Authors: Anish Sarkar
I nodded gratefully.
‘I’ve never forgotten the good times we had, Sara.’
‘Neither have I.’ I gently extricated my hand and helped myself to a pakora.
We chatted for some more time, and then he got up to leave. Hesitantly, he said, ‘Sara…I hope you haven’t told anyone about…you know…’
I had hoped he wouldn’t bring that up. ‘Of course not,’ I said in a hard voice.
It was our deep, dark secret, which we had promised would remain that way forever.
But fate had other plans.
45
Omar
That last evening in Goa, we were sitting on the terrace of Sara’s villa, looking out over the arced expanse of the Arabian Sea. The clouds were back, sitting low and grey in the sky. The breeze had picked up, and the sea was restless. A storm was imminent.
We were carrying on some desultory conversation but it was getting difficult to hear each other over the screeching of the wind. There was a rumble of thunder, and the skies suddenly broke. The rain came down in blinding sheets, with all the ferocity of a coastal storm.
None of us moved.
Within a few seconds, I was drenched. My clothes merged with my skin, wet and heavy. I looked up. The raindrops stung my forehead and fell over my face in a misty curtain. I closed my eyes and listened to the beautiful symphony of nature. I thought I could distinguish the different sounds of the rain as it struck concrete and wood and leaves and the sand in the distance.
I opened my eyes and glanced at the others.
Neel was sprawled on a deck chair, legs stretched out and arms hanging by his sides, letting the torrents of rain wash over him. Sara was standing in a corner of the terrace, leaning against the low railing and staring at the swirling sea. Her dark nipples were visible through the soaked fabric of her tee shirt but it didn’t seem to bother her.
The rain continued with unabated fury. I don’t know how long we remained like that. It could have been five minutes or fifteen, or perhaps longer.
I guess each of us was thinking about our own demons—real and imagined, past and present, known and unknown; and hoping that the deluge would drown them all.
I missed Sara and Neel.
It had been really good to spend the past few days with them, despite the circumstances. That’s the thing with old friends—even if you meet after a long time, you can simply pick up from where you left off. In fact, I felt closer to them than ever before.
But most of all, I couldn’t get Rachel out of my mind.
After Roy’s disappearance, our group hadn’t been the same again. The four of us would hardly get together, and I found myself spending more and more time with Rachel. My attraction for her kept growing and it was getting practically impossible for me to keep it bottled up any longer. I knew I would blurt it out sooner or later.
One evening, Rachel and I were sitting at our favourite spot, the lawn opposite the Admin building. It was the same place where we had first met Roy.
She suddenly said, ‘Omar, are you all right?’
I was surprised. ‘Yes, why?’
‘You haven’t been seeing any girl for months now.’
I laughed. ‘That’s true.’
‘That’s not the Omar I know. There must be something wrong.’
‘Well, maybe the Omar you know has changed.’
She gave me a mock punch. ‘Nonsense! You staying away from girls is unthinkable.’
‘What if I told you that I’m really serious about someone?’ I knew where this would lead but I couldn’t stop myself.
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, ‘Really? And who is the unfortunate girl?’
I hesitated and said, ‘It’s you, Rachel.’
This time, the silence was longer. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said softly but I thought I saw her face redden.
‘It’s true. We’re such good friends but somewhere along the way, I think I’ve fallen for you, Rachel. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.’
‘Stop playing games with me, Omar!’ Her voice was angry now.
I took her hand. ‘I know it sounds crazy but how can I convince you that I’m telling the truth?’
She snatched her hand away and without saying a word, got up and ran off.
Her reaction perplexed me. I had expected surprise and disbelief but certainly not this. Rachel was always calm and composed, and I had never seen her so flustered. It was probably the first time I had even heard her raise her voice.
One part of me considered the tiny possibility that maybe she felt the same way about me.
She had never given any such indication, though. In fact, she would keep telling me, ‘Omar, I really fail to understand how so many girls are foolish enough to fall prey to your charms. They should run miles away from such a callous philanderer.’
I would say, ‘Rachel, you would change your mind if you ever became my girlfriend.’
‘Me? Are you mad? Even if you weren’t such a dear friend, I wouldn’t dream of hitching up with a loose character like you!’ She would then give me a hug to take away the sting from her words.
You can understand why I had assumed Rachel’s feelings for me were only platonic, and nothing more. It was also the reason I had been scared to reveal my own infatuation for her. I was sure it wouldn’t come to anything and I would lose my closest friend in the bargain.
It turned out I had been wrong all along.
Rachel avoided me for a week. We saw each other several times, of course, but she refused to speak to me. I couldn’t figure out what I had done so horribly wrong to deserve such harsh punishment. Through Sara, I sent her a bouquet of flowers (carefully plucked from various plants on our campus) and an apology note but there was no reply for a couple of days.
Then Sara came to me excitedly one morning and said, ‘You fool, she’s got a crush on you too!’
I couldn’t believe it. ‘She really told you that?’
‘She made me promise not to tell you but how could I not?’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Two minds with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as one.’ Sara clasped her hands together in mock ecstasy. ‘God, this is so romantic!’
The same day, she talked Rachel into meeting me after classes got over. We had a long walk and by the end of it, were no longer just friends.
I felt euphoric. I had dated many girls but it had always been more about the conquest and then the necking. This was completely different. I was in love. It was like walking on air. I had thought things would be awkward at first but that wasn’t the case. The fact that we already knew each other so well actually made things easier. We had a hearty laugh recollecting the various ways each of us had tried to hide our true feelings.
