Teesta Diaries -The Blood Is Pink

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Teesta Diaries

The Blood is Pink

Prologue 

New Year's Eve, 2003

Zoya frantically pressed the elevator buttons three times, juggling with her purse in one hand and her mobile phone in another. Her rental ride was already downstairs, and she hated to keep anyone waiting. But halfway down from her ninth-floor residence after having checked three times if she had taken all that she needed, Zoya realised she had left behind the most important thing for today – her red notebook. 

Annoyed at the elevator that did not seem to be moving past the twelfth floor, Zoya decided it was best to simply take the stairs. 

Zoya was a woman who liked to think on her feet. Having worked in media and journalism for a little more than five years now, she was accustomed to an exceptionally fast-paced life. News does not let you breathe, or fix your clothes, or take a sip of water, or in Zoya's case now, wait for the luxury of an elevator ride. Things happen, and they keep happening one after the other, and if you have any wish or intention of telling the news to your audience, you must keep up – Zoya learned this the hard way. 

However, Zoya did not have any news to break today. She was simply late for her own book launch event. 

It had been a whirlwind of a time for the 27-year-old from Delhi. She had to spare time to finish writing her book, all the while keeping up with her editing and anchoring duties at ROX News Agency.

When Zoya decided to go for a degree in journalism in college, she was warned by her friends and family about the risks of the media sector. "It's not safe, Zoya," some said. "There are better professions for a girl of your type," others added. Zoya acknowledged the statements with a smile and a nod but paid no heed in her mind. The thrill of probable danger and the opportunity to see it from up close was precisely why Zoya wanted to pursue this career. 

Even before she graduated, Zoya got an opportunity to work at one of the biggest media houses in private circulation. Before landing her job as the primetime anchor and editor at ROX, she built a prolific investigative portfolio at Sunprime News. She started learning hands-on the twisted ways the world of journalism worked. Some things met her expectations, others took her by surprise. But Zoya was ready for it all. 

She took up the assignments that others were apprehensive to work on, starting from controversial political turmoil to gruesome murder mysteries in the remotest parts of the country. Soon, she became one of the most known faces in the industry, despite being only 20-something. Three years later, Zoya was now honoured with the 'Best Young Journalist' award and receiving congratulatory emails from media personalities she grew up admiring. 

As an icing on the cake, Zoya was set to publish her book that she hoped was the first of many, and from what her agent and editor told her, it was going to become a bestseller in no time. 

With all the success in the world, she still managed to be late for her book launch event, hosted by her alma mater, Nightingale Women's College. When the alumni association and the teacher's guild at the college heard about their star student writing a book of her own, they invited Zoya for an exclusive book launch event and say a few words on the subject matter. 

"Sister Bovary will certainly make a joke about me being late," Zoya thought to herself in the car and smiled, remembering fond memories from her college days. It was an honour for her to return to her prestigious educational institution after all, that too for such an event. 

"Welcome home, Zoya. We have been waiting for you. We thought you might have forgotten about the event, now that you have such a busy life to live," Sister Bovary greeted her at the front gate. 

"I know Sister, I humbly apologize," Zoya answered with a smile. She knew that hidden behind the oblique comments were nothing but love and pride that her teacher had for her. 

Miriam Bovary was Zoya's teacher for her Elective English course in college. While the main courses taught her all that she needed to know about the nitty-gritty of hard-core journalism, it is Sister Bovary who taught her how to dig deep and find out the truth hidden in any story. 

Zoya was escorted to the auditorium by a couple of junior teachers and seated in the front row. After an opening dance performance by the students that once again reminded Zoya of her late teen years, the book launch event finally got underway. 

"We now welcome to the stage our beloved alumnus, Zoya Shroff. We are proud of her recent accomplishments, and we thank her for keeping the name of our educational institution shining bright," the headmistress beamed amid cheerful claps. 

A deep breath.

Zoya was back on the stage where she partook in dozens of debates and extempore challenges not that many years ago. It raised the hairs on Zoya's neck and sent chills down her spine to throw her mind back and imagine all that have happened in her life since then. 

After the bouquets were received and the book cover was revealed to the audience, Zoya finally got to the main part of the evening. 

"I almost forgot to bring this notebook with me today, had to climb up and down a few flights of stairs to get it. Good for my cardio, though," Zoya joked. She hadn't planned on it, but it connected well with the young audience she had in front of her. Confident, she continued. 

"Thank you everyone for showing up for this event. It really means an awful lot to me to be able to launch my book in front of the people who moulded me into who I am. It is also an honour to be able to pave the way for those who come after me and show them that if you have a dream, you should always pursue it.

"However, today is not only about the book reveal. Nevertheless, I will hold it up once again for those who do not know, which I assume will be the majority," Zoya spoke with genuine humility. 

Zoya picked up one of the hardcovers from the table and held it up for her audience. 

"I was given an hour's time today by our esteemed institution to read out certain parts of the book. But you are pursuing a college degree, I am going to go ahead and assume you can read. If you want to know what's in the book, you are free to buy it and I'd be only too glad to sign. If you don't want to, I will not bore you with its details. Instead, I have a very interesting story to tell you – the story of how I got the final push off the edge to write this book. I have it all written with me, right here in this notebook. Can I do that, Sisters?" Zoya looked questioningly at the front row where all the teachers were seated. 

Receiving smiling nods from everyone, she continued again. 

"Great authors have often said that you cannot be a writer unless you are an avid reader. I am pretty sure they did not have murder mysteries in mind when they said that, but I have no shame in admitting that it is by far my most favourite genre. Growing up, I read a lot of Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, and the likes. Today I shall start my storytelling with one of Miss Christie's quotes that I love.

"In her book Towards Zero, Miss Christie writes, 'When you read the account of a murder - or, say, a fiction story based on murder - you usually begin with the murder itself. That's all wrong. The murder begins a long time beforehand. A murder is the culmination of a lot of different circumstances, all converging at a given moment at a given point.' I could not fully comprehend the significance of these lines up until recently. I always wondered how a murder could possibly begin a long time ago. A few years ago, I found the answer to that question. Leaving that thought to be tossed and turned in your head, I'll begin my story for tonight.

"On a very cold December night three years ago, I felt braver than I usually do and planned a sudden solo trip to North Bengal. It was a particularly difficult day at work. I had a fight with my mother the day before and we had not spoken since. I had a friend living there and he had been asking me to visit for weeks. I made up my mind.

"What I had in mind was ten days of breath-taking views, aimless wandering, gulping down momos, and catching up with an old friend I know from childhood. I'm not going to lie, I did all that to my heart's content, and then I had plans of returning home and getting back to my usual life.

"However, destiny had other plans for me," Zoya said, with a light shade of remembrance misting her eyes. "Plans that involved six bloody murders with an even bloodier story behind them."

Chapter 1: Tistaang – The Last Station 

December 15, 1999

"We meet after five years, and you are still late. Some things never change," S.H.O. Ranveer Sawant said, faking a sigh while trying to take Zoya's backpack. He was a tall, handsome man, well-dressed in his fitted uniform, and clean-shaven except for a moustache that he recently started maintaining since his transfer to Tistaang. 

"It's not my fault! The train was late, you know that! And I can carry my own luggage, thanks." Zoya exclaimed, punching Ranveer's arm playfully. 

"I know, I know, but you're my guest. Let me be the gentleman. How will I show face to my subordinates if I don't even offer to carry my female friend's bag?"

Zoya and Ranveer continued their banter as they made their way out of Tistaang Railway Station. It was the last stop on this branch of North Bengal's broad-gauge railway lines. Only a few trains were allotted to this station, and they almost always got late in winter due to night-time fog. 

The town of Tistaang was farther away from the railway station. Ranveer's jeep was waiting for them outside. The seat beside the driver was occupied by a constable. Zoya cast a glance at the name tag on his uniform. It said – 'Vatsal Soreng'. 

"Do you always bring your subordinates with you? Do they carry around your stuff for you?"

"It's for safety Zoya. I am having a guest over, I simply cannot take risks," Ranveer said solemnly. 

"For sure," she chuckled. "I am here for only a couple of days anyway. Will you be able to take some time off your noble duty and show me around, officer?" 

"I plan on doing that, yes. It's not like there's much for me to do here."

"Oh? I thought you were some hot-shot here."

"I have my position. It earns my salutes, this jeep, and people at my disposal if I want protection for my friend, yes. But that's it. Tistaang is a lovely, lovely place, Zoya. There is such a sense of bliss in its very air. You'll know when you see, yes, you'll know. But it is too peaceful. Nothing ever happens here except the occasional theft," Ranveer spoke with regret. 

"Oh. I see," Zoya said, slightly taken aback that Ranveer turned quite serious all of a sudden. "But isn't that a good thing, Veer? The fact that Tistaang is not infested with crime is a testament to how well you are doing your job here, isn't it?" Zoya tried to cheer her friend up. 

"Not really. The place was already like this. There are only a handful of residents in the town. They mostly live behind the walls of their own estates. There are a few villages scattered towards the foothills – farmers, woodcutters, household helps – the likes of them stay there. Everything is always in harmony. I joined the force to make a difference, you know right? I feel like my skills are getting wasted here," Ranveer said. 

Zoya patted Ranveer's arm lightly. 

"There, there now. I would be a bad person if I wished crime upon this slice-of-heaven town, but I'm sure something or the other will pop up soon enough and you will get to use that sharp brain of yours to catch the villain."

"Ah, I don't need your sympathy. It's best that nothing happens while you're here, Zo. I don't want you to get caught in any police business."

Zoya laughed out loud. 

"Hey, you still think of me as your lanky, runny-nosed next-door neighbour, don't you?"

"Well, you haven't really changed all that much," Ranveer said with a grin. "You're still short, still got that huge mane of curly hair, still wearing those round-framed glasses, still wearing your washed denims and sneakers. In my eyes, you haven't altered even a little bit."

"Have you forgotten I am a journalist now? My job literally requires me to talk to the police at all times. I have a bunch of them on my contact list too. You know, resources."

"I'm sure their lives are riddled with exciting crime," Ranveer sighed.

"You haven't changed much yourself, sir," Zoya took a jibe ignoring Ranveer's remorse. "Except for that moustache. That goes well with your uniform.

"Keep your false compliments," Ranveer feigned annoyance. The jeep took a sharp hairpin turn as the entire Teesta Valley opened up ahead. 

"Wow, that is magnificent," Zoya exclaimed. 

The valley was glistening as the slanted rays of the sun hit off the woods that grew thick and green along the Himalayan foothills and then merged into the mountain walls like an expensive tapestry. There were houses lined up along the ascent to the summit. The crests of the mountains were hidden in light grey, cotton-like clouds. Far below, River Teesta was flowing, thicker and cheerier here than any of the other towns Zoya visited, and with a constant gushing sound. 

The air here was crisp and delectably fresh. It reminded Zoya of a newly opened bottle of champagne. 

"You can feel it right? It's in the air. It looks even prettier under a clear blue sky. It's a bit overcast today," Ranveer said. 

Zoya nodded. 

The jeep arrived at Ranveer's government-sanctioned residence in another twenty minutes. It was agreed that Zoya would board with Ranveer only. It was the more economic option, and with little to no proper hotels in Tistaang, it was convenient as well. 

"I suppose when the town becomes a tourist spot, we would see some spike in wrongdoings. I hope that does not happen though. Tistaang is too pristine to be messed with. I might not be here when that happens anyway," Ranveer said, getting Zoya's luggage from the back of the jeep.

It was a nice bungalow that housed Ranveer in Tistaang, Zoya observed. There was a lovely garden out front with tiny rose bushes lined up along the pebbled driveway in the middle that diverged and met again circling a tiny fountain. It was defunct and covered in dust. He had a man servant, a cook, and a gardener at his disposal at all times. From the balcony outstretched at the back of the bungalow, one could get a clear look of the mountains, and on sunnier days, perhaps a glimpse of Mount Kanchenjunga as well. 

Zoya felt a tinge of envy in herself. 

"All these, and he is still not happy with his job," she thought. 

Some other houses were visible in the distance from the balcony. Zoya pointed at a three-storied one and asked Ranveer who it belonged it as they lit cigarettes. 

"Oh, that's the Oberoi Mansion. They're probably the wealthiest people around. Mr. Suresh Oberoi owns half of all the tea estates in this region. He owns a lot of other properties scattered all over North Bengal."

"Tistaang's own business magnate? Fascinating."

"He is not from here, obviously. None of the people who live in mansions here are actually from North Bengal. They have just settled here because of the peace and tranquillity."

Lunch was served quickly. Zoya was delighted to have home-cooked food after a week of dry snacks and roadside meals. 

Over the next couple of days, Ranveer showed Zoya around Tistaang. There weren't any mainstream attractions in Tistaang, but if one knew how to appreciate nature's bounty, the town had a lot to offer. They met a few trekkers on their trip and even offered hitch-hike rides to a few. 

"We don't get a lot of visitors here, but you'll find a lot of foreigners who love to trek and explore the uncharted territories. They mostly stay out of the main town and take up lodging at local homestays," Ranveer explained. 

Their last stop on the day before Zoya had to catch her flight back to Delhi was at a humongous tea garden. It was not open to the public, but Ranveer had pulled a few strings and made arrangements. The board that hung on the steel gate of the tea garden said in bold letters, 'OBEROI TEA ESTATES'. 

"Remember the house you spotted from my balcony? This belongs to them. The Oberois. They wield a lot of power in this region, but they also do quite a bit of charity work. A lot of the locals are employed in their estate as well."

A shaggy-looking security guard finally showed up at the gate after Ranveer's driver had honked the horn thrice. 

"Yes? What do you want? There is no entry without permission," he said, his voice all husky. 

"He sure has been taking weed," Zoya whispered to Ranveer. 

Stifling a laugh, Ranveer informed the security guard that he was the S.H.O of Tistaang and he had permission from Suresh Oberoi himself to visit the tea garden with his friend. 

"Ah, yes. Sir did call me in the morning about guests. Come in, come on in," the guard unlocked the door in a painfully slow pace. 

