The watch on my wrist showed 3:30 PM. It was raining heavily. We were in a compact lodge, far from the city in a small town. We were running our phones in safe mode with a new SIM card.
"We'll leave once the rain settles." I said this amidst the rattling noise of the window. She did not respond. She has been silent for a few days. I looked outside the window at the rain pouring down on the buildings, trees, gardens, and roads. The intense petrichor smell teleported me to a faraway valley in the Himalayas.
An hour later, the rain stopped, and the time to depart had come. We set off back to the city to get back into our busy lives that we were separated for two weeks. Kaira was silent, just glaring outside the window of the car.
The same night, we were at the house, exhausted from the travel. The house was in the same condition. The broken glass, popcorn on the sofa, the cupboard doors opening, and the broken lock of the door. I went straight to bed; Kaira showered and joined me. The next day, the sun shone through the window, waking me up like a natural alarm.
I went to Maxam Hospital with Kaira and got my plaster removed. I was advised not to put much strain on the hand. Kaira was accompanying me, still silent as she was before.
"At last." I exclaimed. "My hand is free."
"Good." She replied.
"Is everything alright?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Why are you so dull?"
"I'm a little tired from the traveling." She looked at the watch in her hand. "I'll show you the way out."
"By the way," I said. "I was planning to buy a..."
"Kaira." Interrupted a man. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Yes sir." She looked from him to me. "Bye." She said so and went inside the hospital with him.
I departed for my workplace, which I had not visited in a while. Ladwa was busy with his own work, and my colleagues were scrambling over their assignments. I headed to the office and into Ladwa's den.
"Good morning, sir." I greeted. He nodded.
"Here is the report of the investigation that you asked for." I said this as I handed him a file. He opened it and skimmed through it.
"You're going well here." He complimented. "Less than my expectation, but considerable."
"What about the information I asked for?" I asked.
"Yes." He replied, throwing the file on the desk in the corner among the stack of old files. "I've contacted and verified it. Here is the address you need to go to."
I thanked him and rose from my seat to depart.
"Mr. Joshi." He called. "Take care of yourself. I don't want you dying out here."
An hour later, thirty-five-kilometre kilometers north, near the northern periphery of the city, was the address I headed to. The area was almost deserted, with a small population. Endless uncultivated lands. At a distance, there was a double-story house with big, lavish windows. It was a sky-blue house with a rooftop equipped with a shed. They seemed to have a rooftop plantation. There were security guards standing at the gate, and some patrolling around the house. It was close to the Chief Minister's house.
"I was invited." I said that when the guards prevented me from getting in.
"No visitors allowed." He said sternly.
I continued arguing until John called from the door.
"Let him in." He spoke.
He stood at the door, dressed in a robe, holding a cup in his hand. Not only that, but he had a lean figure, probably in his fifties, gray hair, and rings in his fingers.
The gate opened. I did not realize the size of it from the outside. It was bigger than it seemed, more elegant, and posher. It might seem peculiar to have such a house in a place like this.
The house was even bigger from the inside. A spiral staircase spiraling to the above floor with a chandelier at the center. There was a doorway that led to the dining hall. I felt like I was at a palace, visiting the prince. We both sat on the chairs, on opposite sides, to face each other.
"On the official records, you are declared an insane person. I doubt that, and that is why I'm here to meet you. I have a few questions." I started.
"The records are always true, aren't they?" He sighed. "I'm a lucid man; that is what should be on record."
"Why do the records say you're 'insane'?" This poses a lot of suspicion for the police. Surely, they can be bribed, but not to the extent that they change an entire man's sanity. He would lose all his wealth to a third person.
"When the records were filed, they had to test me first and then declare me as who I am. It did not happen. One day I got a letter and all my property was transferred to my next of kin, who was either Alan or Mary." He replied. He had a proper English accent, as though he were an NRI.
The question remained unanswered as to why he was declared insane without any hard evidence.
"Have you made any complaints?"
"I tried, but it did not stand because only my representative could file. Alan did not agree to it."
Now things are clear. The quest for ownership and possession title over the property was the raison d'être for the fight.
"Who is looking after you now?" Rita was supposed to be under his care. Two weeks later, a teenager was looking after him, which complicated matters.
"Until he died, Alan used to look after me. Ajit has taken his place since then."
This was a setback. Rita, like Avani, had been lying to me the whole time. She has also been a part of this from the beginning. If this continues, I am afraid I will develop trust issues. I had several questions to ask, but I took my time choosing one. Before I asked the next one, he stopped me.
