Eye On You Read online

  ‘His life was screwed. He would never get a job again with this stamped on his career. It would make anyone mad as hell and go all out for revenge.’ Dipti murmured to herself as she read more.

  Rishi and his wife Poorna lived in a cozy 2 BHK on Hill road. They had a joint account with ICICI. Four years ago, the account had been closed. The closure form had signatures of both of them.

  Four-year-old Aveek studied at AVM Bandra and according to school records, he was taken out mid-term. The school didn’t have any forwarding address.

  “The child was a quiet one. For PTAs and other functions, the mother usually came and sometimes the father, too.” Neither the Principal nor the class teacher had much to say about the couple. “They were quiet and kept to themselves. Didn’t get too involved with school activities.”

  The neighbours in the building they lived in said the same. Rishi and Poorna were a very quiet and reclusive couple. They didn’t mingle much, kept to themselves.

  One of the neighbours said, “Poorna didn’t chit-chat with the ladies and she didn’t like it if Rishi spoke with the other ladies. No one in the condo liked her. Rishi was okay. He would have liked to socialize and mingle but his wife didn’t let it happen.”

  No one remembered when Rishi left. “He used to travel a lot for work so he wasn’t around too much. But when the packers came, I asked her where they were moving to. She didn’t seem eager to talk as always, so I didn’t press further.” The woman who lived next door told the investigating Inspector.

  “Try and get some pictures of Rishi and his wife. From the school. From the building they lived in. Any picture taken during Diwali or any festival.” Dipti had been very clear in her instructions.

  After much asking around, the cop was able to get 2 pictures. One from the Diwali party in the building and the other from the school. In both the pictures, Rishi and Poorna stood aside but apart, almost disconnected. Others had huddled together, were smiling, excited with the fun; while Rishi looked like he was trying to put on a smile, Poorna had a surly look on her face. She was clearly not part of the group. Looking away, standing in an awkward stance, holding her sling bag on her right elbow.

  Dipti leaned in, took out a magnifying glass from her drawer and focused first on Poorna. Medium height with poker-straight hair, plump; she looked like she never thought much about her appearance or what she wore.

  Rishi looked like an average guy on the road. No one would notice him or give him a second glance.

  Are you the hacker, Rishi? Are you the one behind all this? Where have you disappeared, Rishi? You have a wife and a kid. You can close the bank account, destroy the sim, throw away your credit card. But you will need medical insurance. Life insurance. That’s not easy to just throw away and start anew.”

  Dipti grabbed the phone and dialed the number of the investigating officer in Bombay. “Find out what insurances Rishi Malhotra had. Annual premiums need to be paid. How are those getting paid? Uski biwi ne usko laath maarke bahar nikal diyaa but he will pay for the medical insurance of his child. Also, his life insurance. Find out how the premiums are being paid.”

  It took the Mumbai cops 2 days to find out that Rishi has medical insurance with Royal Sundaram and the premiums were being paid on time. The payments were being done via online credit card payment to an address in Goa. The SHO at Panjim police station sent a small team, at Dipti’s request, to check out the address. They reported that an aged couple and a child were staying there. The child attended a local school. They’d left suddenly about 7-8 days back with no forwarding address. They showed pictures of Poorna and Rishi to the neighbours but no one had seen them. The neighbours however recognised Aveek.

  “Talk to the maid who worked in the house. Ask her if she saw anyone else in the house? Did a man or woman visit the house?” Dipti was pacing around in her room. The end seemed to be near yet slipping out of her grasp.

  “Madam, I found the maid and showed her the picture of Rishi and his wife. She doesn’t recognize them. She confirmed the child’s picture. Aged grandparents and the boy lived in the house.”

  “No one else visited them?”

  “No, madam. No one. Just once or twice a woman came and stayed for a while. The maid said the woman was a distant relative.”

  Where the fuck have you disappeared Rishi Malhotra? And where is that wife of yours? Why is the boy living with the grandparents? Dipti flopped into her chair, let her head drop on her palms and sat still.