"Take a look around. Don't bother the tea pickers. I am Hari. I will be in my hut. Yell my name when you have to leave," he ended dishing out the brief list of guidelines and walked away abruptly. 

"Weird fellow," Zoya murmured. Looking around, she spotted a number of women in traditional attire with baskets tied to their backs scattered all around the garden in. Some of them were carrying their children tied to their front as well. They were stopping in front of every bush, checking the leaves, picking them, and moving on to the next. There was a certain hypnotic rhythm to their way of working. 

"There are usually more of them if you come around during summer. Winter flushes are rare and do not really deliver on the quality. But the Oberois do not mess around with profit. They would milk out every last penny," Ranveer said. 

"I guess you can't build three-floored mansions in obscure hilly towns if you let profit seep through your fingers."

"Is that Ranveer Sawant I see," a voice boomed from behind as the two of them were trying to make way deeper into the tea garden. 

"What a surprise seeing you here sir," Ranveer went ahead to shake hands with a man who did not seem in any way would be employed at the estate. 

"I can say the same about you, Inspector. I come here often. I have a deal with Suresh where he lets me roam around his estates and I charge benevolently when their businesses require my services, you see," the man beamed. 

"Of course, sir, of course. I have never been inside before today. I made a special request as my friend is visiting me. This is Zoya Shroff. She is a journalist." 

Zoya came forward to shake hands. 

"Zoya, this is Mr. Kailash Manchandani. He is one of the most famous lawyers in all of North Bengal."

Kailash Manchandani had a firm grip, Zoya observed during the handshake. He was a respectable-looking man, whose physical stature perfectly matched with his professional identity. He was donning a pair of khaki pants and an olive-green shirt, and his hair was oiled up and neatly back-brushed. He had an air of sophistication around him that was further amplified by the golden-framed spectacles and gold wrist watch he was wearing. 

"A journalist, eh? I guess we are supposed to be at loggerheads then. You people want to dig up the things we want to keep buried?" Kailash Manchandani chuckled. 

"We do not take sides, sir. Our job is to simply state the facts that are," Zoya said coolly. 

"Is that what always happens, Miss Shroff?"

Ranveer sensed a bit of tension between the two and decided to intervene. 

"We will leave you to enjoy your solitude, sir. Good evening," Ranveer quickly said and led Zoya away with a hand on her back. 

"What's with the shots?" Zoya asked sulkily. 

"Pay no heed. Powerful people are often like that. He does not mean anything, I am sure."

"How would you know?" Zoya squinted her eyes at Ranveer. "Never mind, not going to let Mister Big Mouth Lawyer ruin the day. I am only here for one more night after all."

"That's my girl," Ranveer walked ahead, talking about how Zoya should take back a few bags of authentic Darjeeling tea from here for her friends and family in Delhi. 

Zoya was not paying attention. She turned back to take a look at Kailash Manchandani, who now had his back towards them and briskly walking away. She sensed an air of superiority about him when they spoke, but not one backed by the best of deeds. 

"Nah, I'm overthinking it," Zoya said to herself. With a few springy steps, she caught up with Ranveer, who was still chatting away about the best tea flushes without noticing Zoya was not beside him all this time. 

---O---

Zoya woke up early next day to catch her last sunrise in the hills. Born and brought up in the cacophony of Delhi, the serenity of North Bengal that she experienced in these few days were endearing. She could not believe how fast time flew. The day of her departure was here. 

Although Zoya was sort of sad having to leave behind the peaceful town of Tistaang, her heart yearned for the thrill and excitement of her job. 

"Ah, it has been ages since I have dug up dirt on someone," Zoya said chewing on her toast at breakfast. 

"This is all you people do. Mr. Manchandani was right yesterday," Ranveer smirked. 

"Yeah, yeah, I overreacted yesterday. He's just one of those cheeky men who like to pull young people's legs," Zoya said dismissingly. 

"He isn't the worst; I can tell you that. He put quite a few notorious criminals behind the bar during his heyday as a prosecutor. He recently retired and decided to stick to business law. Suresh Oberoi is probably his biggest client. He helped the Oberois win legal disputes with the previous owners of the tea estates. Without Kailash Manchandani, Suresh Oberoi is not half as rich as he is," Ranveer said. 

"Are you close with Mr. Oberoi? You got the permission to visit his estate quite easily," Zoya asked. 

"I have only been here around a month Zoya. When I got transferred here, Suresh Oberoi came to visit me himself with a box of sweets. He asked about me, my family, how long have I been in the police, all this. I assume it is something that influential people do when someone new in authority arrives in this town. It is a sort of reconnaissance, you can say, to see if I would be too much of a nuisance or not" Ranveer chuckled. 

"I thought you said the town sees no trouble."

"Tistaang does not, that's for sure. But as you know, someone like Suresh Oberoi surely has tentacles of his business extended in various cities across the country. He might not do anything sitting here and anything not happening in this town is technically outside my jurisdiction. However, as a police officer, I can always send word to the departments concerned if I smell something is wrong."

"I see. Did Kailash Manchandani come to visit you too?"

"Better. He invited me over to his house for a drink. It was probably the costliest scotch I have ever tasted," Ranveer laughed. "Say what you want about him, he's got good taste."

"I'm sure he does. What about Mr. Oberoi's children? Do you know them too?" 

"I don't really know anyone here, Zoya. They are all mere acquaintances so far. But yeah, I have met Neeraj. He currently heads the Accounts department for his father's business. He's married, but without kids, I believe. As Mr. Oberoi's only son, he is going to inherit the entire empire when his father passes away."

"Wow, some people really are born with a silver spoon in their mouth, are they not?"

"What's with you and successful people?" Ranveer laughed out loud. "You really seem to nurture a combustible rage for those with wealth. Envious, are we?"

"No Veer, I am not envious of them. Of you, perhaps. You've got yourself a good job here, bagged a nice bungalow, have people do things for you now and then, that's all very cool. With these Oberois and Manchandanis… I don't feel jealous of their money. What I can't ignore is what they do with the money once they make it."

"What do you mean?" Ranveer asked, cutting his sunny-side-up through the middle and letting the yellow yolk run free on his plate. 

"We've all heard Peter Parker say it in our childhood, haven't we? 'With great power comes great responsibility'. Money follows success, and what comes after that is unbridled prerogative."

Ranveer stared blankly at Zoya. 

"Right," Zoya giggled. "I forgot how you hate it when I use big words for no reason. What I mean is, these people often use their money to get away with things. You can't deny that's true."

"No, I can't. You are right. But does anyone really get away with anything?"

"Are you talking about Karma now?" Zoya laughed out loud. 

"Maybe I am," Ranveer gave Zoya a hurt look for laughing at his comment. 

"Never mind. Enough talk about dreary things for breakfast. This is my last day here. Is there something you can show me before I leave for the railway station?" Zoya asked expectantly. She simply could not get enough of Tistaang. 

"I think we covered everything. Oh no! Wait. You are yet to see Silchow Lake. It's a bit farther away from the town, but I think I can show you the lake on the way to the railway station."

"Silchow Lake? Never heard of it? Is it quite famous?"

"Like most of Tistaang, it is not that well-known. Also, like most of Tistaang, it is breath-taking to look at. You will get some fantastic snapshots for your travel blog, if you ever publish all that you have been writing in that journal of yours," Ranveer pointed at the red notebook kept beside Zoya's plate on the table. It was page-marked with a pen. "You have been scribbling away in that the entire time."

"Oh! Yes, I guess I have. It had been so long since I wrote with pen on paper. I wanted to give myself a break from clacking away on a computer. So, I chose to go back to the old ways to keep record of this trip. I don't know if I will ever publish them anywhere, though. Perhaps these words I have written are just for me," Zoya sighed. Although she enjoyed her profession immensely, Zoya missed the days as a feisty teenager when she could write anything she wanted with reckless abandon. 

As a journalist well-known in her circles now, she had to be more careful with her words now, more vigilant with her expressions – being a woman, even more so, because the somewhat unforgiving world of media was even more merciless towards her gender. 

When she packed her bags for this trip, she simply threw the notebook and a pen inside her backpack in a flickering hope of reconnecting with that creative and curious part of her that she had left behind. She could not tell if she had succeeded. Her trip was more or less peaceful and without incident.

"So, are we going to stop at Silchow Lake?" Zoya asked, boarding Ranveer's police jeep after stacking her luggage at the back of the car. 

"We most definitely are. It would be a slight detour, since that is not the usual way, we use to get to the railway station, even though it is the faster rout. However, since you will not be visiting these parts of the world anytime soon, you shouldn't miss it."

"Why don't people use the route if it is the faster one," Zoya raised an eyebrow. 

"The locals say the road is haunted, that's why," Ranveer said. 

Zoya burst out in laughter. 

"Oh! Come on, don't tell me you actually believe that."

"I don't," Ranveer looked hurt again. "That's why I am taking you there. I am just saying, people here do not usually use that road unless there is a rush."

"Won't your driver mind to go there for my sake?" Zoya asked, slight concern lacing her voice now. She herself did not believe in astral beings or any form of superstition in general, but she did not want to inconvenience anyone else. 

"It is his job to take me where I tell him to," Ranveer said, his tone ever-so-slightly tinged with pride. 

"Let's get started then," Zoya beamed. 

The two of them got onto the jeep and slammed shut the doors. The driver, Ravi, went around the fountain and slowly drove down the pebbled driveway. 

"Sir!!Sir!!!"

Hari came running out of the bungalow towards the car. Ravi noticed his approaching figure in the rear-view mirror and pumped hard on the brakes. 

"What the – what happened?" Ranveer rolled down the window on his side and peeked out. "What is it?"

"Sir, you have a call from the police station."

"I told you to tell whoever calls that I am on leave today."

"Yes, ji.But the call is very urgent. 

Ranveer sighed. He turned to Zoya and said, "Please excuse me. Work beckons. I will be back in a minute."

Zoya climbed out of the car and starting inspecting the rose bushes as Ranveer jogged his way inside the house. 

"Hello!"

"Sir, there is a case that needs your immediate attention."

"What is it Vatsal? Could it not wait?"

"I am afraid not, sir."

"Make it quick."

"A man showed up at the police station a few minutes ago. He says he is a woodcutter from one of the villages. He says his axe has been stolen -"

"Please tell me you didn't call me for this," Ranveer said impatiently. 

"- And he says he has seen a dead body near Silchow Lake." 

 

 

Chapter 2: A Scene by the Lake

December 18, 1999

A piercing scream jolted Neeraj awake from his deep sleep. He was sprawled spread-eagle on his king-sized bed in yesterday's clothes. His tie was loosened down till his chest, socks and shoes were strewn across the room. 

Neeraj Oberoi sat up on his bed, rubbing his face vigorously. His reflection stared back at him from the floor-to-roof mirror that stood across the foot of his bed. His eyes were tired and slightly red. He had drunk quite a bit in yesterday's business meeting before somehow making it to his bedroom that he shared with his wife and collapsing on the bed. 

His wife was not at home. 

Now wide awake, Neeraj tried to figure out the source of the shrill shriek that derailed his slumber. He looked at the wall clock before leaving the room. It was 9 o'clock in the morning. 

"Damn! It's late. Why didn't Radha knock at the door with breakfast?" Neeraj wondered. 

Fixing his clothes and running fingers through his hair, Neeraj came down the stairs to find his father in his silk night gown standing in the middle of the living room. Radha, their maid, was crumpled up at his foot on the floor. Radha was sobbing loudly, occasionally wiping her eyes and nose with her dupatta. 

"Papa, what's the matter? And Radha, why are you two hours late to work and why on earth are you on the floor?" Neeraj asked with concern, halfway down the staircase. 

But Suresh Oberoi was in no state to reply. Neeraj dashed down the rest of the stairs, flinging himself at his father and turning him around. 

Suresh Oberoi's face was as white as a sheet of paper, devoid of the last drop of blood. 

"Papa! What has happened? What's wrong?" Neeraj asked frantically. 

"The police have found a dead body near Silchow Lake, Chhotey Sahib," Radha managed to say between loud sobs. 

"What? A body?"

Radha nodded. 

"Do we know who it is?" 

"Kailash…" Suresh Oberoi whispered. 

"What? Papa speak louder. I can't hear you."

"It is Kailash, Neeraj. My friend, our family lawyer."

"I can't be…" Neeraj gasped. "How did he die?"

"I am not sure. Radha says his car crashed near Silchow Lake, but the chatter around the town is that he was… he was murdered."

Neeraj collapsed down on the couch, head sinking in his hands. Silence prevailed in the Oberoi Mansion living room. After what seemed like hours, Neeraj finally managed to speak, "Who could have committed such a monstrous act?"

"It is probably human nature to seek out chaos. Kailash made a lot of enemies anyway, during his time as a criminal prosecutor. Perhaps one of them got to him," Suresh Oberoi was much more composed now than he was a few minutes ago. "However, that is for the police to figure out. I am going to go down to Silchow Lake and see what is happening? Do you want to come with me?" Mr. Oberoi asked his son. 

Neeraj quietly nodded a 'yes'. 

Asking their driver to bring out the car to the front porch, Suresh Oberoi settled down beside the telephone. He had a phone call to make. 

"Hello? This is Suresh Oberoi speaking. Have you heard the news?"

"…"

"I heard it from our maid as well. I am terror-stricken to my bones, so is my son. We are headed to the site of crime now. Are you going to join us?" 

Suresh Oberoi put the telephone down on its holder and picked it back up again. The call was answered by a young, chirpy female voice. 

"Snehal?" Suresh Oberoi said. "Can you pass the phone to your father? This is Suresh Uncle. I have urgent news. 

The phone call lasted another two minutes. 

Suresh Oberoi got up and made a beeline towards the car awaiting outside the gate.

"Neeraj, are you coming?" he called out. 

Neeraj was steps behind his father, but then paused in front of the telephone. 

"You go ahead," Neeraj said. "I'll be there in a minute. 

Neeraj closed his eyes and tried to remember the number. Aadya has long tried to make Neeraj memorise the telephone number of her friend's house where she stays when she goes for yoga workshops or painting exhibitions in Siliguri. 

