The clouds had been gathering all day. Thick, black, cumulous clouds. But there wasn’t a hint of rain – although the mugginess was reaching epic proportions. Malpur lay nestled in the Dalma hills, but because it was at the edge of the Deccan Plateau it tended to be dry in summer. Very, very dry. This summer was no exception. A kal boishakhi – the nor’easter thunderstorm so common during spring in Malpur- was brewing. It just wasn't completely brewed yet.
Mr. Bhanap had been working late at the office that day. He was on the second shift, and didn’t come off duty until 10 o’clock. The air conditioning at the computer center was running full blast in the hot summer night. Beads of water ran down the windows that fogged up with the humidity on the outside. He stepped out the back door, and had to stop for a moment as his glasses fogged up. The night was hot and humid. The clouds were slowly coming in over the mountains, and he could just about make out the tall tops as the light from the city reflected off the clouds. He headed towards the bicycle stand taking care to check for snakes that came out of their nests. Snakes, you say? Ah yes, the office building was on top of a small hill. It was the only building on the hill, and thick tropical foliage covered the hill side and bordered the driveway leading to the front of the building. The cycle stand was at the back of the three storied glass and concrete, white and silver structure. Beyond the stand, the hill rose a little more, and was also covered with the dense foliage.
Getting on his bike, Mr. Bhanap headed home. He had a long ride, about 4 miles, but the breeze generated by moving felt good through his thin cotton shirt and pants. His feet were encased in shoes that made them feel hotter, but it was cold inside the office. All those large computers had to be kept cool, and the air conditioning did just that. His tired eyes and face reflected the years that he had spent doing the same job day after day after day. Data Entry was one of the most mind-numbingly boring jobs, and he had been doing it for 8 years. Way too long already.
The mental numbness encased his mind, as he automatically pedalled along – one foot pushing the other. He liked this time of the day or night as the case was. It was quiet, and more often than not, it was a solitary ride. He had things to think about. Bills to pay, the children needed new shoes to go to school.It was the middle of the school year, and not yet time for the annual bonus. They would have to wait until he got his bonus. But with the way his boss was… he sighed.
The roads in Malpur rolled up hill and down dale. It was not a crowded city, and being an industrial city, it was sort of deserted at 10 in the night. The tall trees lining the sides of the road offered a darker shade in the darkening night. Rolling down one steep slope, and pedaling up another, Mr. Bhanap was making good time.
But now his thoughts were also racing on about his boss. Mr. Mitra was a.. a.. he couldn’t think of a vile enough adjective for him. The man was a monster, he thought – pedalling a little faster. He dogged everybody in the section. People were scared to take a bathroom break – because he would send his little ‘spies’ into the bathroom to see what people were doing! Even the ladies in the section did not escape this … this.. .ugliness. He spat on the road. All he needed was a couple of days off. His mother-in-law was due to come into town. He would have to take her to the Ramji Temple. It was a whole day affair and his wife couldn’t do it on her own. So he would have to take them to the temple.
And Mr Mitra had the audacity to say that he couldn’t take any personal time, just IN CASE they needed someone for the half-yearly Inventory which was unfortunately scheduled the same day as his sasuji (mother-in-law) was coming. He couldn't believe it. And he knew Kamala would not understand why he could not take one day off in the whole year.
And those newcomers! All they wanted to do was show off how quick they were with their work. He hated them – especially the youngest one. She seemed like a firebrand, and was way too smart to be in this section. But here she was, probably sleeping with the new engineer who couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. He was eating her with his eyes, and she was oblivious, walking around the division, chattering in English with the managers –and she’d only been here two months! But pretending she was so much better than everyone else.
By this time he was halfway home, so he decided to cut across the golf course in the center of the city. It was a pleasant ride through the more affluent neighbourhood where the executives lived, alongside the golf course. They lived here and played here at the local officers club. Once past that neighbourhood, the road went downhill through some fallow land. There was nothing for a mile or two on each side.
