One of the senior inspectors took up the task of pacifying the crowd.
He assured everyone that in a few minutes a few more officers were arriving and that he would depute them to take down everyone’s personal details and their statements and let them leave. He requested them to keep their identity proofs ready so that they could show them to the officers. At this point Aditi noticed that some of the younger patrons got nervous. They had probably used fake IDs to get in and were afraid of getting caught.
“He probably fell on his own drink and some of the glass pieces ended up killing him.” Dhwani commented with the utmost indifference.
Aditi leaned towards Nura and whispered, “Nura I don’t think this guy died from falling on his own drink.”
“Why? What makes you think that?”
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“The glass pieces aren’t pierced so deep. Plus, he died almost immediately. There wasn’t time for him to bleed to death.”
“Maybe he just had a heart attack, or died from the impact of falling down. Could be a combination of things.”
‘Something doesn’t seem right.’ Aditi thought.
Half a dozen more cops entered the club and were preparing to take statements from the patrons before letting them go. Just then the senior inspector who was earlier pacifying people walked up to the girls. Aditi was now able to read his name off his badge – “Inspector Shirish Pandey”.
“Madam,” he said to Dhwani, “How did you know the victim?”
Dhwani who had just taken another sip from her glass coolly took her time to swallow the liquid in her mouth before answering the Inspector, “I don’t know him. Who is he?”
“You were dancing with him earlier.”
“I don’t remember. I was just dancing; he might have been around.”
“Madam, you need to come with us. We want to ask you some questions.” Saying this Pandey called for a lady constable.
“You can’t take her.” Nura protested, “she said she doesn’t know that gentleman. She was just dancing; he might have been around.”
Pandey scanned Nura and Aditi. “Are you two with her?”
The two girls were hesitant to admit being friends with Dhwani. Not particularly because Dhwani was potentially about to be suspected of murder, but because it was embarrassing to be associated with her.
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Before they could answer an inebriated Dhwani answered for them,
“Yes, they are with me.”
“Come with me then,” Inspector Pandey took them through the door behind the bar counter into a narrow passageway. The door of one of the rooms on the right was ajar and there was a police officer hovering over the club’s security guard who was operating the surveillance system. There were five tiny screens in front of him. Pandey made Dhwani stand in front and let the other two girls wait near the door.
“Play that footage again.” Pandey instructed the guard. The guard sat up straight and turned a few dials. On one of the screens there was a video playing of the active dance floor. Each of the dancers could barely be made out. Pandey then pointed at a girl with an orange top.
And surely enough there was Dhwani, dancing with the now deceased victim. ‘It does indeed appear to a casual observer as if they knew each other. ’ Aditi thought. All of Aditi’s reservations were cast out when in the video Dhwani began grinding herself into the young man.
“So Madam,” Pandey stared at her intimidatingly, “You still say you didn’t know the victim.”
“No, I didn’t. I was just dancing.”
“You dance this way with all boys?”
It was clear that the misogynistic Inspector had already made up his mind about Dhwani. Even Aditi and Nura found the video to be incriminating. She was definitely dancing with the guy as if he was her lover.
“Don’t worry, Dhwani.” Aditi pacified her, “My boyfriend is a lawyer, I’ll just call him. He might be able to help us out."
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Dhwani nodded and went back to arguing with Pandey, while Aditi stepped away from the loud shouting to make the call.
“Hey, Cyrus”
“Hey, Chikoo.”
“Is that you? Your voice sounds different.”
“Yeah, just down with a cold. What’s up?”
“Listen, my friend Dhwani is in some trouble. We were in this club, and one guy just died in the middle of the dance floor. They have CCTV footage of Dhwani dancing with him. But she claims she doesn’t know him. Right now, they are just trying to question her, but the way it’s going, I think she’ll be arrested soon.”
“Relax, they need something substantial to actually arrest her.
Otherwise, they’ll just call her for questioning in the next few days.
Have they determined the cause of death?”
“No, and even if they had figured it out, they haven’t told us about the same. The guy just collapsed then and there.”
“Hmmm. Do you think Dhwani is lying?”
Aditi thought for a bit. It would be a pretty stupid move to kill a guy in public especially after you have danced with him in the site of a CCTV camera. But then again Dhwani was pretty stupid. Nonetheless, she couldn’t be a murderer.
“Actually, you know what, don’t tell me.” Cyrus stopped her before she could answer. “It’s better I don’t know. If you do suspect foul play, then why don’t you just solve it?”
“Solve what?”
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“You mean like some detective?”
“Well, not exactly. Someone who can enter other people’s bodies and read people’s minds should easily be able to uncover the truth. Just enter Dhwani’s body and from her memories verify if she did it. Then enter the body of anybody who is a suspect, and see what they know.”
“I guess that’s possible. But there is no other suspect yet. I can’t enter more than three different bodies in the span of a day. Even that takes a toll on me. So entering the body of everyone in the club isn’t an option. Knowing whether Dhwani is innocent or guilty doesn’t take me too far. Even if I determine if she is innocent, it’s proving that there’s going to be a problem.”
“Yeah. I get what you are saying. But if it’s some random guy at the club who killed him just for kicks, now is the only time you’ll be able to do your thing to him. So if you do suspect anyone, I would say go for it. In any case, I’ll send you the number of one of my lawyer friends in Delhi. If she does get arrested, he’ll help her in getting a bail.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
Aditi cut the call and went back into the room. She was shocked to see that a woman constable was searching the contents of Dhwani’s bag, while the others watched. The woman constable then pulled out a small packet containing a few pale-yellow pills and slowly handed it over to Pandey. He held it against the light and after a cursory inspection questioned Dhwani, “What is this?”
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“Those are my anti-depressant pills.”
Nura shot Aditi an expression of concern.
“Sure? Or is it ecstasy?” Pandey interrogated, “Why is it not in a proper bottle or wrapper? Which pharmacy sells medicines like this?”
“It’s ketamine. They sell it in a bottle. And I bought it with a valid prescription from my therapist. I transfer a few pills to the little plastic baggy and put that in my purse instead of carrying the entire bottle.”
Dhwani pulled out the prescription from her purse and showed it to Pandey. He took the prescription in his hands and perused it.
“Madam, please come with us to the police station. You are under arrest.”
He told the woman constable to prepare the arrest memo.
“Under arrest?” Aditi shouted, “You can’t do that. You haven’t even tested the pills yet. She just said it’s not ecstasy.”
“Doesn’t have to be ecstasy. She said it is ketamine, that’s enough.”
“Ketamine isn’t illegal. You can get it legally with a prescription, and she has that.”
“I’m not arresting her for possessing the drug. Ketamine is also a date-rape drug. She has given it to the victim, who she claimed she doesn’t know, just moments before his death.”
“How do you know she gave it to the victim? You haven’t even done an autopsy yet.”
At this point Nura turned to Aditi and calmly told her, “Oh yeah, you missed it. When you left the room to call Cyrus, they played footage of Dhwani taking a pill out of her bag and giving it to the guy.”
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Aditi gaped at Dhwani with disbelief and exasperation as if saying,
‘Oh Dhwani’.
***
The police were escorting Dhwani to their van that waited outside.Aditi and Nura were also called to the police station to give their respective statements. They left the narrow passageway and were back in the main area of the club. Aditi had her eyes fixed on Dhwani.
As she stared at the back of her head, she contemplated entering Dhwani’s body and reading her thoughts. But the mere idea of becoming privy to Dhwani’s innermost thoughts and private memories scared her.
On the dance-floor there was a woman crying. The junior constable who was consoling her saw Pandey and walked up to him. “Sir, the victim’s girlfriend is here. She was supposed to meet him at the club.
She has identified the body.”
Aditi saw the distraught girlfriend on the floor. There wasn’t much time. She had to try and figure out more about the victim. Entering the girlfriend’s body was a far better alternative to entering Dhwani’s. As she closed her eyes and began breathing Aditi leaned a bit on Nura, so that the fall wouldn’t hurt her. Then she was inside Heena Pandit’s body and was flooded by her entire life’s memories. As she was seeing the memories, she could hear a small scream of Nura who caught her body as it had become unconscious.
Heena Pandit’s deceased boyfriend Rohit Daswani was a junkie.
When she met him he was a cocaine and marijuana addict. She met him through mutual friends and they both had been dating for over a year. She insisted that he clean up his act, if he was serious about 99
getting married someday, which he was. He did cut down on the alcohol and the drugs, and when he was ready, she invited him home for dinner so that he could meet her father Mr. Suresh Pandit. Her father was a lucky man in all respects, except for the fact that he lost his wife a few years ago. He was a high-level executive at Seacrest Pharmaceuticals. Suresh Pandit greeted Rohit with a bear hug and they shared a few laughs during the dinner. Heena was pleased at how the dinner went. That was one week ago. Since then, he has been ill. He has been vomiting occasionally and having constant diarrhea.
For his treatment he was supposed to collect some money he lent to his old friend, Bikram Ahuja, who worked as the DJ at ‘The Crimson Door’. She said she would join him at the club once his transaction was done so that they could have some fun like they used to. But when she arrived, she found him dead.
Aditi returned to her own body, which was surrounded by Nura and Pandey. “I’m fine.” she assured them.
“She is just faking it.” the woman constables said from afar. Aditi knew what she had to do next. She was close to finding the answers.
‘If he came to collect money from the DJ, then the DJ would be able to provide some more insight.’
Aditi closed her eyes again, and after a few seconds she was absorbing the memories of Bikram Ahuja. Bikram was a college friend of Rohit’s.
They bunked classes together and dropped out together. Bikram was the one who bought Rohit his first beer and was also the one who taught him how to drive. The two were inseparable at one time.
Bikram began dealing marijuana and although he was making money from it, he was blowing it away just very quickly. It reached a point where he owed his suppliers a couple of lakhs. In order to repay it, he 100
borrowed money from Rohit. Bikram quit being a dealer and got a job as a D.J. He worked at a small club for a few months and was later offered a job at ‘The Crimson Door’. When Rohit called asking for his money back, Bikram didn’t have it yet. He asked the club manager for a cash loan, which he agreed to give the next day. Bikram told Rohit to meet him at the ‘The Crimson Door’ the next night. The next day, despite promising the money, the club manager told Bikram that he was unable to arrange for the cash. When Rohit arrived at night Bikram apologized to him. Rohit was upset, but Bikram offered to make it up by offering him some of his cocaine. At first Rohit was hesitant, but after some light convincing, Bikram and he had snorted Bikram’s entire stash. Bikram took over the night shift while Rohit got drunk and danced. While playing the music, Bikram was told that a death had occurred and that he should stop the music and tell the people that they ought to remain calm. After doing so Bikram stepped down to see who died, and realized it was Rohit.
“Wait!” Aditi shouted, while still in Bikram’s body. Inspector Pandey who was hovering over Aditi’s unconscious body turned around.
Nura, who was fully aware of what was happening, was calm as a cucumber. ‘Should I make him confess?’ Aditi thought to herself, ‘Did he encourage him to overdose in order to kill him off so that he didn’t have to pay him? No, I don’t know that for sure. I better just state the facts and let them draw their inferences.’ “The victim and I were doing cocaine together.
This is a case of overdose, plain and simple.” She said finally.
The police and the patrons were startled by this revelation. They turned to Pandey to see what his response would be. “Then you have to come into custody too.” he said sternly.
Nura objected, “‘Too’? You mean you are still going to take Dhwani?”
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“Yes, she is not ruled out as a suspect yet.”
Aditi was trying to think of what she could do. At the same time, she was disappointed that Pandey and the others forgot about her unconscious body so easily. Seeing no way around, she decided to enter the body of the only person who could stop Dhwani from being taken away. She re-entered her own body for a few seconds, and after a few deep breaths she was in Inspector Pandey’s body. She had entered his body only for the purpose of directing the other offers to let Dhwani go, but in his memories, she found missing pieces of a puzzle. It was as clear as day to her.
“Let the girl go.” She announced to no one in particular. Her discovery was so overwhelming she wanted everyone around to hear it. “I know who the real culprit is...” Aditi, still in Pandey’s body, now looked at Heena in the eyes. “It was Mr. Ram Pandit. This girl’s father.” In an evening of twists and turns, this was clearly the most shocking for the patrons, club staff and police officers, alike. No one was more startled than Heena Pandit. “A week ago, I came across a complaint of someone attempting to steal a chemical known as
“thallium” from Seacrest Pharma’s laboratory. The accused one was Vijay Tripathi, a chemist. Oddly, he wasn’t caught stealing it, but he was caught putting the bottle of thallium back.
