Killer In The House?

Who would not agree that our brain was the most potent component of the body and also could give rise to bizarre ramifications?

I too could not have agreed more. The reason for this was not far to seek as would be apparent from my strange story.

 

Jhoomoor, my wife, was a successful entrepreneur with a string of thriving boutiques. With a plethora of friends, admirers, and community activities, she was indeed a social creature.

 

She, a ravishing middle-aged beauty with dark silken hair, very fair complexioned, endowed with a slim figure, coupled with friendly and witty disposition, made me, an ugly, dark, overweight man, who was also an introvert with a suspicious nature, look a reprobate in comparison.

 

Possibly these glaring differences in our appearances and personalities made our late marriage strained. Appending to my discomfiture, was the failure of my agency business, in contrast to her boutique business. No wonder that I suffered from a nagging inferiority complex, making me behave erratically and aggressively, and she too had been reciprocating; not a happy situation!

But the real problem was her atypical friendliness while dealings with others, notably men. Often on getting calls or messages, she would step out and talk in muted tones; it could be at any hours. Getting doubtful, I checked her messages and call lists, surreptitiously. When I tried to be inquisitive, she gave dismissive answers. Her activities definitely made me feel uneasy.

Was she having affairs with men?

The most distressing aspect was my fright that she could physically harm me for her ends. I feared, many times, that my palatial mansion, worth at least Rs. Fifteen crores and my Will in her favour bequeathing all my properties could give her wrong ideas. A couple of times, I had noticed that she discussed my Will with her friends with whom I suspected she had affairs, and later a copy of it had been taken away from my safe custody.

Were my apprehensions uncalled for?    

Overall, I was in a profound dilemma. Perhaps I was unkind to her, but negative thoughts did disturb me.

Was her intention immoral? 

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That day was Tuesday, and I had returned late from an office party, comprehensively drunk; this was nothing unusual. My colleague, Hiten, had taken me home. I knew Jhoomoor hated my drinking habit, but that night she silently tucked me in comfortably.

I had a restless night, suffering from a severe hangover, and I appeared to be half awake when suddenly I felt something cold and metallic on my throat.

What was it? A knife?

My sixth sense, even in that state of my mind, flashed that there could be some danger!

My throat would be slit in my sleep, and I wouldn't be able to stop this!

I had seen Jhoomoor cutting fruits with a gleaming steel knife yesterday!

I opened my eyes with some difficulty, an unexpected beam of soft white light made me hide my face with my right hand; I groaned aloud and tried to sit up. The bedsheet impeded me, and I felt a hand on my forehead, a soft hand, which pushed me back with some force, snapping my head painfully.

There was a distant, angry female voice, which was unintelligible!

I cried out in some pain; this rough act, coupled with my throbbing head, had compounded my discomfort.

At that instant, I felt some cloth was pressed over my face, and a sweet smell hit me; within moments, my consciousness sank into a pool of black oblivion, and after that, there was no recollection.

Before passing out, my wife’s face floated into my awareness, she had a malicious witch-like smile which was dissolving into nothingness.

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I did not know how long I was in that condition, but when I regained my senses, my eyes fell upon the large clock on the wall above the dining room cabinet.

It was around 1.43 p.m. at this time. The French windows along the opposite side of the room were open, the curtains had been drawn backwards, and I could sense the slight breeze coming through them from the garden beyond. The green lawn stretching out from under the windows was brightly illuminated by the golden afternoon sunlight.

I realised that I was stretched out on the floor adjacent to the dining table. Getting up with some difficulty and holding my head, which was aching acutely, I tried to recollect the previous few hours, which came to me obscurely. I blinked my eyes since I couldn't fathom these events at all and also the fact that without realising, I had moved from my bed to the dining room floor.

What exactly had happened to me? Where was Jhoomoor? What was she up to, anyway?

I looked around, there was no sign of her. Generally, at this time, she would have completed her lunch and cleared out her kitchen; I would be in the office.

Thenceforth I walked tentatively into the kitchen and found that it was empty.  Jhoomoor was not in the bedroom either; by this time, I felt my legs were weak; slowly returning to the dining room, I sat down again.

A little later, I raised my voice and called her. There was no reply; I called her again, more loudly, but to no avail. I thought she might be in the garden and so I walked out and looked around the fairly expansive lawns bordered with colourful, blooming, exotic flowers, and moved towards the rear kitchen garden with vegetables growing in neat patches.

Nowhere I could find Jhoomoor.

Thinking that she could have gone to the market, I went back into the house and dialled her mobile number; it went on ringing, there was no response.

