Miss David

As much as he tried to divert his mind, the pangs of retirement continued to persist with him, this continued for a week. The first effect of relinquishing active service was apparent in the mornings, after retirement the mornings were not the same as they used to be for the last thirty-eight years, the lack of urgency in the morning routine was the most difficult thing to adapt. Time is a big heeler and soon Ibrahim realized the folly of remembering the past with so much affection. He remembered   Roman philosopher Seneca’s famous quote ‘Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end’. On this Friday, as Ibrahim lay in bed while the clock had long gone past the designated nine am mark, he ruminated on Seneca’s quote. Indeed, the retirement from his teaching job, he realized, was a beginning of a new phase of life which, he thought, might be even more beautiful and fulfilling than his past life of thirty-eight years. A thin smile crossed Ibrahim’s face. Seneca’s quote brought a new realization; he had found a valid reason to enjoy his post-retirement life. Suddenly getting out of bed didn’t seem painful!

With the affirmative resolve of starting a new beginning, Ibrahim devoted his time revisiting his huge collection of books, long lost interesting articles and other memorabilia which had stayed in his collection for many years now. Every file that he opened shouted a new story back at him. Every photograph, article or a related document was now a piece of treasured history which brought back a flood of memories.  Each afternoon he spent leafing through those memories and creating new folders in his library for each document so that their accessibility became easier.

In a few weeks, the routine of life after retirement had become a new normal. Ibrahim realized that he had better things to pursue for which he did not get time during the pre-retirement days. Every day he spent several hours either reading or just rummaging through the huge stalks of files that lay in his study. It was a Thursday afternoon when he chanced upon a manila envelope that contained old photographs. Each photograph was a piece of nostalgia. He spent a long time looking at the photograph dated sixth February 1958 in which his late father was walking with the legendary Indian Test cricketer Syed Mushtaq Ali to open the batting for Uttar Pradesh against Vidarbha at Indore. Ibrahim continued to stare at the photograph as if the photograph would show something more. The photograph remained static but his mind did remind him of the story that his father had told him of that Ranji Trophy match in which he scored a century. Ibrahim realized that he had tears in his eyes.

Several photographs did catch Ibrahim’s attention for a longer duration than was necessary.  In between these memory milestones, Ibrahim’s eyes came across an old Boys High School group photograph of Class III A. This black and white photograph had already lost its sheen and was now in a pale grey shade. Ibrahim gleaned at the photograph with renewed interest. He could see the faint inscription of the year, it was 1970. A line below the date mentioned Class III A. Ibrahim started figuring out the boys. He recognized himself and was amused to see that he was in half pants. His sight got fixated on the teacher, a young girl in white saree was sitting in stoic countenance in the middle of a group of some twenty-eight students. Ibrahim’s thoughts went into a spin. His brain fished out from a dark recess a name, Miss David.  Ibrahim could now see clearly the face of the young girl sitting in the middle. Although the photograph was blurred but his mind was now fitting the gaps of the visual signal emanating from his eyes, the photograph of Miss David was now very clear. Ibrahim continued to stare at Miss David.

In the next fifteen minutes while Ibrahim held the photograph in his hands and his eyes remained focused on it, his mind went back in time. The classroom housing Class III A was in the southern side of the H – shaped building of BHS. This was the first day of the year, probably January 5, 1970. After the assembly all students had reached the classroom and was joined by a class teacher. While taking the seat, the class teacher had introduced herself as Miss Sheila David.

Ibrahim again stared at the photograph, the memory conjured by his brain was perfectly matching the young girl sitting in the middle. He remembered that even while he was just eight years and a student of Class III, he had a crush on Miss David. He remembered that as a very young student he would stare at the class teacher for extended periods without understanding the reason. He also remembered how sad he felt when Miss David was replaced by another teacher after six months. In fact, he never saw Miss David again.

