Eye On You Page 3

  She had a lean and toned look; though when she took off the layers during the day when it got hot; I could see a web of stretch marks on her waist and also her arms. I didn’t ask; Hridi told me later.

  “I was fat. Quite plump. Going for a trek like this would have been unthinkable for me.” She’d said on the 8th day when the group rested. “Till I decided I didn’t want to be fat, flabby, and unhealthy anymore. I just did it and stuck to the regime. I lost 30 kgs in 10 months and haven’t put back any. Been more than 2 years now.” Someone who decides to shed weight and transform herself; shows enormous grit and dedication. There’s usually a trigger behind a decision like this and usually, it has to do with a man. But I didn’t probe. Hridi told me that story much later.

  “I was married and then I wasn’t. He left me for another man. Said he couldn’t find the courage to tell me or his parents earlier. Seven years of marriage and he couldn’t find the right moment. Said he has always been gay. What a bastard!” I didn’t press for details. It was clear there was a lot of bottled-up venom inside her. We seldom talked about it.

  Some things, even in the closest of friendships, are off bounds. It sits in the we-don’t-go-there island surrounded by the sea of topics we discuss to death. I also never told her about him and how it got out of hand.

  “Hey,” Hridi had moved to the other side of the bed and was kneeling near Archie. “Let’s play hide the food with him. What say?” Archie perks his ears and starts vigorously wagging his tail. I push away the thoughts of the nightmare, the feel of a man’s callused palm on my skin and the murmur of his hoarse voice.

  Chapter 4. Dipti

  Dipti had planned to make rajma chawal for lunch but realized that she had forgotten to soak rajma the previous night. There wasn’t enough bread for breakfast and sugar was running out too. In the throes of a case, Dipti usually stayed preoccupied and became more forgetful than usual.

  It wasn’t easy doing night duty, managing the kitchen, and then rushing off to work to solve a case that seemed strange.

  How can someone get raped in her bedroom? The medical report made few things clear. Myra had drunk a lot of alcohol and her drink had been spiked with Rohypnol, a very common club drug.

  Not a surprise that she doesn’t remember anything. The drug must have knocked her out totally. But is this rape? There was no evidence of a man on the bed. No hair. No semen. No saliva. Nothing. Only few strands of curly hair which were Myra’s. No sign of forced entry or any scratches or marks of assault. Her vagina showed marks of repeated entries but there was no semen inside, so the guy had come prepared with the club drug to knock her out and then condoms to ensure he left no trace.

  There was no struggle. Myra didn’t struggle at all. Everything points to consensual sex which she doesn’t remember.

  “Dipti!” her mother-in-law’s shrill voice startled her. The milk had boiled over and more than half of it lay around the stove in an amoeba-shaped white patch.

  “The amount you think about your cases and police station…if you’d paid the same attention to your home, it wouldn’t be so messy.” Dipti grabbed the edge of the stone slab, gritted her teeth and swallowed the words that were rising, almost bubbling to come out.

  If your impotent son earned more, hell even held on to his job and brought in the money you think he does; then I wouldn’t have to bust my ass. But she didn’t. Though she often complained about the long hours, the tough working conditions, and the disgusting looks and glances from the male colleagues; the fact was that she loved her work. More than anything else, she loved the power that came with the job. She had been recently promoted as the SHO of Gurgaon PS, the new swank all-women police station. Of course, that didn’t stop her mother-in-law from making a snide comment.

  “She has been made the SHO of the all ladki wala police station because men will not take orders from her. This is all shor-sharaba for the Press. Aaj kal toh ladkiyon ko lekar kuch zyada hi hungama karte hain sab log.” Dipti had been more hurt than angry on hearing it. Her mother-in-law never complimented or praised her but often sought her help when she and her friends wanted to get a special pass of entry into the temple.

  Did Myra really get raped or did she just have sex after a lot of drinks and then doesn’t remember anything, so is crying rape? Dipti thought as she tied the lace of her boots, then stood up and tightened the belt. The woman is practically all over social media. Especially Instagram. Posting by the minute.

