Valley of Death

by Vickram E Diwan

  “You seem to be hiding something from me Payal; tell me, what’s the real reason behind your fright?” Abhay demanded.

  “The sinister powers of Warlock are back with him. It means that Uncle Narang and Bharoo have been unable to stop or defeat Rudolf conclusively. You, of course, remember tantrik Bharoo, who came at Shalini’s flat to give me the talisman that would protect me from Rudolf.”

  “Why are we facing such a situation, if Bharoo’s charm is still protecting us?” asked Abhay.

  “It was only a temporary solution; I don’t need Uncle Narang to tell me about the extent of Warlock’s evil powers. Forget a petty magical charm of Bharoo. He himself is no match for Rudolf,” explained Payal. “He must have resumed control and complete command of his black-magic powers and now he is using them on us.”

  “But why; what have we done to him?” Abhay asked.

  “He was arrested because of me, in addition, I dragged him to a court and tried my level best to expose him, to get him punished,” explained Payal.

  “But that’s all in the past; it had ended, long gone and done away with. Why does he now want to take revenge on you and your family?”

  “Because Rudolf is not a normal person like you or me; he lives by his evil deeds. He simply cannot turn around and start behaving like a good man with a sense of morality or fear of God. Sadly that is one lesson I refused to learn at his Circus, and will now cost me more dearly than I can even hope to pay,” she said in a voice of remorse.

  By the time the evening approached, Abhay was on the verge of panic; Payal for her part seemed to have taken it all rather courageously. It was she who played the role of anchor all through the day, the bedrock, which refused to budge an inch. She turned down all the wild suggestions of her husband, from running off from the city to some other place or leaving the country if needed. Maybe it was the inherent force of her character that made her get over the initial shock of the incidents. And once she overcame her panic, her real bold self came to the forefront to take charge of the situation.

  But to the emotional and scared husband of her, that boldness seemed foolhardy and even selfishness and coldness of her nature, that made her look the other way, while her husband’s very life was on the stake. Somehow Abhay had convinced himself that it was he, who was on the firing line; it was he who was the target, not his wife Payal. He was cold, distant and even rude to his wife, who took care of him most dutifully nevertheless. It was she, who arranged for the doctor to come over to the house to check on him, went with the baby to the market and bought the medicines. She also cooked light food for him; made him tea and gave him medicine, at proper times.

  Abhay for his part lay down in the bed all through the day, showing himself to be much sicker and weak than he actually was. He did not bother to even once offer his help to Payal, who single-handedly took care of the house and market, besides looking after the baby and her husband. While he selfishly ignored all her labours, cursed her mentally for being a cold, selfish and uncaring wife. He kept on sulking in his bed, dreadful of the approaching night. He not only snapped repeatedly at Payal – who thought that running from the problem wasn’t going to help things and that they should face it courageously – but blamed her entirely for the situation. It was she who had brought it on her husband, he told her to the face. When he could find no answer to Payal’s argument, that Warlock could as easily come after them if they eloped from the country, Abhay branded her as a hard-hearted woman that cared not for his well-being.

  But if there is anything a man cannot do, it is to stop the pace of time, to stop it from following the eternal and endless cycle of day and night. Despite all his fears and apprehensions, he could not stop the night approaching and enveloping his surroundings. He took his supper in his room itself and after that locked himself alone inside. Tense and fearful, he waited apprehensively; but nothing whatsoever happened until his fever and fatigue made him fall asleep.

  Abhay woke up with a start in the middle of the night; he found himself sweating profusely all over his body. He felt great difficulty in breathing as he heard a barely audible sound; it was as if someone was knocking on the door of the bedroom with fingernails. He looked foolishly at the door of his bedroom that opened in the balcony; was he hearing things, or was someone standing outside that door? But how could that be, rather who could it be? That shadow, that same ghost which Payal called Harry? But what did it want from him?