As he neared the houses at the end of that stretch, he was surprised to see a woman walking along the roadside. He rolled to a stop near her and said, ‘Forgive me. But where are you going? It is so late at night, too late for a woman to be out by herself’.
She looked startled to see him, but then smiled in relief seeing his meek face.
‘Oh, thank you!’ she said. ‘I got off the bus at the ____ stop, and since it is such a nice night, thought I would walk through the golf course. I did not think it would take me so long.’ She laughed embarrassedly. She was dressed in a nice silk sari and walked with a purposeful stride.
‘Where do you want to go to? I can give you a ride on my bicycle,’ Mr. Bhanap said.
‘Well, I need to go to 15 D-Road’.
‘In that case, if you don’t mind, you can get on my cycle, and I will drop you off’.
She hesitated a moment and then said, ‘thank you. That is very kind of you’.
She got on the cycle, and Bhanap got back on. They rode in silence for a while. Then she said, ‘It’s very quiet around here, no?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. But all he wanted was to go back to his thinking. A few drops of rain splashed down. The raindrops were warm. A few more fell. He looked down at her sitting on the front rod of the cycle. The top of her blouse was cut low enough that he could see the cleavage of her breasts. A drop of rain fell on the swell and trickled into her blouse. He looked towards the road. It was a sin to feel any attraction to a woman who was not his wife.
Besides, this … this .. girl!! … was starting to chatter again. ‘Oh no! We’re going to get caught in the rain. My mother will be so mad at me. Oh God! now what should I do?’
He stopped the cycle under one of the trees at the side of the road. it was a big banyan tree, the roots coming down from the branches like pillars. The thick foliage offered some shelter but not much. The girl was still going on about how much trouble she would be in at home.
Bhanap looked at her in silence. She was annoying him. She was whining and he could not stand whiners. She was … truly… annoying him. With astonishment he realized that he wanted to hit her – so badly. And he did. One sharp slap to her face. She was stunned, staring at him in astonishment. He slapped her again. It felt so good. And again. She was whimpering now. Then he caught the free end of her sari. She opened her mouth to scream. He stuffed it inside her mouth. The heavens opened up. The nor’easter was now brewed and ready. She was gagging, reeling – not even trying to run. He wrapped the end around her throat and pulled. Her eyes widened in astonishment and then rolled up. She went limp. He let go. She dropped to the ground.
For a minute he stared, wondering what he had done. How could he have done this? Then he laughed, more like a scoff. Hah! nobody would know. It would be his little secret. And he felt so good about it. He got on his bicycle and pedaled away, heading home. But then he turned onto D-Road. The row of houses was almost all dark – just a few had their porch light on. Lightning flashed on the top of the hill. She had told him number 15 – it was dark as well. He stopped in front of the house, holding the cycle steady with one foot. Then he smiled and pedaled away home.
***
A year later…
The rain was pouring down as Mr Bhanap reached his home. By the time he had opened the gate, walked to the porch and pushed the cycle onto it, he was soaked. He knocked on the door. A short wait and it opened. His wife let him in, scolding him for getting caught in the rain without his raincoat.
‘Well, let me tell you why I am late,’ he said. He then told her the story of the lady who he had given a ride to. How he had to drop her off home and how he was delayed because of that.
His wife looked at him sceptically and then said, ‘Bhanapji, I have known you for 10 years, so I have to believe you. But we should go and check up with the girl soon, and make sure she is not wandering around on her own again.’
He agreed.
However, it was almost two months later that the Bhanaps finally managed to go to 15 D-Road. It was a Saturday evening and the house seemed to be shut up. But they went up to the porch and knocked on the front door, anyway. A short time later, they heard footsteps shuffling up to the door. The door opened slowly, and revealed an elderly lady, about seventy years old. Her almost white hair was mussed as if she hadn’t combed it in a while, a white sari and blouse completed her attire. Her feet were bare, and she wore no jewellery. But it was her eyes that startled them - large and impossibly sad. She frowned at them,
‘Who are you?’