  Sonali, her assistant and junior constable, had downloaded images from Myra’s Insta feed. There were pictures in the balcony, in the bedroom, on the bed, by the window, in the kitchen, in the elevator, in the basement, at pubs, in the mall…everywhere. One thing was constant in all the pictures. The high angle, which gave a good view of her cleavage and Myra always unbuttoned her shirt displaying her full breasts.

  The bra that was missing; Myra had posted a picture in it, soon after buying it. She wore a thin, transparent, georgette shirt over the bra, showing off her toned and flat as washboard abs, the deep clavicle and the vine tattoos spreading towards her shoulder and her breasts pushed up by the bra.

  Dipti had been horrified on seeing the picture. What’s wrong with this woman? Why does she post such sexual pictures? She is asking for trouble. She and her friends, all of them; living their lives on social media. Posting by the minute and clicking pictures in every corner of their homes. And posing practically nude. In baniyans. In sports bra. Tiny skirts. Raising their arms so that breasts rise and look sexier. Idiots! Dipti could never understand why people were so compelled to click and post all through the day. More she poured over the case, angrier she felt at Myra.

  She had gone over the guest list. Most of them were her friends from the gym, some were friends of friends who were unknown to her and then there was Deepak who liked to be called Deep. He had been Myra’s colleague, rather ex-colleague.

  She’d invited this Deepak character. An ex-colleague who had yelled and vowed revenge because she was responsible for him getting sacked. Why did she invite him? And what the hell is this open-door party? Inviting practically anybody and everybody home. More than half of the guests weren’t even known to her. Why would anyone let strangers come home?’ Dipti shook her head, her lips curling into a snark as she sat tapping her fingers on the table thinking about the case.

  The day began with Deepak’s interview. He walked with his bulging arms splayed by the side as though he wanted everyone to notice his sculpted physique. He wore a goatee and had shaved his head. It shone as though he had slathered some cream on it. He entered Dipti’s room and stood beside the table with his forefinger tucked in his pockets, jutting his crotch ahead which bulged from behind his tight pants. Dipti wanted to slap him.

  “Have a seat Deepak.”

  “Please call me Deep.” He had pulled the chair and sat down with his legs spread wide apart. Dipti stared at him hard.

  When he said for the third time, Please call me Deep; Dipti rose from her chair, walked around the table with a placid, calm face and slapped him hard. So hard that his head fell back like that of a doll.

  “Tera naam Deepak hai. Okay? Kya hai?” she leaned closer with one hand on the table as she glared at him. Deepak started whimpering, almost weeping as a tiny cut on his lip bled.

  “Kya hai tera naam?” All the restraint Dipti displayed at home was unfettered in the police station. While she never spoke back or snapped at her husband, his mother and the bevy of aunts; silently ignoring and swallowing their hurtful comments but at work, almost everyone had been at the receiving end of her quick temper and sharp tongue.

  “Kya naam hai tera?” she said again.

  “De…Deepak.” He muttered between his sobs. It had been civil after that but what Dipti gathered was that Myra had a fling with him soon after he had joined the company. She was his boss but that hadn’t stopped the two of them. The fling also didn’t stop Myra from sacking him when it was discovered he had bungled funds. Dipti gathered from othe
r sources at the office that it had been ugly. Deepak had pleaded and begged Myra not to expose him but she had been unrelenting. She couldn’t tolerate a mess at work and had sacked him.

  The office CCTV had a recording of Deepak being carried out by security guards while he screamed obscenities and threats at Myra.

  “You wait, you vile bitch! I’ll make you pay for this. You’ll regret this day so much.” Those had been his words.

  “So, you’d openly threatened her and yelled that she would regret sacking you. Huh?”

  “I was wrong and angry but I’ve moved on, and that’s why I arrived at the party. Myra is an important professional contact to have and I wanted to mend my bridges with her. She is very well-connected in the industry and I need her help.”