“I wasn’t assigned to the case so I don’t know what happened to him… But I just learnt… somehow… that Vijay Tripathi was close to your father. Isn’t that correct?” Aditi had to get the confirmation from her, since she couldn’t disclose aloud that she got that information from her memories. Fortunately, Heena said, “Yes.” and Aditi could continue, “You had seen Vijay coming to your house for years, but you couldn’t connect the dots. You didn’t realize that the only reason 102
your father was promoted so early was because the man who was next in line for a promotion died of a heart attack. And you also chose to ignore that things between your father and mother had gotten bitter and their relationship was at the worst possible stage just a few days before she died too. There might be more such instances. But each time your father managed to kill off someone using toxic substances he obtained from Vijay, he got more and more confident. So much so that in order to avoid being the villain in your eyes and at the same time preventing you from marrying this boy, he decided to take care of your druggie boyfriend in the same way he did others that he despised. You saw him tamper with the cup of coffee, but you chose to ignore it as something innocent. But it was the very opposite. The thallium causes vomiting and diarrhea, which you know he was suffering. The ketamine made no difference since it couldn’t have entered the blood stream so soon. But the cocaine and alcohol acted as catalysts. Plus, the D.J. was playing music at over 128 beats per minute. The increased heart rate took his body to the tipping point and succumbed to their effects.,. So, we will be arresting Suresh Pandey as well as Vijay Tripathi.”
There was a long pause, after which one of the woman constables started clapping steadily but loudly. She stopped when she realized that no one else was joining in. Heena kneeled on the ground in disbelief. She could not fathom that her father was a killer who even killed her mother and boyfriend.
“You guys can leave.” Aditi instructed Nura and Dhwani, “And take your friend with you.”
Nura smirked and lifted one of Aditi’s arms and placed it around her neck, “Dhwani, can you help me?”
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“Huh… Oh yeah…” Dhwani took Aditi’s other arm over her shoulders and they both carried her out.
Aditi watched them leave as her connection with Pandey’s body felt lighter. As soon as they were a few feet outside the club, she was sucked back into her body.”
“Aditi, are you okay?” Dhwani asked as Aditi opened her eyes, gasping.
“Yeah, I’m fine, but we should go as far from here as possible…
quickly!”
“I’m proud of you.” Nura whispered in her ears.
Aditi was proud of herself too. ‘If only Dhwani knew’ she thought to herself, ‘Should I ask her about her depression? No. Not right now. She’s been through enough and so have I. Performing the transferance this frequently in such a short span has given me a terrible headache. I’m never going clubbing again!’
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11. His Realization
I tracked down Mandana Mishra. When my disciples and I arrived at his house, we received insults from him. He was performing a ritual inside his house and considered our arrival as inauspicious. I returned each of his insults with a loving remark.
A crowd had gathered outside his house to observe the commotion.
The people tried to calm Mandana down. Finally, it was Mandana’s wife, Ubbhayabharti, who managed to convince him to let me in and treat me like an honoured guest.
Ubbhayabharti was a knowledgeable woman and an ideal wife.
Her virtues had gained her the reputation of being the earthly incarnation of the Goddess Saraswati – the Goddess of wisdom.
The background to this belief stemmed from an old story relating to the sage Durvasa. Durvasa was once reciting the Vedas before the Goddess Saraswati in front of a large audience. During the course of his recitation, he made a small error which caused the Goddess to snicker. This angered Durvasa who put a curse on her and said that she would have to take birth in the human world and live an entire lifetime as an earthly being. It was believed that Ubbhayabharti was the result of that curse.
After Mandana and his wife served me and my disciples with food, I explained to him my purpose of coming to see him.
Mandana agreed to engage in a debate with me on the condition that whoever lost the debate would become the disciple of the winner and propagate the views of the winner. I agreed immediately. When Mandana asked me who ought to judge the 105
debate, without hesitation I nominated his wife. Mandana and Ubbhayabharti were both surprised. Ubbhayabharti agreed, and so the debate commenced.
The doorbell rang. Mahima went to the door to answer it, with Dante right behind her. When she opened the door, an old lady stood before her. “It’s me.” she declared. Mahima let her in. By now she was used to seeing Robin in different bodies.
“Any luck?”
“No.” Robin replied, “It’s been five days now and I have entered the body of all my superiors and even one suspicious colleague. But nothing yet.”
“This old lady works at your lab?”
“No, no. She’s some insurance agent who I ran into at the railway platform when I got an escaping episode.”
“Okay. But don’t fret about the investigation. Tomorrow is a new day.
Try entering some of your subordinates. Maybe they are responsible, or maybe it’s nobody from the lab… You told me that this drug was something that a lot of people would kill to get their hands on or kill to make sure it didn’t get into the wrong hands. You said it even has military applications. Maybe it was the intelligence agency of some other country’s government who wanted to make sure that the drug never came into the hands of the Indian government.”
“Maybe.” Robin replied as he pulled open the fridge and opened a bottle of water.
“Oh, by the way, I had an idea today. You should go into the security guards who have access to the footage of any toll booths you guys might have passed. Since the other car was following you, you know 106
approximately what time they were there. You can get the car number and that’s the best lead you’ll get.”
He took a gulp of water “I thought about it. There are no toll booths on the way. Although there might be a few other security cameras on the street. Will take me a lot of time and will have to switch a lot of bodies in order to get that footage. It probably even gets auto-erased after a few days…. But you are right. I should try that since this is a dead end.”
They both paused as they heard the sound of the vintage scissor-gate elevator doors being opened on their floor. There was no other apartment on their floor, apart from Mahima and Robin’s. So the visitor was most probably someone who had come to meet Mahima.
The odd thing was that Mahima rarely had any visitors apart from food delivery men. But she had not called for any food that day.
Strangely enough there was no knock on her door nor did anyone ring the bell. She slowly moved to the door and peeked through the peephole.
“It’s Celine. She is entering your house.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Naturally... Wonder what took her so long.”
Mahima turned to him and smiled, “Let’s ask her shall we.” Without waiting for any response from Robin, she opened the door and shouted out to Celine, “Celine?”
“Oh yes… ummm...”
“Mahima.”
“Yes, Mahima, we met at the memorial service…. How are you?”
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“I’m good. Just chilling with my grand-mother.” Saying this she shoved ahead Robin who was hiding behind her.
“Hello aunty10.” Celine greeted Robin.
Robin hesitated at first. He was not really good at thinking of things on the spot. He was only able to work up a much muffled “Hello.”
which happened to suit the old age of the lady. Through the half-open door, he caught a glimpse of the living room of his marital house. At the same time, he wanted to go in, as well as not go in. The pictures of his family on the table, the curtains which he hated but bought at Pramila’s instance, the plethora of ‘Charaka’ brand cosmetic products that cluttered the sink and the hand-prints of Astrid which they stuck on the bedroom wall – all would have been too much for him to see.
“So here to collect something?” Mahima asked.
“No. Showing the place to a broker. I’ll clean up this place and sort out things once the sale is confirmed.”
“So late in the evening?”
“Tonight, is my last night in the city, and I just didn’t get the time all these days.”
“Where are you put up?”
“I was living with my parents. I’m spending the night here and will leave back for Hyderabad in the morning.”
“Oh… Did you have dinner?”
“No. I’ll call for something. What’s good here?”
10 In India it is customary to informally refer to any elder man or women as uncle or aunty, even though they have no relation to you.
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“I have an idea. Why don’t you eat dinner at my house? I’ll call for a pizza. I was craving something cheesy anyways.”
“That’s very nice of you…… But I hope I’m not imposing.” Celine added after seeing the worried expression on Mahima's grandmother’s face.
“Not at all.” Mahima and Robin said in unison.
“Okay. I’ll come over once I’m done entertaining the broker.”
“Done.” Mahima waived and closed the door. As she expected, the old lady behind her was wearing a huge scowl on her face.
***
“One more slice?” Mahima offered.“No. No. I’ve already eaten too much.” her guest replied.
Robin sat there eating the salad that was ordered for him. An old lady couldn’t be seen eating pizza; it would raise suspicion. He was hoping that Celine refused to eat that last slice that was offered to her, so that he could eat it after she left. But to his utter dismay, Mahima began devouring it.
“I should be going. How much do I owe you for the pizza?”
“Don’t be silly. You barely ate two slices.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes. If you have time tomorrow, then you can join us for breakfast as well.”
Robin tried to control his scowl. They all stood up from the table.
Minor chit-chat continued as Mahima and Robin proceeded to walk her to the door. Mahima opened the door for her. At this moment 109
Robin felt the all too familiar experience. He had to think fast. Mahima was closest to him. But if Robin entered Mahima then the old lady would awaken in front of Celine. He ran to Celine and slapped her on her back.
***
In the bedroom of apartment C-201 of Sakina Manzil, Pramila was weeping profusely, with her head on Celine’s shoulder.“Pramila, you need to talk to me. What happened?... Did Robin hurt you?”
Pramila shook her head, “No…. It’s not that… It’s… I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, but that’s good news, isn’t it?”
Pramila cried profusely.
“What is it? You guys weren’t planning on having a second child?”
Pramila sniffed and without making eye-contact she confessed sobbingly, “Robin isn’t the father.”
Celine’s eyes widened with astonishment, “He isn’t? Then who is?”
Pramila gathered all her strength to take deep breath. “My company placed a bid for getting the construction contract for the proposed Bandra-Versova Sealink. In order to make sure our bid cleared the technical evaluation stage, we had to lobby with Surya Patil- the Road Transport and Highway Minister. I was in-charge of acting as a messenger – handling all the unofficial correspondence between our Board and Patil’s right-hand man Godbole. The day came when we had to make the first installment of payment to Patil. As instructed by Godbole I went alone to Patil’s vacation house at Nashik five weeks ago to hand over Godbole the money. I went alone. When I reached 110
there the maid told me to wait at the corridor. I was shocked, when along with Godbole, Patil also came to the corridor to greet me. We went into his home-office, where I handed the bag over to him. Patil asked Godbole to go out and count the money. After Godbole left…”
Pramila broke down and hid her face in her hands.
“What? He forced himself on you?”
Pramila nodded.
Celine took Pramila in her arms and held her tight.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay…”
Celine agreed to take Pramila to a doctor as soon as she was back from her trip to Palghar.
Three days later Celine and her parents were woken up in the morning by a phone call informing them that Pramila was dead.
***
Robin, who was still in shock, was watching Mahima shove an unnerved old lady outside her door.“I’m sorry madam, we aren’t interested in getting a new insurance policy. Thank you!” saying this, Mahima shut the door on the old lady who was wondering how she had got into that flat.
“Phew!” Mahima sighed “That was a close call.” She turned to Robin, now in Celine’s body, who was wearing expressions of utter shock.
“Hey, everything okay?”
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My debate with Mandana went on for over seventeen days.
Ubbhayabharti tried her best to be impartial, yet when she saw her husband was losing the debate, she herself felt that she could not be entirely unbiased. So on the eighteenth day she put a garland of flowers around each of our necks and declared that nature would decide who would be the victor and the vanquished among us.
During the course of the debate, whoever’s garland withered first would be considered defeated.
That day the arguments were so complex that the spectators who had come to witness the debate could barely comprehend them. By evening, Mandana was perspiring and had become visibly agitated. By the end his garland had withered away while mine was still fresh and lustrous. Ubbhayabharti fairly declared that Mandana had lost the debate. Mandana graciously accepted defeat and agreed to become a Sanyasa under my tutelage.
Ubbhayabharti could not stand to part ways with her husband.
She turned to me and said “O Sanyasa! You know very well that the sacred texts provide that a wife forms one-half of a husband’s body, mind and soul. Therefore, by defeating him, you have only won half of him. In order to make your victory complete, you must engage in debate with me, and defat me.” I was taken by surprise.
I did not expect to receive a challenge from Ubbhayabharti.
“Inhale…” came the man’s voice followed by “Exhale…” a few seconds later. Aditi felt a wave of nostalgia as she diligently followed the instructions which the man on the stage dictated into his microphone.
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The moment Nura found out that Dharamguru was coming to Gurugram to hold a one-day yoga camp, she booked two of the higher-priced passes to the event for both of them. They were sitting in the eighth row, a bit towards the right of the open ground, facing Dharamguru who was sitting atop the stage. Aditi wasn’t sure how many rows were behind her, but the crowd definitely stretched beyond her field of vision.
The camp promised peace, relaxation and enlightenment. Ironically, the venue where it was held was usually used to hold rock concerts.
Once Dharamguru instructed them to open their eyes, Aditi took a moment to examine her surroundings. There were hundreds of middle-aged men and women, particularly women, who sat on white linen yoga mats. They all sat in padmasana. On Aditi’s left was Nura, who was fixated on Dharamguru as if it was only him and her on that open ground.