  What else except to kill him, Abhay’s mind answered for himself as he felt even more difficulty in breathing. Suddenly he had an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia, the air in the room felt very heavy and unbearable. He could almost imagine that he was in a tomb, which had been closed for hundreds of years along with the air inside it. The room in which he had lived for years seemed suddenly to be a strange and dreadful place, a large and sealed grave with fancy furniture and gadgets.

  He had an overwhelming urge to run away from there, but the dread of the shadow, the ghost of a dead man outside his door had paralyzed him. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard another sound, that time just outside the other door of the bedroom that opened in the lobby. Was he being surrounded? Was he panicking or were those sounds real? Was the ghostly presence just outside the locked doors and windows real or was his mind playing a trick on him?

  There was only one way to find out, to open a window or a door and look outside. But that was an impossible feat to perform, an impossible demand to make to himself. He simply could not do that; he dared not to even think, imagine of doing any such thing. The eerie silence of the night was overpowering his senses; the unexplainable, sudden and occasional sounds outside the doors of his room were making him jitter.

  He hurriedly got out of the bed switched on the television; a music channel was playing some western rock music on a late night show. He picked up the remote control from the bedside shelf and increased the volume. Immediately the fearful sounds outside the doors vanished, fell dud in the loud noise of the music coming from the powerful speakers of the television. He felt like a safety net around him; the loud music was like a mushy cocoon around him that protected him from the frightful silence of the night and the danger that it brought with it. Still not satisfied completely with his surroundings, he switched on the tube light of the room; he involuntarily blinked his eyes to get accustomed to the sudden bright light. That was much better; he felt the light and sound provided him with a much safer environment. He closed his tired eyes and sunk his face deep into the pillow, and could feel his body burning with fever.

  He had not even once bothered to look at the television screen or to follow the music; for him the sound; the noise was what mattered and which protected him. It was the silence that petrified him and the music served only one purpose for him, to create sound, any sound, and deafen his ears to the undesirable sounds outside his door. He had put a blanket on his face to put away the harsh light of the tube light and tried to sleep.

  After a long time elapsed in his judgment, Abhay switched off the light. A sudden loud noise startled him; he looked with his eyes – heavy and burning with fever – at the music channel playing on the television screen, he switched it off and yet again tried to drift into the realm of sleep. But his efforts were in vain; once the light and the loud sounds of the television were off, the nightmare returned. Whether it was the tricks of his fearful mind or the signs of the presence of supernatural agents outside the door, the reoccurring sounds threw him back to the scare of death. He madly switched on both the tube lights and the television. Taking the pillow and putting it before his chest, he pulled back his legs and sat like a scared and shivering little boy in his bed.

  He felt as if he was in a strange, unfamiliar and unknown world, of which he knew nothing about; a world of unknown dangers that lurked just outside the door. He again withdrew into himself and mumbling to himself, that all of it would go away once the night ended, he lay down and covered his body with the blanket. Drawing his knees close
to his chest – like that of an unborn baby in its mother’s womb – he tried to escape in the far safer environment of sleep, where his mind would be simply unable to comprehend the danger. That could save and protect him not just from the shadow outside his room, or their strange sounds, but also from his fearful mind. He struggled throughout the night in that desperate escape of his, but it was only in the early hours of the morning that he was finally able to fall asleep.

  By the third day after the appearance of Bittoo’s ghost, Abhay looked so pale as to resemble a man who had been sick for many years. Though the fever had ended, he still felt very weak both in body and spirit. The long sleepless nights were taking its toll on him; just that very morning when he had seen his face in the bathroom, he had found black spots under his eyes. He looked like a mess with his unshaven face and uncombed and uncared for hair, wearing the same wrinkled night suit which he had worn for the past three days, day in and day out.

  His routine also had by that time completely changed; he spent the nights locked alone inside his room, chanting the Gayatri mantra as long as he was awake, in his mind at any rate. The light was always kept on in his room, as was the television with loud music playing on it. Conversely, he spent his days sleeping in his bed, waking only to take meals. Payal did not say it, but her face amply showed her concern for the deteriorating mental health of her husband.