Mrs Bhanap raised her hands and folded them, ‘Namastey. My name is Kamala. Kamala Bhanap and this is my husband. We.. well., can we talk to your daughter? Daughter-in-law?’
The lady looked at them strangely. ‘Daughter?’
‘Well that’s what she said,’ Mr Bhanap said.
‘What kind of cruel joke is this?’ the lady said. ‘Do you not know?’
‘Know what?’ they looked bewildered.
For a moment she looked at them, and then gestured them to come inside. They walked into the sparsely furnished room. On a sofa against a whitewashed wall, was a small portrait. A garland of marigolds circled the picture, and incense sticks burned on a little shelf below. It was her! The girl from that night! ‘My daughter, Mina,’ she gestured to the picture.
Mr Bhanap took his wife’s arm, and said, ‘Look! That’s her. But? how? When did this happen?’
She looked at him and said, ‘A year and two months ago. She was coming from her friend’s house, and decided to take a short cut through the golf course. Someone killed her. They found her body next to the road. How do you know her?’ She covered her mouth with the end of her sari as she burst into tears.
Mr Bhanap drew a deep breath. He sat down on the sofa, his head in his hands. He repeated his encounter with Mina, his hands growing clammier as he spoke. His wife sat beside him, stroking his hair. The three of them were silent, and then he stood up. ‘We should go,’ he gestured to his wife.
They left a little later.
The fan creaked overhead as they lay in bed. Neither could sleep. Mr Bhanap was reliving that night again. What a night! How good it had felt. The stupid police did not find any evidence. The rain has washed it all away. Kamala turned towards him. ‘Ji,’ she said, addressing him properly like any Indian woman. ‘Can I ask you something?’
He turned over. ‘What is it?’
She searched his face for some sign. Then she frowned a little, ‘It was you, na? You killed that girl? You came home very late that night.’
He looked at her wondering how much he could trust her. Then he smile and said , ‘yes, I did. And if you had been there, you would have been with me. ‘
She smiled a cold smile and said, ‘I am still with you. I’m not going anywhere.’ She turned away from him, and said ‘Go to sleep. I am too.’ With a sigh, she nestled into the bed, and fell asleep.
Mr. Bhanap had been working late at the office that day. He was on the second shift, and didn’t come off duty until 10 o’clock. The air conditioning at the computer center was running full blast in the hot summer night. Beads of water ran down the windows that fogged up with the humidity on the outside. He stepped out the back door, and had to stop for a moment as his glasses fogged up. The night was hot and humid. The clouds were slowly coming in over the mountains, and he could just about make out the tall tops as the light from the city reflected off the clouds. He headed towards the bicycle stand taking care to check for snakes that came out of their nests. Snakes, you say? Ah yes, the office building was on top of a small hill. It was the only building on the hill, and thick tropical foliage covered the hill side and bordered the driveway leading to the front of the building. The cycle stand was at the back of the three storied glass and concrete, white and silver structure. Beyond the stand, the hill rose a little more, and was also covered with the dense foliage.
Getting on his bike, Mr. Bhanap headed home. He had a long ride, about 4 miles, but the breeze generated by moving felt good through his thin cotton shirt and pants. His feet were encased in shoes that made them feel hotter, but it was cold inside the office. All those large computers had to be kept cool, and the air conditioning did just that. His tired eyes and face reflected the years that he had spent doing the same job day after day after day. Data Entry was one of the most mind-numbingly boring jobs, and he had been doing it for 8 years. Way too long already.
The mental numbness encased his mind, as he automatically pedalled along – one foot pushing the other. He liked this time of the day or night as the case was. It was quiet, and more often than not, it was a solitary ride. He had things to think about. Bills to pay, the children needed new shoes to go to school.It was the middle of the school year, and not yet time for the annual bonus. They would have to wait until he got his bonus. But with the way his boss was… he sighed.