  He continued blabbering. “Madamji, this Myra sleeps with anyone and everyone. Mera uske saath panga hua thaa, madam. But I need her help with a job that I am applying for. That is the reason why I’d spent so much money buying a bottle of wine and flowers and turned up at her party. I need her help to get this job.” He folded his hand and looked more pitiful than ever.

  When he left, Dipti sat thinking. Was he the one? The one who’d raped Myra? She had some time before the next person came in. No, I don’t think he has the himmat to do something like that. He is a bloody chuha. Talks big, but doesn’t have the balls for it. But I can’t write him off totally yet.

  In the file marked Deepak, she scribbled — Put a man to track Deepak. Monitor his social media activities. Though she felt quite certain that he didn’t have any role to play, she didn’t want to leave a loose thread hanging.

  “Madam,” Junior constable Sonali popped her head into the room. The youngest and newest recruit, she looked good in trousers and shirt; her legs slender and waist narrow. Dipti looked at her and sucked her tummy in knowing fully well that wouldn’t help at all.

  “He is here.” Dipti understood who had arrived. The entire police station had been waiting eagerly for his arrival. If the pictures were true, Arjun Kapoor Shah was going to be a treat for sore eyes and soul.

  Dipti waved her hand, signalling that he be brought in. As she waited, she straightened her pullover, smoothened her hair, tucked few irate strands behind her ear and decided she was going to remain seated behind the table. She looked slimmer that way.

  She got a whiff of his woody-spicy cologne before she saw him. The scent was an expensive one; Dipti didn’t know what brand it was but it smelled expensive and foreign, and that put her in a bad mood.

  They have money to splurge on expensive perfume and tiny dresses, and here I am slogging my ass and still putting off buying the red sandal I saw.

  She saw his taut-muscled legs standing near the table and looked up; she had been pretending to pour over a report just before he walked in. Dipti had to crane her head as far as she could to meet his eyes. Sonali kept standing near the door with a silent plea in her eyes. Please don’t ask me to leave. Let me stay. I want to look at him. Dipti ignored her presence and said in an almost inaudible voice. “Sit down.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Arjun had come prepared with his charm and best behaviour. He pushed the chair slightly back, to accommodate his long legs, placed his arms on the table. He wore a black leather jacket that stretched over his broad shoulders; underneath he wore a simple blue and green checkered shirt. The sleeves of the jacket rode up revealing his watch with multiple dials.

  Dipti continued to look at the report that didn’t need her attention at all and then after a while looked at him; his hazel brown eyes smiled at her, his lips a soft pale pink had a hint of a smile on them.

  “What’s so amusing, Arjun?” she decided to address him using his name, doing away with the surname. “Your girlfriend got raped. She got drugged and then raped in her bedroom on the night of a party and you are sitting here smiling at me!” The words had the desired effect and the smile left his face immediately.

  “Why weren’t you there at the party that night? You are the boyfriend. Both of you are always together. Huh?”

  “I had something important, very important to attend to. I had told Myra that I wouldn’t be able to come.”

  “Yes, I know. And both of you had a very public fight about it. Now, where was that? Yes…at Whiskey Samba, two days before the party. Am I right?”

  Dipti flicked few buttons on the laptop that sat open on one side of the table and then turned it towards him. Arjun didn’t look towards the screen. He knew well what was in it. Myra had gotten drunk and very angry when he had told her about his inability to attend. She had become abusive, loudly abusive and tried to grab his collar. He had pushed her away and she, being one not to take anything easy and lying down, had flown at him, scratched his face and had slapped him hard. Not able to take a slap from a woman, Arjun had tried to slap her back. One of the bouncers stopped him in time and dragged him out as he had yelled, “You bloody drunken bitch! You’ll pay for this.” What the CCTV hadn’t captured was the fact that Myra had caught him flirting with one of the girls at the bar, with his hand on her shapely, slender knee. That coupled with the fact that he refused to divulge why he wouldn’t be able to attend her party and the copious amount of alcohol inside her had led her to lose it.

