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Word Count - 4000

Audio Theme : Love Theme | Ezra |

https://youtu.be/hxsbnyRcRRw

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18 | The Brochure

Hinduja Rao Dogra

5th May 2023

 |0030 Hours|

Back then, there was a small tiffin center just twenty meters away from the main gate of my university.

The owner of the tiffin center was Banu, a sunny-faced middle-aged fellow. Banu had a wife named Aasha and two daughters, the older one was fifteen, while the younger one was ten. Though they had a proletarian background, together the family of four looked perfect. In other words, flawlessly ideal. Just behind the tiffin center, Banu had a small wooden house where he lived along with his picture-perfect happy family.

The world would go haywire, the sun would cease its revolutions and blast on its own axis, but Banu's smile would still remain intact, and all thirty-two of his betel nut-stained teeth would still be on full display. His ear-to-ear grins, saccharine words, warm nitid eyes, and the free cups of tea and coffee, along with a twenty-rupee plate of two Vadas and sambhar from his humble little food abode, were a classic favorite of the college-going student mass, especially the hostelers and the professors. A source of relief from the watery rasam and rice that was termed and served as 'food' in the hostel mess.

My university was located in the thick forest-covered foothills of the Agasthyamalai hills in Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, always covered in dense mist all year round. So, the hot cups of beverages made by Banu were the only potions of relaxation that students had access to, considering the site of the university where no food delivery apps operated and no restaurants or eateries existed at all. Hence making the ever-smiling Banu the soul culinary god of the university town.

I was never a fan, though. For some reason, his Cheshire cat-like beams always felt odd to me.

Lamentably, my wariness turned out to be absolutely within reason. In the sophomore year of university, one foggy morning, a herd of professors and students, including myself, witnessed the police dragging Banu from his humble wooden accommodation to the police jeep in a half-naked state, his pants dangling around his waist.

Outside his log house, on their toes were six female figures, three of them being police women. The other three were Banu's wife, Aasha, and his two daughters. Aasha's lips were slit, and her bloody left n*pple was jutting out from her torn blouse, while crimson gore dribbled down her legs. Her body was brutally battered and bruised. Her daughters, on the other hand, were in an even more abominable condition: completely naked from head to toe, beaten up to a near-death state like their mother, animal like bite marks littering their bodies, and blood flowing down from the region between their contused legs.

The policewomen were on a spree to cover up the remaining little honor of the three feminine figures beside them.

Yet I saw it.

Despite the barbaric shape those three were in, in that moment, Aasha and her daughters had a sense of relief flaring like infernos in their eyes. I saw it---the solace, the peace they were robbed of, finally returning to them.

Banu was a man with facades. He was someone with sadistic personality disorder and an inferiority complex shrouding his mental wellbeing. In the mornings, he was the sunny-faced man selling food and beverages to a mass of hungry young bloods. In the nights, he would turn into a behemoth who would sexually violate his wife and daughters in turns and then torture them. Their painful wails were a source of euphoria for him and their sufferings his only tangible dose of happiness.

Facades were always a part of human civilization, and I firmly regained my trust in this fact once again that day.

That morning, a monster was chained and taken away. And justice had finally prevailed.

But it was in that very moment that morning, when my eyes briefly connected with the monster for a second while he was being hauled by the police, the diabolically bestial glint in his eyes and the leer that he flashed at me made me aware of two things.

One---The man was remorseless. He would always be.

Two---He knew. He knew that it was me who had blown off his cover. He knew that I was the covert whistleblower.

Yet, was I scared? No.

In these twenty-five years of being alive, I have never really understood myself. The workings of my brain were a mystery to my own pneuma.

A knock on the car window caused me to revert my attention back to reality.

I gazed at the familiar gait of my assistant as he took a turn around the bonnet, unbolted the passenger side door, and stepped inside my Scorpio.

"I checked the floor plan of the villa; it is the only independent villa in that locality. There are six bedrooms with attached washrooms, one kitchen, a dining hall, a lounge area and a terrace at the top in total, three bedrooms are on the ground floor and three are on the first floor. The third bedroom, which is on the ground floor facing the back side of the villa, has four life-size sliding windows attached to each other. There are no lock systems set up on them. We somehow just need to vault over the main concrete fencing surrounding the villa without garnering the attention of the security guards who are stationed around the fence because after that there won't be any problem." He then brought his wrist up to check the time. "It's twelve thirty-seven a.m. now. The guards there are pretty laid-back in their duties. They will take a break at twelve-fifty on the right side of the fence and then change their positions at one-fifteen a.m. sharp. We will put up our plan for action in those twenty-five minutes."

"Done." I cranked up the engine and drove through the narrow passage into the wider main road. "Any news about Purohit and his wife?" I asked.