Now sitting on his chair, post-retirement, Ibrahim was figuring out why this photograph and the lady sitting in the middle of the group held such importance for him. A strange thought engulfed Ibrahim. Suddenly he felt a reason to find out where is Miss David now, is she alive? The joyous thought of exploring the whereabouts of a long-lost childhood crush became overwhelmingly attractive. Ibrahim started devising his strategy.

The gate of the Boys High School had changed in the last fifty years; Ibrahim stood in front of the large gate admiring the grandeur of his alma mater. As he stepped inside he was accosted by security personnel but was allowed to proceed when he introduced himself as an alumnus of the school. To Ibrahim, everything had changed in BHS except the office. As he stepped inside the office, he felt his heart was beating a bit faster. He remembered that in this very office he had received caning several times when he had come late to the school. In a reflex his right hand reached back and clutched his back. Ibrahim felt amused. He complimented his brain in remembering vividly the events that had happened almost fifty years back.

The principal, a man in his fifties, received Ibrahim well but sincerely apologized for not having any record of its past teachers beyond the last twenty-five years. Ibrahim, as he left the school, spoke to a few peons. Hoping against hope he asked everyone whether anybody remembered Miss David but no one seemed to find an answer. In a passing statement an old peon mentioned that there was a small Christian community on the Patrika Marg, not far from BHS, and it was quite possible that somebody could be knowing Miss David. 

Ibrahim stopped in front of the wooden door with a nameplate Silas Egbert. He pushed the bell. After two bells and a few knocks at the door, someone opened the door. Rude would be a polite adjective, the old man was more than that. Ibrahim stammered to explain his reason of coming but had to halt midway because the old man closed the door yelling that he knew no one by the name Miss David.

The third door that Ibrahim knocked was opened by a petite lady in her late sixties. She intently listened to Ibrahim and remained interested throughout the conversation. Although she confided that she had no idea of Miss David who would have taught in Boys High School during 1970,  but she did know someone by the name Allen David who lived at 10 Muir Road. It is possible that Allen David may be of some help.

The next day, Ibrahim stood before the door that displayed the nameplate, Allen David. He pushed the bell. Allen David was a sagging, potbellied and unshaven man in his seventies. After an initial intrusive interview at the door, Allen David finally invited Ibrahim into his drawing room. Ibrahim went into a monologue, he repeated his story dating back to Class III in Boys High School, his fascination for Miss David and his chance discovery of the class photograph. Ibrahim observed that the grumpy countenance of Allen David had now changed to an inviting posture. He listened with intent and then asked Ibrahim as to what did he want from him. Ibrahim repeated that his interest was only academic and just for curiosity he wanted to find out current where about of Miss David.

Allen David lit a cigarette and offered one to the guest, Ibrahim politely refused saying that he did not smoke. Allen used his full lung strength to inhale the smoke from the cigarette and then took a long pause as if he was going to disclose a classified information. He made the pause more pregnant by taking a sip of water from the glass after exhaling the smoke. All through this theatrical episode Ibrahim followed Allen’s moves as if he was about to listen how to make an atom bomb. After a further pause mimicking a seasoned politician, Allen’s lips emitted a sound. He said ‘Sheila David was my aunt’. Ibrahim’s eyes lit up, he asked Allen whether she is alive and where is she? The theatrical drama of a loaded pause unfolded again before Allen replied. He said that Sheila married a man named Brian Wilson in 1970 who was a Lieutenant in the Indian army and was posted in Lucknow as part of 11 Gorkha Rifles Regiment. In an abstract gesture of recalling a distant memory, Allen David mentioned that he vividly remembers the wedding of Sheila David which was held at the All Saints Cathedral in Civil Lines. At this point Allen David went silent, his countenance changed and he became grumpy again. In a sudden twist, Allen David abruptly ended the conversation saying that beyond this he knew nothing. He stood from his chair and pushed his hand towards Ibrahim for a discourteous handshake, silently gesturing that it was time to go.

