Five-Thirty AM - XX

The Imani household was quiet on the Saturday afternoon. Maina and her parents had left for Pune the day before. So Mitul had decided to start working on the transcript, and was hard at work on it.

She took off her headphones and leaned back against the head board, eyes closed, going over the whole story in her mind. She wondered how one lived with oneself after something like this. Noel had and he’d survived.

****

Manipur in the fall is one of the best times of the year to visit. The hills and jungles of this border state could have made it one of the top tourists spots in the country. The unique ethnic make up of the people could contribute to the diversity that is India. The uniqueness of its culture could add to the melting pot that makes up India. Yet, this border state had been in the throes of strife over the decades.

The North-East was burning in 2006. The in-fighting between the insurgent groups, the insurgents and the infiltrators, and the army was taking a toll, and beautiful or not, Manipur was suffering the worst kind of trauma. The ruling powers of Delhi and even Kolkata were a world away from the reality on the ground. And to top it all, the Indian Army was being accused of alleged Human Rights violations in the region. It was not a good time to be in the North-East.

Noel’s battalion had been stationed in Manipur since the beginning of the year. He was battle weary. He’d seen conflicts in other parts of India. He’d been involved in some of the worst. But this was what he’d signed up for, to uphold the sovereignty of his country and protect her from her enemies within and without.

They were stationed on the outskirts of a little hill town. Lush forests climbed up the hillsides. Tall tropical moist deciduous trees covered the hills, providing a leafy, green ceiling. The floor of the forest was covered in tall grass and shrubs. The only way to get around was in jeeps or bikes over dirt tracks overgrown with grass.

The battalion had been on the track of a group, that operated along the Manipur-Nagaland border. They’d finally received information on the location of some of the leaders, and a forward team of four was sent out to reconnoitre.

The leaves of the forest brushed their cheeks as they rode through the jungle in the open jeep. With them, was their best navigator and tracker - Ranvir Singh - batman for Major Noel Figueiredo.

They were well inside the confines of the jungle when the IED exploded under them. Ranvir Singh was killed on impact.

******

‘What’s a batman?’ asked Mitul, curious about the term.

‘An orderly or a helper. He’s kind of like your personal assistant. Keeps your uniform and arms in order, serves as your driver, goes into combat with you, keeps you safe,’ Noel replied.

‘Tell me about Ranvir Singh,’ she prodded gently.

‘He was assigned to me, from the day I joined my commission. Only a commissioned officer get a batman. Ranvir was from Rajasthan,’ he had a far away look in his eyes as he chuckled. ‘He hated being up in the North, the cold. He just hated it. But he never complained. Just looked forward to the days when he could go back to his deserts.’

He sat silently for a bit.

‘The man could navigate, you know, Mitul. He could navigate his way out of a desert, with the stars. And he could track. He was so good at it. He’s the one who taught me how to read tracks, in any terrain.’

She remembered wondering how he had spotted the tracks up in cottage country. Now she knew. She waited, seeing how he seemed to be going over something in his mind his eyes filling with tears.

‘Ranvir was like an older brother to me. I’ve always been lucky that way!’ he gave a brief humorless laugh. ‘He would look after me, much more than this duties. If I was sick, he’d be right there beside me, scolding me if I didn’t take my medication, or eat properly. He actually fussed over me.’ He paused. ‘He would have given his life for me,’ his voice was raw with pain.

‘Where were you when ... it happened?’ she asked.

*******

Six weeks before Ranvir’s death, Noel had returned to Goa on his furlough. He’d been looking forward to this time. His brothers too, had cleared their calendars so they could spend at least some of his furlough with him. It was a family reunion of sorts.

The family pampered him. He reveled in it, and although he tried to show otherwise, they knew he liked it. He was, after all, the baby in the family.

Two days before he was due to return, he got a call. He sat in silence as his parents hovered around him.

‘Ranvir was killed,’ he whispered, tears rolling down his face. ‘IED,’ he choked, as his mother drew him into a hug.

He took a detour on his way back, stopping at the small Rajasthani village in the desert, that was Ranvir’s home.

They were surprised to see him. His gora looks and tall physique made him stick out like a sore thumb. He had come to meet Ranvir’s family. A young wife who stood there mutely, shell-shocked, in her white sari, devoid of her sindoor and mangalsutra. A six-year old child that clung to her mother’s sari, sucking on her thumb. Ranvir’s daughter. And a widowed mother, who wailed at the loss of her oldest child. He hadn’t known how to comfort them, but the image remained imprinted on his mind.

A cold fury took over him, and stayed burning even after he reached his battalion.

‘Who did it?’ he bit out, looking at each of the team leads in turn.

‘It’s the insurgent group that operates out of here, sir,’ replied his lieutenant.

‘Find them. Find me the man who killed Ranvir,’ he snapped, his voice cold, his eyes alight with a green fire his men had never seen before.