"As of now, no. Keshav sold off both his business and the villa a month after his daughter's death. After that, his and his wife's whereabouts have been a mystery all along, with no trace left behind at all. I tried to gather information from their relatives through some acquaintances of mine without directly coming into the picture and revealing myself, but there was no positive outcome. None of them had any idea. It's like both of them just vanished into thin air. The villa is now owned by a real estate agent named Nilesh Grewal, but strangely, no one has inhabited it in years. The moment potential buyers hear the news of a young girl's death occurring in that house, they all back off from the deal. I have a hunch; the interiors of the house are still the way they were before the Purohit couple left---absolutely untouched. "He replied while examining the surroundings outside the window.

"Good for us." Taking a left turn, I drove the car into the posh housing area of Mandeville Enclave. "Any intel about that cook who was present at the villa that night?" I asked.

"Same as his employers. No clues were left behind. I am on it, though. We will soon get through something."

I nodded as my visual organs stared at the bungalows and villas on both sides of the exclusive lane. I drove through the lane for nine more minutes in silence and then finally pulled on the breaks.

Keying out of the ignition, I peered down at the glass dial of my watch. "It is thirty meters away from here on the left side of the lane. Since it's twelve-forty-six currently, if we start now itself, we'll reach there at exactly twelve-fifty. We'll overleap the barricades on the left side, finish off our work, and then vault back over the fence again at exactly one-thirteen a.m. Clear?"

"Madam." He bowed his head.

"Let's go then." Saying so, I about-faced to pick up my bag pack from the backseat.

Getting out of the car, we both briskly walked forward for four minutes straight to set foot on the land of the large derelict yet guarded independent house that was once called the Purohit Villa.

Reaching the left side of the cement fence, I checked for the presence of any security guards. Finding none, I fished out two pairs of polypropylene climbing ropes I carried along with myself in my bag and passed one on to him. Tightening the sharp iron hooks on the ends of the ropes, we bounced them side by side in the air towards the wall. The hooks clawed their sharp edges at the other end of the barricade on top as the ropes streamed down the walls on our side.

We then covered our faces with our masks.

Pulling up my track pants, I chained up my hoodie and then mounted up the rope. Bakhtawar followed suit.

"Put your phone on silent mode." I whispered the moment we landed on the other side of the fence, inside the yard of the Purohit villa.

"Done."

We then fleet-footed to the back side of the sizable independent bungalow.

"There." Bakhtawar projected his index digit at a set of four floor-to-ceiling glass panes linked to each other at their edges on the far right corner of the house. "Let's go."

I nodded my head as both of our feet swiftly wended their way towards the glass panes.

Positioning himself just next to the panes, he extracted a flat metal bar-like key from his jeans pocket and then unbolted the bolts on the edge of one of the sliding windows. The sharp sound of a 'click' resonated in our ears as my assistant glissaded the first window in the opposite direction.

We entered inside. Our backdrop was cloaked in a blanket of impenetrable darkness and quietude at the same time.

Taking my phone out, I switched on the flashlight.

"The fence would obstruct the guards from noticing the flashlights on the ground floor, but we have to be more careful on the first floor. Take out your phone." I murmured as I ambled closer to the door at the left corner of the bedroom we were in. Rotating the pull handle in one direction, I opened the door and entered the lounge hall of the villa, while Bakhtawar followed behind me.

"Okay, you searched the ground floor. I'll search the first floor; there is no need to go to the terrace, as it will only garner the attention of the guards. Clear?" I directed as I turned around to look at him. "Any file, document, device, phone, or anything that can be used as a source of information, just pick it up and store it in your bag. Okay?"

"Madam," he affirmed.

"We'll meet here again at one-eleven sharp." I peered at my watch for one more time and then ordered. "Now!"

I briskly made my way towards the stairs and started ascending them as I saw my assistant entering the first bedroom through my peripheral vision.

Unlatching the door of the first bedroom on the first floor, I invaded its confines. As expected, it was absolutely vacant, devoid of any furniture or home furnishing accessories.

Disappointment crawled through me as I faintly diverted the flashlight in the direction of the Sheesham wood almirah in the corner of the room and tip-toed towards it.

I then proceeded to unlock it. Another wave of despondency hit me as I found the almirah completely empty as well.

Squandering not a second more of mine, I locked it and then immediately got out of the bedroom. I quickly strode into the second bedroom to discover its desolate interiors. The exception, though, was there, in the form of a queen-size bed in the middle of the bedroom covered in a dusty white bedsheet. Leaving that, every other corner screamed the word abandoned.

The grime tickled my nose as I adjusted the mask on my face. The bed was not a box bed, so there were no chances of anything being left around in it. I still lifted up the mattress on the bed to check the matter beneath it but found nothing as expected.

Turning around, I made my way towards the almirah to examine its contents, only to find it vacant as well.