Focusing hard, Neeraj dialled. The phone rang away without response. Disappointed, Neeraj walked away

"Radha! Make sure you pick all the phone calls that come and do not open the door to anyone you don't know, understood?"

Neeraj followed his father into the car and looked solemnly out of the window. The sun had come up full and bright by now. The sky was clear. 

"Who else is coming, Papa?" Neeraj asked. 

"I have called Vikram Shaw and Daksh Rajput. They will be there at Silchow Lake. Where is Aadya? Does she know what has happened?"

"I don't know Papa. I tried calling her from home but no one picked up."

The car took off. Suresh and Neeraj Oberoi remained silent for the entirety of the journey. 

The roads were still wet from last night's drizzle. One had to be careful taking the treacherous sharp turns of the hills. Tiny chunks of snow were stuck on the leaves of the trees on both sides. As sun was rising higher, the snow was melting and dripping down the leaves, making small puddles underneath the trees. Birds could be heard chirping, bringing in a beautiful day in the town of Tistaang. 

The mechanical sound made by the car's engine sounded uncannily harsh to Neeraj today. 

"Had it always been this loud? It sounds so out-of-place amid the nature," he thought. 

Silchow Lake was only 10 kilometres away from Tistaang. It did not take the Oberois long to arrive near the water body. They could see a small crowd of people huddling together from a distance. Suresh Oberoi asked his driver to park theirBMW a few metres away and walked closer. He was a man with nerves of steel and that is how he has brought up his son as well. However, neither of them has seen the murdered remains of a close person they were familiar with before. 

As Suresh and Neeraj Oberoi made their brisk walk towards the group of people, a Ford wheeled in ahead of them. From the backseat of the car, a well-dressed man stepped out. Even though it was early in the day and the atmosphere was grim, Vikram Shaw was never a man to be caught off his guard or his style. 

Suresh came forward sticking his hand out. Vikram ignored it and took his friend in for an embrace. The he shook hands and patted the shoulders of Neeraj as well. 

"Tough day as it is, isn't it?" Vikram Shaw liked to speak in a slight accent. "Should we wait for Daksh or should we pay our visit?"

"Let's not waste any more time," Neeraj said impatiently. 

The three of them went ahead. 

"Is that the new S.H.O. who got transferred here last month?" Vikram Shaw asked, pointing at the young uniform-clad police officer who was questioning the group of people. 

"Yes, I believe so. Ranveer Sawant. He's a good fellow, I have met him once," Suresh Oberoi chipped in. 

When Ranveer noticed the three come forward, he excused himself from the local residents but told them that they might be questioned again. 

"Hello, Mr. Oberoi," Ranveer shook hands with both the Oberois. 

"Hello officer. I don't think we have met. I look forward to your tenure here as the S.H.O.," Vikram Shaw extended his courtesy as well. 

"Ranveer, this is my close friend and consultant, Mr. Vikram Shaw. He is one of the top chemical engineers of the country right now," Suresh Oberoi introduced. 

"- And the owner of Froz Chemicals. I'm the second richest man in this town now, at 49 years of age, after Suresh of course," Vikram Shaw added with a sly grin. "Build my own company from scratch. Not a penny taken from anyone else."

"Nice to meet you, sir. I hope we could have met under different circumstances," Ranveer replied, his jaw set. 

"Of course, of course."

Ranveer could not tell if Vikram Shaw was offended or not by being put in his place. The crime scene of a murder was no place to beat one's own drum, Ranveer thought. 

"Is it possible for us to see what had happened, officer?" Neeraj asked expectantly. 

"I cannot stop you from taking a look from outside the police tapes. However, I must warn you, you might not have the stomach for it."

"I have seen my share of blood and gore, Mr. Sawant," Vikram Shaw tried to lighten the situation. 

Shooting the engineer-entrepreneur a look, Ranveer took to lead the group towards the place where Kailash Manchandani's body was found. They left the bituminous road behind and started to walk down the marshy slopes down to the lake. Underneath their shoes, the soil was muddied up from the rain and covered fully in moss. 

"Be careful, let's try not to slip," Vikram Shaw chirped. "So, Mr. Sawant, what really happened here?" he gestured at Kailash Manchandani's dark blue Porsche Boxster that stood below by the lake. The front of it had hit a boulder and got all wrangled up. The windshield of the car was completely broken. The forensics team that Ranveer called over for assistance were scouting the entire area for scraps of the car to take back as evidence. A number of them were scattered around combing the entire area. 

"On the surface, it looks like a case of car crash. There was snow and rain last night. The road is not a very well-lit one either. There are even skid marks on the road a few metres up ahead. It would have been a perfect explanation, albeit an unfortunate one," Ranveer said. 

"I feel like there is a 'but' coming," Suresh Oberoi said quietly. He was the one worst hit by the news, Ranveer's instinct said – perhaps they knew each other longer or perhaps Vikram Shaw was not a sentimental type of person. "You are sure then that this is a murder, right? That is what you were going to add?"

"Yes, Mr. Oberoi. It would have been easy to waive the whole thing away as an accident, if not for…"

"If not for what?" Neeraj asked. 

They are almost near the car by now. The climb down to the lake was a steep one. Ranveer pointed at the Porsche. The three of them turned. 

Neeraj Oberoi let out a horrified gasp. 

"Dear good lord," the façade of collectiveness that Vikram Shaw had put up till now dropped in a moment. 

Suresh Oberoi remained silent. 

In front of them, the lifeless body of Kailash Manchandani rested against the backrest of the front seat. His head lolled to one side, facing away from the public view. The back of his head was completely bashed in. The blood from the injury had poured down and soaked his white linen shirt into a bright red. Making his clothes and the interior of the car even messier were the blood from the stumps of his two chopped off hands. 

Vikram Shaw turned away in disgust. 

"Who would do such a thing?" Neeraj Oberoi asked. 

"That's my job to find out now," Ranveer said. "We also found this pinned to the pocket of his coat."

Ranveer brought out a piece of paper and showed it to the Oberoi father and son. 

"IN… SEARCH… OF… SATYANWESHI," Neeraj read it out loud. 

"Rings any bells?" Ranveer asked. Both of them nodded. 

"What does this even mean? Satyanweshi? It means someone who seeks the truth, right? Is the murderer trying to send a message?" Neeraj asked. 

"I don't have the answers yet, Mr. Oberoi. We just discovered the body an hour ago or so. Please let us conduct our investigation. We will let you know of any significant progress. For now, we need to take Mr. Manchandani's body to the forensics department and get a thorough autopsy done. We need to know the time and cause of death, first thing. His car will be taken into custody for inspection as well."

Vikram Shaw had regained his composure by now. Ranveer turned to him and asked if he was okay. Getting an answer in affirmative, he then asked the engineer how he knew Kailash Manchandani. 

"We go way back. Kailash helped both of us set up our businesses when we started off as rookie entrepreneurs, even though he was practising criminal law at the time. We have spent many evenings together sharing our joys and woes over drinks. Our families have gone on vacations together as well. He was like a brother to us," Vikram Shaw said. There was no accent in his speaking anymore. 

"Seeing your friend brutally murdered would do that to you," Ranveer thought to himself. 

"Fair enough, gentlemen. I will now have to leave you and get on with the formalities here. However, rest assured, I will get back to you regarding the situation. I will have questions on Mr. Manchandani's personal life and background, for which I will need your statements. I would recommend that none of you leave the town of Tistaang till the investigation is over."

"Us? Why us? Do you think any of us is a suspect?" Suresh flared at Ranveer. 

Ranveer knew how to handle such responses well enough. 

"This is basic regulation, Mr. Oberoi. We are the police. We have to look at everything from a neutral point of view in which anyone and everyone can be a suspect. Your unexpected absence would only hinder the process of the investigation. I'm sure you would not want that. In any case, as I said, I will need your assistance to move forward in this case. I did not know Mr. Manchandani, and now I will not have the good fortune to do so anymore either. But you were his close friend and confidante. I will require to speak to you to understand who might have the kind of grudge on Mr. Manchandani to pull off such violence."

"I knew he had made his enemies, but never expected he would meet such a fate," Suresh Oberoi said. 

"None of us do, Mr. Oberoi. My heartfelt condolences."

Bidding them farewell, Ranveer Sawant once again reassembled the group of locals he was talking to before he was interrupted. 

"Am I late? Oh god, I'm so sorry, so sorry. Whatever on earth happened?" a voice made the three of them turn around. A man in his early 50s came running up to them, panting and heaving. 

"It's okay Daksh, it's not like we have anything to do here," Suresh said gently. 

"I came as fast as I could. What a horrifying matter," Daksh Rajput said, unmindfully jangling his car keys inside the pockets of his track pants. "I was out for a run when I came across the news near the tea stall. A man was excitedly narrating what has happened to the crowd. I believe he works at your chemical factory, Vikram."

"Ah yes, this excites the locals, it does. Take a look around," Vikram Shaw gestured. "There are people gathered here looking on with such interest that you'd think we have put on a show here."

"It's the first crime here in over half a century or so, I believe," Suresh Oberoi said. "They have reason to be eager."

"For them it's all a play, isn't it? Kailash Uncle did not mean anything to them after all," Neeraj said, anger palpable in his voice. 

"Let's not lose our heads," Vikram Shaw said. "We should all drive back to our house, get freshened up, and regroup somewhere to talk about it."

All four agreed on the plan. 

Getting off the car back at Oberoi Mansion, Neeraj instructed their driver to bring his wife home as soon as possible. 

"Aadya will be waiting for you near the Siliguri Railway Station. Pick her up and bring her home. Try not to scare her with any details on the way," Neeraj warned. 

---O---

"Are you okay?" Ranveer asked Zoya, who was standing silently at the edge of the road and looking straight down at the trampled Porsche of Kailash Manchandani. 

Ranveer's words halted Zoya's train of thoughts. 

"What? Oh yes, yes. I'm fine. You know I've seen murders and everything. You should carry on with your work," Zoya reassured. 

"Still, this is different. You were on vacation. Don't worry about my work, my team is rounding up the witnesses. I'll soon take their statements. I promised you a peaceful stay here at Tistaang. What are the odds of a murder happening the same weekend you are here after me cribbing to you incessantly how crimeless the town is?" Ranveer sounded exasperated.

"Well, it seems like the Crime Gods have heard your plea," Zoya made a feeble attempt at a joke. 

"I'd rather they didn't. But it has got everyone excited, I can see that. I had to delegate two of my constables to control the crowd when we first arrived. They all want to know what has happened. How can I just divulge information about an ongoing investigation?" Ranveer was frustrated with the situation. 

"Who were the men you escorted down to the car?" Zoya asked abruptly, ignoring Ranveer's comments on the local crowd. 

"The older man with square-rim glasses and salt-and-pepper hair – that's Suresh Oberoi. The younger one is his son Neeraj. The well-dressed one is Vikram Shaw. He says he's an engineer and runs a chemical firm."

"But you are not impressed?"

"It's not my job to be impressed. All is fair and square for as long as things are peaceful, Zoya. But now I have to look at them all in a different light." 

"Who is the fourth guy?" 

Ranveer squinted his eyes and took a closer look. The men were standing at a distance and talking animatedly. 

"If I am not wrong, he is Daksh Rajput. He is a highly-ranked officer in the Customs department. He has his tentacles deep into many places, if you know what I mean."

"Corruption?"

"I can't say for sure. But he knows people. It makes sense that he would be a friend of Manchandani too. He has a reputation of being rude to his subordinates as well. He does look terrified now though."

"It's not like they see their friends getting murdered every day at work. Being rude is one thing… what is he doing here though? Why would a Customs officer be posted at Tistaang?" Zoya asked. 

"He is not posted here. I think he is here on vacation just like you. Never mind, I'll worry about him later. I need to talk to the villagers now, especially the chief witness. He has interesting things to say."

"Oh? Who is it? What is he saying?" 

"His name is Mingma – a common name in these parts. He is a woodcutter and has worked in these forests his entire life. He lives up there," Ranveer gestured at the scattered collection of huts that clung to the side of the hill that went up beyond Silchow Lake. 

"Did he see anything?" 

"Not really. He says he was blinded by a flash; the kind a car's headlight would have made. It was at around late evening while he was wrapping up with his day's work. He remembers being surprised as not too many cars take this route, like I told you before. He did not pay much attention to it and went back to tying up his wooden logs. Next time he looked up, he says there was nothing there, as if the car had disappeared. He is quite old though and probably has impaired sight and hearing. I do not know how much of his words are worth taking note of,"

"Hmm. A tough one," Zoya said. 

"But I cannot totally ignore him either. He is also the one who spotted the car and the body."

"What was he doing down here?" 

"Morning chores, I believe."

They stayed silent for a while. 

"Zoya…" Ranveer started, his mind lost in thoughts. 

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering… if you would… if you could that is… possibly stay till this case is solved?"

"What? Are you suggesting you need my help?" Zoya laughed. 

"No, no. I am serious. You are a journalist. You do this day in and day out. But this is different. This town has seen murder for the first time in decades, that too in such a fashion, right when you were here. Who knows what mystery lies beneath this heinous crime? Don't you want to cover it? Think what it would do to your resume. This literally fell onto your lap. It's like you were meant to do this," Ranveer said excitedly.

Zoya thought for a few seconds. 

"That's a good idea. I will need to have a chat with my boss at SunPrime if he'd allow me to stay and cover this for the outlet. If he says no, I won't be able to."

"I'm sure you'll convince him. This is an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity Zoya. You can't let this go."

"But are you sure I will not be a hindrance in your investigation? I don't want to be in the way of your work."

"If anything, you would be a massive help, I'm sure. It's always good to have a fresh pair of eyes on cases such as this." 

"Done deal, then."

 

 

Chapter 3: Witch-Hunt 

December 18, 1999

"A murder you say? Whose?" Aadya was wide-eyed, seated in the backseat of her husband's BMW.

Nandu was caught off-guard. He was told by Neeraj to not say too much to Aadya about the tragedy that has taken place in Tistaang. But she was not the type of woman to back off. 

