched on the assorted dry fruit mix, he could not help but feel envious of the marvellous lifestyle the swami seemed to enjoy.

  ‘Tell me, aren’t swamis supposed to live a life of austerity? And yet all I have seen since I have entered your ashram is pure unadulterated luxury,’ he spoke his mind.

  Pallavi looked reproachfully towards the professor, not expecting him to be rude to their highly revered host.

  Swami Maheshanandaji’s face broke into a gentle smile. ‘There are two reasons for what you see. Firstly, most of my followers and guests here are westerners. They are used to a certain lifestyle. What is luxury for us, is simple necessity for them. So, I make sure that they are comfortable while they are here.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘My second contention is that where does it say that we swamis must live a life of austerity? The Gita says that we must avail of everything there is in this world. Only, we should not be attached to it, crave for it, or be obsessed with it. The way to live is to have the best things that life offers, but be detached from it,’ Maheshananda spoke earnestly.

  Professor Shantanu remained quiet. The swami was right. There was nothing wrong with the logic he offered.

  ‘Swamiji, like I told you over the phone, I would just like to spend the day here,’ Pallavi spoke quickly in an attempt to change the topic.

  ‘Yes, my dear. Would you like to be a part of the full moon meditation that I have planned at seven in the evening?’

  ‘Yes,’ Pallavi smiled. ‘That would be a great help in calming me and soothing my fraught nerves. Why don’t you also join in?’ she turned towards the professor.

  ‘Sure,’ Shantanu said. There was no harm in checking out what went on here, he thought.

  ‘The sales of my book will beat all sales records,’ Bipin Prasad chortled happily.

  ‘Yes,’ Nalini, his editor smiled. ‘We really made a good decision when w
e decided to accept your biography of Rajvir Kapoor for publication.’

  ‘I told you, that your publishing company will make a lot of money,’ Bipin Prasad gloated.

  ‘What a stroke of luck – him dying like this, just when the book is in the final stages of layout and cover design,’ she continued.

  Nalini was the chief editor of Acme Publishing Company. Three months back she had received a proposal for publishing Rajvir Kapoor’s biography. Seeing the star’s popularity, accepting the proposal seemed the right thing to do.

  Subsequently, Nalini had worked closely with Bipin Prasad, weeding out errors, and the book was now almost ready to go into print. Rajvir’s death at this time was most opportune for them. The book would be a best seller in no time!

  Bipin nodded, his mind working at top speed. ‘How about I add a chapter about his rivalries, enemies, and sort of hint at who all could have had a motive to murder him?’ he said almost to himself.

  ‘That is brilliant!’ Nalini exclaimed. ‘But you would have to do it quickly. We don’t want to delay the final publication and release. We want to strike when the iron is hot.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. The chapter is getting written in my head, even as we speak. I just have to put it on paper. It will take me barely two or three days,’ Bipin said.

  Walking home from the offices of the publisher, Bipin Chandra felt happy – no happy was not the right word to describe his state of mind. He was ecstatic – delirious with joy – no, he was in a crazy state of euphoria.

  All his life, Bipin had craved for success. But God, in some kind of cruel joke, had always denied it to him. But now – yes now–– finally, he would get his due. All the success and fame as a writer that he had craved for, for the last twenty years, would be his. It really was true what the saying said, ‘God helps those who help themselves’. He had finally decided to make the saying a fact, and he was now getting his just reward.

  The first few sentences of the new chapter began tattooing incessantly in his brain and he half-ran, half-skipped, to his one-room rented tenement, to type the words clamouring to get out, on to his old computer.