Aditi continued to stare at her, in a hope to get her attention. She wanted Nura to know how miserable she was feeling. Although Aditi never mentioned it to Nura, she was always disheartened by the fact that Nura still admired the celebrity guru, despite living in the same house as someone who had the ability to use meditation to possess other people.
Even otherwise, Aditi had a very poor impression of Dharamguru, but could never tell Nura about it since it would offend her. Dharamguru was a grizzly, unkempt elderly man with a beard which was perpetually unkempt and unwashed. He wore only a pink lion-cloth which exposed his hairy chest and back.
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Dharamguru professed spirituality but not any particular religion.
Dharamguru travelled throughout India and occasionally outside India, as a public speaker and master of yogic practices. A few years ago they had established an ashram in Pune, through his non-profit organization known as “Way of Life”. Followers of Dharamguru from all over the world gathered at the Pune ashram to learn from him.
Most of them never left.
Aditi hated godmen like him who pretended to have all the answers.
She believed that those who lived in the ashram were brainwashed by Dharamguru’s story-telling, easy-answers and knowledge of random scriptures from varied religious texts. Among his followers were also high-level politicians and media personalities, which made him rather influential.
The ashram was being funded, not only by donations, but also the profit from his own line of Ayurvedic products which he sold through one of his companies under the brand name ‘Charaka’. Despite a large amount of skepticism from critics of Dharamguru over the manner in which the profitable Charaka brand and the “non-profit” Way of Life foundation’s funds were being used and exchanged, no audit or investigation was ever conducted by the tax authorities.
In an ideal world, Dharamguru would be one of her targets. ‘ That’s the problem with having partners’ Aditi thought to herself, ‘ You have to compromise on your personal beliefs in order to spare their emotions. And each time you get restrained from doing something because of them, you resent them for it. If only I had Nura’s consent to target Dharamguru.
Inadvertently, she already got me within a hundred feet of him. I just need to get eighty feet closer. But with the dozens of security personnel around the 114
stage, it’s almost impossible. I’m sure Nura could come up with a plan in ten seconds… But she won’t.’
As Aditi was plotting how she would get close to Dharamguru, he himself provided her with the solution.
“Now if any of you have any questions about the ‘Way of Life’ then please raise your hands. I will come to you.” Saying this he walked off the stage and was handed a wireless microphone by one of his attendees. Dharamguru walked up to a woman in the first row who had her hand raised. He handed her the microphone. The lady spoke into it, “Guruji, my son is addicted to some violent shooting game which he plays on his mobile the entire day. How do I get rid of his addiction?”
As Dharamguru answered the query, Aditi decided to capitalize on the opportunity. ‘ I just need to wait for him to come closer. ’ She checked whether any of the attendees around her were raising their hands, but nobody in proximity was. There was another woman far-off, towards the left of the ground, in the third row. ‘If he goes to her, he’ll probably continue taking the microphone in that direction. I need to bring him my way. But how? Why aren’t the people around me raising their hands? These guys paid a bomb to sit in the front, why don’t they make the most of it?’
Aditi was compelled to do something she loathed. She raised her hand, much to Nura’s surprise. After Dharamguru was done lecturing on how addiction could be curbed and controlled, he searched for the next querist. His gaze fell on Aditi who had her hand raised, and he threw his signature expression of serene content at her as he walked towards her. When he crossed the fourth row, Aditi closed her eyes and began breathing deeply.
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Nura watched and frowned as she realized what was happening.
Aditi’s hand, as well as her entire upper-body fell side-ways.
Dharamguru stood still for five seconds. Then, with an expression of mild bewilderment he continued to walk towards Aditi and bent before her as she lifted herself up.
He jested, “Daughter, I am not a celebrity. Please do not faint just because I’m here. Are you okay?” The other audience members who were startled by Aditi’s black-out chuckled with relief. Aditi nodded with an expression of disgust.
“Get her a glass of water!” he beckoned one of his nearby attendees.
He then patted Aditi on the shoulder, a touch which he didn’t realize Aditi tried to repel. He stood up and began walking away but then paused and turned as if remembering something. “Do you still want to ask your question?” he asked Aditi, while still speaking into the microphone. He came back to her, bent down and held the mic in front of her mouth.
After a pause Aditi muttered, “How do you sleep at night?”
The expression of content on Dharamguru’s face faded. Without even looking at Nura, Aditi could tell that she was glaring at her. Aditi calmed herself down and quickly added, “Wh…What position do you sleep in Guruji? Because I sleep on my abdomen and lately, I’ve been facing back pains in the morning.”
Dharamguru’s serenity was restored and he proceeded to explain how the nerves are bundled and wrapped around the spinal cord. Aditi wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was occupied with the memories she just saw. She re-played the important bits in her head because she 116
didn’t want them to fade. As she did that, she turned her head to and confirmed that Nura was glaring at her.
***
One hour later, Aditi and Nura made their way to the parking lot, outside the ground. There were too many people exiting the ground together because of which neither could Aditi tell Nura what she had discovered, nor could Nura tell Aditi off for performing the transferance on Dharamguru.They avoided eye-contact till they reached the car. Once they did, Nura and Aditi sat in the driver and passenger seats, simultaneously.
“How could you -” Nura blurted as Aditi at the same time urged,
“Nura, listen to me!”
Nura waited for Aditi’s explanation.
“Have you ever heard of the Nine Unknown?” Aditi asked her.
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13. His News Time
Ubbhayabharti had challenged me for a debate. I was hesitant to accept it at first. Scholars never debated with women.
Ubbhayabharti saw my hesitation and living up to her reputation as an incarnation of the Goddess Saraswati, she began citing precedent – “The sage Yagvavalkya debated with Gargi. The sage Janaka debated with Sulabha, then why do you hesitate to debate with a woman?”
I saw that there was no avoiding her challenge. In any case, debating with her was necessary to serve my cause. I had undertaken to bring all those who opposed the Vedanta school of Hinduism to my side, this included Ubbhayabharti.
She proved to be a more worthy adversary than her husband. The debate went on for several days more than the debate with Mandana. Then there came a point when she realized that her arguments did not have a leg to stand on. She was desperate to not lose her husband to me, so she came up with an idea. She knew that I was a celibate and had very little knowledge of worldly pleasures so she asked me intricate questions about intercourse, eroticism and sexual desires.
I politely requested Ubbhayabharti to restrict her questions to those about Hindu scripture, since the questions she had posed had nothing to do with the subject of the debate. She replied, “You claim to understand people and other living creatures, yet you do not have the slightest idea about sexual conduct which is the cause of continuance of life itself. Lust forms a huge part of the lives of 118
the living, yet in your studies you have completely neglected it.
Please tell me how can I let my knowledgeable husband become the disciple of an ignorant Guru?”
I was beginning to understand why scholars avoided debating with women. They adopt any means necessary to protect that to which they have an emotional bond. I was in a dilemma. I could not answer her questions. And if I lost, as per the terms of the debate I would have to give up the life of a Sanyasa and lead the very life which she claimed I knew nothing about.
After thinking for some time, I said, “You will understand that I, being a celibate have no knowledge of the subject on which you wish to question me. According to me, the questions you put are wholly irrelevant to the purpose of our debate. Nonetheless, I am ready to indulge them. My only request is that you give me one month’s time to conduct some research on them and get back. I’m sure you will extend at least this courtesy to me.”
“Very well.” she replied, “The inevitable shall be postponed by a month.”
The crew greeted Abhijeet Das as he made his way to the news desk.
He always ignored them, but on this particular day he seemed to ignore them more than usual. They were, of course, not even slightly surprised by his demeanor. After all, he was known for being the most arrogant and controversial news anchor in the country.
It was no secret that Abhijeet was in the pocket of the ruling party. He noticeably avoided any criticism of its members and openly challenged members of the opposition to come on his show ‘News Time with Abhijeet’ in order to be “interviewed” by him. The 119
interviews were nothing but a farce, just like the panel discussions.
Any partisans of the opposition party were drilled and put down.
Abhijeet’s show, which was the flagship show of the channel Independent News, did have high TRPs. Perhaps some people just loved to watch screaming matches and didn’t care if it was being broadcast on a news channel. Or perhaps, Independent News inflated their viewership ratings by bribing low-income individuals to keep their TVs turned to his channel. Whatever it was, the statistics were in favour of Independent News.
There are over hundreds of FIRs filed against him and almost a dozen pending defamation cases. They don’t bother him in the least. He is paid enough by the ruling party to not only cover his legal expenses but also buy enough properties in premium areas of Mumbai and still have some money left to ensure that his family has access to every possible luxury.
Abhijeet took his seat at the desk and let the make-up woman do some final touches while he continued to type on his mobile. Ms. Reema Karnik, the News Director and one of the Executive Producers of
‘News Time with Abhijeet’ spoke into her headset microphone
“Testing 1,2,3…”. Abhijeet nodded to the camera, indicating that he could hear her through his earpiece. The make-up woman took off the tissue paper tucked into his collar. Reema then gave him a ten second countdown at the end of which the show's intro music played.
Abhijeet began:
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, today’s breaking news, the riots in Uttarakhand get worse as the government gives no sign of retracting the Agricultural Reforms Bill, which would involve acquisition of several acres of farmers’ lands.”
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“Why are you talking about the Uttarakhand riots?!” Reema yelled into the headset microphone. “You are supposed to be talking about the Prime Minister’s speech where he has promised financial schemes for small businesses.” She shouted out to the broadcast technician to check whether the teleprompter was running properly.
Abhijeet pulled out his earpiece and continued, “The peaceful protest turned into riot when the police began using excessive force on the protesting farmers. Of course, our channel won’t be showing that footage since we are a news channel funded by the ruling party. But feel free to search for the videos online.
“In other news… the reason due to which the Colaba – Mandwa Seabridge had collapsed was not because of any terrorism attack as the media has you believe, but because AHB Buildcon used inferior quality cement. I’m sure you can verify this fact with their CEO - Mr.
Krishnan… or if he isn’t forthcoming, you can try some of the employees involved in the project. In any case, should such a company be given the Bandra-Versova Sea Link project? Well, our Minister Surya Patil surely thinks so… But ask yourselves, why is he so motivated to give it to them?”
Reema’s jaw dropped. The entire news team was in panic. “The teleprompter is working fine. He just isn’t reading from it. Should I cut the feed?” the technician asked Reema. She wasn’t able to decide.
“Now, before I get cut-off, there is one last bit of juicy news that I must divulge about our Road Transport and Highways Minister. He is planning on leaving his current party in order to join the opposition.
Usually, I don’t disclose my sources for a story, but on this occasion, I’ll make an exception…” Abhijeet leaned forward and in an almost whispering tone revealed, “It was Patil himself.”
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All over India, everyone stared at their TVs, flabbergasted. Reema’s phone is buzzing with calls from other producers of the show.
“One final thing my fellow citizens of India, who watch me every night either for entertainment or even worse- because you genuinely believe what I do here is report the news – Open your eyes!
You’ll find some of the money that the rightwing political party pays me in the safe deposit boxes in the name of my uncle Yuvraj Prakash and close friend Shweta Singh. I have already tweeted the details on my official handle just before the broadcast began. But you will find only a fraction of the money there. Most of it has already been laundered through four shell companies, details of which I tweeted just moments ago.
Stop believing the words of an ignorant loud mouth who calls himself a ‘journalist’. Question your government who spends more time and money in marketing than actually looking out for the welfare of its people. And most importantly, question yourselves for acting like sheep and instead….”
People watching ‘News Time with Abhijeet’ covered their ears as a long beep sound emitted from their TVs. Instead of Abhijeet’s face they were now seeing a screen with colourful lines with the words
‘We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.’
It was, of course, Reema who cut off the feed. She stormed towards the news desk. “What the fu-”
“Good job guys!” Abhijeet shouted to the stunned crew as he took off his lapel microphone and threw it on the desk. He walked out of the newsroom. Reema was not going to let him go easily. She followed him outside the newsroom, continuously yelling at him. Abhijeet 122
didn’t even flinch. He entered the elevator and continuously hit the door-closing button before Reema could make it. Robin, who was in Abhijeet’s body, waved at her as the doors shut.
HIs phone was buzzing like crazy. But he ignored it. Robin’s mind was occupied with something else. When he scanned Abhijeet’s memories he had learnt about something called ‘The Nine’.
***
Mahima opened the door. “It’s me.” declared the teenage boy.Mahima let him in.
“Could you avoid coming to the house in men’s bodies? Especially the young ones. The aunties in the society are giving me judgmental looks. If they see a teenager coming here at 11 in the night, they might call the cops.”
“Sorry… Did you catch the news?”
“Yes, I did!” Mahima showed him her laptop, “You have broken the internet! ‘#WTFAbhijeet’ is trending on Twitter. There’s already a meme going viral of Abhijeet dropping truth bombs. Independent News is broadcasting the news about the Chitrakoot floods. They are pretending as if nothing happened. They don’t know what to do with themselves.”