  Arjun locked his fingers together, cracked his knuckles and then spoke. “Inspector, how many times have you said something in a fit of temper? Do we really mean what we say when we get angry?”

  “You tell me. It’s not my friend,” Dipti used the air quotes and continued, “Not my friend who got raped after I yelled at her and made a public scene.”

  “Inspector, you need to know something about Myra. She is extremely hot-headed. She loses her head when she gets angry, and she loves to drink, and she will do anything to get back at the person she is mad at. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had one of the guys at the party do this. Just to get back at me. You do know that in her party that evening there were at least 4 men with whom Myra has had sex in the past, don’t you?”

  Dipti cursed herself again for being in the station on the Sunday when Myra and Hridi had walked in. Why do I have to deal with this haraam-khor? She hated women like Myra with all her guts. Behave like cheap sluts, roam around half-naked, and then scream rape! Bloody bitches.

  “Please don’t misunderstand me. I have nothing against Myra and the way she lives her life. I love her. I would never ever hurt her or any woman. I’m not a person who forces himself on any woman.” He leaned back, tilted his head slightly and smiled as though saying, Women would do anything to get me in bed. I don’t need to rape them or force them.

  “Where were you that night, Arjun?” she let out a sigh. It wasn’t even afternoon yet and she was exhausted.

  “It is something personal and I like to keep it that way.” Arjun stared back at her, unflinching and unblinking.

  “You do realize that refusing to tell makes you a prime suspect.”

  “I have nothing to hide. I was attending to something personal and I’d rather not talk about it. Am I being charged, Inspector? If I am, please tell me so. I’ll call my lawyer and we can deal with this the official way.” Dipti knew that he was aware there was nothing she could do right now. This was just a cursory meet and talk. She had nothing to detain him with and she was quite sure he hadn’t come alone. She was right. Arjun hadn’t come alone. His lawyer was sitting in the car outside and he was just a missed call away.

  This fellow is far smarter and more shrewd than that Deepak idiot.

  “You can go now, Arjun. But don’t leave the city without letting me know. This is an ongoing investigation and I will need to talk with you again.”

  Arjun nodded, rose from the chair, pushed it back with his thigh, and walked out.

  He could have done it. He has the nerves for it. But would he do something like this to his girlfriend? Just because she slapped him in public? Dipti went back to the list of guests at the party. She would spend the day and the next day talking to all of them, getting their statem
ents.

  Why couldn’t you dress appropriately, drink less, and not invite random people inside your home, Myra? None of this would have happened. You wouldn’t have got raped and I would have been left in peace.

  Chapter 5.

  It was way past midnight when he lifted the barbed wire and slunk into the compound. He had been skirting around the boundary wall for days and found a spot, towards the back, where there was only a barbed wire instead of a wall. It was an easy entry point into the compound of Casa Sara Towers. He had entered the complex many times as a delivery guy for Pronto and Hungry food apps, a part-time thing he did. Myra often ordered on both platforms. It used to annoy him when the maid answered the door to collect the delivery.

  It started when he began following her on Instagram. She used to post multiple times during the day and when she bought the CCTV camera to be able to see Archie, he decided to hack in. Instagram pictures were not enough. He wanted more.

  Hacking into her phone using the two kids had been a great idea and a breeze. No one could refuse their request; two innocent kids waiting for their parent, all alone in a marketplace with a broken old phone. It had been perfect. Once inside her phone, he could see all the pictures in her photo gallery, watch her transactions, track when she placed a food order, and even control the apps that operated the CCTV and the main door.

  Watching her through the CCTV app had satiated him for a while but soon he began to yearn for more. He wanted to see her up close and in person Hence, the food delivery gig. He always wore a wig, a cap on his head and a moustache; a different disguise every time he turned up at her door to deliver food. Being a delivery guy gave him access into the compound, note the position of the cameras, the rotation of security guards; which one had a sharp eye and which didn’t.