Returning back from Allen David’s home, Ibrahim felt satisfied, at least he had traced Miss David up to her marriage to Lieutenant Brian Wilson and her moving to Lucknow.

Ibrahim reached Lucknow cantonment situated at 31 Nehru Road two days later, on Monday. The commanding officer was a short statured officer in his early forties. The officer gave respect when Ibrahim introduced himself as a retired Professor. Ibrahim didn’t take long to come to the point. The officer smiled, Ibrahim didn’t understand whether the smile was in response to his absurd query or his innocent demeanor. It took almost an hour but the officer did come up with an answer. He told Ibrahim that Brian Wilson was posted as a Lieutenant and was in Lucknow with the Gorkha Regiment from 1970 to 1972. He was a bright officer and got promoted to Captain in 1971 and subsequently transferred to Kupwara in Jammu and Kashmir.

It took five more days for Ibrahim to plan a visit to Srinagar. Landing at Srinagar airport, Ibrahim realized how different this part of India is from the Indo Gangetic plain. The scene outside was also very different, every crossing and every street had a visible presence of security personnel. However, these things did not bother Ibrahim, his mind was too preoccupied with Captain Brian Wilson. Ibrahim hired a taxi and reached Kupwara.

The fortified Army command at Kupwara was heavily guarded. It took more than three hours for Ibrahim to get the necessary clearance to get an appointment with the Commanding Officer. Fortunately, the Commanding Officer was an alumnus of University of Allahabad and he gave Ibrahim the respect of a teacher. Things moved fast and within half an hour Ibrahim had a sheet of paper in front of him with a photograph of an Army Officer in combat uniform. The officer informed Ibrahim that Captain Brian Wilson served in Jammu and Kashmir and then was transferred to Army School Pune in 1976.

Ibrahim took a direct flight from Srinagar to Pune. After staying in a hotel, the next morning Ibrahim reached Army school. Here it was easy to get information. Ibrahim noted that Major Brian Wilson had stayed in Pune till 1980 and then was transferred to the Galwan valley in the Western sector.

It was a cold morning when Ibrahim reached the Headquarters of the Western Command at Chandi mandir Cantonment in Panchkula (Haryana). After two days of convincing arguments, Ibrahim got an opportunity to meet the Commanding Officer. Ibrahim felt that as soon as he started asking questions about Major Brian Wilson, he was getting treated with skepticism. Rather than getting answers, Officers started interrogating him. The Commanding Officer made a phone call to the Registrar of University of Allahabad to confirm the identity of Ibrahim. Ibrahim was not allowed to leave and was confined to a barricaded area for some hours.

After talking to the University authorities at Allahabad, something happened that made the Army Officers mellow in their stance. The Commanding officer told Ibrahim that Major Brian Wilson did not complete his full posting. In a border skirmish he lost his life. His widow, Mrs. Wilson, lives in Nainital and gets the life pension from the Army. As Ibrahim was leaving, profusely thanking the Army officers, in a passing reference somebody mentioned that Mrs. Wilson, for no obvious reason, lives in Nainital using her maiden name Sheila David.

As Ibrahim returned to Allahabad, he realized he had a bag full of information. All his queries had been answered and now the only thing remaining was a visit to Nainital.

The bus took approximately ten hours to reach Nainital. Ibrahim had visited Nainital some three decades back, today while travelling in the taxi for reaching the hotel he observed that Nainital had changed a lot. For some unexplainable reason he felt that even the size of the Naini lake had shrunk. Ibrahim reached his destination The Hotel Pavilion where he checked in. It was already five in the evening and Ibrahim decided to rest.