Robin opened the fridge to get his water. There was no pride to be felt for his actions. He knew he was running a marathon, not a sprint and he was not going to let early victories get to his head.
“But Robin, I need to ask you - Why are you doing all this? Not that I’m complaining. Abhijeet had it coming. But wouldn’t it just be better 123
to enter Patil’s body or the body of someone close to him and…”
Mahima did a stabbing action, “…finish the job?”
As he plopped on the sofa with his bottle of water, Robin got serious.
“No. I don’t want him to get off that easily. At least not so soon. I will first expose him in front of the world. I will ruin his reputation, shatter his ego, make all those who are close to him turn against him. No, I won’t kill him. If Patil dies, it will be by his own hands.”
Mahima listened intently. The air in the room had gotten heavier. She thought about what she could do to lighten the mood. “Okay, cool.
So… Chinese?”
“Yes, Chinese sounds lovely.” Robin said in a pleasant tone. As he gulped the water and let out his trademark “Ahh…” sound, he thought to himself ‘Should I tell her about the Nine? Yes, I might as well.’
***
“What the hell is this?!” Patil yelled as he threw the newspaper at Godbole’s face. Patil looked like a stereotypical Indian politician.
White hair, medium built, wrinkles on his face and perpetually wearing a kurta11 and jacket. Recently, he also began fashioning a beard.
Godbole was sitting on the couch with his limbs spread out, as if he were chilling at a nightclub. His dark complexion and long curled black hair made just added to his loafer-like countenance. Patil continued to pace across his home-office located on the first floor of his Mumbai bunglow.
11 A loose collarless shirt.
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“First, five days ago Abhijeet Das said on national television that I’m planning to join the opposition before the upcoming election. And who does he cite as his source, Me! After that Shinde, Johar and Mehta
- other members of my own party start disclosing the party’s illegal activities, but they go out of their way to specifically mention me as being involved in them. And they give details of where the police can find evidence. Fortunately, I was able to keep the police at bay till I was able to destroy the evidence. But even they are facing a lot of public pressure now. How long do you think it will be before the police are at my doorstep?”
“You are just being paranoid. Whatever is going on, the whole party is suffering because of it. It’s just a coincidence that your name came up the most.” Godbole lied. He was the first to suspect that Patil was being targeted, but he didn’t want him to get more riled up then he already was. “I’ll look into it if you want.”
“You mean you haven’t already looked into it?” Patil glared at him.
“I have... But I haven't got any information beyond what is already in the news. Each one of them who had an outburst in the last few days claim they have no memory of the incident. Few even recanted the statements made…”
“Bullocks! Who would buy that load of rubbish? This is all some big conspiracy by someone who is out for me. The memory loss is just an excuse. They know that recanting the statement makes no difference.
Once the public knows it, there’s no taking a statement back.
Especially when you have told everyone where they can find the evidence!”
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“A conspiracy? Being played out by over a dozen people? No. If it were, I would have known about it one way or the other. I have men working under Das and Johar. Men who are more loyal to me than they are to their own bosses. No, there’s no way a conspiracy of this size could have escaped my radar. Plus, most of the people who made the confessions aren’t too bright. They can’t be part of any scheme that requires any level of intellect. This isn’t an Agatha Christie novel. In real life a bunch of people can’t secretly act together to execute a plan so perfectly…”
“How about instead of just saying ‘no’ to my theories, you tell me your theories?”
“I must confess that my theories are almost as ridiculous as yours.
First, I thought someone might be blackmailing them and this whole going back on the statements they made was just to cause confusion.
But then it happened too often, and for over six people of high stature to be blackmailed and not even disclose the fact to their close underlings… Highly unlikely. Then I thought about them being drugged or someone putting on a mask to look like them…But…”
Patil scowled, “You’ve been watching those Mission Impossible movies again... Be realistic. If you keep talking about such fantasies, I’ll assume you relapsed.”
Godbole flinched. Patil rarely ever made reference to his past drug addiction, and had never used it to mock him. The fact that he just did was a testament to how much the recent events had rattled him.
“I want answers, Godbole. And I want…”
“Sir!” Patil’s personal assistant barged into the room, frantically.
Patil screamed at her “We are in the middle of …”
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“Sir, the NCB…” before she could complete the sentence, five men and one woman in tight formal shirts and trousers entered the room, with a manner befitting Napoleon’s imperial army.
The senior most of them led the way and he approached Patil, “Hello sir, I’m Rahul Gokhale from the Narcotics Control Bureau. We are here to search your house for any illegal drugs.”
“Drugs?!” Patil raised his voice further. “What f*cking nonsense.
Show me a court order authorizing it.”
“The NCB does not need a warrant issued by a court when we have reasonable suspicion that someone is in possession of drugs, sir. I do have this warrant signed by the Mumbai Zone Director of the NCB, authorizing me to conduct this search.” He handed over a piece of paper which Patil snatched and perused. He then looked up at Godbole. Godbole nodded. The Mumbai’s Director of the NCB was Satbir Singh, an officer who had only reached his current position because of help from Patil. This uncharacteristic behavior was in accordance with the recent trend of people close to Patil turning on him.
“When was that order signed?” Godbolde demanded.
“Just this morning.” Gokhale replied.
Without saying another word, Godbole proceeded to leave. He wanted to observe Singh right up to the moment when Singh would assert that he had no memory of signing the order.
None of the NCB officers had the cojones to stop Godbole. They were reluctant to even carry out the search of Patil’s house. But the orders came from above and they were bound to follow it. None of them had ever conducted a search of the house of any high-level political figure.
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They were used to searching the houses of low-level drug peddlers and television stars. Both these classes of people were never in a position to exact vengeance on them. But someone like Patil could ruin their entire careers and make the lives of their families a living hell.
However, the officers took solace in the fact that Patil had bigger problems to worry about and that his political career would soon come to an end on account of the recent controversy surrounding him.
***
Godbole sat in his SUV which he parked across the street of NCB’s Mumbai branch office. Oddly, the place didn’t seem too secure. He was sitting there for hours and none of the guards found it even mildly suspicious. Of course, Mumbai is so crowded that it’s hard to get noticed even if one wanted to. Finally, he saw Singh leaving the building in his chauffeur driven car. Godbole followed him from a distance. Singh’s car went straight to his house in the police quarters at Bandra. Godbole watched the gate of the government building from inside his SUV which he parked several feet away. He had binoculars in his glove compartment, but he didn’t dare use them so close to a police residential quarters, lest some of the nearby officers saw him.For hours nothing happened. At about 4.20 a.m. a man in a windcheater and track pants left the gate. Godbole, who was half-asleep, jolted in his seat when he recognized that the early riser was none other than Singh. He started his engine and followed him. Singh jogged towards ‘Bandstand’, a kilometer-long promenade which was a popular jogging track and hang-out spot in Mumbai.
Godbole was at least fifty feet away from Singh at all times. By the time they reached Bandstand, it was a little past 5 a.m. and a few other joggers had just arrived there as well. Singh stopped jogging 128
somewhere in the middle of the promenade and sat on a bench that faced the sea. He watched other joggers passing by him, as he was being watched by Godbole in turn.
By 6 a.m., nothing happened. Godbole was contemplating whether to just approach Singh and interrogate him, since he felt his investigation reached a dead-end. ‘Even if there is something to find here, how do I find it? What am I even looking for?’ he thought. He stopped out of his car and began walking towards Singh.
Just then, Godbole witnessed something strange. Singh sprang off the bench as though someone pinched his bottom and he hopped toward a petite teenage girl in a turquoise tank top and black sweatpants. For no apparent reason, he touched her on the arm and froze. The girl was just about to express her shock and surprise over the man pouncing on her, but before she could, she herself froze for about five seconds. In those five seconds two elderly gentlemen in matching khaki shorts who witnessed the incident, gathered to see what had happened.
“Hey! What is this? Is this man troubling you?” the first man asked angrily.
“Oy! Acting pervy at such an age… Do you have no shame?” roared the second one.
Singh gaped at them, dumbfounded. Ironically, it was the teenage girl who saved him and his reputation. “Don’t worry, this man is my father. He suffers from Alzheimer’s. I bring him here every morning because the doctor says it improves his cognitive abilities. He recognized me just now so he was calling for me. Nothing inappropriate here. But thank you for your concern.”
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All this while Singh wondered where he was. “See, now he doesn’t remember where he is.” She continued. “I better take him home. He gets very agitated when he gets confused like this.” Singh stared at the girl whom he couldn’t recognize while the two elderly gentlemen apologized to him and walked away. She took him by the arm and dragged him away.
Singh and the girl passed by Godbole, but didn’t notice him. Godbole watched on ‘What the f… What just happened? Who is this girl? She clearly didn’t bring Singh here. To the best of my recollection, Singh doesn’t even have a daughter.’ After walking a little away, the girl looked around, as though making sure the coast was clear. She then said something to Singh and briskly walked away from him. Godbole had a decision to make. ‘Where is she going? Do I follow this girl or stick to Singh?’ He watched as a discombobulated Singh made his way towards his house. ‘Definitely the girl’.
Godbole got into his SUV and followed the jogger girl for fifteen minutes. She jogged all the way to Santa Cruz and entered a building called Sakina Manzil. She made an entry in the register maintained by the watchman and proceeded inside the ‘C’ Wing of the apartment building, as the watchman leered at her.
‘What do I do?’ Godbole thought. He quickly got out of his SUV and walked towards the gates of Sakina Manzil. The watchman ordered him to make an entry in the register if he wished to go in. After all, Mishra was least bothered who was entering the building as long as they made an entry in the register. A person could walk in with an AK-47 and it would not perturb the indifferent night-watchman.
Not wanting to raise any suspicion, Godbole stepped towards the register. He checked the last entry which read: ‘Name: Bhumi Kapoor; 130
Visiting: C-202; Time: 6.30 a.m.’ “Who lived in apartment C-202?”
Godbole asked. Mishra threw him an expression of utter boredom.
This visitor was a stark contrast to the fit teenager who he was admiring just seconds ago.
“Miss Deshpande stays there… But who do you want to visit?”
“You know what, I think I have the wrong building.” Godbole turned around and left.
***
It was 9 p.m. and Madanlal just closed his cigarette shop. He bid farewell to the biker gang who were chatting and fooling around near by. Madanlal was disgusted by them, but he had to keep up the pretense as they were his most loyal customers. As soon as he left a mysterious figure could been seen walking towards the gang. One of the five noticed this and pointed it out to their self-proclaimed leader –a young man whose yellow teeth matched his flurescent shirt and the highlights at the tip of his spiked hair. As the figure came closer, they could make out from the curvy silhouette that it was young woman.
No sooner did they realize this that they started with their howling and lewd remarks. To their amusement, the figure lady stopped and slowly sat on the ground with her legs folded.
The leader took two steps closer to see what was going on. Then he blacked out. When he regained consciousness he found himself standing with his pocket knife covered in blood. Around him were his four friends, lying on the road, with their throats slit. ‘This can’t be!’ He involuntarily placed his hand on his own abdomen, and felt a certain wetness. His already widened eyes widened further as he slowly looked down. He was bleeding profusely from a deep cut. He fell to 131
the ground. Meanwhile, Aditi stood up, dusted herself off, and walk away. She had expected that she would feel something after the incident, but oddly, she didn’t feel anything.
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14. Her and the Nine
I had only one month to conduct the ‘research’ required to engage Ubbhayabharti. I asked my other disciples to wait at Mahiṣmati and left along with Padmapāda (Sanandana) to a neighbouring kingdom.
“Guruji, where are we going?” Padmapāda asked me as we were walking through the dense forest.
“I am going to see King Amaruka.”
“King Amaruka? But I heard news that he passed away yesterday.”
“Yes, he suffered a heat stroke while hunting.”
“So, we are going to pay our respects?”
“No, Padmapāda. I am going to use ‘parakayapravesavidya’, i.e.
the science of entering into the body of another, to enter into the late King Amaruka’s body.”
“What are you saying Guruji, is such a feat even possible?”
Padmapāda regretted the phrasing of his question as soon as he finished asking it.
“Yes, of course it is. With utmost concentration and training a yogi can transfer his soul from one body to another. I will enter King Amaruka’s body and live his life for a little less than a month. The King had more than a hundred wives. After learning about physical love and other worldly pleasures, I will return back to my own body and continue my debate with Ubbhayabharti.”
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“Guruji, I’m sure an omniscient Sanyasa such as yourself knows what he is doing. Yet I am unable to comprehend how an ascetic can engage in such activities? You have maintained the purity of your soul your entire life, why would you tarnish it now? And what if you are overcome with those carnal desires, what then?”