By this time, many thoughts were passing through my mind. Somehow the recollection of something cold and metallic on my throat- a knife, and my visualising Jhoomoor's face, associated with it, was making me feel exceedingly uncomfortable!

Was my wife trying to murder me and having failed, now, had disappeared? 

I was, by that time bordering on panic. This was an extraordinary and uncalled experience. It had never happened to me before!

Realising that my intellect couldn't take it any longer and also that I felt exceedingly sleepy, I collapsed on the large sofa in the drawing-room. 

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It was late evening when I woke up and found that my head had cleared remarkably, and my faculties were rational. Somehow that notion of fear and despondency had vanished miraculously.

By that time, I felt a severe pang of hunger. The house was still deserted. Deciding that I would try to unravel the odd incidents after I had some food, I put on my jeans, a polo neck T-shirt, locked the house and went out. There was a café, just around the corner where I could get some burgers along with a cup of coffee.

It was 7.15 p.m. at this time.

Before entering the café, I decided to buy a pack of cigarettes and stopped at the adjacent small shop.  

There was a couple sitting in the cafe when I walked in. As the light was low, I didn't know who they were until the woman turned around, and I saw it was my wife. 

I blinked for some moments; here she was, so near the house, enjoying herself, and I was frantically searching for her throughout the day. Feeling angry, arising out of pent up frustration, I walked towards her resolutely.

She saw me and got up with a smile.

"Hello, darling, great to see you here. I left you at home at around 12.30 p.m.; seeing that you were sleeping like a child, I didn't wake you. I kept your lunch in the refrigerator so that you could warm it and have it. Hope you have taken it. I  already told you that I had gone to meet my mother; now our friend, Doctor, is here, I have offered him a cup of coffee; we are discussing you … Don't look so surprised.”

She made me comfortable in a chair, saying, “Well, how are you feeling now?”

I stared at her for long instants, then looked at her companion. I knew him well, he was Dr Rudra Bhanot, a well-known psychiatric therapist. He smiled at me and held out his hand.

"Hello, Mr Kashyap, how are you today? I have been talking to Jhoomoor about your line of treatment, and I have advised her the next course of action. She will take care of you, don't worry."

My line of treatment?

I could not understand his words completely, but something was stirring in my memory.

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It was just after 10.45 p.m. that night, and after our dinner, Jhoomoor and I were sitting in the drawing-room.

“Why did you refuse to speak to Dr. Rudra in the café?” Jhoomoor frowned at me slightly.

I grunted; till now, I had no intention to speak to her.

 She watched me for many moments and took my hand in hers. Her soft touch reminded me, painfully, of last night's incident; was that her hand?

"Something is going on in your mind, which you are not revealing to me. Please do so, I will be able to help you." She was imploring now.

Was this the behaviour of a killer?

Then a thought struck me; it would be wise to voice my doubts about her, now itself, so that she would become cautious, and I would be safe! I was also pondering that I would go to the police the moment I got some concrete evidence about her criminal activity since all my doubts were based on conjectures!

Clearing my throat, I said, “Jhoomoor, you will not like what I will say now.”

She was just gaping at me.

“We know that we do not have a happy marriage; we, somehow, cannot tolerate each other; we scream, we fight like mad persons, we are different personalities, totally incompatible and most importantly I get doubts about your various doings.”

I paused to gather my breath after that continued.

"For many months, I have not been able to grapple with one doubt; are you having secret affairs? I know you are a beautiful and charming woman; any number of men will want you, but God knows … this I can’t allow!”

She was looking away; now, turning said with visible restraint, “And why do you think that I have affairs?”  

“Your preference to be with men, always, at all hours, your hush-hush behaviour, your late-night escapades …”  I trailed off.  

"I deal with men in my business and social commitments; I have no affair with anybody… I have no lover, you imagine things! You have to trust me!”

Her voice had risen slightly. 

And now, the most damning question had to be asked.

"Last night, you had put a knife on my throat, and when I struggled to get up, you pressed some cloth, soaked with some knockout liquid, on my face and made me lose consciousness! What do you want, grab my mansion and estate…? I know that you have taken a copy of my Will and you do discuss it with others…?”

Somehow, I had difficulty in making these allegations, after all, she was my wife!

Soon, I began to perspire .“And why didn't you kill me last night?” 

At that moment, her expression turned to a reddish hue. "Oh my god! So easily you jump to conclusions! Can't I know my inheritance privileges and discuss with lawyer friends? I did mention this to you, only you forgot..." 

I didn't reply at all.  

At that juncture, Jhoomoor took a deep breath, got up and sat next to me on the sofa. Holding my face in her hands, she came near me, her eyes were in tears;  her lips, gentle and tender touched mine and held on eternally...!