The roads in Malpur rolled up hill and down dale. It was not a crowded city, and being an industrial city, it was sort of deserted at 10 in the night. The tall trees lining the sides of the road offered a darker shade in the darkening night. Rolling down one steep slope, and pedaling up another, Mr. Bhanap was making good time.
But now his thoughts were also racing on about his boss. Mr. Mitra was a.. a.. he couldn’t think of a vile enough adjective for him. The man was a monster, he thought – pedalling a little faster. He dogged everybody in the section. People were scared to take a bathroom break – because he would send his little ‘spies’ into the bathroom to see what people were doing! Even the ladies in the section did not escape this … this.. .ugliness. He spat on the road. All he needed was a couple of days off. His mother-in-law was due to come into town. He would have to take her to the Ramji Temple. It was a whole day affair and his wife couldn’t do it on her own. So he would have to take them to the temple.
And Mr Mitra had the audacity to say that he couldn’t take any personal time, just IN CASE they needed someone for the half-yearly Inventory which was unfortunately scheduled the same day as his sasuji (mother-in-law) was coming. He couldn't believe it. And he knew Kamala would not understand why he could not take one day off in the whole year.
And those newcomers! All they wanted to do was show off how quick they were with their work. He hated them – especially the youngest one. She seemed like a firebrand, and was way too smart to be in this section. But here she was, probably sleeping with the new engineer who couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. He was eating her with his eyes, and she was oblivious, walking around the division, chattering in English with the managers –and she’d only been here two months! But pretending she was so much better than everyone else.
By this time he was halfway home, so he decided to cut across the golf course in the center of the city. It was a pleasant ride through the more affluent neighbourhood where the executives lived, alongside the golf course. They lived here and played here at the local officers club. Once past that neighbourhood, the road went downhill through some fallow land. There was nothing for a mile or two on each side.
As he neared the houses at the end of that stretch, he was surprised to see a woman walking along the roadside. He rolled to a stop near her and said, ‘Forgive me. But where are you going? It is so late at night, too late for a woman to be out by herself’.
She looked startled to see him, but then smiled in relief seeing his meek face.
‘Oh, thank you!’ she said. ‘I got off the bus at the ____ stop, and since it is such a nice night, thought I would walk through the golf course. I did not think it would take me so long.’ She laughed embarrassedly. She was dressed in a nice silk sari and walked with a purposeful stride.
‘Where do you want to go to? I can give you a ride on my bicycle,’ Mr. Bhanap said.
‘Well, I need to go to 15 D-Road’.
‘In that case, if you don’t mind, you can get on my cycle, and I will drop you off’.
She hesitated a moment and then said, ‘thank you. That is very kind of you’.
She got on the cycle, and Bhanap got back on. They rode in silence for a while. Then she said, ‘It’s very quiet around here, no?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. But all he wanted was to go back to his thinking. A few drops of rain splashed down. The raindrops were warm. A few more fell. He looked down at her sitting on the front rod of the cycle. The top of her blouse was cut low enough that he could see the cleavage of her breasts. A drop of rain fell on the swell and trickled into her blouse. He looked towards the road. It was a sin to feel any attraction to a woman who was not his wife.
Besides, this … this .. girl!! … was starting to chatter again. ‘Oh no! We’re going to get caught in the rain. My mother will be so mad at me. Oh God! now what should I do?’
He stopped the cycle under one of the trees at the side of the road. it was a big banyan tree, the roots coming down from the branches like pillars. The thick foliage offered some shelter but not much. The girl was still going on about how much trouble she would be in at home.
Bhanap looked at her in silence. She was annoying him. She was whining and he could not stand whiners. She was … truly… annoying him. With astonishment he realized that he wanted to hit her – so badly. And he did. One sharp slap to her face. She was stunned, staring at him in astonishment. He slapped her again. It felt so good. And again. She was whimpering now. Then he caught the free end of her sari. She opened her mouth to scream. He stuffed it inside her mouth. The heavens opened up. The nor’easter was now brewed and ready. She was gagging, reeling – not even trying to run. He wrapped the end around her throat and pulled. Her eyes widened in astonishment and then rolled up. She went limp. He let go. She dropped to the ground.