“I understand where you are coming from Padmapāda. But let me explain. You know that Sri Krishna was surrounded by beautiful women who admired and worshipped him. Yet, he was never overcome with sexual desires. In one who is liberated, there are no attachments in the earthly realm and desire for the earthly sense of enjoyment will not arise. It is Sankalpa, the brooding imaginative association, which is the cause of desire. The commandments and prohibitions of scriptures are applicable to men in ignorance who live with the deep-rooted conviction that their body is their self. In the case of one who has realized even here that the Self is without all contacts. The Self and the world supposed to be born of the Self are not different, the world having no existence apart from the Self. How can one who realizes the whole world as a mere appearance, be affected by anything? If a person performs Yagas and Yajnas in a dream, will he derive any benefit from it? Even if I indulge in the enjoyment of sex-love with this body, no evil will result from it. Did Kumarila Bhatta become a Buddhist simply by becoming a pupil of a Buddhist monk and chanting their mantras? However, in order that the world may not be misled in respect of virtuous conduct by observing my example of a Sanyasa indulging in the practice of sex-love, I propose to gain the experience of sex-life through the body of another person whose dead body I am going to enliven by temporarily identifying myself with that body. And regarding your apprehension about me being engulfed with carnal desires –
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If I do so and leave my own life to live that of King Amaruka then it will mean that the school of thought that I have spent my life preaching is meaningless. I doubt we have to worry about such an outcome"
After I was done speaking, Padmapāda became quiet and stopped walking. I looked at him in anticipation. He touched my feet and after receiving my blessings, we continued on our journey.
Seventy-two-year-old Pesi Daruwala was sitting in his study at Shamballa Mansion, reading a copy of ‘The Hiram Key’, while in his maroon satin robes. However, what Pesi referred to as his study room can be more accurately described as a library. The fifty feet tall shelves which almost touched the ceiling held over sixteen thousand books on almost every imaginable subject. At the centre of the room was a large table, on which Pesi liked to spread out his various reading materials of the day. Finishing his entire reading list gave him a kind of
‘intellectual orgasm’ which was incomparable to any other feeling he could experience at his age. On the opposite side of the table was a maroon cardboard box, the size of a baby’s coffin.
Many of the books were just reference books, which were not meant to be read cover to cover. But Pesi has read them all the same. As he would say time and again in various interviews, he owed his entire success to reading. In his youth he would read at least one book a day.
Despite his responsibilities increasing after he inherited chairmanship of Daruwala & Sons from his adoptive father, he increased his reading to an average of two books a day. It didn’t take him too long since his reading speed averaged 3,800 words per minute. The books didn’t need to be maintained in the library since he always remembered 135
anything he read. But he kept them as one keeps trophies on display in a case.
With his adoptive father’s teachings and his great intellect, Pesi was able to turn his multi-million-dollar Indian oil company into a multi-billion-dollar international conglomerate that had its hands into everything from tea to telecommunication. The two-hundred-year-old Daruwala & Sons was now the holding company of Daruwala Group.
Shamballa Mansion was considered to be the most expensive private residence in the world and stood as a symbol of Daruwala’s wealth and power. Most people found it to be an atrocious structure which had no flow in its form. From the outside it looked like the building consisted of seven blocks of different dimensions piled one over another. The other most common criticism was that the Mansion was an ostentatious display of disparity of wealth since it stood in a city which had one of the world’s largest slums.
As any other one-percenter, Daruwala was criticized for not utilizing his immense fortune for public welfare purposes. It was also shamefully obvious that the Prime Minister of the country was in his pocket and the government policies were frequently changed to suit the requirements of his company. The controversies were of no concern to Daruwala. His company’s products were superior to those of competitors and he crushed any possible competition before they became a serious threat. Since the company was in almost every sector, even his greatest critic would find it challenging to completely boycott products of Daruwala.
As Pesi was almost finishing his book, his personal assistant walked into the study room. “Sir, Mr. Ankhad is here to see you.”
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Daruwala nodded. She opened the door and let Prasad Ankhad in.
Prasad was a young man with sleek black hair combed all the way back. He wore a shiny black designer suit and a Rolex watch.
Strangely, he never carried a pen since he believed that writing things down was a sign of poverty. “The truly wealthy don’t even sign their own cheques, do they?” he always quipped. Prasad was a self-made hecto-millionaire who initially made his money in a series of successful computer software and mobile applications. Over the last few years he acquired a huge chunk of shares in Daruwala & Sons and had become a key member of its management.
“Come, Prasad. Come sit next to me.”
“How are you feeling, sir?”
“I’m fine. Just some mild chest pains. You must be wondering why I called for you like this… so abruptly on a Saturday night when you would rather be partying with your new wife.”
“No sir, I -”
“It’s okay. You see, Ashwin, it’s no secret that I have always admired your drive and your management skills. You remind me of a younger version of me. You lost your parents at the age of sixteen. I was orphaned when I was three years old. I was raised in an orphanage at Dongri. I don’t remember a single thing about my parents. But I was told that my parents were a lower-middle class couple who worked 9
to 5 jobs just to make ends meet. When I heard that, I thanked God for taking them away from me. If I had to live like them, I would end up killing myself. The one thing I loathed the most was a life of mediocrity. I was the smartest boy in my orphanage. I had started a magazine on finance when I was a teenager. I sold the entire 137
publication after just two years for a million rupees, which was a huge sum in those times, especially for me.
“I used those funds to start several other businesses – a recruitment agency, a real estate services agency and a fitness centre. All the ventures were so successful that in 1968 “Entrepreneur Today”
magazine listed me in their ’20 entrepreneurs under 20’ list. As destiny would have it, Kamlesh Daruwala and his wife Simran Daruwala, the last living members of the Daruwala family, were searching for a child who they could adopt, since they were unable to have a child of their own. They needed an heir to take over Daruwala & Sons once they passed away. So they reached out to orphans who had shown entrepreneurial spirit. When we were summoned to meet them, we were under the impression that they were just interviewing us for a job. When I met them for a third time, they made me an offer – not for a job, but to be adopted. I agreed in less than a minute.
“The paper work was completed and the news was made public. I was the media’s favourite for the longest time. But it wasn’t the short-term fame born of hype and glamour that I wanted. I needed to prove to myself that the boy raised with over two dozen children in a house which was one-third the size of this room could, through hard work and persistence, reach a position which other business moguls could only dream of.” Daruwala shook his head as if realizing something,
“I’m sorry, I trailed off again. A bad habit caused by old age. If I do it again, please let me know. I won’t think of you as being rude for doing so… Anyways, back to the point. As you know, in the last seven years I’ve taken a back-seat, only micro-managing the operations of the Daruwala Group. In the last five years you have put in more time and effort in the group than I have. That’s why in the next AGM I’m 138
going to publicly recommend your name as Chairman of Daruwala & Sons.”
“Sir! But it’s too soon. I still have a lot to learn from you and -”
“Enough with the false modesty Ashwin. I don’t care for it. Don’t try to hide your ambitious side, it’s one of the things I like about you.
Each one of the board members already knows about it and I’m sure you were expecting it for a long time… I actually called you for something else...” Daruwala took a deep breath, “You remember I had once told you that I was a member of a group of influential individuals that meets every six months?”
“Yes, I begged you to tell me more about it, but you told me I wasn’t ready.”
“And at the time you weren’t. But you are now. This organization consists of only nine members and there can never be more or less than nine. I’m not exaggerating when I say that this 9-member organization controls the entire Indian sub-continent and also has a huge influence in countries in the western hemisphere.”
“Are you serious?! What’s it called?”
“Since it was always meant to be a secret society, it has no official name. The members have referred to it by different names over the years. The current members refer to it as “The Nine”.
“The Nine? Why does that sound familiar?”
Daruwala grinned, “You must have heard of ‘The Nine Unknown’, an old fiction novel.”
“Right! It’s about a society of nine men formed by King Ashoka.”
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“Yes. All fiction comes from a place of truth and some of the members of the Nine believe that our organization is a continuation of such a society which was really formed by Ashoka. However, there is no means of confirming it since the Nine don’t keep any records or leave any proof of their existence. But there is a tale which has been narrated and passed down through generations.”
“A tale?”
“Yes, apparently the Nine consisted of masters of nine fields –
economics, astronomy, biology, micro-biology, chemistry, physics, psychology, communication and spirituality.
“What was the second-last one? Communication?”
“Yes, communication. Sending of messages through various means to other humans, or to extra-terrestrial beings or even beings in the after-life.” Ashwin raised one of his eyebrows in skepticism. “Anyways, as you have seen, most of the fields are scientific and sensible. Whenever the master of one field died, he was replaced by another master. A few generations after the Nine was formed, there came a time when the masters of communication and spirituality dominated the group. They wanted to take the group in a different direction so they began replacing the men with scientific outlooks with those who believed in black magic and the occult. Soon, the master of astronomy was the master of astrology, the master of psychology was the master of mind-control, and so on. Over the centuries, the system of members being masters of particular fields disappeared and so the members were just some of the most influential people across the Indian subcontinent, who also engaged in paranormal practices. The group also stopped caring about the welfare of the society and was focused only on their own dominion over it. For millennia, they have been pulling the 140
strings over all major activities in India. They orchestrated the Timurid massacre of Delhi, they instigated the Battle of Panipat and they decided if and when India would get independence. They decide which upcoming individuals should be allowed to grow and who should be crushed. Few years ago, there was a vote about you as well…” Ashwin threw an expression of shock. “Don’t worry, you were unanimously voted to be allowed. There are a lot of other things they influenced but you will learn about it in time. You must be wondering why I’m telling you about the Nine. My adoptive father Kamlesh Daruwala was a member of the Nine, till I was given his seat.
For Daruwala & Sons to progress, it is important that it be represented in the Nine. Therefore, along with the Chairmanship you must also take my seat in the Nine.”
Ashwin was almost salivating. “Of course, I will. How do I join?”
“First, you will be made a provisional member. That will allow you to take my place in the meetings and vote on my behalf. When I die you will be made a full-fledged member.”
“When you die?”
“Yes, once a member, you are a member for life. Only death can relieve you.”
“Alright... Who are the other members?”
“I can’t tell you that now. The next meeting will be held in two days.
Each time the meeting is hosted by a different member who has to make all the arrangements. Since the Nine doesn’t have any post like
‘President’ or ‘Chairman’ each meeting is headed by the host of that meeting, who takes everyone through the agenda. Hosting a meeting isn’t easy, particularly when we can’t tell our own personal assistants 141
or even our family members about the Nine. We don’t use our drivers or even our own cars to travel to the meetings. We don’t take any security with us either. You too will have to make sure you reach the meeting place unnoticed. I will send you the exact venue and time through my secretary who will hand-deliver it to you in a sealed envelope. Make sure, nobody else sees its contents. It will also contain the password for entering the meeting place.”
“Password? Can’t they just verify my identity?”
“No. Open that box in front of you.”
Ashwin looked at the maroon cardboard box that was on the table and slowly opened it. Inside was a dark-purple silk hooded robe and a very peculiar black mask. The mask had a small beak-shaped obtrusion in the front. They had two narrow slits for eye holes below a frowning forehead.
Ashwin was puzzled. “What is this?”
“The crow has been the symbol of the group since its inception a millennium ago. Make sure you put on the mask and the robes before you knock on the door and say the password. The other members are also required to put them on before entering.”
“This looks like a smaller one of those European plague doctor masks… I’ve seen them in other places too, I think.”
“They are used a lot in works of fiction. They are generally depicted as being used by occult organizations. But they were actually being used by the Nine for over a millennium. We aren’t sure if their use by plague doctors and in popular culture came from the Nine or whether it was just a coincidence…. The masks serve three purposes – One, they prevent new-comers from identifying existing members until 142
they have been initiated. Second, apart from concealing the face they even alter the voice. So, if the session is being recorded no one will know who the members are and which member made which statement. Third… well, it is a tradition and this organization is all about tradition...”
“So… is this some kind of cult?”
Daruwala didn’t answer or chuckle or even look Ashwin in the eyes.
“Just come for the meeting and don’t be late.”
“What would the initiation ceremony entail?”
Again, Daruwala didn’t answer immediately. In fact, this time it was rather evident that he was intentionally avoiding eye-contact with Ashwin. He sank back into his book and somberly instructed him,
“Make sure you do everything they tell you. The Nine don’t like naysayers. Anyone who poses a threat to the group or their ways of doing things find themselves in a funeral pyre earlier than expected.
Understood?”
Ashwin gulped and nodded.