"I can't say too much madam, please. Sir has told me not to," Nandu said, looking at Aadya's reflection on the rear-view mirror. She was dressed in a light blue salwar kameez with little flowers embroidered on the dupatta. She always wore such lightweight clothes to her yoga classes and workshops and kept the more vibrant attires for the art exhibitions or other occasions. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, a few strands of hair fluttering across the forehead. She had no jewellery on except for her wedding ring on left hand. 

Aadya let out a stifled laugh. 

"Your sir will tell me himself anyway. He cannot keep too many secrets from me. Why shouldn't I know anyway?"

"I don't know madam. I just know there has been a death," Nandu was trying hard to not mess up. He had never seen his employers look so glum and tensed as they did earlier in the morning when he drove them to Silchow Lake. He did not want to do something wrong today and lose his job. 

"Fine, then I will figure it out myself. Take the shortcut that goes via Silchow Lake. I'll talk to the police and find out."

"Madam, please. Sir has told me to –"

"I am your employer too, am I not? You are supposed to take me where I ask you to," Aadya said firmly. 

Nandu was left confused with the dilemma. He did not want to disobey a direct order from Aadya either. 

"Okay madam, but if sir says anything to me, please tell him that it was you who wanted to go to the crime scene."

"Don't worry, I'll handle it," Aadya assured. 

By the time Aadya reached Silchow, the crowd had thinned out. They had expected a sensational show of some sorts, but all they got was routine police work – people doing their jobs with deadpan faces. Most of them got bored and went back to their homes. Some still hung around hoping for the scenario to change. 

Aadya looked around for someone in authority to speak to. Her eyes landed on a young uniformed officer who was talking to an old man, presumably a local. 

"Are you looking for someone? I believe the area is now cordoned off to the public. They are trying to make the locals leave."

Aadya turned to see who was offering the information. 

"Hi, I'm Zoya. I'm friends with the officer in charge of this case, if that's who you're looking for," she pointed at Ranveer standing at a distance. 

"Thank you," Aadya smiled. 

"Did you know Mr. Manchandani?" Zoya asked. She was walking beside Aadya as she made her way towards Ranveer. 

"Yes, I did. He was a family friend. He helped my father-in-law with business," Aadya was curt in her responses. 

Zoya stopped in her track momentarily. "Are you talking about Suresh Oberoi?" she asked. 

"Yes, I am. I am married to his son Neeraj."

"Oh! Nice to meet you. Your husband and father-in-law paid a visit earlier."

"I see. I could not come with them as I was in Siliguri."

"You were visiting someone?" Zoya followed up. 

Aadya shot a look at Zoya, wondering if this woman she just met was being too inquisitive about her personal matters. Seeing nothing but genuine curiosity on Zoya's face, Aadya said, "I went there for a yoga workshop."

"Wow! You are a yoga teacher!"

Aadya laughed. 

"No, not really. We have our guruji who is the teacher. But I am a senior student. So sometimes, few of us take classes or conduct workshops if guruji is busy."

"Still impressive. Is this your profession, ma'am?"

"Please, call me Aadya. And no, you can say yoga is my passion. I am an artist by profession. But I do not work anywhere full-time. I do freelance work."

"That is even more fascinating. What sort of work do you do?"

"Sketches for graphic novels, cartoons for children's books, drafts for fashion designing firms, there's more."

Zoya was truly impressed. Aadya looked like a simple girl from a cultured background, but her talents were many. She also came across as quite intelligent to Zoya. 

"I believe you are the one looking after this case?" Aadya asked Ranveer, not letting Zoya ask any more questions. 

"Yes, and you are ma'am?"

"Aadya Oberoi. I believe you've met…"

"Yes, yes, your husband and father-in-law. Please, how can I help you?"

"I simply want to know what has happened here."

"I'm sure Mr. Neeraj can tell you. At the moment, I can't share with you any more than he knows."

Aadya looked coolly at Ranveer. 

"Of course, officer. I will ask him when I reach home. I was curious to see the place myself once."

"Be my guest. Please do not cross the police cordon. But other than that, you are free to take a look around. I can do this much for you," Ranveer smiled. "But I don't know what you would find of interest here. Mr. Manchandani's body have been removed and transferred to the hospital for post-mortem. The car has been sent off for forensic testing as well. The reports will come back soon."

"I see. Then I suppose I will head home," Aadya quickly made up her mind. 

"I'll walk you to your car," Zoya offered. 

"Thank you," Aadya smiled. "Have the police found anything yet? Any suspects?"

"I really can't tell you anything Aadya, because I don't know myself. This is police business. But between you and me, I feel like this is a well-planned murder," Zoya said, her eyebrows frowned. 

"Are you sure? It could be something else as well."

"What do you mean?" Zoya asked. 

"His car could have skidded. This road has been newly paved and there was snow last night. Maybe it was an accident?"

Zoya remained quiet. She realized that Aadya probably did not know about the chopped hands and the note pinned to Kailash Manchandani's coat. 

"No Aadya. It was not an accident. There is enough evidence to point towards a murder."

"Really? How can you tell?"

Zoya briefly narrated the crime scene to Aadya as it was when they arrived. Locals had already gathered around the car and were talking among themselves. Ranveer had to ask his men to handle the crowd so that he could get a proper look at the incident. He had asked Zoya to stay in the car, but she was not one to miss out on the first murder Tistaang had seen in over fifty years. 

Aadya listened quietly. 

"That sounds awful," she said, when Zoya was done. "What human could commit such an act?"

"Someone with a lot of hatred for Kailash Manchandani, perhaps. I hear he did not have a dearth of enemies."

"I suppose so. He was a good man from what I know. He helped my father-in-law a lot in his businesses."

"I am sure he was. But one makes foes in his line of business. He sent a lot of people to prison, didn't he?"

"He sent a lot of them to gallows as well."

Zoya gave Aadya a surprised look. 

"Surely none of them could have done that," she thought Aadya was joking. 

"You never know. When I first came here after marrying Neeraj, I heard many stories."

"About?"

"Ghosts, spirits, apparitions… call them what you want. Our maid has told me stories that her grandmother shared with her. When her naani was a child, Tistaang Valley was a place where witches were hunted. Women who were caught doing anything remotely suspicious were captured and burnt alive or drowned or hung from trees."

"Are you serious?" Zoya asked wide-eyed. 

"I am telling you what I have heard. The spirits of the women wronged used to return and lure men into their deaths – men who were usually walking or driving alone at night on this road – just like…"

"Just like Kailash Manchandani," Zoya finished Aadya's sentence. 

"Yes."

"But Mr. Manchandani did not hunt any witch," Zoya said mockingly. She did not believe in any such superstitions. 

"Perhaps he saw one, which is why he lost his balance. His car skidded down to the lake."

"What about the hands? Did the witches chop them off too?"

"They prefer to drink the blood of their prey, people say," Aadya said. "Anyway, it was nice meeting you," she suddenly changed her tone. "I don't know where you live around here, but I hope to see you sometime again." 

"Oh, I don't live here. I am from Delhi. I came to visit Ranveer for a couple of days. But I have decided to stay and cover this story, as it is the first murder in ages that this town is seeing," Zoya clarified. 

"Cover? Are you a journalist then?"

"Yes ma'am," Zoya took out her card from her purse and offered it to Aadya. "In case you have information that you don't want to share with the police, you know who to call," Zoya winked. 

Aadya gave her a nod and got into the car. 

"I will make some sketches on what might have gone down here last night. It might help you and your friend visualize the crime better," Aadya said peeking out of the window as the car rolled away.  

---O---

"So, your boss has no problem with you staying for a few more days?" Ranveer asked. 

"Yes. He was very intrigued when I told him the details of the case. He said I should cover it thoroughly," Zoya said excitedly. 

"Great. It would do leaps and bounds for your career," Ranveer beamed. 

"Only you can be happy about a murder, sir," Ranveer's man servant said as he placed a plate of pakora on the centre table. He was an old man in his sixties and adored Ranveer like his own son even though they knew each other for a little while. 

"You know me, Raju Kaka. I was getting bored of inaction. Ah, these are delicious," Ranveer chomped on one of the pakoras, making hush-hush sound as the steam hit his mouth. 

"Please enjoy," Raju Kaka nodded at Zoya, who was deeply engrossed in her notebook. "I will bring the evening tea shortly."

"What are you thinking?" Ranveer asked after the old man left. 

"Nothing… just a few things Aadya told me when she came to visit the crime scene?"

"Anything I should know about? What did she say?"

"No, no… it's all nonsense really. She was talking about witches who trap men and lure them to their deaths. Let's not allow such silly ideas get into our heads. But something she said gave me an idea of what might have happened with Kailash Manchandani."

"Witches… wow. I thought only the locals believed in all that stuff."

"Yeah. Apparently Aadya heard the stories from their housemaid. You'll probably see her when you go to their house later. Maybe you can tell her to not spread such pointless rumours."

"I have better stuff to do Zoya. Now tell me what Aadya's words reminded you of."

"While she was talking about witches, Aadya suggested that Kailash Manchandani might have seen a spirit on the road and lost his focus on driving, which is why his car skidded down the slope. Now, we can easily set aside the possibility of there being any sort of supernatural activity, obviously. However, it is possible that Mr. Manchandani was possibly distracted by something – something sudden and unexpected that appeared on the road – after which he lost control of the Porsche's steering. Don't you think that's possible?"

"Yes, it is quite possible. Even though it was snowing that night and the road was slippery, I feel it is a bit of a stretch that someone like Kailash Manchandani, who has been driving up and down Tistaang for years now in all sorts of weather, would simply lose control of the car. And then again, there are the chopped hands, the blow to the head, and the pinned note, all of which points towards a well-planned and executed murder."

Ranveer sipped on the tea that Raju Kaka had left seconds ago. 

"The killer did not make any effort of being subtle though, if you notice. Whatever it is that they used to distract Manchandani, it was clearly enough to send his car toppling down to the lake. The blow to the head should have been the final nail on his coffin, no pun intended. It would have been way easier to pass the death as an accident if that is all that had happened. However, they went ahead and bothered to chop off his hands and leave a message. Why would someone do that?" Zoya wondered. 

"It means someone wants us to know that Kailash Manchandani's death was not an accident and that he has been murdered for a reason."

"That should mean it is one of his enemies, right? Maybe it is someone he sent to jail or the family member of someone who had to hang because of him." 

"There is such a possibility, yes. I will talk to Suresh Oberoi and his other friends soon to get an idea of his life before Tistaang. The act of cutting his hands was a particularly brutal one. It shows that our murderer is not afraid of resorting to extreme violence. Such displays of rage are usually seen in crimes of passion, but my instincts say that this has only been set up to seem like that. I believe the murder has been planned in a very calculated manner."

"What do you think distracted him in the first place? Do you think it is someone or something that showed up on the road or did he have someone with him inside the car? Maybe the killer was hiding inside the Porsche the whole time," Zoya threw around different possibilities. 

"That is definitely a possibility, once again. I checked with his personal assistant earlier today. She told me that Mr. Manchandani had a meeting with a premier client in Gangtok. She could not say what the meeting was about due to attorney-client privilege, but she said she would provide me with the name and address of the client and everyone else Mr. Manchandani had business with by today. But I don't think it would help us much. If it is one of his enemies who murdered him, they would not be one of his clients but someone he prosecuted in the court of law. But it would give us an idea of the cases he has worked on as a criminal lawyer."

"Yeah. Once you know the criminals he has prosecuted, you can find out if chopping off hands or leaving ambiguous notes were an MO of any of them," Zoya suggested. 

Ranveer laughed. "You are talking in proper police jargon now. You'd make a great sidekick. I am looking forward to solving this case with you,"

"How many times do I need to tell you? I am a journalist. I have understanding of your "police jargon", Zoya feigned offence. "Anyway, there is nothing else to discuss tonight I suppose."

"There was this other thing…"

Zoya's ears perked up. "What is it?"

"The hole… there was a hole in the front seat of the car. I didn't really notice it for the longest time since Manchandani's corpse was resting against it and we did not want to move it before the forensics showed up and took crime scene photos. But once his body was zipped off and taken away, I noticed."

"What sort of a hole?"

"The kind made by a bullet from a gun."

"What? There was a gun used as well? How come you didn't mention it before?"

"I did not want to add to the confusion. This case is already a hot mess as it is. The murder of such a high-profile personality, that too in such a controversial manner where his dead body was desecrated. I simply did not want to say something this serious without being sure. But the more I think about it and the more I look at this picture, I cannot avoid the possibility of there being a gun involved," Ranveer slid a photograph across the table to Zoya. 

"I wouldn't know about guns that much, so I'll take your word for it. Forensic report on the car should be able to confirm it, right?"

"Yes. If I can get my hands on the ballistics – if that is a bullet hole in the first place – I should be able to check if anyone in Tistaang has a gun of the same calibre. However, the reports will take time. Till then, my hands are more or less tied."

"What about the weapon used to hit his head or chop off his arms? Can you look for those in the meantime?"

"Yes, for sure I can. Forensics report should be able to tell what sort of blunt and sharp objects were used to inflict the respective injuries. It would make it easier to look for them and then scan them for fingerprints."

"How will you look for the weapons in a place like this?" Zoya sounded surprised. "It's a valley area. Most of it is covered by forest. There are so many steep cliffs as well. The killer could have tossed it off anywhere. What if it was thrown into a river? They are all fast-paced here. The weapon must have been carried away."

"You're right. But it is routine police work. We have to look for the weapon in the near vicinity of the crime scene. Statistics say that most murderers happen to dispose of the arms they use near the place of the killing. There is some psychology involved in this, I suppose. Maybe they do not want to keep the weapon on them for too long."

"That is probably correct in most cases. However, this killer seems to know what they are doing. Chances are, you will have a tough time finding the weapon."

"Knowing the nature of the weapon has other benefits too. For example, if the blunt force trauma was inflicted using a spanner, then we can go ahead with the assumption that the killer probably had a car."

"Oh, I see! That makes sense. I wonder what was used for the hands. It is not easy to chop off the hands of a grown man clean. One would need something very sharp. A regular kitchen knife would not do. They would also need to have good upper body strength."

Ranveer's eyes lit up. Something flashed across his mind like a lightning. Zoya noticed it too. 