Heaving a sigh, I thoroughly scrutinized the other corners of the bedroom, but at the end, it all turned out to be useless again.

I then conjectured that perhaps the Purohit family didn't use these two bedrooms at all. So, I started walking back to the door again.

Just as I passed the forelegs of the bed, the flashlight of my phone fell on the corner of the hindlegs of the bed on the floor. My pupils constricted as something glossy flashed back on them.

My senses went on alert as I crouched down to pick up what looked like a piece of paper.

I picked it up to find that the source of the gloss was a piece of enamel-coated A4-size sheet that looked like a realty brochure.

A mix of curiosity and perplexity fogged up my mind, but wasting time on perusing the brochure felt like a stupid act, keeping the paucity of time I had in mind, so I wiped off the dirt on it with the sleeves of my hoodie, folded it, and shoved it into my bag pack.

Quickly checking the downside of the bed for one more time, I got out of the second bedroom and then fixated my eyes on my next destination, the last bedroom on the first floor.

I padded my way into the impounds of the third bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, I directed the flashlight of my phone carefully around the bedroom. My eyes automatically stared at the canopy bed in the middle of the bedroom.

From the size and shape of it, I could also make out that there was a photo frame hung up on the wall adjacent to the headboard of the bed.

I slowly trod towards it as my shaky hands instinctively channeled the course of the flashlight in the direction of the photo frame.

Affixed to the wall was a photograph of a young girl, with the backdrop of a large Gulmohar tree behind her.

She was all smiles. Her sheeny onyx swirls gleamed in innocence and plump round cheeks sporting a dimple each. Wavy black tresses cascading down till her shoulders were tied up in a pair of polka-dot scrunchies to form two tidy pigtails.

Yet, my heart, mind, and soul were not at peace.

I stared at her face. She stared back at me.

As if she were taunting me. Sneering at my poltroonish psyche.

But dead people don't stare, do they?

In the end, I just swallowed and took two steps forward. "Tell me, Kadambini, who killed you that night?" I coaxed her.

She didn't answer back.

But, then again, the dead don't speak. They just don't.

So, I smiled feebly as I tried once again. "Come on, tell me. What happened on that night, ten years ago?"

She didn't answer back again.

Suddenly, I felt like crying.

But I didn't cry. Just like she didn't reply back.

Equal-equal.

And then I harshly dug up my incisors onto my lower lip. Within seconds, a familiar kind of metallic taste took hold of the sensory buds on my tongue.

And I smiled.

It felt good. The pain felt good.

Taking two more steps forward, I gently touched the wall around the photo frame with my cold fingers, brought my head closer, and put my left ear on the wall next to her picture.

"I am sorry, Mini." I whispered.

Just then, the screen of my phone, which was in silent mode, illuminated on its own. I lifted it up to discover that my assistant was calling me.

Detaching my ears from the wall, I acknowledged his call at once.

"Madam, I found nothing on the ground floor."

"Okay?"

"But there is a store room just behind the villa that I just found. It was not included in the floor plan, so I was not aware of its existence. Currently, I am outside the villa and heading towards the store room." I could hear the rustling of the grass beneath his footfall in the background.

"Alright, I am disconnecting the call. Just ten more minutes are left; we need to finish it off fast."

"Yes madam!"

Disconnecting the call, I tenderly gazed at the photograph of the young girl for one last time and then started my search around the bedroom.

It was astonishing, but leaving aside the bed and the picture, there was absolutely nothing else left behind in the bedroom.

I immediately trudged my trembling figure out of the bedroom, descended down the stairs, and advanced into the room with the glass panels through which we entered the villa.

Tracing my way back outside the sliding glass panels, I switched off the flashlight on my phone, crouched down, and then supported my enervated body against the villa wall.

I gulped as my perturbed breathing eventually returned to a normal pace.

You are still the fucking weakling you were years ago.

Twenty-five years of my existence on this planet, yet I would still contemplate----why did humans smile so much without any apparent reason at all? There has to be at least some grounds on which one would base their smiles, isn't it? I thought that's how it normally works?

Yet bawling my eyes out came so naturally to me.

But again, I didn't cry. I never did.

Until I married him . . .my husband. Until I came across the light of my life . . .my son.

If Anirudh was the only source of luminescence in my life, his father was slowly becoming the peaceful orbit my life would revolve around. I could envision it already, and it was steadily frightening me.

"Madam!" A loud whisper resonated from above me. "Are you okay?"

Sweat dribbled down my temples as I raised my head to lock gazes with my assistant. A worried mien passed across his visage.

"I am fine. Let's go." He looked unconvinced. I got up and started walking back to the fence on the left side. He followed suit.

Ten minutes later, I parked my black Scorpio outside a supermarket six hundred meters away from the Mandeville enclave.

"Did you get anything?" I questioned, as my gaze finally averted towards the silent figure of Bakhtawar.