***
The fateful day arrived. Ashwin had received the details of the venue and password in a sealed envelope from Daruwala. The meeting was being held in an abandoned warehouse in Bhandup, a suburban locality in Mumbai. As per the instructions, he changed cabs three times to get to the venue. He even caught the first cab half a kilometer away from his house and stopped the third cab about half a kilometer away from the location and walked the rest of the way, which wasn’t easy since he was carrying the maroon box under right arm.143
The warehouse was exactly the way he imagined it – shady, old and neglected. No other human could be seen in its vicinity. It had a huge door with a smaller door built into it. He was about to knock on the small door, but was surprised to find it open. He stepped inside and found a huge wall just ten feet away from the entrance that created a partition in the warehouse. From the ceiling hung a single bulb which was illuminating the place which was empty but for a huge bottle green trunk that lied on the left side of the enclosure. The wall opposite Ashwin had a wooden door and handle. He tried to press down on the handle and open the door, but it was firm. He knocked on the door.
A voice came from above the door which startled him. “Password?” It was at this moment that Ashwin noticed that just above the door was a black instrument that appeared to be a speaker.
Ashwin fumbled. He had forgotten to put on his attire. He pulled out the robe and mask from the box under his arm and put them on.
“Uhhh… Yeah… Wait a sec... Yeah… the password is…
‘Brahmastra’.” As soon as Ashwin uttered the words there was a sound of a buzzer. He pushed the door which now gave.
The inner room was in complete contrast to the outer one. It was a huge conference room with bright white walls and a proportionately sized oval-shaped black table with ten black leather chairs around it.
In the far end of the room, there was a door on the right side, which was in accordance with the colour-theme of the room, and was also black.
The room was air-conditioned and very well maintained. There were even bottles of mineral water kept on the table. In fact, it could have passed off as a perfectly normal conference room if it weren’t for the 144
fact that nine people wearing purple robes and black masks with beaks weren’t sitting around the table.
The member who sat directly opposite the door at the other end of the room was the only one who had a mic in front of him. “You must be the newbie. Come, sit at the empty chair next to your sponsor.” He indicated towards the only empty chair in the room, which also happened to be the one closest to Ashwin. The man sitting next to it nodded at Ashwin. From that gesture and also the physique of the man, Ashwin could tell it was Pesi Daruwala beside him.
Ashwin scuttled to the chair and took his seat. He attentively fixated on the man who addressed him. He was sitting at the head of the table and there was a remote in front of him. Ashwin inferred that the man was the host of that day's meeting and that the remote controlled the intercom as well as the door.
“I’m sorry if I’m late.”
“You are not late. We call newbies two hours after the meeting starts so that we can finish other business first. We are right now on one of the last items of the agenda, then we will come to your initiation.”
Ashwin nodded. He looked around through the narrow eye slits in his mask. The scene reminded him of how sometimes ravens would gather on a single tree to have a discussion.
The host continued, “So, if nobody has anything else to say on the current agenda, let’s put it to a vote. All those in favour of starting an Indo-China conflict at Ladakh, please raise your hands.” Ashwin’s heart skipped a beat when he heard this statement.
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Eight hands shot into the air, including the host’s and Daruwala’s.
Apart from Ashwin, who was not entitled to vote yet, only one member sitting opposite Ashwin did not raise his hand.
“Then that seals it. The plan of action to execute the same will be shared using our usual means of communication. As always please do your respective parts.”
Ashwin was completely mortified by how casually the topic initiating an international conflict was being discussed. He was eager to know who each of these men were. But the Nine’s attire made it impossible to tell their identities. Except for one man who sat at the head of the table… He had a long salt and pepper beard. ‘Oh man, is that bearded man Dharamguru?’ He thought to himself ‘What the hell has this Daruwala gotten me into?’
“Now, for the initiation… Brother, please stand.” Ashwin stood up; his legs were trembling with fear.
“Now I will administer the oath, please say ‘I agree’ once I am done.”
The host stood up as well, “I solemnly swear to keep sacred and inviolate the secrets of this degree and its members. To obey the collective decisions taken here and act on the same without demur or delay. To hold the tenets of this Society above each and every law, principle or any oath or obligation taken by me.” Saying this the host paused.
“Oh. Yes, I agree.”
“Good. The initiation is almost complete.”
‘Seems to be getting done rather quickly.’ Ashwin thought to himself.
“There is only one more thing. You must seal the oath with blood.”
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Ashwin almost defecated in his trousers. “B…Blood? Do I have to cut myself?”
All the attendees in the room, including the host, let out a loud laugh.
Ashwin felt as though he had just been pranked. The host recovered himself from his laughter quickly, “No, no. The blood of members, including provisional members, is precious to the Nine. We wouldn’t want you shedding any blood...”
Ashwin sighed in relief as the host walked towards the black door at the corner of the room. The host opened the door and revealed a young girl, who could barely be more than eight years old, in a white dress tied to a vertical stretcher. She had a red plastic ball strapped into her mouth, behind her teeth, with the black straps going around her head to secure it in place. Her limbs were fastened to the stretcher, as was her torso. Tears flowed from her satin grey eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she wriggled profusely.
“…You will have to shed her’s.”
Once again there was silence. “I don’t understand.”
Daruwala, who was now standing behind Ashwin, answered the question, “As part of the initiation you must kill a virgin. You should be thankful we arranged one for you. In the earlier days provisional members had to bring their own for the initiation.”
“What?! No, you are joking. This whole thing is a prank, right? Is this how an ultra-billionaire like you get his kicks? By scaring the shit out of people?”
“This is no prank.” Assured the host as he handed Ashwin a long machete. Ashwin couldn’t hold it without shaking.
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Daruwala came up close to Ashwin and whispered, “Either the girl dies tonight or you do, choose wisely.”
Ashwin examined the girl as he slowly walked towards her. She tried to scream and tried even harder to break free from her restraints. But it was of no use.
The other members cheered on. “Welcome to the Nine, brother!” The host congratulated him.
One of the other members commented, “You can tell a lot about a new member by the way he kills. What will it be brother? Will it be a single stab? Or multiple slashes? You can never go wrong with a simple slit of the throat.” Ashwin was overwhelmed with the cheers and the jokes. Daruwala shouted from behind, “If you want, you can rape her before you kill her. That’s what I did!”
‘These people are animals!’ Ashwin thought to himself. He could tell that Daruwala wasn’t kidding. ‘I suppose I have no choice. It’s kill or be killed and I have no intention of dying today. But I’ll try to make this as painless as possible for her.’
As he stared into the girl’s fear-filled grey eyes, he lifted the machete with both hands and raised it above his head.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a gunshot. The machete fell to the ground. Ashwin looked down at his abdomen. He was bleeding on his right-side. He fell to the floor the next second. Everyone turned towards one of the members who held a gun pointed towards Ashwin. It was the same member who had voted against the Indo-China conflict.
“What is going on–” the host shouted before getting shot in the throat.
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As the other members ran helter-skelter, the member with a gun began shooting everyone in the room. Two of the members dashed towards the wooden door but were shot before they could reach it.
Daruwala and Dharamguru just ducked and took cover behind the table. The shooting had stopped. Daruwala heard the sound of the gun being re-loaded. He decided to take the chance to crawl towards the wooden door.
Just when he was about to reach the door and stand, the masked assailant appeared in front of him. He looked up and saw the inside of the barrel of the gun. “Please. Don’t.” he pleaded before a bullet was fired between his eyes. Then the assailant slowly walked towards Dharamguru who was cowering below the table, and put him out of his misery.
All the members, other than the assailant, laid bleeding on the floor, either dead or dying. Ashwin watched from afar as the assailant took off his bird-like mask. He recognized the man as being the most influential news anchor in India. “Abhijeet Das?” he muttered as drew his last breath.
The girl watched in horror as Abhijeet Das walked towards her.
Seeing the girl’s expression, he seemed to remember something, “Oh, yes, I forgot. I’m sorry.” Saying this he walked back to the table and picked up the remote. He hit the buzzer of the door and then, for seemingly no apparent reason, he shot himself in the gut, much to the girl’s shock and surprise.
Outside, Aditi immediately emerged from the bottle-green trunk lying in the outer room and barged into the conference room, which now had a shade of red added to it’s black and white interiors. As Abhijeet Das lay on the floor with his hand on his gut, he watched Aditi 149
removing the girl’s restraints. He had absolutely no idea who those two girls were or how he had gotten in that predicament.
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15. His Undoing
We reached a cave atop a hill, close to the city where King Amaruka used to reign. I turned to Padmapāda (Sanandana) and said, “I shall meditate in this cave. We are surrounded by a lush forest and there is also a lake nearby. You will not have any problems looking for food and water here. Once my soul enters Amaruka’s body, my own body will be in a comatose state. You will have to preserve it.”
Padmapāda bowed indicating his acceptance of the task. I entered the cave and began meditating. My soul left my body through my torso and travelled several kilometers till it could find the body of King Amaruka.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on my back, surrounded by small twigs and branches. I pushed them aside and sat up straight. I was atop a pile of large branches and around me was an entire congregation of royal women, ministers and common folk.
Near me was a man holding a stick with a flame on one end. On seeing me they all awed in shock. It was King Amaruka’s funeral pyre. I had entered the body only moments before he could be set aflame.
On seeing the dead King come back to life, his hundred wives (technically widows) clinged to me. I stood up and made my way to the throne while trumpets, conchs and other musical instruments were being played. I acted as if nothing had happened. When I sat on the throne, the ministers appeared before me and expressed their surprise and happiness in seeing me alive.
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They advised that I should have the medical experts hanged for incorrectly declaring me dead. I refused and said that it was no fault of theirs. They were puzzled by their king’s new found compassion and understanding.
“Here you go, sir.” the vendor handed over Godbole the freshly prepared paan 12. Godbole paid him and made his way back to his SUV where three of Patil’s other men waited for him. “Have a nice night, sir!” the paan vendor shouted from behind. Two other men were following the jogger who left the building the evening of the same day that she went in. That was three days ago. The two men following her were instructed to inform Godbole of any suspicious activity. But they didn’t have a single incident to report. ‘ As if those idiots would know suspicious activity when they see it.’ he thought to himself. He would have very much liked to follow up on every lead himself. But in this situation, he had no option but to rely on Patil’s goons for continuing his investigation.
Within two hours of learning Mahima’s name and address, Godbole was able to obtain her entire bio-data from his contacts in the local police. After that, he and the three henchmen spent the last three days observing Mahima’s routine. They observed her coming and going and occasionally they checked the register to see in case anyone who had entered the building had visited her apartment. They learnt that she only left the house once in a day, in the morning, to take her dog 12 Betel leaf with areca nut.
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to the nearby park. This stroll in the park took about an hour. The only people who visited her apartment were delivery boys.
This morning, Godbole had deployed the men to break into Mahima’s house and plant bugs in it. Fortunately, the building security was a joke. The moment Mahima stepped out with her dog the men entered the building, one after the other, with intervals of five minutes. The first man pretended to be a carpenter. The second was disguised as a food delivery boy. The third was dressed as a postman. They all entered random names and apartment numbers in the register.
The pretend-carpenter was an expert at picking locks. By the time the other two men arrived, the door was already opened by him. He kept an eye on the door as the other two planted half a dozen bugs throughout all the rooms of the house. Once they were done, they just closed the door behind them and left, without any trace that they were ever there.
Godbole was now able to listen to everything Mahima was saying.
However, ever since she returned home all he heard was her occasionally talking to her dog. Bored, he went off to get some paan, leaving his colleagues to monitor the receiver and alert him if they heard anything suspicious. To a casual observer it appeared as though a group of men were listening intently to music on individual headphones, while sitting in their car. Godbole joined his colleagues and continued to listen to the white noise, as he chewed on his paan.
At about 9 p.m. Godbole sent the men home and continued to listen on his own. Two hours later, Godbole heard a doorbell, followed by the sound of a door being opened.
“It’s me.” A man’s voice. Godbole listened intently.
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“How was your day?” Mahima asked politely.
“Did you see the news?”
“Yes! Abhijeet Das, Pesi Daruwala, Dharamguru, Rohaan Poonawala… so many people have gone missing. Did you do that?!”
“Don’t be silly. I mean, granted that I did want to take down the Nine ever since I learnt about them when I entered Das’ body… But even I couldn’t kidnap or kill all of them in one night.”
“So, it’s a coincidence that every member of the secret society that you resolved to take down, before you could once again focus on Patil, just happened to disappear.”
Godbole flinched on hearing Patil’s name.
“What can I tell you…” Godbole heard the mystery man say.
“Someone got to the Nine before me.”
“I still don’t get why you didn’t speak about the Nine on national television when you were in Abhijeet Das’ body, just like you outed so many other people’s nefarious activities.”