For a minute he stared, wondering what he had done. How could he have done this? Then he laughed, more like a scoff. Hah! nobody would know. It would be his little secret. And he felt so good about it. He got on his bicycle and pedaled away, heading home. But then he turned onto D-Road. The row of houses was almost all dark – just a few had their porch light on. Lightning flashed on the top of the hill. She had told him number 15 – it was dark as well. He stopped in front of the house, holding the cycle steady with one foot. Then he smiled and pedaled away home.
***
A year later…
The rain was pouring down as Mr Bhanap reached his home. By the time he had opened the gate, walked to the porch and pushed the cycle onto it, he was soaked. He knocked on the door. A short wait and it opened. His wife let him in, scolding him for getting caught in the rain without his raincoat.
‘Well, let me tell you why I am late,’ he said. He then told her the story of the lady who he had given a ride to. How he had to drop her off home and how he was delayed because of that.
His wife looked at him sceptically and then said, ‘Bhanapji, I have known you for 10 years, so I have to believe you. But we should go and check up with the girl soon, and make sure she is not wandering around on her own again.’
He agreed.
However, it was almost two months later that the Bhanaps finally managed to go to 15 D-Road. It was a Saturday evening and the house seemed to be shut up. But they went up to the porch and knocked on the front door, anyway. A short time later, they heard footsteps shuffling up to the door. The door opened slowly, and revealed an elderly lady, about seventy years old. Her almost white hair was mussed as if she hadn’t combed it in a while, a white sari and blouse completed her attire. Her feet were bare, and she wore no jewellery. But it was her eyes that startled them - large and impossibly sad. She frowned at them,
‘Who are you?’
Mrs Bhanap raised her hands and folded them, ‘Namastey. My name is Kamala. Kamala Bhanap and this is my husband. We.. well., can we talk to your daughter? Daughter-in-law?’
The lady looked at them strangely. ‘Daughter?’
‘Well that’s what she said,’ Mr Bhanap said.
‘What kind of cruel joke is this?’ the lady said. ‘Do you not know?’
‘Know what?’ they looked bewildered.
For a moment she looked at them, and then gestured them to come inside. They walked into the sparsely furnished room. On a sofa against a whitewashed wall, was a small portrait. A garland of marigolds circled the picture, and incense sticks burned on a little shelf below. It was her! The girl from that night! ‘My daughter, Mina,’ she gestured to the picture.
Mr Bhanap took his wife’s arm, and said, ‘Look! That’s her. But? how? When did this happen?’
She looked at him and said, ‘A year and two months ago. She was coming from her friend’s house, and decided to take a short cut through the golf course. Someone killed her. They found her body next to the road. How do you know her?’ She covered her mouth with the end of her sari as she burst into tears.
Mr Bhanap drew a deep breath. He sat down on the sofa, his head in his hands. He repeated his encounter with Mina, his hands growing clammier as he spoke. His wife sat beside him, stroking his hair. The three of them were silent, and then he stood up. ‘We should go,’ he gestured to his wife.
They left a little later.
The fan creaked overhead as they lay in bed. Neither could sleep. Mr Bhanap was reliving that night again. What a night! How good it had felt. The stupid police did not find any evidence. The rain has washed it all away. Kamala turned towards him. ‘Ji,’ she said, addressing him properly like any Indian woman. ‘Can I ask you something?’
He turned over. ‘What is it?’
She searched his face for some sign. Then she frowned a little, ‘It was you, na? You killed that girl? You came home very late that night.’
He looked at her wondering how much he could trust her. Then he smile and said , ‘yes, I did. And if you had been there, you would have been with me. ‘
She smiled a cold smile and said, ‘I am still with you. I’m not going anywhere.’ She turned away from him, and said ‘Go to sleep. I am too.’ With a sigh, she nestled into the bed, and fell asleep.