"What drew you to his case?" He sounded like he was annoyed. "It was closed long ago, so why are you here doing this?"
"I had known Mary since the podcast, and I believe she was an honest politician. Her death was a shock to me, and I've got my reasons to believe it was not a mere suicide."
He stared at me; his reaction seemed as though he had not expected such an answer.
"So, you've got a personal reason for this?" He continued his question.
"Mostly," I replied instantly.
He sighed in disappointment. He looked down at the table and chuckled, drumming his fingers on the table. Then he looked at me with a smile, like I had cracked a joke.
"Is something wrong?""Something?" He chuckled again. "Everything's wrong, man. You thought Mary was an honest politician? That's so naive."
"What do you mean?" I was slightly offended.
"She's not the kind you thought she was." He spoke. "We had to split up because of her. She played a double Game' to start a fire among us so she could enjoy it all for herself. She wanted all the property my father left us, but her greed got the best of her. She changed his will so that she got most of it. I'm sure she had me declared insane so she could take what little I had. Alan lost his property after he left us, and she took it as well."
This incessant truth had me questioning everything. The cornerstone of my motivation was at risk of collapse. The end of all my work, left to nothing What would become of this State, which harbours the "unperishable" justice that is supposed to enlighten us to the revelation of the absolute truth and harmony of everyone, if the players of this system showed no allegiance to the people? This had my entire belief system shattered with just one thought: Was Marry really murdered, or was this a deliberate attempt at masking us with lies?
"Was." I paused as my voice cracked. "Was she in any way involved in drugs?"
He sighed. There was a moment of silence that filled the room. His silence spoke for itself. Unfortunately, everything was a hoax. The admission at the hospital, lying among the staff, the murders of her siblings, and the people of her hometown I was set up to fail from the start. A pawn, governed by unethical rules that ensure one-sided victory.
"There was a drug racket caught a month ago." He explained. "All the cartons were disguised as consumer goods. They were all transported to Kerala, and then God knows where they went. But they turned up in every remote village in that state. Mary surely had a prime role in this because there were no permits, checks, or fees required. In fact, only one company used to deliver this 'KTX,' owned by some Jhami Rahan."
He paused to glare at me. What he said further twisted everything, making it more complex than it already was.
"I checked the records, and they're clear." He spoke. "It was financed by Mary L. Lupin. All that drug racket was just a mere fragment of it. She is involved more than all that."
Mary was one of the unfortunates who perished each year as a result of mafia fights. This tension was caused by the large fish they hunted. This still does not explain everything. Why was she admitted to Maxam Hospital? Why was such tight security required? Most importantly, why hire a private investigator?
He stared at the wall clock behind me. He sat frozen for a moment, then closed his eyes. His face eventually turned red and he tensed. He then rested his head on the table. He was coughing incessantly; a loud noise emitted from the wall clock resonated in the room, adding to my discomfort already worsened by his cough.
A minute later, the servants rushed in with a nurse. She had a glass of water and a cup that contained pills. One of them pulled him up and rested him on the chair. At that point, his eyes were red, and his face was like a mushed tomato. Salvia was dripping from his mouth; he had almost lost consciousness. They gave him the pill and the water, which he managed to swallow with great difficulty.
The nurse came in with a wheelchair to take him up. Five of them, two on his arms, one at the head, and the rest at the leg, carried him to the wheelchair and gently sat him on it. The nurse took him to his room, followed by the rest of them.
The teenager came inside, closed the door, and scanned the room.
"I apologise for that." He spoke in a strong American accent."Does this happen to him regularly?" I asked."Yes. Today the nurse was a little late, so his symptoms were active.""I had a lot more questions, and I don't have much time left.""That's not possible." He said before I completed. "He is unwell.""I understand." I said, rose from my seat, and walked towards the door. Great, just another fuckup. The harder I tried, the worse it got.
"Hold on. Take this." He said this as he handed me a card. It was a doctor's card. Doctor Chandrappa T., GP and nephrologist
"Who's this?" "He was a family doctor. Now he works in Coimbatore.""Thank you." I said that and departed.
I had never been so irritated in my life. Everything I did seemed to make me more bewildered about the case. Doctor Khan came first, followed by the investigators, Rita, the failed efforts at Redlie Amines, and now this. Should I quit or just stay put, like an obstinate brat expecting something he will never get?
I then headed to Adams Street with the hope of finding something, or at least motivating myself. The room was dull and empty as it was. I had thought some family had rented this place.