“I was on the fence about it. I didn’t have too much time to process the information. At that time, I thought that the country wasn’t ready for something of that magnitude. If I told you some of the activities that the Nine were responsible for or some of their traditions, I don’t think even you could fathom it. Also, can you imagine how Indians would react once they found out that the most influential people in the country were members of an organization that basically ran the entire country. No, it wouldn’t have been prudent to talk about the Nine on national television. It wouldn’t do any good either… The Nine hid their tracks perfectly, so as to ensure that no member had any 154
evidence against the other members. The Nine had to be finished, outing them would not serve any productive purpose.”
“So it had nothing to do with the fact that news of the Nine would dilute your revelations about Patil?”
The man did not reply.
“Are you hungry?” Mahima asked.
“No, the man whose body I’m possessing had a very heavy dinner.
He’s a nutritionist, but he has more junk food than a teenager. I think I’ll just hit the hay.”
“Why don’t you possess the body of someone who is well rested? That way you never have to sleep.”
“I like to eat and sleep occasionally. I miss it. It makes me feel alive.”
“Makes sense, I suppose. What’s your plan for tomorrow?”
“I’ll catch up on what’s going on with Patil.”
“He must still be having his hands full with the NCB investigation that you started when you were in Satbir Singh’s body.
“Yeah. That was just something to keep him busy while I dealt with the Nine. Now that the Nine is taken care of, I can focus on Patil again.”
“Cool. Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight.”
The conversation Godbole was listening to had come to a halt and he was left trying to make sense of it.
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16. Her New Friends
I ruled the kingdom through Amaruka’s body only for a few days.
A rumour spread that the king had become far wiser and kinder since his resurrection. Other kings revered my wisdom. The people were baffled by my generosity. The ministers were in awe with my dedication to the kingdom. A few of the sharper ministers began doubting the King’s identity because of the changed behaviour. Those who were able to deduce that the King was possessed decided to take measures to ensure that the person who had taken over his body would not return to his own. They were too pleased with their resurrected King. This was realized by me only much later when one of the guards accidently revealed to me that they had been instructed by the council of ministers to immediately burn any life-less body they found in the kingdom. I was not worried since I had utmost faith in Padmapāda.
But my research was still pending. After a few days, I handed over the task of administration of the kingdom to a handful of the ministers and I confined myself to the bed-chamber to spend time with the king’s many wives. I engaged in all kinds of amorous activities. The women were charming and amenable. There was even a game that we played where I would roll a dice to decide what kind of sexual activity, I would engage in with them. I learnt how to plant a kiss on a woman with eyes half-closed and how to speak words that aroused them. I even shared wine with them.
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Amaruka’s body was reacting to all the sensual activities, but I myself found them to be a perversion of the Universal truth in which I was immersed.
Cyrus and Nura listened to Coldplay on the car-radio, as they waited for Aditi to return. Nura’s navy blue hatchback was parked just a little away from the warehouse where Aditi was infiltrating the Nine. It had been five hours since they dropped off the trunk in which she was hiding at the warehouse. It had gotten dark, and a thick fog surrounded them.
“What’s that?” Nura broke the silence.
“What’s what?”
“I think I hear footsteps.” she responded as she got out of the car. In the distance, she saw the silhouette of someone coming from the same direction where the warehouse was situated. As the figure approached, Cyrus and Nura made out that it was Aditi carrying a child in her hands.
“Aditi, what happened?” Cyrus yelled.
“Long story. She was being held captive… Had to rescue her.” Aditi placed the girl down so that she could stand on her own feet.
Nura bent down to talk to the girl, “Are you okay?”
Instead of responding the grey-eyed girl just gave them a blank expression. She didn’t know who the people were or what was going on, but she was certain she was in a better situation than she was a few hours ago.
“Are you hurt?” Nura inquired.
The girl did not respond.
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“What’s your name?” Cyrus asked.
The girl turned to Aditi for help. “She can’t speak.” Aditi explained.
She’s deaf and dumb. She communicates in sign language. We need to find someone who can…”
Before Aditi could finish her sentence Cyrus began making hand gestures to the girl. The girl, who was holding Aditi’s hand, let go and responded to Cyrus’ gestures with her own.
“You know sign language?” Aditi and Nura asked in unison.
Without stopping the gesture, he responded, “Yeah… I took a course when I was in college, because I thought it would look good on my resume.” Cyrus paused and sighed as he watched the girl’s hand movement. “It’s bad.”
“What happened?” Aditi probed curiously.
“Her parents sold her off weeks ago because they felt she was a burden. Since then she’s been kept captive and was being moved from one place to another.”
Nura shot the girl in an expression of shock and clenched her fist.
“What do we do?” Aditi contemplated aloud. “We obviously aren’t going to take her back to her parents.”
“Let’s take her home...” Nura said authoritatively. “We’ll get her some food. Bathe her and let her spend the night… We’ll discuss the further course of action tomorrow morning.”
The others nodded, except the oblivious young girl.
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On their way back to the car, Nura held Cyrus by the arm and whispered aggressively, “Later, I want you to find out from her where we can find her parents.”
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17. His Last Act
I had unknowingly spent so much time in Amaruka’s body that I had almost forgotten my true identity. One day, a group of musicians came to the palace to entertain me. They played a melodious song about a bee who had left the hive in order to gather honey but who had become so engaged in his task that he lost track of time.
When the song was almost over, I managed to recognize that the musicians were none other than my own disciples who had come to the palace to remind me of my actual identity. It had been exactly one month and I had to meet Ubbhayabharti the next day to continue the debate. I directed that presents must be given to my disciples and as soon as they left the palace, I left the body of Amaruka. The people began crying on seeing the lifeless body of the King. This was the second time they had to experience sorrow over his death.
I awoke in my own body. But was surprised to find that it was on fire. Apparently, when Padmapāda and my other disciples were away at the palace, the royal guards had found my body in the cave and set it aflame. I recited a hymn to put the fire out. Once the fire subsided, I walked out of the cave where I was reunited with my disciples.
The time had come to resume my debate with Ubbhayabharti.
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Patil stared at Godbole as they sat in his home-office. Godbole just finished narrating the conversation between Mahima and the mystery man he overheard through the wiretap.
As Godbole was talking, Patil stroked his beard and listened intently.
He didn’t say a single word until Godbole was done talking. After Godbole was done, he paused before muttering, “Godbole, I’m already under the NCB’s scanner. If you have started doing heroin again, I cannot be in contact with you anymore… the risk is too much.”
Godbole was taken aback, “But sir, this information is one hundred percent -”
“A man who can enter the bodies of others!” Patil raised his voice,
“You expect me to believe that load of crap?! You need help, Godbole.
Get out! You aren’t any help to me like this!”
“But sir -”
“I nurtured you and respected you as if you were one of my own.
Even when you got addicted to the crystal, I still didn’t give up on you. I made sure you got the help you need. All I ever asked in return was your loyalty and that you use that intellect of yours to keep me at the top. But now, when I need you the most, you are giving me this bullshit. Even Dharamguru who I looked up to for guidance has now disappeared. In the end, I knew I would be alone in this battle. I will get to the bottom of this on my own. Go!”
Godbole scowled. He knew his information was farfetched, but he still didn’t expect such indignation from Patil. Godbole didn’t try to defend himself. His ego was damaged far too much for that. Instead, 161
he stormed off without saying a word. As he walked out briskly, he heard Patil screaming from behind, “And don’t bother coming back.”
Godbole knew that only one thing could restore his reputation in Patil’s eyes and that was to bring him conclusive proof of the existence of the man who could enter the bodies of others, or better yet, bring the man himself.
***
There was a knock at the door. As usual, Mahima opened the door without peeking through the peephole.At the door stood a man with a dark complexion and curled hair.
“It’s me”, said Godbole.
Mahima flung the door open fully to let him in. “I thought I won’t be seeing you till tomorrow.” As she entered the kitchen, “You want some tea? I’m making some for myself.”
“Yeah, sure.” Godbole had not even paid attention to the question. He was busy examining the house. He needed to get as much information as possible out of Mahima without letting her realize that he was an impostor.
“By the way, the Chairman of our society spoke to me. Apparently, he’s been receiving several complaints from other members regarding strange men spending their nights here. He said he himself is chilled about it, but if it continues, he’ll have no option but to send me an official warning. So, you have to stop coming here in bodies of men, understand? Anyways, who is this supposed to be?” she shouted from inside the kitchen.
“This?”
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“The man whose body you are in, who is he?”
“Oh! Yeah, this is one of Patil’s henchmen.”
“Patil’s henchman?” She came back into the living room with two cups. She handed one to Godbole. “How come you decided to get so close to him? I thought you were planning on mentally torturing him from afar for a while longer.”
Godbole listened intently as he took a sip. Every word he uttered had to be measured carefully. One slip up and his entire fact-finding mission would be in jeopardy. “Yes, I decided to change the plan a bit.
I thought it would be better to stay close to Patil and keep an eye on him.”
“So, did you meet him in person yet?”
“Patil? Yes… I did.”
“How did you control yourself?”
“It… wasn’t easy.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t. I’m glad to see the amount of restraint you are exercising.” Mahima said as she sipped her tea. “What happened? I’m missing the ‘Ah’ sound.” She smirked.
‘’Ah’ sound?’ Godbole thought to himself. ‘ What the hell is this supposed to be? Should I say I miss it too? No, it may not fit in the context. Should I just ask what sound she is talking about? No, too risky.’
“I’m sorry what did you say?” he asked in panic, with the intention that it would buy him some more time.
“The ‘Ahh’ sound you make after each sip of tea…You aren’t making it for a change.”
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“Oh, that. I’m… trying to stop making it now.”
“Good. I never used to mind it, but it used to draw Pramila crazy. I remember one time…”
‘Pramila? Pramila Pinto?’ Godbole’s felt as if his heart sank all the way to his abdomen. The moment Mahima mentioned the name ‘Pramila’
he ceased to listen to anything else she had to say. His mind was no longer in apartment C-202 of Sakina Manzil. It fell into a vortex of his memories and he was back in his SUV. It was dark and he was tired as he had been following a navy-blue sedan, all the way from Mumbai to Palghar waiting for it to reach a secluded road. When they reached the MH SH 40, he checked to make sure that no other pedestrian or vehicle was in sight. ‘This is my chance.’ Godbole thought to himself.
He hit the accelerator hard and waited till the front of his SUV was just on the right-side of the rear of the sedan he was following. Once it was, Godbole turned his steering wheel hard to the left, causing it to bump into the sedan. The lady in the front passenger seat woke up.
She turned around and there was a split second when her eyes widened. She had recognized Godbole. He had no option but to finish the job. He turned to the left once again, and this time kept pushing the sedan towards the left till it went off the road. Once he succeeded, he heard a loud thump. He got out of his car, and walked towards the sedan which had collided with a tree. He peeped through the window and saw the bodies of the couple and one child. He put a handkerchief on his hand and tried to open the car door. But it was still locked. Not wanting to spoil the scene which appeared to be an accident, he decided not to use any kind of force to open the door or put his hand through the half-open passenger seat window. After scanning the three bodies from afar he was satisfied that the injuries were so severe 164
that they weren’t alive and that they weren’t breathing. He went back into his SUV and drove off.
“Hey, are you listening?” Mahima waved her hand in front of Godbole’s face, startling him.
“Yeah, sorry. Was just thinking of something.” He knew the ‘ why’, he just needed to learn the ‘ who’. ‘Pramila’s husband died along with her.
Then who could it be? The father? Did she have a brother? Or someone else?’
While Godbole was in thought, Dante came out from the bedroom, fully rested from his nap. When Dante saw Godbole he growled.
Godbole viewed Dante with contempt. He wasn’t afraid of dogs, he just loathed them. He never understood why a person would keep a dog as a pet instead of a cat. To him, dogs belonged in the wild and not indoors.
“Dante! Dante!” Mahima shouted, “What has gotten into you?” She approached him to pet him. While petting him she froze with fear. She had had the scary realization that the man who she let into her house and who was sitting right next to her may be a stranger. She stood up straight and went back into the kitchen. Godbole noticed the change in her demeanor and suspected that the jig was up.
“By the way do you remember that time you and I went to the amusement park?” she asked as she opened the kitchen drawer.
“Yes, I do.” The voice came from behind her, “It was good fun.” The man had followed her to the kitchen and was standing right behind her. Dante followed the man too, still growling. The man tried to subtly peek into the drawer and Mahima followed his gaze to the knife that was lying inside it. She knew that if the man was an 165
impostor, then he would attack the moment she tried to reach for it.
She had to try a different approach. Instead, she grabbed the strainer.
“I’m making some more tea. You want some?”
“No, I’m good.”
Mahima put some water in her kettle and turned on the stove. They both were fixated on each other while Dante was fixated on Godbole.
