Naman Shah had looked for his brother everywhere.
He had even called the Haveli where they had no idea where Raman is because he didn't show for work this morning as well. He skipped his school today and had been looking for him ever since.
It was around eleven when he came back home to find his father slouched in his bed, his cooler making that usual annoying sound that it made.
His grandmother sat by the foot of the bed, her head rested on her palm.
His mother was crying softly in her sari, sprawled by the wall beside his grandmother.
As soon as he entered his father's room, everyone turned their heads towards him expectantly. Raman shook his head in response to their unasked question.
He realised his sister was standing beside him with four glasses of lemonades in a tray.
"I think you all are overreacting. He had been out of the town before as well. It might be possible that his phone's battery died!" Siya, his sixteen years old sister, youngest of them all said.
"No, he always informed. One way or another, he always informed," said Naman picking up a glass from the tray and walked to sit by the chair beside his father's bed.
"I called Naveen Bhai Ji, but he didn't pick up. I think something's not right in the Haveli. Last day he went to the Haveli early saying that he had three more books to maintain to get the gap in the ledger. He hasn't returned since," his father shook his head in contemplation. "Did you go to the Haveli?"
"Yes, they didn't let me in. So I called his office in the Haveli. They told me that he checked out in the evening the day before and hasn't showed up for work today," Naman, pricking a bead of sweat off his wide forehead, said.
"I am telling you, he is smoking ganja again. He must be lying somewhere, highly dosed," said the toothless grandmother. She was past hundred years old and she still managed to cause her part of the trouble for the family.
"Will you please keep shut? He had been clean for more than three years now," Naman's mother said, jumping in defence for his son.
"So what...? He works for Naveen, we all know what business he runs. I don't believe an addict would not smoke working in the field of ganja," countered the grandmother.
"He doesn't work in the field, he works in his office, keeps the account of all the ganja trade. There's a difference grandma," said Siya, adjusting her stall on her shoulders.
"Let me call Dayanand," his father said and picked up his phone. He called and put the phone on speaker for his disturbed family to hear.
After few rings it was answered.
Suddenly a loud thump on the main door took them all by surprise. It was so loud it felt like the whole house shook.
Siya rose and went to answer the door while everyone else ignored the thump and focussed on the call.
"Baniya, don't call in the Haveli. Not unless you want your family dead," was the first thing Dayanand said.
"Bade Bhaiya Ji, what happened?" asked the Baniya, frantically.
Naman heard her sister opening the door, all the while Dayanand on the phone said, "You must know, you imbecile. And benefit of the doubt is what you are alive on. But let me tell you, you son isn't."
And an equally loud gunshot from the door sprang them into the fright and aimless running.
Naman ran to the end of the room impulsively where a drawer desk rested beside his father's bed. He pulled out the third drawer and meanwhile heard a second gunshot and his mother's scream.
And then her bellowing, specifically, Siya's name.
He took out the gun in his hands and ran outside his father's room where he found that his entire family had been there already.
His sister lay dead by the door, shot in her head. His grandmother sprawled in her usual manner on the floor, few feet away from his dead sister, she, too, shot in her head.
His mother crying beside his sister's body and his father standing before Naveen Thakur and his men.
Naman came and stood beside his father, hiding his gun in the back of his jeans.
"Chhote Bhaiya Ji, please, we have served your family for so long, please have mercy. What did we do? What has my son done?" Naman's father pleaded.
In that moment, where Naman stood, he could see his entire life ending before his eyes. He had no idea how long his mother and father are going to live for. He shook his head to keep his long, curly hair away from his eyes.
He felt tears forming a noble mix with sweat on his face, quite noble to defeat the death. It was only a matter of time that it came.
His mind suddenly rushed to Dayanand's words. His brother was dead too. Nothing but death made sense to him.
He could not hear the hateful spat of Naveen Thakur as he wrestled through his thoughts and suddenly, he had no idea if it was grief or blood, he threw up right beside where his grandmother was laying. He knelt to wretch some more, all the while very aware that he had to conceal his gun in his pants.
"By the time I leave here, none of you would breathe. Just tell me, who was it? And why? After everything she did for you rodents? Why do that to her?" Naveen Thakur was crying. Naman could not believe Naveen Thakur was crying. The way he talked, it was quite apparent that he was drunk. But what had happened?
"We didn't do anything Bhaiya Ji. We have been in Amma Ji's service our entire life. Please Bhaiya Ji, what possibly could my little girl do to deserve that? My mother could hardly chew her food, how could she do anything? At least tell us what has happened?" His father pleaded.
"You motherfucker, don't act like you don't know. You all planned this. Every one of you was in on it. She hadn't even forgiven me yet. I did everything she asked me to do like a dog and all I waited for was her forgiveness. And you imbeciles killed her. It's like there's no meaning to anything anymore," Naveen's eyes burnt red as Naman stood to look at his face.
Naveen gritted his teeth at his last few words and shot the gun he had been pointing at his father.
His father screeched and Naman sprung from where he was standing to the adjacent alley that led further into the backyard.
Naman stood and froze his hands in the air in surrender, there in the alley as one of Naveen's dog pointed his gun at him. He was a short, bearded man, with his hair trimmed short to the scalp.
As his father held his leg, where he was shot, embracing the floor, he let out a sharp cry. Naman was so numb he refused to imagine how the pain must have sheered through his father's leg. And that cry was trigger enough for my mom to spring into action.
Naman knew better, he screamed, "No, maa, no." But he was too late. His mother had already charged on Naveen and Naveen, his eyes hollow as devil's, shot his mother once. And then twice and kept shooting her till he had no more bullets in his gun.
And then Naman wailed. He cried like a lost and angry child, as he pulled his gun swiftly. He shot the short man in his head and ran into the backyard.
Naveen Thakur yelled some cuss words and ran after him, shooting aimlessly.
Naman jumped the backyard wall and before making it to the other side, he stopped on the wall to make one more shot at Naveen.
He did, but at a huge price.
Naman could only catch Naveen's left arm but one of Naveen's men caught Naman twice in his abdomen. The second bullet in his gut had sent him flying over the wall.
*****
Naveen and his men looked all over beyond the wall in the backyard but Naman was nowhere to be seen. As if he had vanished.
Naveen tied up the unconscious Baniya and threw him in his jeep while his men sprayed the petroleum oil they had brought all around the house.
Naveen stared blankly at Rajesh's dead body as he waited for his men to load into the Jeep. He looked closely at Rajesh's body, meeting his cold, lifeless eyes, to feel death as Devyani had felt.
He rose and left the house, but before leaving he flicked his lighter and threw over Siya's body drenched in her blood, now mixed with petroleum oil - more worth than her blood.
And that was how Naveen Thakur took pride in himself. That was how his sense of justice worked, bereaved of any reason. He'd tend to detach himself from intellect and reason and operate solely on emotion.
***