  The sudden ringing of the telephone bell startled Abhay; he picked up the cordless receiver of the phone and said, “Hello?”

  “Abhay Batra?” Asked an unknown male voice.

  “Yes, speaking.”

  “Don’t hang up pal,” the voice said with urgency,” it is very important that you hear me out. It is for your own good that you listen to what I have to say.”

  “Whom am I speaking to?” Abhay asked, shrinking his forehead.

  “Don’t hang up Abhay…I am Rudolf, Rudolf Schönherr.”

  “Rudolf?” He failed to recognize his own voice, so empty it sounded.

  “Yes, Abhay; I have called you for your own good. Do not hang up,” Rudolf stressed his words, “I want to meet you, it is urgent and for your own good. Your life is in grave danger Abhay, and only I can save you and show you a way to escape from your otherwise certain death,” frightened Rudolf. “I am the only person who knows, not just your enemies, but their entire game plan. It is imperative that you find out about your enemies if you want to have even a chance at saving yourself from their diabolic plan.”

  “Tell me; I’m listening.”

  “It’s very complicated Abhay; I cannot explain it on the phone, you will have to come and meet me.”

  “Where?” Abhay asked.

  “I’m calling you from my Institute in South Extension. Can you come to the fast food restaurant in the main market here at one ‘o’ clock sharp?”

  “I will be there.”

  “One more thing Abhay; please don’t tell your wife that you are coming here to meet me, you understand.”

  “All right,” Abhay said after a momentary pause and put down the phone; he sat for a long time absorbed in his own thoughts. The situation had taken a new and dramatic turn; should he go and meet Rudolf? He sounded very honest and sincere on the phone, besides there would be no danger in meeting him in a public place. And if he was indeed in possession of supernatural powers, then Rudolf could as easily hunt him down in his house or outside.

  Besides, meeting him face to face would at least end the mystery that was making him so crazy; it would at least settle some of his doubts. And since he was already living in a state of mortal fear, it could not get any worse for him anyway. One thing that was constantly troubling Abhay was, why had Rudolf stressed that Payal would not know of their meeting? He shrugged his shoulders thinking that he would soon find it out anyway.

  He got out of his bed and pulled out a fresh pair of clothes from the closet and went to the bathroom. He shaved and cleaned his body thoroughly in the shower and walked out of the door of the bungalow in the afternoon looking descent. Payal saw him leave and she couldn’t hide her surprise at that complete transformation of her husband. Abhay told her only that he was going to meet a friend; but which friend? He did not offer any answer to his wife. He took out his ‘Scorpio’ car and drove it towards Ring road; soon he was speeding his way towards South Delhi. It was only five minutes past one p.m. that Abhay reached the South Extension market; he parked his car with great difficulty in the cramped parking space and hurried towards the fast food restaurant.

  He saw Rudolf sitting on a chair inside the restaurant and waving at him through the plain glass window that overlooked the parking lot outside. The former got up to greet him and offered his hand to Abhay. He shook it without any enthusiasm and on his host’s motion sat on a chair opposite him.

  “Thank you Abhay for coming here, I was afraid that you might change your mind, “Rudolf said smiling.

  “I didn’t,” Abhay said a little sharply, “now let’s get on with it.”

  Rudolf offered Abhay the eatables that the latter declined. Rudolf took a mouthful of the same and then without any prelude announced. “Your life is in great danger; a woman is trying to kill you.”

  “A woman or you?”

  “Why would I do that? Don’t you see it, the woman who is trying to kill you is your own wife; a corrupt and promiscuous woman.”

  “You …you are lying!” Abhay said in a state of shock. “I have been married to Payal for nearly a year and I cannot believe that she would ever betray me.”

  Here, see this,” Rudolf said taking out a paper and throwing it on the table between them.