Two days later they found the group. The men were brought in, a scruffy looking group of four, tied and bound.

He stood looking at them quietly, his towering six-two height easily intimidating them over their much shorter stature. But it was the ice-cold fury within him that frightened them, the single overhead bulb making the dark shadows of his stubble darker, lending an almost devilish look to his face.

‘Which one of you planted the IED?’ he asked softly, the husky voice sending shivers down the back of his men. They’d never seen Major Figueiredo angry before.

The men stayed sullenly quiet.

‘Okay. You don’t want to tell me?’ his voice was soft, almost polite. ‘Fine. Let me inform you of one thing. You will tell me which one of you it was. And you will be begging to tell me about it when I’m done with you,’ he was almost whispering, his face close to each one of theirs in turn. A soft, feathery whisper that chilled like the cold winds from the North.

But they still stayed silent. He stepped back, his face impassive.

‘Take them away,’ he ordered. As the men were being led out, his eyes followed them.

Suddenly he called, ‘Wait.’ He walked past them slowly, and then tapped one man on the shoulder. The man who was sweating just a little more than the others, whose shoulders had slumped in relief.

‘This one.’ He paused and then ordered, ‘leave him here,’ he said.

******

‘Then what did you do?’ Mitul whispered.

‘I stood him on a box of explosives and blew him up,’ Noel said expressionlessly, his jaws clenched, a vein ticking on his temple, his eyes looking at nothing.

She was stunned.

‘Yeah. I blew up a man,’ he gave another of those humorless laughs. ‘There were pieces of him, like minced meat, that flew up in the air. All around. Ruined my uniform. I had to burn it.’

She sat quiet for a while, digesting this.

‘Did you let Ranvir’s family know that you’d punished the man who did this?’ she asked quietly.

He looked at her puzzled, surprised at her question. He hadn’t expected that - her understanding. He searched her face for disgust, condemnation, judgment. All he saw in her eyes was understanding, and a deep sympathy.

Because she did understand.

Somehow, she knew why he’d done it. She knew that he felt answerable to Ranvir’s family, that he needed to give them closure, the only way he knew how. That he himself needed that closure, from the pain of a friend’s death. So she didn’t for a moment judge him or his acts.

He stayed quiet for a few moments, looking away, and then replied, ‘I went back to Rajasthan. Told them that I’d punished the man responsible for his death.’

*****

Mitul finished transcribing her notes. She had not expected something like this from Noel. The charming, gentle Noel she knew, was nowhere near like this, the man he’d described himself to be. So dark! There was more to the story, she was sure.

It hadn’t explained the scar on his chest.

Other men would be having nightmares about it, she thought. He kept it all inside, and only she had been allowed a first look at this side of him. The loyal friend, the commanding officer, the avenging angel.

How many more layers did this man have? she wondered.

Tired, she slid down on the bed, and fell asleep.

****

Later that evening she was sitting at the dining table talking to her parents, when her phone rang. Noel.

‘Hey, Mitul,’ he said when she answered.

‘Hi,’ she greeted him.

‘Look. I just wanted you to know. Next week, we’ll be shooting on location, out and about town. So if you want to come by and see how it’s done, you’re more than welcome,’ he said.  

‘Thanks, I might take you up on it,’ she said quietly.

‘Just let me or Dev know, and we’ll make sure you’re allowed on the sets, okay?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘Thanks,’

‘Good night, Mitul,’ his voice was quiet.

‘Good night,’ she replied.

Her parents had been watching this conversation, and now her mother finally asked the one question that a mother’s heart wants to know. About her daughter’s love life, specifically, the man at the center of her daughter’s love life.

‘Tell us about Noel. We didn’t get a chance to talk about him,’ she said.

‘What’s there to tell, Ma?’ she asked.

‘Well, for starters, is he really that good-looking in real life?’ her mother asked teasingly.

‘Yes, he is, Ma,’ she said, resignedly. ‘He’s very tall. About six-two and he’s good looking. His eyes are really green. What else?’ she took the offensive into her mother’s court.

‘Hmmm.. that six-two might present a problem,’ her mother pretended to be worried.

She just looked at her mother incredulously.

‘What’s he like as a person?’ her mother was unrelenting.

‘Nice ... I guess,’ she shrugged.

‘Just nice?’ her mother laughed disbelievingly. ‘Mitul, you used to be his fan! Now you spend hours with him, listening to his life story and all you can say is he’s nice, you guess?’

‘Yes, he’s nice, Ma. He’s a good boy. Satisfied?’ she got up and started to walk away. She was still feeling a bit raw from today’s revelation, and couldn’t speak about him without feeling emotional. Instead, it had come out irritated and angry.

Her parents waited till she’d left the room, and then her father spoke for the first time, ‘wonder why she doesn’t want to talk about him?’

Her mother frowned, ‘I don’t know, but I will find out,’ she said quietly.