"What? What is it?" Zoya instinctively asked. 

"I just remembered something. When Soreng called me from the police station to tell me about the murder just as we were about to leave, he said something about a missing axe."

"Whose axe?"

"The woodcutter who reported the murder and possibly witnessed some of it as well. What was his name again?" Ranveer turned the pages of his police notebook.

"Mingma, right?" Zoya said from memory. 

"Right, right. Yes. Soreng said that Mingma had replaced his axe. He complained about it to me as well when I was questioning him. He was almost crying, saying it was his only good axe and without it he would not be able to chop trees and make a living. I felt bad for him and handed him hundred bucks to buy a new one. It had completely gone out of my mind."

"Do you think he is lying? Did he use it and then got rid of it somewhere? He is a local. He would know all the places one can hide a murder weapon that would never be found again."

"I don't think so. From what we know about the case, Mingma has no motive to kill Kailash Manchandani. He did not even know the man, from what I can tell. There is almost no possibility of the two of them being connected in any way. Moreover, you've seen Mingma. He is an old man, quite the hunchback. You think he would have the strength to murder a man of Kailash Manchandani's build?"

Zoya rubbed her neck thoughtfully. 

"Perhaps someone stole his axe and used it as the murder weapon?" Zoya suggested. 

"We would not know till we get the reports. But it is a possibility, yes."

Ranveer and Zoya wrapped up their investigation and planned to relax for the rest of the evening. They put on a movie they both loved to watch together as kids and tried to relive the olden days. However, both of their minds were caught up with the murder and it eventually became impossible for them to concentrate on the movie. Even at the dinner table, they kept circling back to the same topic. 

"I think we need to sleep it off. My brain will explode if I think about the incident for another minute but I cannot make it stop either. A good night's slumber should help," Zoya said tiredly after Raju Kaka had cleared away the plates. Dinner was a delicious mutton curry and handmade chapattis, but neither of them were in the mind to appreciate it, much to Raju Kaka's annoyance. 

"You kids should at least eat properly. Or else how will you get the energy to solve crimes?"

"Kaka, we are not 10-year-olds," Ranveer laughed heartily. "You don't need to tell us to eat our vegetables and drink our milk."

"Grownups need to eat food as well," Raju Kaka said making a face. 

Ranveer and Zoya wished each other 'goodnight' and headed towards their bedrooms. 

 

 

Chapter 4: New People, Old Rivalries 

December 19, 1999

Seated in the back, Zoya craned her neck to take a proper look at the massive mansion of the Oberois as Ranveer's police jeep halted in front of the porch. 

The porch, the pillars that held up the roof above, the foyer that extended beyond – everything was made of sparkling white marble. It matched perfectly with the ivory white façade of the Oberoi Mansion. Ivy plants with colourful flowers circled the pillars from floor to ceiling in a way that was made to look accidental but was carefully curated. It reminded Zoya of the murder. From the ceiling, tiny pots of flowering plants were hanging as well. 

"It looks like someone in your house has a love for gardening," Ranveer said as he shook Neeraj Oberoi's hand, who was waiting at the porch. "Nice meeting you again. This is my friend, Zoya Shroff. She's a journalist and is assisting me with the case. She was present at the crime scene in the morning as well," Ranveer explained. 

"It is all my wife's doing. She is a creative person. She is into arts and everything," Neeraj said while shaking Zoya's hand. 

Zoya got the vague idea that Neeraj Oberoi did not have a clear idea of what his wife did for a living and but was somehow proud enough to show it off to outsiders. She caught a proper look at Neeraj now, which she could not in the morning from a distance. 

Neeraj Oberoi was a well-built man in his early thirties. All the signs of being born in a privileged household were present in him. He was well-groomed for a man and was dressed in branded clothes exclusively. Even his house slippers were from a reputed company and must have cost a fortune. 

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Neeraj Oberoi showed Ranveer and Zoya into the living room. Zoya looked around with appreciation. The inside of the Oberoi Mansion was just as gleaming as the exterior. Sophistication spilled from every nook and corner as everything boasted of an extraordinary touch of class. 

The couches that Ranveer and Zoya were seated were plush velvet ones with gilded frames. The dark red shade added an essence of royalty to it. The centre table matched the couch in elegance and exquisiteness, while the carpet underneath it was quite certainly Persian. There were antique statues of bronze, ivory, porcelain, and China clay at the right spots. An elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling above. The heat emanating from the lights was enough to keep the living room warm. 

A small flame was flickering in the hearth of the fireplace, somehow managing to keep itself alive amid a heap of cinder. The mantelpiece mostly had framed pictures of the Oberoi family. A much bigger frame hung from the wall above. 

Neeraj caught Zoya looking at it and cleared his voice. 

"That's my mother, in case you were wondering. She passed away when I was in college."

"Oh, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to stare." 

"No, it is absolutely fine. She was a beautiful woman. Too bad leukaemia does not care about one's beauty."

The mood in the room suddenly turned heavier than it already was. Neeraj understood that this sudden revelation made Ranveer and Zoya uncomfortable. 

"Please, don't worry about it. That was a long time ago. We've all made peace with it. We did everything we could, but even tons of money cannot always save a live. Feel free to ask your questions, officer," Neeraj said. 

A sudden clinking noise caught everyone's attention. Radha walked into the room carrying a tray of tea pot, cups, and snacks, her anklets making the sound. She was an attractive woman full of the jubilance that comes with youth. However, today, her eyes were a bit red and her face was puffy from all the crying, and her stride missed the usual spring that is present when she walks around the Oberoi Mansion. Even the bright pink salwar kameez she was wearing could not cover up the gloom on her face. 

"Ah yes, refreshments. Please, be my guest. The tea is straight from our garden. This is the finest flushes you will find in North Bengal," Neeraj gestured at the tea. Samosas and dry fruits were neatly arranged on a glass plate.

After Radha left, Neeraj decided to give an explanation for his wife's absence from the acts of hospitality, but he did it ever so subtly. 

"I think Aadya is busy in her studio doing some sketches. I try not to disturb her when she is doing her work."

"Aadya told me she would make some sketches for the crime scene. Perhaps that is what she is working on."

Neeraj looked surprised. 

"You've met Aadya?" 

Ranveer shot Zoya a look. As a trained and experienced police officer, Ranveer knew that you are never supposed to volunteer information that does not need revealing. But Zoya was not that vigilant with her words, being a civilian. Moreover, he did not know that Aadya had offered to make sketches of the crime scene. 

Ranveer had to step in to take charge of the situation, realizing that Aadya had not told Neeraj about her morning rendezvous with the police at the crime scene. But it was also not his or Zoya's responsibility to keep secrets as per other people's conveniences. 

"We came across Mrs. Oberoi in the morning. She paid a visit to the crime scene on her way home from Siliguri. She had a chat with my friend and said she would try and recreate what might have happened to Kailash Manchandani. We appreciate the gesture, but I assure you, it is nothing too serious. We have our own photographers and artists for the purpose."

Neeraj still looked a bit shaken. Nevertheless, he tried to hide it and continued with the conversation. 

"That's nice of her. She is quite talented, I must say. We never had much of art in our family. Everybody I've known has been in business more or less. If not business, they were into practising medicine or law. Aadya is the one who brought a bit of artistic touch to my life and this house as well. It rather looks nice, does it not?"

"Yes, Mr. Oberoi. Your house – or at least this living room – looks like straight out of a magazine," Zoya reassured. 

"That's why they say opposites attract, perhaps. I try to appreciate it, even though I don't always understand it," Neeraj said, taking a look around the living room like he was a guest in his own house. 

Ranveer caught a quick glimpse of the watch. He needed to get started with the questions soon. 

"Thanks for the tea, Mr. Oberoi," Ranveer cleared his voice. "Now, if you don't mind, can I ask you a couple of questions? I'd save most of it for your father, since he was the one close to Mr. Manchandani. But since you knew him too…" Ranveer trailed off. 

"Yes, yes, of course. I understand. Please, how can I help?"

"Can you tell me about your whereabouts on the night the incident happened?"

"You mean yesterday night, right? I was in Darjeeling since morning. I had to attend a business meeting that started around 5 o'clock in the afternoon and went on till 9 o'clock or so."

"If you don't mind me asking, what was the meeting about?"

"Our company sealed the deal for yet another tea garden near Darjeeling. The meeting was about negotiations for the final price, which is why it took so long."

"When did you get back home, Mr. Oberoi?"

"We got it at the price we had expected, so some of the senior executives of the company and me who accompanied me went for a couple of drinks and a few rounds of pool. I finally set off for Tistaang at around 11 o'clock. I did not look at the watch when I reached home, but it takes about a couple of hours from Darjeeling."

"So, you reached home at 1 o'clock, we can assume," Ranveer said, all-business like. "Is there anyone who can confirm this?"

"Do you suspect me for Kailash Uncle's murder, Officer Sawant?"

"Please, you have to understand. This is routine questioning. My job requires me to make these queries just as much your job requires you to sit through a five-hour meeting," Ranveer answered in a tongue-in-cheek manner. 

Neeraj stared at Ranveer for a couple of seconds. 

"As you can see, it was quite late. Our night guard opened the gate for me. You can also check the CCTV camera lodged near the front door of the mansion. I am telling the truth."

"Of course, I am sure you are. It never insinuated you did not, Mr. Oberoi. If you look at it this way, I am simply removing you from any future suspicion by making sure that you could not have been anywhere near the place of murder at the time it took place."

Zoya was quietly observing the back and forth between the two men. She had experience of listening to transcripts of police interrogation before as part of her job, but she had never been present in one before today. Even though it was taking place at the house of the person who was being questioned, over tea and samosas, and the room was lit with a chandelier bigger than Zoya's entire kitchen, it still seemed quite intense to her. She wondered how the interrogations went when they took place at the police station, or worse, inside the lock-up cells. 

Zoya's ears caught the clinking noise again, but it was ever so slightly audible. She thought Radha was coming in once again, but no one appeared. However, the curtain behind Neeraj Oberoi moved, as if a gust of air hit it from outside. But all the windows were closed. There was no air moving in the room at all. 

"Will that be all?" Neeraj Oberoi's voice brought Zoya back. 

"Yes. If possible, give me the names and phone numbers of the employees of your company that you were with, I'll have a chat with them as well. I'd like to talk to your father now. Would that be possible?"

"If you can believe it, he has been eager all day to talk to you about it. I guess he wants to know what you have found out. But I've never seen anyone so keen to talk to the police before," Neeraj guffawed. "Come, I'll show you to his room. Let's not bother the old man and bring him downstairs."

"Please, lead the way."

Ranveer and Zoya followed Neeraj up the stairs to the second floor. The stairs were covered with a red rug that run all the way till the end of the corridor where Suresh Oberoi's room was. Neeraj knocked thrice on the door. 

"Papa, Officer Sawant is here to talk to you."

There was some scuffle inside but the door was readily opened. It looked like Suresh Oberoi had been shedding some manly tears in the privacy of his own room. 

"Hello, sir. Shall we come in?" Ranveer asked respectfully. He introduced Zoya as well. 

"Yes, yes please. Forgive me. I would have gone down to meet you myself. I just lost track of time… it has been a tiring day."

Suresh Oberoi was a sturdy man for someone in their mid-fifties. He had changed out of the khaki flannels and plaid shirt that Ranveer and Zoya saw him wearing in the morning. He now had a velvet housecoat wrapped around himself. His face looked tired, but his eyes were sharp and observant. 

Ranveer and Zoya noticed that a bunch of documents and some old photographs were strewn across Suresh Oberoi's king-size bed. Some were scattered across his writing desk as well. 

"As you can see, I've been doing some reminiscing. I wouldn't lie, Kailash's passing has caught me completely off-guard. He wasn't just my lawyer. We were lifelong friends. As Vikram told you in the morning, he was like a brother to us. I was just going through some memories," Suresh Oberoi picked up a couple of photographs and held them out for Ranveer and Zoya. 

Zoya took one. Suresh Oberoi and Kailash Manchandani were standing beside a lake, with their arms around each other's shoulders. Vikram Shaw was seated by the lake with his fishing rod dipped in the water. He was turning around to pose for the picture. They were all young in the picture, probably in their early forties. 

"Daksh took that picture. We made fun of how he could not be in it. This was taken at… at Silchow Lake. Destiny plays such cruel jokes," Suresh Oberoi gave a sad smile.

"I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Oberoi. We both are," Zoya said. 

"It's okay. I will not waste your time with nostalgia. Please ask your questions, officer. I assume you would want to know where I was the evening the incident took place?"

Ranveer nodded. He wondered if Suresh Oberoi had done police interrogation before. He did not have the defiance in him that his son did about answering questions. But then again, he was such a seasoned businessman, Ranveer thought. It would not be surprising if he had rubbed his shoulders with the police on a few occasions over the years.

"I was here at home. I did not go out anywhere. My man servant Chirag and our security guard should be able to confirm it, if you need it. I was holed up in the library all evening day before yesterday reading up the newest reforms in corporate laws for business empires like ours. How ironic it is, isn't it? I don't usually bother myself with the legal aspect since Kailash takes care of it… Used to take care of it," Suresh Oberoi corrected. "I can show you the library too, if you want to see. There are great many books collected over the years by my father and grandfather. Several of them are about law and business. Aadya probably added a few classic literature pieces in the last few years. I haven't had the time to read them though."

"We would certainly like to visit your library. However, I had some more questions, if that's okay."

"About me?"

"Regarding Kailash Manchandani's past. You were close friends for decades. He knew a lot about your business. I can only assume that you knew about his as well. Can you tell me if there is anyone in his past who might want to seek revenge?"

"There are many such, as it often happens with his line of work. However, I cannot remember anyone as notorious to commit a murder as brutal."

"Could it be a gang? Did Mr. Manchandani ever deal with any underground mafia groups?"

Suresh Oberoi looked up straight. 

"Yes! He did! That was more than two decades ago. It was probably one of his earliest criminal cases. He was an up-and-coming public prosecutor and was acting as the lawyer in a murder case. The convict was accused of killing a young girl. He was a pretty young man himself, not too older than twenty or so."

"What happened in the case?"