  Abhay picked it up and saw that it was an article cut out from a newspaper. It was entitled ‘Strange feats of Magic’. The section about Bengal told of how the women of that part used magic to enslave man, who - if they found them attractive enough - made their husbands and what not! Abhay threw away the article back on the table and tried to get up, “I think I better leave.”

  “Wait! What happened?”

  “I cannot waste my time talking to a man who despite his modern education believes in this crap, this middle age superstition, and nonsense. Are you going to tell me next that my wife too is a sorceress like the women the stupid writer of this article had talked about? I’m leaving,” he said getting up.

  “Weren’t you surprised to find the lemon and bones tied in a red cloth under your bed?” Rudolf asked in a perfectly calm and unhurried manner.

  “How do you know about that?” Abhay asked surprised, stopping dead in his tracks.

  “What do I don’t know about?” Rudolf questioned raising his eyebrows. “Come, my station wagon is parked just outside, we will go and sit inside that and continue our conversation.”

  “Why your car; why not mine?”

  “All right your car it is, happy?” Rudolf said smiling. “Let’s go.”

  They both went out of the restaurant; the ring road outside was as busy with traffic as in any hour of the day. They both walked towards ‘Mahindra Scorpio’ in the parking space; Abhay unlocked the door of his car and opened its other door when he got inside. Rudolf sat on the seat beside him and closing the door on his side asked, “Are you still in a hurry to leave?”

  “How did you know? You know it because you did or got it done,”

  “Trust me Abhay, I don’t have any supernatural powers doing my bidding, how can I then send a ghost to haunt you? Or plant black magic charms in your house, right under your bed.”

  “If you did not do that, who else did that?”

  A smile of pure delight danced on Rudolf’s lips, as can come only to a man who has the person before him at the precise spot where he wants him to be. “Payal is the person who is trying to kill you, not me! After

  Abhay felt like his whole world crashing around him; the stereo in the car was playing the song – Killing me softly with his song, turning my whole life to whispers, killing me softly with his song. He had an acute feeling of falling into an abyss with
nothing to hold on to; it took him a while to regain control of his senses. When he was finally able to get hold of himself, looking at Rudolf’s face he asked foolishly and amazed at the same time, “Payal! Payal is trying to kill me? But why?” his throat was choked with emotion.

  “I told you; she is a thoroughly corrupt and promiscuous woman. She has had many lovers; only you are blind enough not to see it. She has made a cuckold of you and everybody laughs at you behind your back at your ignorance.”

  “But why the need to kill me?”

  “So that she and her lover can get together. Tell me something?” Rudolf asked narrowing his eyes, “Do you have an insurance policy in your name.”

  “Yes, worth 10 crore rupees,” came out of Abhay’s mouth.

  “There you are, that gives her an added motive my dear,” said Rudolf.

  “And how would you know of her all these activities and that of her so-called lover?” Abhay asked a vital question.

  “She alone cannot engage a tantrik or a black magician; I too have got myself a Sorcerer – only to save myself from her tricks, you understand. Some Warlock I must be if I go around seeking the help of another black magician to protect myself. It was my magician who told me what evil Payal and her lover were up to, through a blind tantrik; I think Bharoo was his name.”

  “Yes, I have seen him,” Abhay admitted, “but Payal said he was helping her to keep you away.”

  After a long pause, he turned to Rudolf and looked at him suspiciously, “I don’t trust you; you are a liar and are trying to create a wedge between me and my wife.”

  For a moment Rudolf was taken aback and his face lost his colour as if caught red-handed. But he recovered quickly and said, “You can ignore my warning at your own peril.”

  “Get out my car,” he barked and then drove away in a foul mood.

  It was a day after he had met Rudolf that Abhay was at the visitor’s lounge of the Indira Gandhi International Airport of Delhi at one’ o’clock in the morning. He had come to see off his friend Naresh, who was going back to England after a four-day stay in India. He had driven his buddy from Saket to the Airport and was awaiting his return from the British Airways counter, where he had gone to inquire the takeoff time of the plane that he was to fly to Heathrow Airport in London and check-in time for the staff.