  Chapter 21. Myra

  It’s been more than 7 days since Hridi had left for Bangalore. I’d offered to accompany her but she wouldn’t hear of it. Her phone is switched off most of the time. She calls and gives me updates, apologizing for not being in touch. I offer to join her but she vehemently refuses. And I can’t leave. There’s a meeting between Subodh, the company legal team, my lawyer, and me.

  I feel awfully lonely without her. Arjun and I aren’t talking yet. It’s going to be a while before I forgive him.

  Judy calls me often. I feel ashamed to think that I’d suspected her of doing this. Subodh had sacked her too. She called yesterday and was stalling. I think she needs money. For a minute I thought about loaning her some but then I need to think about the monthly EMI that will go from my bank account. Never thought I would have to worry about that but I do.

  My lawyer thinks I have a solid case. The cops have submitted a detailed report informing Subodh that my laptop was hacked and I didn’t send that email. But it will be some time before I am reinstated.

  I scroll through my phone book, not really in the mood to be with any of my friends yet feeling listless and lonely. My phone pings. It’s Suraj.

  ‘Are you free? It’s my day off today.’

  ‘Yes, I’m free.’

  Both of us type the exact same thing at the same time.

  ‘Wanna meet?’

  For the first time in days, a smile breaks on my face.

  ‘Yes! Love to.’ I type.

  ‘Super. Get ready. I’ll pick you up in 20. Send me your address.

  As I get into his grey secondhand Swift that has seen better days, I think of telling him that we could take my Beemer. I don’t. It would be wrong; he might feel slighted. It’s 11 in the morning. A weekday. I feel odd to be roaming around in a beat-up car, chatting and laughing with Suraj while everyone is purposefully driving somewhere. The world is either at work or going to work. I scold and tell myself that this is much better than sitting at home fuming and fretting.

  We go to Madison Pike at Nirvana Country. Sit outside in the weak sun, split a quiche and have a coffee. Suraj and I talk about this, that, and the other. I’ve always found him easy to talk to. He listens more than he speaks and I find that such a desirable quality. Arjun is always on show. He loves to talk about himself, his travels, his deals.

  “I’ve been never outside the country. I’d love to see London. Maybe New York.” His candour is charming.

  “Huh…Myra, would you like to come over to my place? It’s nearby. It’s nothing fancy but the chairs are comfier than these.” He gives a sheepish smile.

  “I can understand if you don’t feel comfortable.” He shrugs and looks at his feet, as though embarrassed to have said it.

  “Why should I feel uncomfortable, Suraj? Come, let’s go to your place.”

  *

  “My flat is nothing compared to yours, Myra,” Suraj looks embarrassed as we get into his car.

  “How do you know what my flat is like?” I joke back. He looks flustered.

  “I mean a person who drives a BMW…would have a swanky home, right?” We drive towards his place. We cross Golf course extension, head straight ahead, past the new buildings that dot the land.

  “It’s a little way off. Away from here.” He throws an almost apologetic smile in my direction, as though trying to placate me.

  “That’s fine, Suraj. Gurgaon has lots of open spaces and I like that about this place.” We drive away from the hustle-bustle and finally r
each the towers he lives in.

  He has a pad on the 22nd floor of a fully constructed building that’s barely occupied.

  “Is the place okay … you don’t mind, I hope?” Suraj shuts the door behind as I walk in.

  “Don’t be silly, Suraj.” I step in and take in the stunning view that the glass doors open up to. The windows look out to wilderness for miles. There are few buildings but at a distance. It is indeed the middle of nowhere and the view is splendid though the flat is very bare.

  “The plus side of having less furniture is that you can enjoy the view, jog around and not much cleaning is needed.” He laughs, trying to joke about the fact that the flat is almost bare, except for two cane chairs and a round table in the living room. There are no curtains; he doesn’t need any. It’s too high up and the flat looks out to open green spaces. There are no buildings nearby for peeping neighbours.

  “Should I take off my shoes?” I’m not too keen to do that as I can see dust and I don’t fancy getting my feet dirty but I ask nevertheless. He senses my hesitation.

