Advocate Tejaswinee Roychowdhury

Drama Crime Thriller

4  

Advocate Tejaswinee Roychowdhury

Drama Crime Thriller

Nemesis

Nemesis

12 mins
418


The sun seemed particularly harsh for a December morning. Still, Rishav squinted and looked around trying to make sense of where he woke up, dangerously hungry and parched. It wasn't his bedroom or any room for that matter. He was out in the open, on cold ground, beside a huge dumpster and a wall with barbed wires crowning it. Everything hurt.


Rishav was a big boy, almost twenty nine. And this wasn't his first hangover. But it was certainly the most confusing one, given that he had absolutely no recollection of how he ended up there.


Hell, he didn't even know where he was. This wall had no gates, not as far as he could see, and there was not a soul in the vicinity. He was still in his work clothes, a full sleeved light blue shirt and black trousers. Rishav rummaged through his pockets. No cellphone, no wallet, and no shoes, for some reason. There was a familiar scent in the air, besides the rotting garbage. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. 


Home. Rishav needed to get back home.


Weak, starving and dry mouthed, he started walking. The soles of his feet hurt with every step he took but he kept going. There was bound to be something in this place. For starters, he badly needed food, water, a phone and a pair of shoes. Second, any sign of human civilization and a lead on where he was would be nice.


The last person he remembered was Darshan, his best friend. They had stopped at a liquor store after Darshan picked him up from work, bought two bottles of whiskey and gone to Rishav's apartment. Rishav lived alone, making it the perfect spot for them to drink to their heart's content till they passed out on Saturday nights. In a few months, he'd be hitched to his long time girlfriend, Sunanda, and the apartment would no longer be fit for these little parties. She didn't like Darshan very much, hated the drinking that Darshan insisted everytime Rishav was with him. Darshan knew that. But they both remained civil for Rishav's sake. And he loved them both.


As soon as he'd find a phone, Rishav would call Darshan and Sunanda. He knew their numbers by heart. There were so many questions... And he felt like there was this massive pit of nothingness inside him. It was a bad feeling he couldn't shake...


No memory, a bad feeling, hunger, thirst and a splitting headache. That's poor company, in anybody's opinion. Where does one go from there?


Rishav found himself on what he assumed was one of the National Highways. He was certainly far away from Kolkata. The question was, how far? The sun was overhead. It must have been noon, or somewhere around noon.


Heart pounding, he stopped and sat down beside the road, on the dirt. His clothes were already unkempt. So, sitting there hardly mattered. It was odd, though. He remembered working out, every single morning, for almost an hour. His heart never behaved this way. And for it to be tired so soon, within minutes? He barely walked. It was odd. But then again, it could have been the hunger, the thirst, the sun. He reeked. Perhaps, it was the alcohol. Rishav hugged his legs and put his forehead on his knees. Seriously parched, he needed water.


A rumbling noise put his eyes back on the highway. It was a truck. Within a split second, Rishav was on the middle of the road, flailing his hands like a madman, signalling the truck to stop. It screeched into a halt before him; and the scrawny helper on the passenger seat swung open the door to hop out and size up the interruption. 


"Are you out of your mind? Get off the road, you swine!"


"Please, please... I need help." Rishav was in no mood or shape to pick a fight. With a resigned look on his face, he folded his hands and begged. "I need water... And, I just need to get back home. Please..."


The lean middle-aged moustached driver poked his head out of the window and honked. "Raja, get that fellow inside! We can't stop a truck in the middle of the road!"


Raja frowned and looked at his employer. "Chanchal Da, are you sure?" 


"Quick!"


Raja grabbed Rishav by the elbow and dragged him to the truck. He pointed to the door and ordered, "Get up!" Rishav obeyed. Then Raja hopped up, pushed Rishav further toward the driver, adjusted himself on the seat and slammed the door before the truck sprung back to life.


Chanchal Da handed Rishav a large water bottle. He smiled thankfully and chugged almost half of it in one go. Capping the bottle back on, Rishav closed his eyes. The quiet hum of the engine and the familiar scent felt nice. He wished he could remember why that scent was so familiar and peaceful. He opened his eyes and stared at the bobbing head of the plastic puppy on the dashboard. It's rhythmic bob was almost hypnotic.


