A Cut-Like Wound (41 page)

Curtains had been drawn to keep the light out. The room seemed both familiar and strange. For a moment, he wondered where he was. Then he realized he was in his own bedroom. But how had he got here?

Urmila walked into the room. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

He tried to shrug, but even that seemed to unleash a giant wave of pain.

‘In the scuffle, your phone slipped out of your pocket but your Bluetooth device stayed fastened to your ear. I heard every single blow and punch…’

‘Did I scream?’ he asked, holding her gaze.

‘No, you didn’t.’

There was a moment of silence. Then Urmila continued, ‘I thought they were going to kill you. I was getting into my car when I remembered I had Santosh’s number. I called him. Gajendra and he got there before they did serious damage. I reached in time to take you to the hospital.’

‘What is the verdict?’

‘Concussion, two bruised ribs and a broken nose. You should be able to move around in a couple of days. But you need to stay in bed until then.’

Gowda stared at the ceiling. ‘What time is it?’

‘Six in the evening. You were under sedation, Borei.’ Suddenly her voice broke. ‘I almost died, Borei, on the drive here, not knowing what they had done to you … if you were alive or dead. Who were they?’

Gowda turned his head towards her and reached for her hand. ‘I am here.’

‘Yes, you are here…’

‘Mamtha?’ Gowda whispered.

She held his gaze as she spoke. ‘I said there was no need to inform Mamtha. Why worry her? I told Santosh it would be best to not mention this to anyone. Both Gajendra and he have told everyone at the station and your senior officers that your bike skidded and you fell.’

Gowda smiled. ‘Maybe you should take over my job as well. You probably would do it better than I seem to be doing it.’

She leaned over and murmured, ‘When the swelling goes down, your new nose is going to make you look very sexy. Like a decadent Roman emperor!’

TUESDAY, 30 AUGUST

Gowda was awake when Santosh came to see him. It was a little past eight and he was sitting up in bed, propped up against pillows.

Gowda was bored and restless. He’d had a field day with the telemarketing people. To one, he had said he wouldn’t be able to go ahead with a balance transfer as his mother wouldn’t like it.

‘What?’ the woman at the other end had yelped.

‘Yes,’ Gowda said in an aggrieved tone. ‘My mother is very strict. She won’t agree. Why don’t you speak to her?’

With another man offering a loan, Gowda had introduced an eager note into his voice. ‘Yes, I really need a loan. Actually I need twelve loans. One each for a house, a car, my dog, my broken nose…’

The man had hung up on him.

‘How are you feeling, sir?’ Santosh asked, trying hard not to stare at Gowda’s swollen face.

‘Did you see who they were?’ Gowda asked by way of greeting.

‘Not really, sir. Did you?’

Gowda nodded. ‘It was the corporator’s men.’

‘They broke your bike’s headlight.’

Gowda winced.

‘Anything else?’ he asked slowly.

‘No, they probably thought it wasn’t worth the effort. To them, it’s just an old bike. What should we do?’

‘Nothing as of now. Let me get back on my feet.’ Gowda’s face gave nothing away.

‘I saw the tattoo on your arm. It’s really interesting…’

Gowda glared at him. Santosh flinched.

Then, as if unable to help himself, he said, ‘Sir, one more body has been found. Same MO. A man again. He was identified as a jewellery showroom assistant. Married, but his family lives in Anantapur. One of his colleagues received a call alerting him about his death. ACP Stanley said he would drop by tomorrow and brief you on it. He said you should be allowed to rest or you would jump up and rush to the crime scene. That’s why I didn’t tell you as soon as I heard it from the control room. And, sir, there were couple of reporters at the crime scene, so it will be in the newspapers.’

Urmila walked into the bedroom with tea and porridge on a tray.

‘What’s this?’ Gowda asked suspiciously, looking at what seemed like Fevicol into which chopped-up cockroaches had been sprinkled.

‘Oats with dates. It’s good for you,’ she said, throwing a smile Santosh’s way. ‘Some tea for you, Santosh?’

‘No, madam.’

Gowda wondered what Santosh made of his unorthodox home set-up. He was yet to meet Mamtha, but as of now he seemed smitten by this madam’s charm.

‘If it weren’t for madam’s presence of mind to call me, sir … those thugs would have hurt you very badly,’ Santosh said.

In Urmila’s presence, Santosh seemed to have transformed into a little puppy wagging its tail and beaming love, loyalty and eternal devotion.

Urmila seemed to have won over Shanthi as well. She had come in at least half a dozen times to tell him how fortunate he was to have Urmila take him to the hospital, nurse him, be there for him – unlike Mamtha, though the words were never voiced. At the best of times, Shanthi and Mamtha tolerated each other. When Mamtha moved to Hassan, Shanthi had been relieved. With Urmila, though, Shanthi seemed to have pledged her troth in blood.