  “No, no, Myra. Don’t take off your shoes. I haven’t been able to sweep the floors. So don’t walk bare feet. Aapke haseen paon mailey ho jayenge.”

  I laugh at the reference to Pakeezah and make a face.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” He points towards the mattress on the floor which has a faded bedsheet thrown on it. Suraj walks towards the kitchen, which is on the far right of the living room. I don’t sit. I follow him. The countertop or the part of it that I can see from where I am, is empty. I don’t think he spends much time here. He had told me that the flat belongs to a friend who works in Dubai and let him stay in it for free.

  “I don’t have furniture or curtains but I stock up on the essentials.” Suraj walks out holding two chilled bottles of beer. It’s a brand I last drank when I was in college and in my early working years.

  “Yay! That’s just the thing I need.” I put on a smile and take the bottle from him. I shouldn’t have agreed to meet at his place. It’s bare, dusty and he has cheap beer. Anyway, in some time, I’ll suggest we move to my place. I plan that in my head.

  “Why don’t we sit on the bed and chat?” I don’t want to sit on that thin mattress on the floor. He leads the way while I take out a paper napkin from my bag, wipe the mouth of the bottle before taking a sip and then wrap it around the bottle. It feels dirty. Suraj didn’t bother to wash the bottles before putting them in the fridge. I leave the bag on one of the chairs, take the mobile in my hand and go to the bedroom.

  Time flies, as empty beer bottles pile up on the side table. Suraj has ordered pizza. From Domino’s. I chuckle at the thought of having Domino’s pizza; when was the last time I had it? I’m surprised at myself. I’m having a great time with Suraj in spite of the cheap beer and Domino’s pizza. There’s something so earnest and humble about him. He listens. Really listens when I talk. He looks at me with his soft brown eyes and it feels as though I matter.

  “When all this over, Suraj…let’s go for a trek. Okay?”

  “You go for treks and hikes, right?” I touch his firm biceps. They feel strong and worked out. I can feel the words slur a bit on my tongue. My fingers fall on his forearm. The hair feels prickly, newly grown after having been shaved. I didn’t take him for the kind who would like a hairless body. I allow my fingers to touch the hair. They feel like tiny thorns.

  “I shaved my body totally because I’d lost a bet.” He grins and slaps his head. “A stupid bet during a cricket match.” He wears a look that says, yes, I did something really foolish. I forgive him. If I start counting the number of foolish things I have done…

  “Let me clean the tabletop. There’s no place for anything else.” He picks up all the bottles and the pizza box. I follow him to the kitchen with the remaining bottles.

  “Do you think I should call Arjun and speak with him?” I don’t know why I ask him that. I have been confiding in Suraj about the case. He is quiet.

  “It’s not my place to comment, Myra.” He walks out of the kitchen.

  “I just can’t get it out of my head that he had sex with someone else and the woman ended up getting pregnant. He was at the abortion clinic on the night of the party.”

  “What about…what about your…you know?” it’s amusing that Suraj fumbles to say out loud that my bra was in Arjun’s sock drawer.

  “My bra.” He looks uncomfortable.

  “His servant says a courier fellow came. Looked exhausted. Sat down and asked for water.”

  “How convenient!” Suraj mutters under his breath. “And the only person who has seen and spoken with this courier person is the trusted servant who has spent all his life working for the family.”

  I can’t say that the thought didn’t cross my mind. Mukesh has been in the family for decades. He would agree to have committed murder if the family asked him to.

  “How can you trust a man like that, Myra? I don’t know why Arjun would want to hurt you like that but let’s not forget the person who did this, who entered your bedroom knew your house well. He slipped past the security. The guards at the gate knew him well to let him enter without a passkey. He knows where you keep your lipstick. He even knows where you keep your bedsheets. He changed the bedsheets and then put the used sheet in the washing machine!

  “Yes, I know what you…” the words freeze in my mouth and the air between us suddenly turns cold. Suraj bends his head and knocks it on the edge of the window.

  No one knows about the bedsheets. That the bedsheets had been changed and the earlier one put in the washing machine. No one except Malti, Hridi, me, the cops and the person who did it.