"Yes." He said his hands were already inside his bag.

Inhaling deeply, I continued, "What is it?"

"A laptop. I found it inside a tin trunk that was kept in the store room." He trailed as he fished out the said device from his bag. It was a silver-colored thing. "It's a Lenovo IdeaPad laptop. If I am not wrong, it's a 2013 model."

He then flipped the screen up and pressed the power button. "But it's not turning on." He said.

I sighed. "That's fine. Take it along with yourself and work on it. See if there is anything that you can do to revive it."

He nodded back, looking at me with a dejected phizog. "Did you get anything?" He asked.

I quirked my left eyebrow up and then took out the brochure I found in the villa, from my Wildcraft bag. "Yes, I guess. I haven't read it, though."

"It's just a brochure of some properties in Shimla." He voiced out as he scanned the details on the shiny piece of paper that I passed on to him. "Anyone could have left this behind."

I shrugged my shoulders.

But a weird thought crossed my mind there and then. "Bakhtawar, you said that Keshav Purohit left with his wife a month after their daughter's death, right?"

"Yes." He shot back, his eyes still stuck on the brochure.

"Is there any date mentioned on the brochure?" I asked as I hurriedly snatched the brochure from him.

"Yes," he replied.

"What is it?" I questioned again, my eyes unblinkingly skimming through the contents of the brochure.

"3rd June 2014. Why?" Confusion marred his face. And almost immediately, my eyes found the said date on the top-right corner of the brochure.

"Damn it." I scratched my forehead. "They are in Shimla! Bakhtawar, the Purohits are in Shimla."

Realization dawned on his visage as he flashed a faint grin at me.

"I can't exactly say if they are currently residing in one of the properties mentioned in this brochure or not, but one thing is clear: Keshav Purohit and his wife are in Shimla. That's it." I stated as I restarted the engine. "We have a very limited number of days, Bakhtawar. And I guess you know what you need to do after this?"

We faced each other in a flash.

"Yes, madam!"

***

Closing the door behind me, I took off my shoes, kept my set of keys in the key case, and then walked directly into the bedroom.

"Where were you?" A masculine voice boomed from behind me.

My body stiffened up.

"I had something to look after, regarding the case I am currently working on." I said as I turned around to face him.

"You didn't find it important enough to inform me before leaving home? At least a call or a message perhaps?" He trailed as his jaw ticked.

Just two long steps, and in the next second, I found his bulky arms enclosed around my waist, his giant body looming over my mediocre-heighted one.

"I saw that you were asleep, so I didn't find it right to wake you up. You were tired." I gulped.

Instantly, he dipped his nose into the crook of my neck. "You smell divine." He then gently helped me out of the black hoodie I was dressed in.

My entire body shivered on its own.

"Take it off." He mumbled.

I gazed at him in uncertainty. "I beg your pardon?"

"Take off your t-shirt," he breathed out.

My eyes widened on their own accord. "Dogra Sahib! Do you even know what---"

"I. said. take your. t-shirt. off!" He cut me off in a livid tone.

"I won't!" I fiercely locked my eyes with his cognac ones.

"Alright, I won't do anything against your wish." He whispered with a lopsided smile as his face slowly descended down on my exposed shoulder blades, courtesy of my loose t-shirt.

In a split second, I felt his teeth brusquely sinking onto the soft skin over my shoulder blades.

I winced.

"Who was he?" he seethed.

"Who?" I asked again, trying to subdue the quivering of my hands.

"The one who was with you in your car sometime back." He explained, his nose now tracing the edges of my jaw.

"Bakhtawar, my assistant." I answered back firmly and then asked. "Gurung tails me even at night?"

"Not always. Today I asked him to do so because it's not safe at night." He nipped at the smooth flesh of my earlobes. "Listen, Inu, I won't question you about your secret visit to that abandoned villa in the Mandeville enclave. I would never, as I am aware that you are a government officer and that there might be a number of reasons behind this action of yours. It's your work, and work is hailed as worship in the Dogra clan. I respect you, and I highly respect your work, too." He then paused to nibble the skin on the right side of my neck, and my lithe frame instantly shuddered in his embrace.

He was the first man whom I had allowed to be in such close proximity with me.

"But, my little tigress, the presence of another man in your life is something I won't ever tolerate. It appears to me that you are close to Bakhtawar, which is reasonable enough because he happens to be your assistant. And I am not doubting you. Believe me, I don't trust anyone as much as I trust you. But the thing is that most men out there, just like me, know how to determine the worth of a true jewel. And I don't want my most precious and treasured piece of jewel . . .the diadem I embellish upon my head in the clutches of another man's fist. Not that I'll ever let that happen, but still." He brushed lips against my temple and then connected our foreheads together. "Got it?"

"Yes." I barely mumbled, my heart palpitating at its highest speed.

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