"My daughter gave that to me." Chanchal Da broke the silence. "So, mind telling me who you are? Oh, and where's 'home'? Thought you said you needed to go home. But I can't take you there unless I know an address."


"Rishav Bose. I stay in Kalighat. Uh, where are we?"


"Judging by your appearance I'm guessing you had a lot of fun last night." He chuckled. "How do you not know where you are?"


"I don't."


"Bakkhali. Aren't you a tourist?"


Rishav didn't answer. He wasn't a tourist. He didn't even remember coming to Bakkhali. It was at least a four hour drive from his place in Kalighat. What in God's name was he doing in Bakkhali? And why? The only good thing to come off this revelation was that he figured out the source of the familiar scent. He had been smelling the sea ever since he woke up by that dumpster.


Chanchal Da spoke again. "We're going through Kolkata as we are headed to Santragachi. We can drop you off to Alipore."


Rishav nodded. "Thanks."


The sun was preparing to tone down for the day. It was almost four hours, maybe five. They had encountered a fair amount of traffic. "Holiday season!", Raja had mused. Rishav had dozed off a couple of times and in general remained mute throughout the journey, his brief story earning the two men's sympathies. When they had stopped for lunch and refreshments, he had learnt from Raja, who'd grown friendlier by then, that they didn't pick him off any National Highway; it was just a broad road, but a little outside the main village of Bakkhali, still near the sea. His description of the wall was unfamiliar to Raja, whose best guess was that it could have been an abandoned factory or maybe a warehouse. He had also borrowed Raja's phone. It was strange. He thought he knew Darshan and Sunanda's numbers. With a pang of nervousness, he had realised his memory wasn't as good as he thought it was, and returned the phone.


Raja tapped a sleeping Rishav on the shoulder, jolting him awake, and motioned his head sideways. "We're in Alipore." Rishav hopped off the truck at the junction near Woodlands Hospital, and thanked the two men, who smiled and drove off.


A little embarrassed by their hospitality, at the dhaba where they had stopped for lunch, he had asked for their e-payment details or bank details, anything that would allow him to reimburse them as soon as he got home. But they had refused any kind of payment. "It's not like we had to take a detour for you that required extra fuel. Relax!", Chanchal Da had laughed.


He was even more embarrassed when Chanchal Da had handed him a fifty rupees note. "You have no money, how will you pay for transport? This isn't much but it will get you home." Not to mention, he was already wearing the spare pair of old rubber slippers Raja had dug out of the insides of the truck. Eyes down and overwhelmed, he had smiled awkwardly and taken the money.


Rishav had understood he'd only hurt these two good Samaritans if he kept offering to reimburse them. The truth is, sometimes one person helps another person without expecting anything in return. In Rishav's mind, since he was a high salaried software engineer and these men were poor truck drivers, he thought he needed to reimburse them. If the tables were turned or if it was a well to do man who'd given him a lift in his pricey wheels, he knew he wouldn't have to offer. He knew the truth. But Rishav was just as biased as the rest of us. Either that or he was conditioned to think and act in a particular fashion. So, he trailed off to board a bus to get to Kalighat, with his head hanging in shame.


It was nightfall by the time Rishav arrived home. He didn't have his keys on him but the doors were locked. Fortunately for him, he was in the habit of keeping a set of duplicate keys with his downstairs neighbour.


Mrs. Sarkar raised her eyebrows as she inspected him, top to bottom. "What happened to you?"


Rishav scratched his head and chuckled, "Long story, aunty. Could I get my keys? I think I lost mine."


"Uh, huh? I'll have to look in my drawers. Come on in and sit." As Rishav took off the slippers and stepped in, she continued speaking while bending over the drawers in the television cabinet. "Where is your friend and that girlfriend of yours? They were with you! Did you kids get into an accident? Is everything alright?"


Rishav stood quietly, afraid he'd get dirt anywhere he would sit. Darshan and Sunanda were with him? He certainly remembered Darshan, but Sunanda? His head hurt as he tried to remember.


"Why didn't you sit?" Mrs. Sarkar stood in front of him, his apartment keys in her hand.


"I'm sorry, aunty, I'm really tired, just want to go home."