  I stop breathing. My breath is stuck inside my throat and my fingers curl on the window ledge.

  “You…how do you know about the bedsheets…” I turn towards Suraj who has his face turned away from me.

  ‘Oops.” He says that and turns his face towards me. It doesn’t look soft, kind, and friendly anymore. It looks strange…and…scary. Like a stranger. I back away.

  “Myra…my dear Myra,” he touches my face, allowing his index finger to trace a lazy line along my jaw and it drops to my clavicle. His touch is like icicles. I push his hand away and move back.

  Shock has now given way to fear. I am alone in his house in a desolate building far away from everyone and no one knows where I am.

  I’m alone in the flat…on 22nd floor with Suraj and he is the one who had raped me!

  My first reaction is to throw a punch at him. I want to claw his face. My heart is beating so fast and hard that I fear it might burst out of my chest cavity. But then I calm myself, allow reason to win over my rage. He is taller and broader. I can’t fight him. I have taken many steps away from him.

  “Suraj, whatever happened is past. Let me go. I won’t tell the cops. Anyway, there’s no proof, right. No one is going to believe me. So please, just let me leave.” I try to sound calm but I can hear the panic in my voice. He just lets a corner of his lip lurch as he smiles.

  “Of course, sure. You can go.” He steps away and makes a gesture with his hand. I pick up my bag, put the phone in it, keep my eyes on him as I make my way out of the room and make a dash for the main door. He is still standing by the window with a smile pasted on his face.

  I try to move the handle. It doesn’t budge an inch. I try to pull the knob. It stays firmly lodged and then I realize. It’s bolted. He has locked the door. There’s another keyhole on the door. The main lock. I’m locked in the flat with him.

  “What happened, Myra?” his voice is so cool and calm. It feels like a whiplash on my skin. I spin around. “Can’t open the door. Can you?” He has strolled out of his bedroom and walking towards me. He is taking slow small steps.

  “You think I’m an idiot. I made a stupid slip so you think I’m an idiot. What do you think only IIM-A graduates have brains, huh?” he isn’t smiling anymore as he reaches me and holds my hand in a tight grip that feels like he is going to crush my bones.
He is dragging me away from the door and I’m now screaming.

  “Help!! Somebody help!!”

  He drags me away and flings me on the bed. “Scream as much as you want Myra. There’s no one around to hear you. There are only 3 occupants in the entire building. I, and two others who are in lower floors.”

  “What do you want Suraj? What are you going to do with me?” I slide as far as I can from him. He grabs my bag and chucks it towards the living room. I hear it fall with a thud on the floor. My mobile is in it.

  “Why did you do it Suraj? Enter my home. Rape me. Why?”

  “Because you asked me to.”

  “What?? What the fuck is wrong with you, Suraj? I asked you to rape me?”

  “Look at your pictures, Myra. On Instagram. You are practically nude. Your breasts pushed up, the locket dangling in your cleavage, the pouting lips…if that’s not an invitation; I don’t know what is.”

  “You are sick! You need help if you think women who post pictures on social media are inviting rape.”

  “You, Anahita, and all the others. All of you…go running in tiny shorts and a bra. Wear clothes that are almost invisible. So sexy. So sensual. Why is it wrong for men to want to fuck you?”

  “So you are the one who hacked into Ana’s phone, then mine…and what about the company email that wrecked my career…why did you do that?”

  “Shut the fuck up!” he pulls the bedsheet from under me and starts tearing it. “You’ve asked too many questions and I have spoken too much. Shut the fuck up. I need to think.”

  He first ties it around my hands and legs and then a gag on my mouth.

  “Not so wild and free now, are you? #livingwild #livingfree…” He stands above me, letting his eyes roam all over me, undressing me in his mind. I shiver and shut my eyes and let my head fall on the bed.

  I hear his footsteps leave the room. I can hear him pick up my bag and then smash my phone with his feet.

  He has smashed my phone!

  He is now making a call.

  Who is he speaking with?

  I can hear him.