"Kailash proved him guilty and also revealed that he was involved with drug peddling. It turned out that the man was selling drugs to teenagers in and around his town. The girl probably got caught up in the middle of something or got scared and tried to talk to the police, and thus had to pay with her life. I don't know too many details about the case, you will probably find them somewhere in Kailash's case file cabinet. However, I do remember him telling us how the convict threatened him of dire consequences when he was taken away by the authorities. He said he would make sure that Kailash paid for ruining his life. He was supposed to serve a life sentence, if I remember right. But if the man got out of jail, he might have been responsible for Kailash's murder," Suresh Oberoi stopped for breath. 

"Can you give me the name of the convict? I will find out through internal sources if he has been released or somehow managed to escape. 

"Yash Zongpa."

Ranveer noted the name in his notebook. 

"Do you have any further questions, officer?" Neeraj asked. He was silent throughout the conversation. He had never heard of this story before or the name Yash Zongpa. 

"No, that'll be all for now. I will not disturb Mr. Oberoi during his time of grief. However, if I do need anything, I will drop by."

"Please, feel free to. I want to help find Kailash's murderer in every way I can," Suresh Oberoi reassured. 

Ranveer, Zoya, and Neeraj came out of Suresh Oberoi's room closing the door behind them. 

"Can we talk to Mrs. Oberoi now? Or will she be offended if we disturb during her time of art?"

"I am sure she can make time for some questions. This is urgent police business after all," Neeraj said, but did not sound too hopeful. I'll go and ask. 

Keeping Ranveer and Zoya waiting in the lobby, Neeraj took a turn and knocked on a door at the landing of the staircase. A muffled voice from inside said, "Come in."

Neeraj went in. After a few minutes, he came out and gestured at Ranveer and Zoya to come in. 

"She said it would be fine to talk to her in the studio itself," Neeraj whispered as they approached the door. 

Inside, Aadya greeted them with the warmest smile. 

"Please, welcome to my abode. We live in a huge house, but this is where I truly feel at home," Aadya spread her hands. There were works of art everywhere. The room was a small one, but it was spacious and airy. It was not the usual kind of mess that artist's studios usually are. All the sketches and paintings were neatly arranged. 

Most of Aadya's work were precise pencil sketches or vivid oil painting of human characters done with bold brushwork. But there were a cluster of canvases kept separately on one side. Those were different than the rest. Those were landscape drawings of trees, hills, sunrises, sunsets, and more trees. On the surface, they looked unmindfully done, without a lot of care. But upon close inspection, the pictures would seem much more alive, with every little detail paid done with utmost care and caution. 

Zoya looked around in appreciation. When Aadya told her in the morning that she worked as an artist, she did not think too much of her calibre. She was now being proven wrong. She indeed was gifted when it came to art. 

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"They will ask you some basic questions, nothing much," Neeraj volunteered to answer before Ranveer could. It was only understandable that he was trying to protect his wife.

Ranveer considered what transpired between him and Neeraj a while back regarding Zoya's visit to the crime scene yesterday morning.

"Mr. Oberoi, if it is not too much trouble for you, can you give us the room. I would prefer to question madam privately."

Neeraj raised his eyebrows at the request, but did not say anything. He quietly left the room. 

"Let's start with where you were that night?" Ranveer jumped straight to the point. 

"I told your friend yesterday. I was in Kolkata city for a painting exhibition at 'The Viceroy Grand' from where I travelled to Belur Math attending and co-conducting a yoga workshop for my Guruji. I left early in the afternoon day before yesterday and reached yesterday by 5-5:30 o'clock at Silliguri railway station. I was busy with the workshops all day and evening in Belur & Viceroy. In the morning, our driver Nandu picked me up from Siliguri railway station and drove me back to Tistaang. He told me about the murder in the car and that Neeraj wanted me back home as fast as possible. Hearing that it was Mr. Manchandani who was murdered, I decided to pay a visit to the crime scene out of curiosity. That's all that happened." 

"If you are still not satisfied with my answers Officer, then you can have a look at my train tickets." Aadya said opening the mini drawer.

Ranveer jotted down a few details in his notebook. 

"Can I get the name and number of the Manager of 'The Viceroy Grand' where you stayed in Kolkata? Basic formalities that I need to do as the officer in charge of the case," Ranveer clarified before Aadya could ask if she was a suspect in the case. 

Zoya understood that people associated with such cases often took offence at being questioned and asked to provide alibis, which would only exempt them from suspicion and overall make the work of the police easy. 

"Sure, I have it written here somewhere," Aadya got up to look in her purse. 

"Thank you. Can you tell me a little bit about Mr. Manchandani? We know he used to visit the house often, counselling your father-in-law about the legalities of his business."

"Yeah… but they used to keep themselves to either Papaji's study or bedroom. I have talked to him a few times during festivals and at parties. He seemed like a nice man to me," Aadya said, her face deadpan. 

"So, you have no idea of his business dealings or past cases?"

"I have heard him talk about some of his old legal victories at the table if he ever stayed over for lunch or dinner, or on some occasions when I served him tea in the living room. But I don't remember much of it to be of your use. I am a woman of art and culture. I do not understand law all that much. I am sorry if that was not very useful," Aadya said. 

"Everything you tell me is useful, ma'am. Thank you." 

The room was quiet except for the sound of Ranveer's scribbles in his notebook. 

"His wife and son have broken down quite a bit," Aadya quietly said. 

"Excuse me?" Ranveer looked up. "Did you visit them?"

"Yes. After I got back from the crime scene, I took a shower and then visited the Manchandani mansion. They live a few blocks away only. I thought it was only right to pay Lata aunty a visit."

"I see. Were you to close to her?"

"Not too much. But she is a nice lady, quite decent and dignified. I have met her on a few occasions. She was always warm towards me, even bought me gifts during Diwali or souvenirs when they went for a vacation."

"That sounds nice. How is she doing? I went over to the mansion yesterday morning as a formality, but she seemed in such a terrible state that I did not bother her too much. I spoke to his son instead for his personal and work details. He wasn't of much help though. Mr. Manchandani's assistant did a better job of giving me what I needed to know."

"Yeah, Parul. She is a nice girl too. Well-behaved and competent. Did you speak to his son over phone? I believe he lives elsewhere?"

"Rohan? Yes. He studies at IIT Roorkee. Poor boy. He was trying to be quite tough for his mother's sake. But I could tell he was absolutely shaken. 

"He is a bright kid. He'll come around, I know," Aadya said. 

Zoya took a mental note of the fact that for someone who says they did not really know the Manchandani family well, Aadya actually had quite a bit of idea about everyone in that household. 

"How did you find Mrs. Manchandani when you visited?" Ranveer persisted again. 

"She was obviously still grief-stricken. I sat with her for a long time. She wasn't speaking a lot. She kept saying her fate was broken." Aadya said softly. 

"I guess I should give her some time before trying to talk to her again. But I will need to," Ranveer said.

"Some time? How on earth can you simply get over something like this? One morning, your husband is there all happy and healthy, next day, he is dead in a marsh with his hands gone. The trauma of such things… I don't think she will ever get over it," Aadya said with a sudden sternness in her voice. 

"Time heals all pain, I believe," Ranveer said softly. He really found this part of the job difficult, where he had to push through the investigation in a desensitized manner while others were stuck with the grief of the death. 

"Does it though?" Aadya said sharply. "Time blunts the hurt. Nothing heals the pain of the experiences one goes through."

Ranveer decided it was best not to say anything in response. 

Zoya was quiet throughout the interrogation. But seeing an opening now, she jumped into the conversation to change the topic. 

"Your husband said you were doing some sketches. Can we see what you have been working on?" Zoya asked. 

"Sure," Aadya instantly smiled. "I was doing the sketches I told you in the morning about. I tried to recreate the incident and put it out on paper. Wait, I'll show you."

Aadya walked over to where her easel was and came back with a few sheets of paper. 

"Here. Please take a look."

Aadya handed her the sheets. There were multiple representations of the scene drawn with charcoal pencil. They were impeccably done. Aadya had perfectly duplicated the landscape of the crime scene down to every last tree. In every sheet of paper, there was a different apparition levitating in front of Kailash Manchandani's car, allegedly causing the car to skid and crash. 

The whole setting flashed in front of Zoya's eyes once again, one scene after another, like a bioscope. All of a sudden, the magnitude of the situation dawned upon her young mind. She had seen murders before. She had to go to remote parts of the country, with nothing but her notebook in hand and a cameraperson in tow, to cover the gruesome crimes. 

However, this one felt different.

Seeing the pictures drawn by Aadya, Zoya felt the similar chill down her spine that she felt yesterday morning when she stepped out of Ranveer's jeep at Silchow Lake. The air was cold and heavy. The thick fog had not all thinned out yet even though it was a while since the Sun rose. The road under their feet was wet and slippery from last night's snow and rain, despite being bituminous. The path off the paved road down to the lake was even muddier and treacherous to walk down. There were droplets of water dripping down from the pointy ends of the conifers all around. 

But above all, Zoya remembered the eerie silence. There were people scattered here and there – local villagers who were intrigued by the first crime their generation had seen in Tistaang. They were speaking in whispers. They had the good sense to not touch the dilapidated car of Kailash Manchandani or his corpse. 

Zoya took trip down to the lakeside with Ranveer to take a look at the situation before the forensics team and everyone else showed up. If she were to report on the crime here for SunPrime, she had to have a first look at how the crime scene looked like, and possibly take some snapshots with her camera that she initially brought along to take pictures of hills, sunsets and street dogs. It was no substitution for the better devices used by the professional photographers she worked with, but it would serve her adequately. 

The first glimpse of Kailash Manchandani's body made her grasp. 

When Mingma reported to the Tistaang Police Station, he was barely in a state to clearly describe what he had seen. He was bawling and only managed to get out that he had seen a body by the lake. Arriving at the scene, Ranveer and Zoya saw the car down by the lake and thought it was a case of rash driving. They had walked down expecting to see a dead man with splinters in his body and the car steering stuck in his chest. What they had not expected was to see a dead man with his head bashed in and hands chopped off. They had not expected a murder. 

Zoya had recovered within seconds and got to work, taking pictures and observing the details of the scene for her report. The way the whole day went, with her and Ranveer trying to figure out the nitty-gritties of the case, she did not get time to process the initial shock. 

Seeing Aadya's sketches, it all came back to her now. 

"These are excellent Aadya. You are a very talented artist!" Zoya exclaimed. The sketches were indeed well done. The spirits looked properly ghastly too, the kind that would definitely cause someone to lose control of the steering and skid off the road if they were not too careful, or otherwise familiar with ghostly creatures in general.  

Zoya was doubtful how much of a help it would be to them. But she kept that to herself. She did not mean to offend Aadya in her own house, in her own work studio. 

"Yes, yes, they are brilliant. I'll take them, just in case they come handy," Ranveer hastily said. Zoya looked at him. She knew Ranveer was trying to get it over with so that they can go back to the police station and continue the actual investigation. 

Taking the names and numbers of the necessary people and bidding farewell to everyone, Ranveer and Zoya left the Oberoi Mansion. They were asked to stay for lunch by Neeraj, but they declined. It was frowned upon for a police officer to break bread with potential suspects of a murder.

---O---

"Do you think all their alibis will check out?" Zoya asked Ranveer once they were in the car. 

"They are respectable and easily recognizable people. Even if they try to tell a blatant lie to the police, it would be very easy for us to cross-check and find out the loopholes in their statements. I think an astute businessman like Suresh Oberoi and his family members would know that. Why would they deliberately lie knowing that they could get caught overnight?"

"Fair enough. Also, none of them seem to have any motive for the murder. Suresh Oberoi is visibly broken down at the loss of his friend. Neeraj looks shaken to me too. Aadya…" Zoya took some time to think. "She seems very calm and composed to me. But it could be because she did not really know Mr. Manchandani or work closely with him. She kind of stays in her own bubble, don't you think? Drawing pictures of ghost-killers. Quite imaginative, I'd say."

"Yeah. On the surface, none of them have any reason to kill Kailash Manchandani. But you never know what anyone is hiding or simply not mentioning because they don't think it is relevant to the murder and therefore there is no need for the police to know it. But even the slightest of details can lead to cracking a case wide open. I've seen this happen way too many times."

"You're saying anyone from the Oberoi household could have benefitted from Kailash Manchandani's death?" Zoya asked, wide-eyed. 

"I'm saying that we cannot rule out the possibility. However, for now, I will have to move forward with the information we have."

"And what do we have, really. It's very little."

"That it might be. But cases have been solved with far less to go on with. I am confident we will find a breakthrough somewhere. I am still waiting on the forensics and blood report."

"You also have a name now. Are you going to look into the criminal Suresh Oberoi talked about or is it not worth the trouble?"

"In police business, we cannot rule out possibilities out of sheer gut feeling," Ranveer said sagely. "Even if something seems like a wild goose chase, we would still have to see it till the end to make sure that was not one of the possibilities."

"Thank you, sir. I will keep this in mind," Zoya joked. 

Ranveer laughed. It suddenly dawned upon both of them that it was yesterday that they were laughing over breakfast. Zoya was supposed to be back in Delhi by now, working at her desk at SunPrime Agency or running after some news elsewhere. One timely phone call from Ranveer's subordinate, and everything became upside down. The jokes shared over the toasts and sunny-side-ups yesterday morning seemed such a faraway memory for both Zoya and Ranveer. 

Once they reached the police station, Ranveer ordered one of his constables to get tea for him and Zoya. Like all police officers, Ranveer's desk was all messy. There were open and closed case files strewn across, pens scattered with their caps off, three paper tea cups stacked one after another in one corner. 

"Do you want me to clean up your desk?" Zoya laughed. 

"What are you, my wife?" Ranveer took a jab back. 

Zoya eyed him narrowly.

"Well. You'd never ask me to be," she tilted her head. 

Before Ranveer could come up with another witty answer, Vatsal Soreng entered the room. 

"You called for me sir?" he saluted. 