Nainital Head Post Office is located in Mallital, near the northern end of the Naini Lake, Ibrahim reached the Post office precisely at ten minutes to nine. The public business had not yet started but the post office was abuzz with activity. Two staff in Khaki uniform were sifting through bags full of envelopes and post cards and busy sorting the post. Several postmen were taking their seats and arranging their postal material according to their areas. Randomly Ibrahim approached the post man who looked old. He showed a name written on a piece of paper to the post man, the postman fished out an old reading glass, round rimmed, and read ‘Sheila David’. He gave the impression that his mind was trying to recall a faint memory. From his seat, the old post man gestured to another postman. This man, a few years younger, now came to the seat and looked at the name. His eyes showed glint, in a gesture that expressed affirmation he nodded his head. Ibrahim observed that this postman had a mouthful of paan. The new postman went a few steps back and spit the paan in the crevice between the two dissecting walls which was already heavily stained. Once his mouth was empty, this man took no time to mention that Sheila David lived at Ayarpatta Hill located west of Naini lake. Ibrahim thanked the postmen and went back to his hotel.

Ibrahim took an early lunch and reflected upon his journey of the last fifteen days. He felt happy that in a short time he had achieved the impossible. Now at last he had the actual address of Miss David. He decided to go to Miss David’s house at around four in the evening.

From the outside the house looked like an old English retreat. The wooden gate sported a dangling wooden nameplate on which the name Sheila David was painted in italics. There was a bell on the left pillar, Ibrahim pressed the bell. The bell was not answered, so he pressed again. From the far corner of the path that merged into the house a man appeared who was walking towards him. The man looked of Nepali descent. The man asked Ibrahim who he was. Ibrahim told him that he wanted to meet Mrs. Sheila David. From his expression, the Nepali man looked bewildered. He asked Ibrahim the reason of his visit. Ibrahim felt awkward, why should a helper or a security person be so alarmed by a formal visit, he realized that visitors like him were probably rare in this house. Ibrahim again insisted that he wanted to meet Madam Sheila David. The man reluctantly asked Ibrahim his name and his address. The man went inside the house leaving Ibrahim at the door.

Sheila David was eighty-five but had a good memory. Despite her good memory she could not piece together who was Ibrahim but she did recognize the city, Allahabad. Sheila David felt nice to hear the name Allahabad. Of late she had heard that the name of Allahabad had been changed to Prayagraj and she had felt bad. Sheila David told Thapa that she would meet with the stranger who had come from Allahabad.

The view from the terrace was breathtaking. The serene bluish green water of the Naini lake looked beautiful from the distance. Ibrahim sat on a chair, the chair on the other side of the garden table was empty. Ibrahim’s thoughts were broken when he saw an old lady with silver hairs being wheeled by Thapa, as a mark of respect Ibrahim stood from his chair. The lady was helped by Thapa on to the vacant chair. She waived her hand gesturing Ibrahim to sit down.

Ibrahim tried to connect the old lady sitting in front of him on the terrace to the young Class III teacher who had taught him in Boys High School in 1970. As his eyes focused on the face, his mind started comparing this face with the template of the photograph that was taken fifty-six years before. Ibrahim’s eighty-six billion neurons started finding similarities, he felt he was sitting in the same Class III and staring at Miss David.

The conversation that started in an exploratory tone lost its formal tone within ten minutes. Mrs. Sheila David became excited. She too got animated in conversation when Ibrahim started recollecting images of Boys High School as it existed some five decades back. It was in between this conversation that Thapa brought tea and some cookies. He had never seen Mrs. Sheila David in such a bright mood. For a change she was laughing. Thapa realized that the visitor must be a very important person for his master.

Ibrahim probed Mrs. Sheila David regarding her living alone in this huge bungalow. He felt Mrs. Sheila David was not comfortable with this question. Ibrahim felt the same response when he mentioned about Mr. Allen David who had mentioned that Sheila David was her aunt.  Mrs. David took a long pause and mentioned that she does not consider Allen as a relative. In a philosophically saddening tone, she did mention that she has now isolated herself from every person who wants to come close to her for her money.