I walked around the house, looking at the empty house and just looking at things. I was standing on one of the balconies that was attached to a room, resting my arms on the railings, and looking at the public. The unpleasant noise fused with the various mixed noises of the city was somehow not getting to me. I was stuck in a deluge of thoughts that held me like quicksand. It will not let me go or completely engulf me.
An hour later, I was sitting inside the room, probably in a depression that had gradually increased. I glared at the bland cupboards, which were on the opposite side of the balcony, drained of all the energy and motivation I had for this. I thought, Why do we always try so hard only to fail?
The sun hid behind the clouds, which became dull inside the room. Things had gotten worse. My wife would not talk to me, and no colleague would speak. Things become quite distant.
The clouds gave way for the sunlight to grace us again. It spread its rays inside again through the window. But who could guess that something as simple as sunlight could show me the way?
The light was brighter than other days. It spread itself on the cupboard. I glared back at them again, and that was when I noticed that the handle on the top shelf was clean compared to the rest. This flat was unused for a long time. The handles, knobs, and locks were extremely dusty and covered with oily dust. It might not be much, but at least something
I reached for that handle, struggling to balance on my toes. The doors cracked open. I could see some jute bags stuffed inside. The lower cupboard had wood planks at three levels inside that allowed me to climb. My feet are on the topmost level, supporting myself by clinging to the hinges of the above shelf. There were spider webs, which I removed. A jute bag was kept upright, as though it were awaiting disposal.
I reached for it by pulling myself inside. All the training and hard work paid off at this point specifically. I could barely fit myself inside. I stuffed myself inside, making sure that I would not be stuck.
I tilted the bag, and it fell to the ground. Several packets of white power were spread on the base. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Maybe this day was not as bad as I imagined.
There were plenty of drug packets. As I scanned around, I saw an old plank of wood where the jute bag was placed. I gently knocked on it, and, as I expected it to, it emitted a hollow sound. I punched it three times to break it. It was not because I was weak, but simply because I was cramped inside. Really.
There was a large opening carved into the very wall. As I increased the flashlight, I could spot mosquitoes and other insects roaming inside. Surely there had to be roaches as well. That did not stop me from getting inside. I clanged to the sides of the opening. At the count of three. ONE, TWO, THREE. I pulled myself inside, almost like sling-shooting myself.
I was completely stuffed inside. There was enough space to sit because the height was higher. I scanned that room with the help of the flashlight. It was packed with jute bags. I bet each one was teeming with drugs.
John was right. There is a big network of criminals working on this. This place is still operational, which means they are laying low. Now, these "Goods" must have a purpose for being stored here. My guess was that these were here as a storehouse and perhaps needed to be shipped someplace else.
I clicked pictures of the bags and saw their location clearly. All I needed to do was wait for them. I turned around to exit. That is when I realised I 'fucked up.' I was stuck inside. Jammed like the jute bags. I began panicking. It was getting dark outside, and I was inside cramped up. Maybe a little pushing might work, but it did not. I forcefully shoved through the narrow gap, but I was stuck at my shoulders.
It became harder to breathe. The sweat all over the body was another added problem. I tried to use my sweat as a lubricant, but it was just a futile attempt. It would require litres of sweat to make it easy to escape.
I pulled back inside the extended and hidden room with a little push and movement. I had to find another way out. I looked around, intensely poring over the room at each corner. But I found nothing. Just nothing. I lied inside, trying to keep myself calm. I had never been in this situation, nor had I ever imagined something like this would come.
It will be fine. I will find a way out, like I always have. Maybe I have been blessed, but I have come out of difficult circumstances before, and I will come out of this.
The sweating increased, and breathing was difficult. I was stalled in that position, trying to find a solution to this. Nothing could help me at this time. I was too reckless with my actions. A feeling of guilt and regret swept over me. Suddenly, there was a cool breeze that swept inside. The sweat helped me identify the direction. It came from the side where the jute bags were stacked.
I flashed my torch in that direction. There were several jute bags, but not a wall or a partition that separated the rooms. I assumed that the rooms were connected and that the escape route was through them.
I used the remaining energy and shoved in through those bags, pushing some aside, some front, and some back. The bags were endless, but there were no walls or partitions. Then I spotted a wooden plank on the base. I lifted it. There was a way into the cupboard in the room beside the one I went into.
I dropped down into the cupboard and exited it. The air outside graced my body. I was covered in dirt and sweat, top to bottom. I was grateful to come back out and feel the fresh air.
I felt my spirits rise from the abysmal depths of regret and failure, coupled with a desire to give up. Now, it was high time to move up a notch and depart for Coimbatore.
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TO BE CONTINUED...