Zoya scoffed and shook her head. She and Ranveer were friends for years now. They first met when Ranveer's family moved into the house two plots down the street from where Zoya lived. She still remembered the day she had looked out from her bedroom window and seen a blue-coloured mini truck arrive in front of the house. The engine of the mini truck was making a loud noise and the driver had decided to keep the ignition on the entire time it took for the men to carry the furniture from the back of the vehicle to inside the house. There weren't too many. Zoya had counted a nice couch, a couple of cupboards, one big bed and two smaller ones, and some chairs, tables, and stools. Nothing too fancy.

A few days later, while playing with her friends at the neighbourhood playground, Zoya had noticed a boy standing near the pond and trying to feed the ducks. She was always the friendliest of the lot. She had run towards the boy and tapped his shoulder. 

"I haven't seen you here before. Who are you?" she had asked bluntly. 

"I am Ranveer. I am new here. Do you have any food to feed the ducks?" Ranveer had said, without asking back Zoya her name. 

Zoya did not have anything for the ducks that day. But next day, she remembered to bring a slice of bread, hoping to see the boy again. Over the next many weeks, they kept meeting at the playground every afternoon and fed the ducks small pieces of bread. 

It wasn't too long before the ducks got plump and Ranveer and Zoya became best of friends. 

It was around the fifth or sixth week after they had met that Ranveer told Zoya he wanted to become a police officer. Zoya had asked why. She was younger then. She had heard people say they wanted to become doctors and engineers and scientists, but never a police officer. 

"I want to protect those who cannot protect themselves," Ranveer had said. Zoya did not quite understand. When she told her mother what her new friend had said, she told Zoya to bring him over to their house one day. 

Her mother had cooked a hearty meal for Ranveer next Sunday. Schools were off, so Zoya dragged Ranveer over to their house around lunchtime. Over piping hot naans and curries, Ranveer told Zoya and her mother that he used to have a sister. She was named Rashi and he loved her with all his heart. But one day when he was five and she was three, they were playing in the courtyard of their old house while his mother was cooking in the kitchen and his father was at his workplace. 

They were playing hide and seek. It was Ranveer's turn to hide and Rashi's turn to find him. Rashi was counting down from ten while Ranveer was climbing the mango tree. He knew Rashi would never be able to climb the tree and find him there. But Rashi's voice stopped at six and instead of 'seven', Ranveer heard a muffled shriek. He peeked out from behind the leaves. He saw a grown man in the courtyard, blindfolding and gagging Rashi. She was struggling, but in vain. The man then picked her up and ran out. There was another man waiting outside the gate with a motorbike on. He sped the motorbike away as soon as the first man hopped onto the back of the vehicle seating Rashi in between them. 

That was the last time Ranveer had seen his sister. 

His parents had made several trips to the local police station, requesting the officers to look for their daughter. The police probably did all they could as well. But Rashi was never found again. The kidnappers never called for ransom either. The Sawant family moved around for a couple of years because nowhere could they settle down properly. 

However, they did not move out of that neighbourhood. In fact, his parents still lived there. Zoya and Ranveer graduated school together. Zoya then decided to go to Nightingale's Women's College for a degree in media and journalism, while Ranveer went to the police academy in Hyderabad. They still saw each other once in a while after that during festivals. In the last five years, they had only communicated over phone calls and emails. 

"Zoya! Oi, Zoya!" Ranveer waved in front of her in an animated way. 

"Oh! Hi. Sorry, I got lost in some thoughts. What's up?"

"Vatsal and I were going through the case files of Kailash Manchandani's law career while you were daydreaming. We found the name Yash Zongpa and the police officer who was handling the case. Turned out, he is an old Supervising Officer of mine from a couple years ago when I was posted in Hyderabd. He told me that Zongpa is supposed to be in Delhi Central Jail and there have been no news of his release," Ranveer said breathlessly."

"So, he is still behind the bars?"

"Yes. I made a phone call to Central Jail as well. Had to pull some strings, but that's all right. This is a big case. The town might be small, but names like Kailash Manchandani and Suresh Oberoi are big in certain circuits all over Northern India."

"What did you find out from Central Jail?"

"I was told that Yash Zongpa was indeed still their inmate. In fact, he is a quite well-behaved one. He sort of keeps to himself for the most part. Therefore, we can rule out the possibility of him being the murderer of Kailash Manchandani."

"But he could have made someone else do it."

"That is what I was coming to next. The prison official I talked to said that Zongpa does not get too many visitors either. However, the way the murder has been committed shows that it is the work of a criminal mastermind. If Yash Zongpa is that, then it would not be too difficult for him to get word out to someone from his gang and do his dirty work for him."

"So, what do we do now?"

"We talk to other friends of Kailash Manchandani and try to find other possible reasons why anyone would want him dead. We also dig deeper into Yash Zongpa's case and try to find out more about his time behind the bars to figure out if he could have given someone the assignment of killing Manchandani."

"That sounds easy but I'm sure it's going to be a lot of brainwork," Zoya sighed. 

"You wouldn't be interested if it was easy, Zo. I know you," Ranveer said. 

---O---

 

 

Chapter 5: Digging Deeper

December 21, 1999

Sleepless night had become common for Zoya, ever since the murder of Kailash Manchandani. She would toss and turn in her bed but sleep would not come to her assistance. The sight of the dead man would always toss around in her mind. Aadya's pictorial representation made it even more real. Although Zoya did not believe in ghosts or monsters, the bleak and spook atmosphere of the place and the paintings fogged up her mind. Even as a child when her grandmother told her horror stories, she acted as a brave child. However, the recent incidents around her reminded her of the goose bumps she had felt as a child. The images of blood and gore disturbed her mind to the extent where she had lost her peace. The ambience in the old bungalow did not make it any easier.  The creaking footsteps on the wooden floor and the bone chilling air diving from the ceilings could make any skin crawl. 

Raju Kaka's stories were an addition to all of the spookiness that Zoya had felt. As a native of Tistaang and his ancestors being part of the land since the preamble, Raju Kaka knew a lot of its history. After dinner, he came to Zoya's room to leave a glass of milk.

"You should get some rest. You people are always working", he advised. 

He was about to leave when Zoya stopped him, "You were telling us something about witches last day Kaka, was it true?"

"I have never experienced anything supernatural myself but I have mostly heard stories from my great grandmother. People during that time had seen and experienced a lot of the things that they will not be able to explain."

"What do you mean? What did your great grandmother experience?" Zoya questioned with interest.

"When my great grandmother was in her adolescence, she had her most prominent and strangest experience. One night when the entire village should have been asleep, she heard a lot of noise coming outside the house. She saw her mother preparing the lantern to go out. When she tried to go along with her, she was ordered to stay behind. My great grandmother was never the most obedient child. Curiosity got the best of her and after a while she left the house quietly and followed the villagers inside the jungle."

Zoya was intrigued, "She must be a brave one to go inside the jungle so late in the night."

Raju Kaka smiled, "Children of this land are not worried about the jungle. Nature protects us. It is the people that scare us more. However, you are not very wrong. She was a brave girl. She quietly followed the men and women casting long shadows of their swinging lanterns. Slow and careful steps had to be taken to avoid getting caught. She knew once any of the villagers saw her, she would be taken to her mother and her conclusion would not be pretty. After walking deep into the jungle, she noticed that a huge crowd had already gathered around an opening. She took the assistance of the trees to hide her small frame. The people were standing in a circle and there was a firing burning in the middle. The first thing that she noticed was the bright red rising flames. It seemed some sort of a ceremony was being conducted. On one side of the fire sat a man in a black robe and white long beard. His entire face was marred by bright red vermillion. His lips were moving in chants which the entire crowd seemed to hum. The relaxed body of a child assuming to watch a holy ceremony suddenly became ice cold as soon as her eyes landed on the other participant sitting by the fire. My great grandmother was shocked to see a young women in her initial adulthood sitting on the ground with almost all clothes torn. The cold body was marked with bruises and painted with blood stains. What chilled my grandmother's heart to its core was the blood shot eyes that stared at the crowd around her. People kept throwing cusses at the young woman but she had no responses. It seemed she had been transported into a trance like state. My grandmother could not take her eyes away even though her entire body shivered at the sight. Before she could see the culmination of the ceremony, her mother had noticed her hiding behind a tree. Her eyes were immediately closed and she was pulled back home. She had multiple questions in her mind but none of them were answered. Her mother would silence her each time she brought up the topic. The night was over but she could not bring herself to forget the sight she had as if it had been engraved in her mind."

Zoya could not hold herself back, "So, her queries were left in darkness?"

"Until her adulthood, yes. Once she had grown up, her mother had revealed the happenings of the day. The young woman was accused by the villagers of practising witchcraft. They had found suspicious objects in her house which they believed she used for black magic. Her entire family was convinced that she could be cured by a holy ceremony. The simple people had no other option but to agree. Opposing the villagers would not have gone down well for them. The old parents also wanted to save their only child. The villagers took the woman for the ceremony against her will and performed different rites. The ending of such ceremonies were never pleasant and was never meant for survival. My great grandmother's young mind could not fathom the inhuman act which led to a life being perished. The villagers, however, had true belief in such ceremonies. With time and the influx of modern civilization such ceremonies ended. However, it is believed that the souls that were wronged have made home in the woods. We all remain very cautious about not disturbing in spirit."

Even after Raju Kaka left, his words remained with her. She wondered about the beliefs and traditions of different cultures that has been collected in history. Her logical mind knew that the murder had nothing to do with spirits yet there was something in the stories of Tistaang that spiked her inquisition. Like the small girl chasing curiosity into the woods, Zoya chased the doubts in her mind. 

 

---O---

 

Ranveer remained lost in the scattered files on his desk. There were too many loose ends that he was unable to tie. Kailash Manchandani, a popular and successful lawyer could have a huge list of enemies. Cancelling out all the possibilities was going to be difficult task. His list began with Yash Zongpa who was in the Central Jail at the time of the murder. Although he was one of the prime suspects due to his threats to Mr. Manchandani, it meant that he could not have committed the murder by himself. It was important to get in touch with old members from Yssh's gang. Ranveer used his informants and found out that a local chap named Sunny was part of Zongpa's gang in the early 90's. Although the fellow had left all criminal activities and lives with his family working as a farmer, he could be of help to get more information on Yash Zongpa. Sunny may be out of illegal business but the fact could not be negated that he could be an ally, helping Yash on his plans from the outside.

Ranveer was wrapped in his thoughts, when an ordinary middle-aged man walked in his chamber. The constable introduced him as Sunny and left the room. Sunny had a common face which cannot be distinguished from the other natives. So, Ranveer felt like he had seen the man before. Sunny waited at the entrance, certainly uncomfortable to be in this place. Looking at his hesitation, Ranveer insisted him to take a seat at his desk. 

"You do not need to be so nervous. This is a regular investigation."

Ranveer's words had some effect although very little and Sunny placed himself on the chair. His body language still remained stiff. His past criminal connections did not make him the best of friends with the police. He was leading an honest life with his family and wished to be away from all the mess.

"You know Yash Zongpa, correct?" Ranveer enquired.

"Yes, we were friends. He was the leader of a small gang that used to do some local business in the other side of valley area."

"And the business was related to drugs. Am I correct?"

Sweat droplets appeared on Sunny's forehead. He simply nodded his head in agreement. Seeing his pale face Ranveer continued, "Do not worry, I am not charging you for selling drugs. Tell me, was there any connection between Yash Zongpa and Kailash Manchandani? You must know that the latter is dead."

"Yes the news is all over the place. It was a brutal murder I have heard but I do not think Yash had anything to do with it."

"Let me be the judge. Tell me what had happened in the past."

"Most of the gang members had either left town or left the business. Yash was operating by himself on a very small level. The last time I had spoken to him, he had expressed the desire to quit and start afresh. He told me that he had some debt to repay after which he will get out of crimes. Yash used to sell drugs to all influential people in the town. There were very few drug dealers back then and rich people relied on him for his confidentiality. One such deal had gone wrong. One of the politician's son had bought drugs from Yash. During the party the friends had pressured one of the girl to indulge in the drugs. Due to some mishap the young girl could not survive the overdose. The party was hosted by the minister's son who was to be blamed for the incident but they were influential people who got away with their power. They used their channels and put all blames on Yash. Kailash Manchandani was also fixed by the politician to fight as the public prosecutor and send Yash behind bars to supress the matter and save his son from going to jail. When Yash came to know that Mr. Manchandani who claimed to be an honest man siding with the government actually playing for the corrupt team, he became extremely angry."

"And that is when he threatened to kill Mr. Kailash in public."

Although it was not a question Sunny nodded his head, "Sir, I have heard Yash has been doing well in jail and there is no reason for him to act so abruptly when he was going to be freed in a few more months."

Sunny's statement did make sense but Ranveer could not have agreed to his words as per protocol. "We will conduct a thorough investigation and then reach the correct conclusion. Thank you for all the information that you have provided. We may need to call you in again for more questions, so, do not leave the town at present."

"Again? Am I being suspected, Sir?" Sunny was used to the police tactics. He had seen a few cases during his time. Usually people close to primary suspect also came under the radar of suspicion.

"Everyone is a suspect until the murderer is caught. If you are innocent, you do not need to worry."

Sunny left the room for Ranveer's thoughts. The man who had seemed so noble turned out to corrupt. Ranveer knew there was more to these popular faces. He wanted to know how many more skeletons were hidden inside their closets. He had to continue his investigation for the day. A prayer ceremony was being held at the Hill View Resort for Mr. Kailash Manchandani. His family, friends, partners, and clients were going to under the same roof. This would be the perfect time interview them. Ranveer was collecting his things to leave when Zoya knocked on the door.

"See, I am here on time."

"Thank you so much for that and you do not need to knock."

Zoya laughed, "Of course, I do officer. So how has your day been till now?"

"I met Sunny, one of Yash Zongpa's old gang members. He gave me more information about the case that convicted Yash. Turns out Mr. Manchandani was not as pious as it appeared on the surface."

"What do you mean? You got to give me more than that."

"I will fill you in on that later. Right now we are very late for the prayer ceremony. Let's get going."