Within three months though, the cracks began to show. Rachel became more and more possessive, and would get suspicious if I so much as talked to any other girl. She went completely ballistic when one of my ex-girlfriends happened to be in the cast of a Teacher’s Day play I was directing. No amount of persuasion could convince her that she had my complete devotion and loyalty. I guess deep in her heart, she never believed that I could ever be a one-woman man.
This went on for some time until I couldn’t take it anymore. It was very difficult for me to be in a relationship without any trust. I had left my past behind and saw no reason why I should have to answer for it on a daily basis. And we were only seventeen, for God’s sake. Much later, Rachel told me that what drove her to paranoia was the fear that if she ever lost me to another woman, it would kill her.
One day, we had a huge tiff and broke up. I suppose it was for the best, even though we still loved each other. In hindsight, we were probably too young and immature to handle such an intense relationship—had we met ten years later, I guess we would have ended up getting married and living happily ever after.
It so happened that soon after Rachel and I parted ways, I hooked up with an old flame on the rebound. It was the same girl who had acted in my play, the one Rachel had been neurotic about. It was just a coincidence but also the final nail in the coffin for her, as far as I was concerned. She must have congratulated herself on having made the right decision, and heaved a sigh of relief.
Things remained strained between us for a long time. Neel and Sara made every effort to patch us up but we both still smarted from the unhappy end to our brief romance. It was only on the last day of school, the day we walked out of our alma mater as students for the final time, that we decided to bury the hatchet. It was the realisation that if we didn’t, we would never see each other again. And Rachel and I were too close at many levels to allow that to happen.
I wish we had never broken up. Then perhaps my life would have been totally different. And Rachel might have been alive today.
46
I knew I would have to feed the voracious beast inside me for the rest of my life, now that it had tasted blood. God had been kind enough to provide me with ample resources to cover my tracks but I still had to be very careful. The smallest error could trip me up, and then it would be curtains. Fortunately, I had developed the ability to plan meticulously and I used that to full advantage for each “event”, as I referred to the killings in my mind.
The first thing was to avoid random encounters, which would be difficult to cover up later. I was lucky with Bholi because none of the other children who had seen me reported anything. I guess they couldn’t imagine a young boy like me being capable of something like that.
The second and more important part of my modus operandi was to plan as much for the aftermath as for the actual event itself. This is where many of my illustrious friends have slipped up. I have always chalked out escape routes and alibis for myself, planted red herrings for the authorities and distributed adequate compensation to the right hands, all well in advance. It usually takes me months to prepare for each event. I don’t go ahead unless I am absolutely sure of a clean kill, as it were. That’s what has kept me out of harm’s way.
Last but not least, I always prefer to choose people I already know, rather than strangers. My own experience has shown that not only
does this make the whole process much simpler but paradoxically, it makes it easier to create diversions and avoid suspicion. And I find the change of expression on my victim’s face quite priceless—disbelief, shock and horror in that order.
I realised this early on, when I killed someone I knew pretty well.
There was an unrelated chain of events which led to the whole thing. Anyway, I managed to get her out on a Sunday, even though there were exams starting the next week. It was undoubtedly curiosity which made her agree to come.
She had taken care to look good, as she invariably did when I was around.
In her lilting voice, she asked, ‘Why have you brought me here?’
‘Don’t you like the place, Jo?’
She looked around and shrugged. ‘It’s nice but so desolate. Are you sure we’re safe here?’
I smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m here, aren’t I?’
She nodded vaguely. ‘What is it you want to tell me that’s so important? I can’t take the suspense anymore.’
I pointed towards a large tree. ‘Let’s go over there.’
She was wearing a skirt which ended above her knees, and a tight sweater with nothing beneath except her bra. Her boobs were quite magnificent. They jutted proudly on her otherwise slender frame. As well-endowed women often do, she had a habit of thrusting her breasts out while walking, daring the world to ignore them.
We sat down on a bed of freshly fallen leaves. She tucked her legs to one side but didn’t bother to pull down her skirt, which had rucked up to reveal her creamy thighs. I had anyway seen them many times before.
She pointed to my rucksack and said, ‘What do you have in that?’
I opened it and took out the knife. The broad blade gleamed dully.
She laughed. ‘I know we’re inside a forest but are you planning to hunt here?’
I placed the knife carefully next to me. ‘Not really.’
‘Then why are you carrying that?’ I detected the first note of uncertainty in her voice.
‘You’ll find out.’
She started to get up. ‘You’re really behaving weirdly today. Let’s just go back.’
I held her hand and pulled her down gently. ‘Wait.’
She sat down again, confusion and annoyance on her face.
I continued. ‘I’m very sick, Jo.’
Her expression immediately softened. ‘What happened?’
‘It’s becoming worse with each passing day.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
I gripped her arm and pulled her close. She screamed, ‘Stop! You’re hurting me.’
I released her and said, ‘I guess I don’t know my own strength.’
‘I’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong with you?’
I quietly took the knife in my hand. The blood was pounding in my ears. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stretch this any longer.
She grabbed my shirt. ‘Answer me!’
‘I’m sorry, Jo.’ I brought up the knife in a scything motion and felt it slice open her belly as easily as gutting a fish.
Her mouth opened in an O but no sound came from it. She looked down incredulously, and saw her intestines spilling out through the wide gash in the sweater. Reflexively, she tried to push them back in with both her hands.
I unzipped my pants. She looked up and watched in silent horror. Then a low moan escaped her lips, and she sank to the ground in a heap. I walked up to where she lay. Turning her over, I gently arranged her arms and legs in a cross.
I stood between her spread legs and watched her blood seep into the ground. Her eyes were open. Even as her life ebbed away, she stared at me defiantly. Shock had numbed the pain and she was drawing on her last reserves to die bravely. I savoured her final moments but one part of me felt admiration for her. I had always liked her spunk.