Gowda felt a twinge of discomfort every time he inhaled. He didn’t know if it was the result of the beating he had received or at the thought of how easily Mamtha had been cast aside.

THURSDAY, 1 SEPTEMBER

Stanley Sagayaraj, old boy from St Joseph’s, didn’t bat an eye when he saw Urmila, old girl from St Joseph’s, at Gowda’s home.

‘You remember Urmila from college, don’t you?’ Gowda said, as if it was the most normal thing to have your college sweetheart play nurse at your bedside.

Stanley smiled. ‘Yes, of course. But I thought you lived in the UK.’

‘I do,’ Urmila smiled. ‘But I am in Bangalore for a few months. I heard about Gowda’s accident from Michael Hunt … I have been pitching in as Borei is all alone here.’

Stanley nodded. Gowda watched her, amazed at the casual ease with which she had bent the truth to make it seem so plausible.

Stanley waited for Urmila to leave the room before snapping, ‘What the fuck were you doing, Gowda, pulling a stunt like this?’

Gowda opened his eyes wide, as much as the swelling on his face would allow him to, and murmured artlessly, ‘What stunt? The bike skidded…’

‘If you choose to do wheelies on your bike, it is your business. I am referring to the visit you paid to the Country Club Resort. ACP Vidyaprasad complained to me that you had scratched his new car on purpose. I didn’t pay any particular attention to that. If I had known, I would have asked you to add a scratch on my behalf. But he said something else. He used words like harassment. You cannot question the corporator without my permission. You broke protocol and jeopardized my team’s efforts.’

‘Do you know that the eunuch in his house has disappeared?’

Stanley frowned.

‘I sent Byrappa across in mufti on Saturday evening and the watchman told him she went out on Friday evening and hasn’t been seen since.’

Stanley scratched his forehead as if unable to decide.

‘The corporator’s hiding something, Stanley. It may or may not have anything to do with the counterfeit currency, but it certainly has something to do with Bhuvana, the mystery woman.’

Stanley rose and went to stand by the window of the room. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Look at me…’ Gowda said.

Stanley turned in surprise.

‘I didn’t fall off my bike. The corporator had his men do this to me.’

‘What?’

Gowda smiled. A grim smile. ‘It was a warning of sorts to keep away. ACP Vidyaprasad must have told him I have nothing to do with this case. He must have seen my questioning as nosiness that needed to be dealt with.’

Stanley returned to the chair and slumped in it wearily. ‘We found another body.’

‘Santosh told me and I read about it in this morning’s papers. We won’t be able to keep it quiet very much longer…’

Stanley nodded. ‘The commissioner has called for a meeting this evening. Are you up to it?’

Gowda placed his feet on the ground carefully and stood up. He winced with the effort, but he said, ‘I will be.’

S
he lay curled up on the bed, her cheek digging deep into the pillow, which was damp with the tears she had shed.

It was a clammy afternoon. It had rained all morning and then suddenly and fiercely the sun had come out, drying up the moisture in the air. And then again the clouds had gathered. Pressing down upon the city, squeezing the wind out of the narrow alleys and choked lanes. She turned on her stomach and cradled her face in her arms. Her eyes felt hot and heavy and in the back of her head, a little imp sat pounding at the insides of her brain with a malevolent fury.
Would it ever stop? Would this ache in her heart ever heal? The fan whirred overhead.

Outside, the pandal was filling up with people.

They were all like that. Men. Taking what they wanted without ever once thinking of what they might destroy in the process. Every man she had known had that streak of self-absorption. As long as their needs were appeased, their hides protected, they didn’t care about the damage caused. Every man was the same. Ruthless. Selfish. Brutal.

You think you can forgive them but you never do. You just pretend you have. And then, one day, it comes back to you. Even more vivid in remembrance than in actual life.

He was nine years old when his mother took him to the block of flats on Palace Cross Road where she worked as a cleaner. He was nine years old when the nice old Mr Ranganathan in 3B asked him in to show him his pet squirrel.

‘It’s shy, a very shy creature,’ nice Mr Ranganathan said, closing the door and leading him to the veranda.

All his life he had wanted a pet. But his father in a drunken fit had kicked the pup he had brought home. Kicked it so hard that it flew into the street. He would never forget the sickening crunch of flesh and bone as a minivan ran over the puppy. A neighbour had offered to bring him another pup, but he refused. His father would get drunk again, he knew.

Now the little boy felt a skip of delight leap in him. A squirrel! Something to touch and hold. Something warm and live to love and cherish even if he couldn’t keep. The little boy smiled.