Her voice was low and soothing. "My dear husband, I know that we have had a strained marriage, but please do understand that I am not your enemy, I am your wife, I love you, and I won’t kill you ever… not even in my dreams…”

She moved away slightly and was now sobbing, “You say such cruel things! I know it is not you, but your diseased mind is telling all this …” 

My diseased mind? 

It sparked a torrent of reminiscences inside me, they were coming out gradually!

Indeed, doctors had recently diagnosed me as suffering from a severe hallucination, a type of mental illness, because of which I failed to differentiate between the unreal sensory experiences of vision, touch, smell and hearing with the real ones. Both unreal and real would merge so realistically that I was most of the time, confused. I also suffered from schizophrenic persecution mania, which meant that I had this unfounded fear of danger to my life. This made my overall disease more complicated. 

All these played their parts in my last night's incongruous experience, including my movement from the bedroom to the dining room. It was the first time for me.

So that's how it started! 

My disease, my inferiority complex and our strained marriage had put blinkers on my eyes and clouded my thoughts.

And my alcoholism didn’t help.

How could I overlook all of these and suspect my wife?

This was utterly unjust to her, especially after her unstinted efforts to treat me!

This realisation came swiftly into my diseased mind at that time, and there was no time to lose. Pulling her towards me, I sought her lips, she took me in deep embrace, her yielding body entwining with mine, and we got up and walked hand in hand into our bedroom; after many months we passionately made physical love! 

I knew that my latent love was manifesting at last! 

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But destiny had something more in store for us.

That night, I heard a rattle in my bedroom window, and a sweet- pungent smell permeated throughout the room. Both of us, thoroughly exhausted were sleeping peacefully; Jhoomoor didn’t stir, but I tried to get up, thinking that perhaps this could be another attack of my hallucination, when I felt a sharp object had penetrated my unprotected throat, and warm liquid flowed down my neck onto the bedsheet; next, everything went blank.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the City hospital. I was alive, but it was more important for me to know what had happened to Jhoomoor. There was no greater relief to know that she was unharmed.

Later, I was told, that night some miscreant had entered our house by breaking open the glass windows and disengaging the security alarms, sprayed knockout gas and attempted to kill me by slicing my throat as I was waking up. Providentially, one of the guards moved with alacrity, making the miscreant run away, and saved me by calling the ambulance, post haste.

Although we had lost a considerable part of our jewellery and cash, we were thankful for surviving such a horrendous attack.

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Back at home, my life was changing; every tragic happening had an unseen benefit; as I was convalescing, I found Jhoomoor at my side for long hours, taking care of me; loving and understanding me to the extent that I was in the seventh heaven, so to speak... 

That day, I was discussing with her about my hallucination of a knife attack and happening of a real attack, and how these would have had affected my mind; we were not sure if any doctor could give a meaningful answer; time might tell.

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Thenceforth the final paroxysm was waiting to happen!

Six months had since passed, and there were fewer symptoms of my hallucination!

Was I getting cured, or was it getting to be more complicated?

That winter morning, Jhoomoor was in the kitchen, her mobile was lying on the dressing table in the bedroom. As I got ready, I heard a message- alert. I did not know why I did that but picking up the mobile, I opened the message.

It read:- REMOVE HIM AS WE DISCUSSED LAST EVENING.

As the words sank in, suddenly, my palpitation started, I felt my mouth turn dry, and my legs began trembling; I sat down on the bed and continued to stare at the message.

Was my wife planning to kill me?

That hallucination-fear reared its head again; had she been play-acting with me these days that she cared for me, loved me? Who was the man who wanted me to be removed? I again checked the message carefully, it had come from Dr. Rudra, my treating Doctor!

In the dining room, when Jhoomoor kept breakfast on the table, I confronted her with the message.

My voice was unsteady; tears were welling in my eyes.

“What is this Jhoomoor? You want me dead, removed? Was my initial doubt about you correct? And your lover is…is Dr. Rudra?”    

Was it the end of my love too?

Jhoomoor stood there, motionlessly, after that shook her head in despondency.

“Darling, I am not conspiring to kill you! This message from Dr. Rudra is to remove you to his nursing home for another line of treatment. Take hold of yourself. ”

I sat down slowly in the chair, grasping my head, it was once more pulsating badly.

I believed her; I trusted her; I was astounded how I had again doubted her! I was ashamed of myself!

Would I ever be able to overcome my diseased mind?

I would definitely fight this till the last gasp of my life!

Then getting up, I embraced her tenderly; my words came almost inaudibly, “I am sorry, forgive me, I trust you … I love you…”

Her reassuring kiss was truly a positive step towards my path of indeterminate recuperation!

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