She looked quizzically at Rishav as he took his keys from her and left. Something was amiss. And the stench of alcohol coming off the boy spelled trouble.


Rishav opened up his apartment and stepped in. His apartment was clean. Too clean. There was no trace of their little alcohol party. If he was too drunk to remember how he got to Bakkhali, he would certainly be too clumsy to clean up. Something occured to him. He raced back downstairs and pounded on Mrs. Sarkar's door.


The clearly frightened lady opened the door. "What's the matter, Rishav?"


"I'm sorry to bother you again, aunty. But how did you know Sunanda and Darshan was with me last night?"


"Last night? No, no, it was two nights ago, on Saturday. I saw you three leaving in the car from my balcony. You had already passed out, drinking, I think... You were leaning on your friend, Darshan, barely able to walk, while Sunanda held open the door for you before getting in herself. Then Darshan drove you three off. Is everything alright?"


"Yes, yes. Uh, could you describe the car?"


"Well, I don't know much about cars. It was a big black car."


"Ok, thank you, aunty. Sorry, again." Rishav sprinted upstairs leaving a thoroughly confused Mrs. Sarkar staring at his back.


Rishav wanted to take a shower and a nap before doing anything that night. Sleeping was impossible; he ended up tossing and turning in his bed before sitting upright, switching on the television and ordering food. But his mind wasn't on the food or the channels he surfed. If two days were missing, he needed to know where they were. He wanted to call Darshan or Sunanda but decided against it. By the time he finished eating and turned off the television, it was almost midnight. He'd visit Darshan and Sunanda the first thing next morning. He had questions, a lot of them.


Still trying hard to remember anything at all, he laid on his bed and scrolled through his phone full of messages of concerned colleagues asking him why he had not shown up for work on Monday and a couple of missed calls from his boss. Suddenly, as he kept scrolling, his boss was the least of his problems...


Bubbling in rage, Rishav dressed up, locked his apartment and called a cab. About twenty minutes later he was politely ringing a doorbell. He glared and smiled at the lady who opened the door.


"Rishav? Oh my god, do you know what time it is?" Sunanda's mother was visibly furious.


"Yes, aunty, I know but this is important. I need to speak to Sunanda." He paused and clenched his jaw, unable to control his tears. "And to Darshan."


Her face turned pale.


"Aunty, I'm being nice. You either let me in or I go to the police. Now I'm sure you wouldn't want that, would you?"


She stepped aside and let him in. She pleaded with Rishav, "I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. Please don't go to the police, son. It will not do anyone any good."


"Oh, aunty, you let me in, didn't you? No police, I promise. I just want to talk to them."


The commotion had drawn out Sunanda and Darshan. They stood on the staircase, staring at the foot of the stairs, at Rishav, horror in their eyes. Rishav looked at Sunanda, her sindoor, her mangalsutra, her bangles, with a tear stricken face and turned his gaze toward Darshan. The faces of betrayal, of murderers.


"You two thought I was dead from overdosing on all the alcohol, didn't you? And instead of calling the police or taking me to the hospital, you drove me to Bakkhali and dumped me beside a dumpster? After all, Darshan, you're the one with the big black car, the one parked outside, aren't you? I mean, I'm not quite sure when Sunanda showed up but I do remember your surprise from Delhi, the Absinthe. Lots of it. It's punches with the whiskey. And then of course, there's the two day blackout."


Darshan started coming downstairs. "Bro, listen to me, it's not what you think -"


"Oh, don't bro me, you're no brother to me!", Rishav laughed. It wasn't funny. It was hilarious. He looked at Sunanda. "You know, if you wanted to be with Darshan so bad, instead of pretending you two hated each other and planning my murder, all you had to do was ask. It would have ripped my heart out of my body but I'd step away, smiling. But, I guess you don't deserve that."


Rishav tore his eyes away from her. He started to leave. But then he turned around at the door. "You two made three mistakes. First, you forgot to make sure I was really dead. Second, you just assumed that if I remained missing for a few days no one would come looking for me. And, third, Sunanda, my dear, you forgot to block me before changing your WhatsApp profile picture to you and him, all married and decked up."


He slammed the door behind him and jogged back to the cab he had kept waiting. "Drive."


"Where to?"


Rishav smiled. "Kalighat Police Station."


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