 

---O---

 

The Hill View Resort was a thirty minutes' drive from the police station. Zoya had been in Tistaang for quite a few days but she had still not been habituated with the majestic view. Each time her eyes landed on the hills, she felt that each corner has been intricately designed by some divine power. The Hill view resort was at a higher altitude which meant that Zoya was treated with more scenic beauty. Zoya observed that the name of the resort was most appropriate. As they reached the top, the panoramic view of the entire valley opened in front of their eyes. The entire resort was pristine white which screamed luxury. Beautiful and costly cars were parked outside the resort. A valley approached Ranveer's car and guided the driver towards a parking space. 

Ranveer introduced himself at the reception and was immediately guided towards the conference hall where the event was being conducted. Everyone knew the Manchandani's and they mostly had their events at the resort. Hill view was the most popular place for the rich people in the town for both business and pleasure. Zoya was in awe of the beauty of the resort. The crystal clear marble floor reflected the huge glass chandelier at the foyer. Large, spiral steps rose towards the upper floor. Zoya and Ranveer were guided towards the lawn. The conference area was right by the pool. Zoya watched people enjoying swimming in the clean blue water of the pool. Some spent a lazy afternoon on the lawn chairs. They did not have time for comfort. There was a murder to solve.

When Zoya and Ranveer entered the huge conference room, they saw a large number of guests were already present. Some family member was dedicating last words to the dead man. There was a massive photograph of Mr. Manchandani at the stage and beautiful flowers were placed all around it. Some people sat on the chairs in front of the stage. Some stood in small groups around the corner of the room listening to the speech. The duo had reached around the end of the prayer ceremony. After the speech, people went about conversing among themselves and consoling the family for their loss.

Ranveer suggested, "We are here at the right time. The prayers are done. Let's get on with our interrogation now."

"Where would you begin?" Zoya asked.

"You see a bunch of men on the right hand corner. There is Mr. Manchandani's manager and partners in the group. He was, supposedly, in a meeting with them in Gangtok before returning to Tistaang and getting killed. Come on let's go and get the men talking." Zoya quietly followed Ranveer's lead as he approached the men in suits.

"Hello Gentlemen! Sorry to interrupt your conversation. I am S.H.O Ranveer Sawant and this is journalist Zoya Shroff. We would like to ask you some questions about Mr. Kailash Manchandani's case."

When the men gave their approval through nods, Ranveer continued, "I have been informed that Mr. Manchandani was in a meeting with you all in Gangtok on the same that he died. Could you tell me what were the events of the day?"

Ravi Mehta, Mr. Manchandani's manager spoke, "We had a meeting with a client regarding his company's legal affairs. This was big business, so, Sir liked to have the entire legal team in these meetings that happened everyone."

"Did you know anyone who would want to harm Mr. Kailash? Did he have any enemies or altercations that you remember?" Ranveer questioned.

One of the men replied, "Kailash was a good man. He limited his arguments to the courtroom. We never saw him raising voice in public. He was friendly with everyone and avoided all kinds of altercations. In his field of work, he had picked up a lot of enemies. It would be difficult to track them all. However, in his personal life, he had none."

"Did his behaviour seem any different on that day? Something that may be small but significant. Please try to recall." Ranveer insisted.

The manager jumped in, "Yes. Usually, the entire team goes out for a drink after these meetings. However, on that particular day Mr. Manchandani did not stay back for the drink. He left early for home. The meeting was a success and we all wanted to have some leisure time. There was no incident that could have upset him except a phone call that came for him at the reception of the hotel in between the meeting. He had to get the call as they said it was urgent. When he returned, there was noticeable difference in his body language. His actions and words seemed more urgent. There were lines of worry on his forehead. Upon enquiry, he told us that there was some emergency at home for which he had to return to Tistaang and would not be able to join. We did not force him to stay rather I insisted to go along with him, fearing something serious could have happened. He did not accept my offer and assured me that he would call me if help was needed. I wish I had not listened to him then things could have been different."

"I understand your emotions but there is no use blaming on self for things out of our control. The information is valuable and I would also need you to give the telephone number of the hotel. I need to make some enquiries there", Ranveer informed.

"You have all our cooperation. Anything you want, let me know, I will get it for you. You must catch the killer and bring justice to the kind man and his family. We still cannot believe who would want to harm a generous man like Mr. Manchandani."

"We will do our best to conduct a proper investigation and find the culprit. Thank you for your time gentlemen. I may reach out to you again if there are more questions on the way."

Ranveer and Zoya walked away from the group to talk among themselves. Until now Zoya was a silent spectator taking in all the information. Zoya stated, "We need to know who called at the reception, right?"

"Yes, it is very strange that the man got a call and left for home and got killed right after. This is too accurate to be a coincidence. The killer is too sharp. I doubt we will be able to trace the call. The strategic planning tells me that he must have used a PCO booth to make the call. This would make it difficult for us to figure out who made the call."

Zoya was listening to Ranveer when her eyes noticed a couple approaching towards them. Aadya and Neeraj smiled widely when they came close to them. The couple classy in shades of pastel as if they had coordinated their attire. Zoya immediately knew that these attires would burn a hole in her pocket had she attempted to buy it. 

Neeraj greeted, "Officer Ranveer and Zoya, it is nice to see you both here. We did not know you will be attending the ceremony."

Ranveer replied, "We are here with the purpose of investigation. How was the prayer ceremony?"

Aadya added, "It was a beautiful ceremony. We are glad we could attend and be here to support the family. Lata aunty and Rohit are completely shaken. My father-in-law is in the same state of mind. He still needs time to endure the trauma. Sadly, he could not gather the strength to say goodbye. He insisted that we must attend the ceremony on his behalf."

Neeraj looked a little disturbed as he constantly fidgeted with the belt of his wrist watch, "Yes, my father is having a tough time handling the situation. How is your investigation going?"

"It is progressing on the right track. We are positive about making a break through soon enough."

Neeraj did ask the question but his mind was not on the conversation. It became more evident when he directed his attention towards his wife, "Aadya, were you not heading towards the gallery? Why don't you show Zoya around? Aadya has some of her work displayed in the gallery with other eminent artists."

Aadya laughed, "This is no place to show me off, Neeraj. Nonetheless, I was actually going to the gallery. It is beautiful. If you can spare some time, I would like to show you around Zoya."

Zoya accepted, "I would genuinely love the chance to view some of that excellent art. Excuse us gentlemen."

As soon as the women left, Neeraj seemed a little more relaxed, "My father has been going through all old documents and pictures. He might reach out to you soon with some new information."

"We are always welcoming new leads. In such investigations of murder, we need to be double sure."

Neeraj opined, "True, considering people can be so deceiving. There is more to most people than it seems on the outside."

"What do you mean? Is there something on your mind?"

"This is no accurate allegation and there is no proof to justify any claims but you should keep an eye on Radha."

"Radha? Isn't she the servant at your and Manchandani's house?"

"Yes, she is."

"The simple village girl killing a high profile personality. Why would she do that?"

Neeraj replied, "Money. Kailash uncle had told me that Radha had been caught stealing money from his wallet several times. He had still considered her for the job owing to her financial condition and multiple apologies. Uncle would also joke that it is probably unintentional on her part. She might have kleptomania. We have no idea. There may have been some problems related to money between Radha and Kailash uncle which led to this. I just wanted to bring this into your notice. It is not a serious accusation and there is no proof. Still, I thought it might lead to something later."

"You are absolutely right. Every little detail is important and thank you for sharing it with me." 

The conversation died down but Neeraj's proactive approach did raise doubts. It was unusual for people to come ahead and share information. Usually, people wanted to stay away from police affair to not get tangled into it anymore. Neeraj might really be a responsible person or was there more to this dutiful act?

 

---O---

 

Zoya was quite impressed by the huge gallery at the terrace of the resort. Aadya was acquainted with the place, so she showed her around. When the women entered the gallery there was complete silence. The walls had been covered by huge framed paintings. They did not need to speak as they walked by one frame to the other. Zoya was mesmerized the work of all the regional artists. She observed that the north-eastern artists have so much talent which needed to be promoted. She also identified some of Aadya's work on the wall. Zoya still could not wrap her head around the fact that Aadya was an excellent artist. The intricate details in her painting could dazzle the eyes of the viewer. 

Zoya, finally, initiated a conversation with a compliment, "Your paintings are beautiful, Aadya. Words will fall short to describe them." 

"Thank you. You are too generous with compliments. I am very critical of my work."

"All great artists are the same, I believe. However, I am being completely honest about my review. Have you always been interested in art?"

"Yes, ever since my childhood, I have had an inclinations towards the artistic aspects but never had the chance to practice it until adulthood." 

There was a sudden gloom over Aadya's face as soon as she mentioned her childhood. Zoya consoled, "I am sorry. It looks like I have upset you." 

Aadya smiled, "No, it is not your fault. Talking about my childhood brings back memories of my parents. When I was six years old, I had lost both of them. They were farmers and expired in a plague epidemic in a village named Dayapur in Gujarat around 1979-80." 

"I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine losing both parents at such a tender age. Wish the conversation had not scratched the difficult past." 

"It has been a long time. The wound is not fresh anymore. Anyway, I was lucky enough to have my uncle, Madhav. He worked in a textile mill in Ahmedabad. I went to Ahmedabad along with him and completed my schooling there. We spent the most amount of time together." 

"He seems like a noble man. Taking care of a child that is not one's own becomes impossible for a lot of people. The world needs more people like him."

"Yes, he is truly a gem. I would be nothing without him. When I was 19, we moved to Bombay. My uncle had received a job at Trinity logistics. Although later with a lot of hard work and perseverance, my uncle took over the company but initially our financial condition was critical. We did not have enough money for me to pursue higher studies. Therefore, I never went to college. I still wanted to do something with my life. There was no opportunity for me to get any formal training in the field of art but my interest made me pursue it on my own. With little money that I received from my uncle and some donations, I got myself art supplies. I would practice day and night to create pieces and sell them at mere amounts of fifty and hundred. Now when my works get bid at huge amounts, it reminds me of that period of struggle."  

Zoya noticed the air of pride and sparkle in Aadya's eyes. Art was definitely her place of joy. Zoya added, "The hustle has probably kept you so grounded and true to your art. People, usually, forget their roots with the burst of success at lands suddenly."

"Yes, I agree with you. People should remember where they come from and every soul that has made the journey possible. Apart from my uncle, there was another angel in my life who helped me build my career from scratch. Parikshit Sahni, a magazine owner and fashion event organizer in Bombay noticed me in one of the art exhibitions. I was still searching for a chance to get my work in an exhibition. Things did not work out without contacts and I had none. Thankfully, his eyes, coincidently, landed on me in the gallery. He must have seen some potential, so offered to train me in a fashion designer course and get me some freelance model work. I made quite some money in the modelling field. With the money that I got, I got myself more involved in art. Meanwhile, my uncle had secured our financial position. I was not working for a living anymore. I continued modelling for a few more years because I enjoyed it. During one such event, I met Neeraj." 

"Oh, so yours is a love marriage? How did that happen, if you don't mind me prying? I am a sucker for love stories", Zoya laughed. She was glad the conversation had taken a lighter note. 

"Absolutely not. Yes, you can it was a love marriage. I was working in a modelling event where Neeraj had been invited as a guest. He had supposedly seen me on the ramp. After the main event, there was a party where we actually met. Neeraj approached me, all dapper in his tux with wine in his hand. He offered me a glass and I liked the chivalry which is slowly dying in the world. We got to talking and learnt we had very little in common. Initially, I did not think this was going anywhere as we were completely opposite. However, Neeraj was persistent in his attempts to woo me. He believed his life needed some of the artistic touch. I felt his feelings were genuine and he was an honest man. We dated each other for a few months and then decided to get married. My uncle had to leave for Dubai for his work. This was also the reason that he insisted for us to get married and settled. All parents are worried about their child's future I guess." 

"Wow! That is beautiful. I am glad you both found each other. You look wonderful together."

"So do you and the officer", Aadya smiled.

"Oh no! We are not together. I mean we are not a couple. We are childhood friends", Zoya was flustered by that comment. 

"I am sorry for the assumption. I hope I did not make you uncomfortable. Anyone could have made a mistake watching you two together."

"No, not at all but what do you mean?"

"You both are always in sink, like a couple." 

Zoya did not reply to that statement. There was nothing for her to say. The conversation was interrupted by the entry of Ranveer and Neeraj. 

Neeraj enquired, "Are you ladies done here? Aadya, I have a meeting to attend."

Aadya replied, "Yes, we are done. It was nice meeting you both. Zoya, you should come home again. I will show you some more of my work."

Zoya nodded, "Surely, I would love to. Thank you for the invite." 

Neeraj observed, "Looks like you have made a friend Aadya. You should both come over anytime you please. We will take your leave now Officer and Ma'am."

Ranveer and Zoya watched the couple walk away after the goodbyes. They silently walked down the stairs, both lost in their own thoughts. They had both been busy the entire day, collecting their own set of information. They had hardly received anytime to share things with each other. After they sat inside the car to return home, Ranveer mused, "Neeraj just filled me in on his suspicion on Radha."

"Radha?" Zoya wondered.

"Yes, he thinks Radha could have been involved. Supposedly, she stole money from Kailash Manchandani's wallet quite often. I think there is more to this that he not revealing." 

"This sounds strange to me as well. Radha is a simpleton from the village. How would she have conducted such a brutal murder? And if she is involved, there has to be someone else supporting her. Who could that be?"

"These are the same questions on my mind but right now questions are all we have. There is no proof, so, I cannot consider Neeraj's accusation to be accurate. We have to dig deeper into this until we hit the end of the tunnel." 

Zoya was contemplating on Ranveer's words as he continued to fill her in on the interviews he had conducted throughout the day. Her mind was, however, more attached to Aadya's story. She was impressed by the women who had initially appeared to be like any other affluent women. Her stories of struggle added more to her character. Zoya learnt that people could not be judged by their appearance. There are so many stories of past hidden inside an individual. Aadya was a women of grit and determination. An orphan who did not give up on life. She strived to achieve her dreams and made every effort to keep growing. Zoya wondered if the universe truly supported people who fought for themselves. The depth in Aadya interested Zoya and she enjoyed diving into the lives of such personalities. 

 

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