*****

Mitul had been having a hard time coming to terms with Noel’s revelation. While one part of her wondered if it were even right to take a life deliberately, the other part of her understood that urgent need within him to lash out in anger and grief at his friend’s death. Ranvir hadn’t been just his batman, he had also been a close friend to Noel.

She thought long and hard about this side of him. It seemed so out of character. From the funny, goofy side that she was so used to, this was a man that had taken a decision, that wasn’t entirely morally correct and yet, it felt justified. She’d understood that. She’d understood the pain that had driven him. And she ached for his pain.

It had been a week since she’d had that conversation with him.

They’d talked on the phone, mainly if she had a question, or if he wanted to let her know about his shooting schedule. Their conversations were still formal, still stilted. In fact, if she thought about it, Noel had made it a point to keep it formal, very formal.

But today, Wednesday, she was meeting him again. This time at Dev’s office. Dev had booked a conference room for them so they could talk as long as they needed.

She arrived on the dot of nine, dressed in a simple pale yellow cotton churidar kameez with tiny pastel embroidery on it. Her hair was in a ponytail, and all she wore in the name of makeup was a pale coffee lipstick, and mascara.

‘Hey, Mitul,’ Dev greeted her, holding out his hand.

She was surprised at this. He’d seemed exuberant the last time she’d met him. But then, this was his office, and she guessed that’s why he was formal.

He led her to a small conference room, and showed her in, turning on the lights. ‘Hope this is okay,’ he said. ‘Do you want some coffee or something to drink?’

‘Thanks, coffee would be good,’ she said. She followed him to the tiny pantry, where a coffee machine stood, and got a cup for herself.

He accompanied her back to the conference room and said, ‘Noel’s running a bit late. He’ll be here as soon as he can make it, but he’ll be here,’ he smiled to reassure her, before excusing himself and leaving her alone.

She was standing, looking out of the window, framed in the light of the sun when he walked in finally. She turned to him, and for a moment, forgot everything about protecting her foolish heart and drank him in.

Dressed in a pair of dark trousers and an open-necked off-white shirt, he looked devastatingly gorgeous! Her heart skipped a beat and ran off racing towards him.

Noel hadn’t been prepared for the shock wave that passed through him as he read the naked want in her eyes. He stopped as he felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes answering that need, before he dropped the shutter of his lids.

When he looked up, she saw the polite, formal look back in his eyes. She swallowed and said, ‘Hi, Noel.’

‘Hi,’ he replied back.

She sat down and gestured to a chair, ‘shall we start?’

*****

Major Figuieredo had a new batman. Moti Lal. He was good and he was capable. But he wasn’t Ranvir Singh. Many a time, Noel found himself calling for Ranvir before he stopped and corrected himself.

Since the day he’d killed the man who’d planted the IED, things had quietened a little bit. It had been three months since then.

Noel was exhausted. He knew he needed to rest, his vision was blurring and he rubbed his eyes and decided to call it a day. An hour, that’s all he needed. A power nap. He sat at his desk, as he went through the information that he’d just received.

The insurgents had been regrouping, this they already knew. A new leader seemed to have emerged. This one more vicious than the last one had been. He was also fearless and charismatic, and was quickly recruiting more members to his cause and into his group.

They needed to find these people before the real attacks began. They could expect them to be ferocious. They would definitely be atrocious.

They had information, but it was not detailed enough, sketchy at worst. The locals refused to help them for the most part. Trying to piece all of it together was a like a giant jigsaw puzzle. This was the cause of Noel’s exhaustion.

He got up and stretched, deciding he needed to step back a little and let the information gel through his mind.

‘Moti Lal,’ he called as he stepped outside, taking off his beret and running a hand through his damp, sweaty hair.

Moti Lal came up and saluted smartly. ‘Jeep,’ Noel said. He stood waiting for the jeep, and Captain Bohra, his second in command joined him. The two chatted quietly, until Moti Lal brought the jeep around. He slung himself into the passenger seat, his left leg still on the running board as they took off. Bohra took the back.

It was a mile to their accommodations, and they dropped Bohra off.

Moti Lal started the jeep and pushed it into gear, starting to move forward.

That was when Noel felt it. The burning excruciating pain, that exploded from his back and traveled through his chest, nano seconds before he heard the sound of the shot. A brief cry of pain burst from his mouth, as he slumped over, blood flowing from the wound.

Moti Lal twisted to look at him.

Captain Bohra spun around, running towards him when the grenade hit the ground, falling just short of the house.

A spume of fire and smoke went up. An ear splitting roar split the afternoon sky. Bohra was thrown up in the air, and landed in front of the jeep, as it rocked from the aftershock.

Noel registered the heat and the light from the grenade. He saw Bohra go flying over the hood. He felt a hundred pin pricks on his back. He didn’t hear anything. He had passed out.

******