The sun was just a few degrees above the horizon. Ibrahim was sitting at a point from where he was seeing the setting sun through the light travelling between the silver white fluffy hairs of Mrs. Sheila David. Ibrahim could not help think about the vagaries of biological aging. He was witnessing in front of him the whole landscape of human aging. However, looking at the eighty-five-year-old lady he realized that while looks may be ephemeral, charm is eternal. Mrs. Sheila David had retained her charm even after fifty-six years.

The conversation had now meandered to personal levels. There were moments when Mrs. David would address Ibrahim as ‘son’.  Ibrahim too felt a strong affection towards Mrs. David. In the course of the conversation Mrs. David mentioned that she was circumspect as to what would happen to this property and all her wealth after she had gone. It was now fifteen minutes pass five and Thapa again came with coffee. Jokingly Ibrahim had suggested that Mrs. David should bequeath all her wealth to Boys High School.

Ibrahim stayed with Mrs. David till it was dark, he could only take leave of her when he promised that he would again come the next day and spend some time with her.

For several hours that night Mrs. David contemplated on the events of the day. As much as she thought she did not find any fault with Ibrahim. The man seemed genuine although it did seem a bit queer that someone would make so much effort to find a teacher who taught only for six months and that too fifty-six years back! With Ibrahim’s visit as an omen she made a decision, it was a few minutes past nine and she dialed a number. Attorney Rajan Mehta was still in his office when he got a call from Mrs. Sheila David, he listened to the call and made a note in his diary. ‘Visit to Mrs. Sheila David at 11 am’.

Ibrahim reached Mrs. David’s home at dot thirty minutes past ten the next day. The breakfast was laid out and Mrs. David was waiting. Thapa too seemed courteous. The conversation continued from where it paused last evening. It was while Thapa had poured a second cup of coffee that Mrs. David told Ibrahim that she had called her attorney and he will be coming soon. Continuing she told Ibrahim that she felt it was time to ink a ‘will’ for her assets after her death. She mentioned that she wanted Ibrahim to act as a guarantor of the deed. She told Ibrahim that the ‘will’ shall be in the safe custody of the attorney Mr. Rajan Mehta and will only be opened after three months of her death. The attorney came; he told Mrs. Sheila David about the legal consequences and his fee. Later he got Ibrahim’s signature on the sealed envelope and then bid goodbye.

With a heavy heart but feeling happy that he could accomplish his mission, Ibrahim returned back saying goodbye to Mrs. Sheila David. While he was leaving, he could see that Mrs. David was weeping. For as long as he could see from the road, Mrs. David remained looking at him. Ibrahim too felt sad.

Life resumed for Ibrahim in Allahabad. He went back to his routine of reading books on evolutionary psychology and writing articles.

It was a Friday morning when Ibrahim received a phone call from an unknown number. He picked the call, a man with an authoritative voice asked whether he was talking to Mr. Ibrahim Rizvi.  Getting an affirmative answer from Ibrahim, the man on the other side introduced himself as the Additional District Magistrate of Nainital. Ibrahim felt a strange fear. In the next five minutes the official told Ibrahim that he was talking to him regarding the death of an old lady who lived in a house situated on the Ayarpatta Hill. Although she had died peacefully in sleep last week, an inventory of her personal belongings revealed that one person named Ibrahim had visited her fifteen days back and that Mrs. David had made him the guarantor of her ‘will’. The officer continued that as per the records made available by the attorney Mr. Mehta, the ‘will’ had to be opened after three months of her death. The officer ended the call by mentioning that he will call Ibrahim when the time comes for opening of the ‘will’.

Ibrahim felt sad to hear about Mrs. Sheila David’s death. For an extended time, he kept sitting in his chair reminiscing his recent interaction with Mrs. David.  In between his thoughts it dawned on him why he did not receive the message of Mrs. Sheila David’s death from Thapa. He remembered that it was Thapa who had written his phone number in Mrs. David’s diary. Ibrahim wondered why Thapa did not tell him. His mind started thinking.