Mahima still wasn’t a hundred percent sure whether the man in her kitchen was Robin or not. Robin and she had never been in an amusement park before so far as she remembered, but there was still a small chance that they were and she was unable to recall it or that Robin simply answered in the affirmative because he was busy in his thoughts. She had to follow up the question with another one. One which would confirm whether the man was Robin or not.
“You remember our kiss on the giant wheel?” she asked while placing her right hand on his chest.
From Mahima’s body language Godbole inferred that she had some sort of romantic relationship with the mystery man. He felt a slight tug as Mahima very slightly pulled him by his shirt. ‘I better kiss her, or she might get suspicious.’ He thought.
“Of course, I do.” He lied as he leaned forward.
With her left hand Mahima picked up the kettle which was on the stove and threw the boiling water from the kettle right on Godbole’s face.
As Godbole screamed in pain, he tried to open his eyes. Mahima had opened the kitchen drawer and picked up the knife. She stabbed him in the abdomen, but the knife didn’t go in too deep. He had grabbed 166
her hands and pulled the knife out of his body. A struggle ensued between the two of them where both of them tried to take control of the knife. Godbole would have won had Dante not joined in. Dante bit Godbole’s leg with all his might, causing him to scream even louder this time. He pitied himself on being put into such a sorry state by a woman and her dog. He used his right hand to pull out his Swiss army knife from his pocket and before Mahima could see what he had pulled out, he slit her throat.
As she fell to the ground, Mahima felt a mixture of remorse and satisfaction. The remorse was because she felt she had failed Robin, the man she had a crush on. The satisfaction because her time had finally come. She never told anybody about it before, but she always had a death wish. It was not as though she had a bad life. In fact, she had lived a pretty balanced life. But by her very nature, she always found living to be suffering. A nihilist at heart, she always wondered what was the point of living. Like Sophocles she too believed that it was best to never be born, and if born then next best was to die as soon as possible. It was only because of her religious upbringing that it was ingrained into her that suicide was a taboo.
As soon as she hit the ground Mahima became a helpless witness to Dante being stabbed in the back with the same knife that slit her throat. ‘No please. Not Dante.’ She tried to speak but she was unable to make a sound. Finally, Dante was unable to hold on anymore and let go of Godbole’s leg. Godbole quickly limped towards the main door of the house, as he held the spot where he had been stabbed and left.
In his haste, he forgot to close the door behind him.
As Mahima saw the pool of blood around her getting larger, her life flashed before her eyes. Once it was done, she thought to herself ‘So 167
that’s what it feels like. I wonder if this is how Robin sees people’s memories when he enters them.’ The thought amused her. Then she glanced at Dante lying next to her. Dante was still breathing, but his eyes were closed. She felt sorry for him. She reached out her hand and placed it upon his head, in order to pet it one last time. And then she drew her last breath.
***
Meanwhile, Godbole limped out of the gate of Sakina Manzil. The watchman was sound asleep and there was no other soul in the area.
Across the road was Godbole’s SUV. He sat inside and started driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his wound. He decided to go to the Holy Cross Hospital first and call Patil once the doctors patched him up.
But Godbole didn’t get too far. Within ten minutes he got light headed and his vision began getting blurred. For a moment, which couldn’t have been more than two seconds, he became unconscious. He was awoken by a jolt and saw that he had hit a street light. He got out of the SUV and in desperation began limping towards Holy Cross, which was now within his sight. After covering several feet, he collapsed due to the weakness. Realizing that he could not make it to the hospital in time, Godbole pulled out his phone from his pocket and tried to call Patil.
The phone rang, but there was no answer. ‘Of course, he won’t answer.
It’s past midnight. That b*st*rd must be fast asleep by now.’
It went to voicemail. With the last of his strength Godbole left a message, “Pramila. It’s all because of her. The guy who possesses 168
other bodies … He’s taking revenge for her.” saying this Godbole dropped the phone. The irony of dying on an empty street after a car collision wasn’t lost on him.
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18. Her Link Board
Mandana and Ubbhayabharti gave me a very warm welcome. In the span of one-month Mandana had changed completely. He had already accepted me as a Guru in his mind, even though his formal initiation was still pending.
I told Ubbhayabharti that I was prepared for her questions. The debate continued from where it left off, but in less than a day Ubbhayabharti conceded defeat. And so, I formally initiated Mandana as my disciple and Ubbhayabharti agreed to follow me wherever I went.
Nura gave a friendly smile as she proceeded to give the mystery girl a sponge-bath the next morning. The girl’s grey eyes wandered all over the bathroom. She was fascinated by the entire two-bedroom apartment at Gupta Bhavan. Compared to the places she was being held captive; the apartment was no less than a palace for her. She felt that the bathroom, in particular, was meant for royalty with its glossy marble tiles and stainless-steel fixtures.
As Nura ran her hands down the girl’s back she felt a scar. She leaned in, to get a better look at it. It wasn’t a birth-mark or the scars left after an accident. The girl had been branded. Nura was unable to identify it, but it appeared to be an upside-down cone, or maybe a mountain, with a large snake-like figure coiled around it.
Nura let out a silent sigh and went on with the bath.
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In the living room Cyrus and Aditi sat across the dining table, sipping green tea. She hated green tea, but since she was trying to switch to a Sattvic diet, she wanted to start by ridding her body of caffeine. Cyrus had hypothesized to her that a diet which was ‘purer’ would enhance her ability to perform the transferance. She explained to him what happened last night and frowned with disgust after each sip.
“How was it inside the trunk? You were in there for a good four hours.”
“Not as bad as I thought. But more than the bottle of water, the flashlight and book which I had carried with me proved to be useful.
There was a higher chance of dying of boredom than of dehydration…”
Just then, Nura walked into the room. “The Nine branded her.”
“What do you mean ‘branded’?” Aditi asked.
“They left a symbol on her by pressing a hot metal on her mark.”
Cyrus let out a moan of sympathy while Aditi didn’t react. Nura noticed this lack of reaction from Aditi, but said nothing.
“So, what do we do with her?” asked Aditi coolly.
As usual Cyrus was ready with a solution, “I’ve been thinking…
There’s this orphanage in Bangalore that takes in children with special needs. We could take her there.”
“We can’t take her to an orphanage!” Nura snapped.
“It’s not a bad place. I’ve visited it a few times. They treat the kids well. We can also check on her whenever we are around…. And also, what other option do we have?”
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Nura lowered her gaze towards the floor. She had to concede that there was no other better alternative. After a long pause Aditi declared, “Then it’s decided. We’ll send the girl to the Bangalore orphanage.”
“I’ll take care of the admission process.” Cyrus assured.
“I’ll come with you.” Nura volunteered.
“We’ll use our overseas funds to make a large donation to the orphanage.” Aditi suggested. The other two nodded.
“Oh!” Nura turned to Cyrus, “I forgot. I wanted you to ask her, her name.”
Cyrus signed the question to the girl who responded. After that there was some more back and forth between them.
“Strange. She says she doesn’t remember her name... and when I asked her who taught her sign language, she said she didn’t remember that either…”
“Wait.” Aditi sighed as she rolled up her sleeves, “Leave this to me.”
She closed her eyes. Cyrus held on to her body as it went limp. Six seconds later she was back, “It is strange… She has no memories of what happened beyond the last five days, She doesn’t remember anything at all…”
“Then how did she know her parents had sold her off?” Nura asked.
“The member of the Nine, who was hosting the meeting and keeping her captive, told her so. Something happened to this girl which caused her memories to get erased. The first thing she remembered is waking up in a dark room. She already had the scar on her back and doesn’t remember how she got it.”
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Nura felt a gut-wrenching pity for the girl, “It’s okay. We’ll name her.
From today she will be called Navya.” Without Nura prompting him, Cyrus signed what she said to the girl. As he was doing so, Aditi left the room, indifferent to what was happening. Nura watched her leave and once she was out of earshot she told Cyrus, “Hey. Haven’t you noticed Aditi is acting differently…Like a bit… emotionless.”
“Now that you mention it, yes. I did. But can you blame her? She killed about ten people last night. She’s probably in shock.”
“No, I’m not talking about last night or today morning. I’ve been seeing some signs of it for over a month. She’s getting more and more… well… ‘inhuman’ with time. Her demeanour is becoming more and more stoic with time. It’s not that killing ten people made her numb, I think she killed ten people because she became numb…”
“Maybe. But I think you are reading too much into things… if you were in her place last night you would have done the same.”
“I know I would! But Aditi wouldn’t…” Nura paused, “What if there are side-effects to entering too many bodies?”
“Like what kind of side-effects?”
“Think about it. All those memories, from different people… Yes, they fade over time, but what if they don’t fade completely…. What if each time she enters someone, a part of them remains with her?”
“You mean like a part of their soul?”
“No. I don’t mean their souls. I mean their memories, their emotions.
Just think about the class of people she has been entering. They are some of the worst that mankind has to offer. People can barely live with their own memories. Imagine if you had to carry even a small 173
part of the memories of hundreds of people. If my theory is correct then that means the more antagonists she enters, the worse she is going to get…”
“Hmmm…. If you are right then…” Cyrus sighed, “Okay, let’s talk to Aditi. Let’s reduce the missions. Space out the transferances. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“Yes. Once we drop off Navya, we’ll sit down with her and have an intervention.”
Just then Aditi entered the room with a 36”x 20” maroon pin board. It had newspaper cuttings on it with threads of different colours running across the pins. “Johar exposes Patil’s involvement in drug trafficking.” “NCL undergoing sanitization after multiple scientists complain of momentary lapses in memory.”
“What’s that?” inquired Cyrus.
“It’s my link board. I keep it under my bed. I’ve been collecting a few news stories to support a theory that I had.” Aditi lifted the board and showed it to the others. “That theory was confirmed last night when I scanned Abhijeet Das’ memories. That incident where he went on live television and threw truth bombs about those politicians - he had no memory of it. He didn’t gain anything from it. It wasn’t part of any plan… he did it and later he had no memory of it.”
Aditi stood there with a huge grin prompting Cyrus to ask, “Okay, so what theory of yours does that serve?”
She continued to act smug. “Finally, I figured out something before you did, Nura. Frankly, I’m surprised you missed it…”
“What is it?!” Nura asked impatiently
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Aditi took a deep breath as she uttered her next words with pride,
“There’s someone else out there with the same abilities as me.”
Cyrus and Nura gaped at her in shock.
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19. His Rage
While we were camped at Sriveli, a poor Brahmin along with his deaf and dumb son came to visit me. With tears in his eyes, he told me that his son could not speak a word. He was unable to learn the alphabets and therefore could not by any means read the Vedas. I looked at the young boy and asked “Who are you?”
The boy looked me in the eyes and in all earnestness answered, “I am neither human nor God nor animal. I am neither day nor night. I am the Self. I am all. I am the universe.”
The boy’s father was shocked. He had not understood what the boy said but was just pleasantly surprised that the boy was able to hear the question and speak also. I, on the other hand, was not surprised by the boy’s speech but rather by the contents thereof.
The Brahmin invited my disciples and myself to his home. There, in front of the boy’s mother, the father urged him to speak, but he could not. The father was disappointed and felt that the miracle was only a one-time one. He turned to me. I asked the boy another question, which he answered with utmost fluency and confidence.
I turned back to the surprised father and mother and told them
“This boy is beyond your understanding. He is not meant to live here. Allow me to take him with me.”
The parents were shocked by my request but they finally agreed since it was what was best for the boy. I initiated the boy as my disciple and named him ‘Hastamalaka’. Normally, it is the disciples who write commentaries on the words spoken by their 176
Guru, but in this case, it was I who ended up writing a commentary on the words spoken by Hastamalaka.
Robin reached Sakina Manzil after a long night of work. He was in the body of a bus driver which he entered during eight in the morning and was now on his way back to Mahima’s house.
He entered the building as he usually did, on the pretext of making a delivery.
When he exited the elevator on the second floor, he was surprised to see that the door of Mahima’s apartment was open.
“Mahima?” he called out as he slowly pushed the door and stuck his head in. On hearing no response, he stepped in. He walked up to the entrance of the kitchen and froze. Mahima and Dante were lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
He rushed to Mahima’s body, knowing fully well even before he reached her that she had been dead for hours. ‘Who could do this?’ he thought as he hovered over her corpse and placed his hands inches away from the slit on her neck.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a movement. It was Dante. He was still breathing despite having bled substantially. Robin went to him and studied the multiple wounds on his back. He grabbed a blanket from the bedroom and wrapped Dante in it. He lifted Dante in his arms. Before he left the kitchen, he had a déjà vu moment. For the second time in his life, he turned back to get a glimpse of a recently deceased loved one, before scurrying away, leaving the door open.
Two factors worked in Robin’s favour. One, was that Mishra - the night-watchman of Sakina Manzil, was pretty lackadaisical and was in the least alarmed by the sight of a strange man running out the 177