Ibrahim reached Nainital and checked into the same hotel where he had stayed fifteen days back. He didn’t wait for the next morning, Ibrahim reached Late Sheila David’s house in the evening. Thapa was there but the house looked stale. Ibrahim sensed the eerie silence which was deafening. He asked Thapa how Mrs. David had died and Thapa told that Mrs. David had died in sleep.

It was eight in the evening that Ibrahim reached the chamber of Advocate Vishal Pandey. Ibrahim poured his heart out and put forth his apprehension that the death of Mrs. Sheila David was not natural. Advocate Pandey took the case professionally and mentioned his fee cautioning that the case for exhuming the body was indeed difficult.

The Chief Judicial Magistrate heard the petition of Ibrahim filed through Advocate Vishal Pandey. There was no respondent who could oppose the petition. The CJM heard all the pleas of Advocate Pandey. A point that went against Ibrahim’s petition was the fact that Mrs. David was already eighty-six years old. Death could happen anytime at this age. Advocate Pandey laid emphasis that Mrs. David was in good health and that it was strange that the last rites were performed in a hurry without information to large number of people including Ibrahim. The Advocate made every effort to hammer the point that Mrs. David’s death had an element of suspense which needed to be explored.

In a judgement delivered next day, CJM ordered that the body of Mrs. Sheila David will be exhumed and a forensic examination be conducted.

Dr Dileep Kumar, the Chief Forensic Scientist, at the Nainital  Forensic Science Laboratory examined the body of an old woman. The body had been exhumed after eighteen days and was in a very bad shape. Leafing through the CJM order, Dr Dileep came to the conclusion that he had to ascertain whether the death was normal or there was any foul play. He put the body under UV light and looked closely through the special spectacles. He could see a change in colour of the facial tissues compared to the whole body. Prima facie it seemed that the living body had been put under strain by an external force leading to loss of blood circulation in facial tissues.

His scientific training of Szeged University prompted him to pick certain tissues from the face, torso and under the nails for a DNA analysis by the technique of RT PCR. For control samples he also took DNA samples of several people including that of Thapa.

The results came after a couple of days. The DNA harvested from under the nails of the dead body matched unambiguously with that of Thapa. Based on the forensic report the police arrested Thapa.

Chief Judicial Magistrate’s court was hearing the Sheila David case. Ibrahim and others stood in silence at the back of the court. The police presented its case diary. Thapa under police custody had confessed that he had killed Mrs. David by placing a pillow on her face while she slept. In the moments of her asphyxiation, she had scratched Thapa’s chest before her breathing had stopped.  Thapa had told the police that he had murdered Mrs. David because he knew she had given all her wealth to Ibrahim in her ‘will’.

Ibrahim visited the grave of Mrs. David and placed a wreath. He returned back to Allahabad.

A couple of months later, on a Monday morning, Ibrahim again received a call from the Additional District Magistrate of Nainital. The ADM told Ibrahim that in three days the time will come to open the ‘will’ of Mrs. David. He asked Ibrahim to come to Nainital.

The murder of Mrs. David had received good coverage in digital and print media. Several rumours were circulating in the social media regarding the arrest of the longtime care taker Thapa. Some rumours blamed Ibrahim. There were speculations that Mrs. David had ‘willed’ all her property to Boys High School.

The office of the Additional District Magistrate was abuzz with activity. There were a horde of TV channels covering the event of the opening of the ‘will’ of Mrs. Sheila David. The CJM asked Ibrahim to inspect the envelope which was given by Mr. Rajan Mehta. Once satisfied of its genuineness he was required to sign. In a corner, under security, also stood Thapa. The ADM asked his orderly to open the envelope.

The document was handed to ADM, he read the one-page document taking time to digest its content. Once satisfied that he had read it correctly, he read the ‘will’ again in loud voice for everyone to hear. Mrs. David had written that all her property including her house at Ayarpatta Hill, her bank balance amounting to Rs 65 lacs, and her gold ornaments be given to Thapa who had been her constant companion for the last thirty years since the time of the death of her husband Major Brian Wilson.