The life of Myra - Chapter 7

I am too tired to think anymore. I have brought some eggs and a packet of bread on my way back, and all I want to do is make an egg sandwich, eat it and just go to sleep.

Viraj has neither seen my messages nor replied to any calls.

I open the door and plonk my hospital bag on the side table. I walk into the living room and I freeze. Something seems different.

I have been living here since more than four years, and I know the position of each and everything, every item and every piece of furniture by heart. I could be blindfolded and yet I could walk freely throughout my entire house without stumbling across anything.

The furniture seems moved. Only ever so slightly, but it’s definitely moved. The distance between the two chairs opposite the sofa is reduced. The center table is shifted just a teeny bit nearer to the sofa than it usually is. The carpet has been moved towards the right by just an inch, but it definitely has.

Fear grips me, and I turn around to see what I can do to defend myself in case there really is an intruder in my house.

I pick up a lamp from the table behind me, and slowly walk along the perimeter of the living room, taking care that my back constantly faces a wall. Once I am sure there is no one here, I enter the kitchen.

There is no one.

I carefully tiptoe to the bedroom, followed by the bathroom, and the small balcony next to it. There is no one.

My heart is racing. Someone was here.

I walk back into the living room, replace the lamp and dial the reception of our building from the intercom.

“Hello? Yes madam?” the security asks.

“Manohar, did anyone come today to visit me?” I ask.

“You?” he seems surprised. Obviously. No one ever visits me.

“No,” he adds.

Of course, whoever had come wouldn’t tell him they wanted to enter my house behind my back.

“Did anyone other than our building residents visit today?” I ask.

“So many people come and go madam. How will I know which one you are asking about?” he sounds exasperated.

‘Ok, do me one favour, send me a picture of your register. All the entries from today morning 8 am,” I say.

“Ok madam. Anything else?” he asks.

“Manohar, did you see a blue Innova parked today?” I ask him, hoping he too must have seen it, and if he can confirm, my doubt will be cleared.

“You mean the one Gupta sir owns? It was in the parking…”

“Leave it. Send me the photo,” I say and I disconnect the call.

I pace about the room as I wait for Manohar to send me the pic.

Two minutes later, my mobile pings and I open the image, heart racing again.

As I scroll down the names entered, there it is.

Lisa K.

I feel panic rising inside of me. The anxiety seems to be actually taking over my being so much so that I feel like the world is spinning around me. I grip the edge of the sofa before collapsing onto it.

Nobody knows that I stalk Anish and Madhumita under the false profile of Lisa K. Then how is it possible? Who is this person? And why have they tampered with my house?

And where the hell is Viraj? Where has he disappeared? And why?

I close my eyes and try to relax, take deep breaths to calm my nerves and stop my lungs from hyperventilating and my heart from beating wildly. It takes me a few minutes to calm down, but I do finally.

Then I get up and call the reception again.

“Manohar, there is one entry, Lisa K, at 10 am. Who was that?” I ask.

Manohar ponders for some time before replying.

“Must have been a woman,” he says.

Right!

“Do we have CCTV footage?” I ask, trying not to lose my patience.

“No. The one in the reception doesn’t work,” he says calmly, his words churning as if he is chewing tobacco. Which he probably is.

“And the one outside?” I ask.

“Where? There is no CCTV camera outside,” he replies nonchalantly and I feel like going downstairs and throttling him back to his senses.

I slam the phone down and sit on the sofa.

I can’t think of anyone entering my house under the name of my own fake profile. Except…Madhumita? Maybe she has been keeping tabs on me> stalking me may be?

As far as I can see, there seems nothing amiss in my home. So why had she come here? Was she hoping to find something that belonged to Anish?

Well, because if she was here to steal what I think she wants, she is never going to find it. I have kept it safe and secure in my bank locker.

My phone vibrates, making me almost jump.

Hoping against hope that it is a message from Viraj, I open WhatsApp.

But the message is not from Viraj. It’s from Anish.

‘Last warning Myra. I know you sabotaged the painting. Stay away from us. Or else be ready to face the police’, it says.

I am once again seething with anger. How dare he? How dare he threaten me like this? I have no idea who has done that to the painting. It is now very clear to me that Madhumita must have a string of enemies. Why else would anyone do that?

But the last part of message doesn’t feel like an empty threat. I am now sure he will go to the police at the drop of a hat, and frame me for something I haven’t even done.

The best way to deal with this will be going to the police myself.

Viraj is suspiciously missing. A blue Innova has been stalking me. Someone has entered my house and tampered with it under a fake name, and I am getting blamed for a painting sabotage. Someone is out there to get back at me. And before it is too late, I think I must see the police.

“What is his full name?” the disinterested cop asks me as he stifles a yawn.

“Viraj,” I say, trying hard to remember his last name. but I can’t. I don’t know his last name.

“Viraj what?” he asks again, now giving a full-blown yawn after unsuccessful attempts to abort it.

“I-I don’t know. I had only recently met him. Just twice in fact,” I say sheepishly, realizing how lame it sounds even to me.

“Address?” another yawn.

“I – I don’t know,” I say, not sure anymore that I have done the right thing coming here. The only thing I will be getting is ridicule.

He looks at me with a blank expression, which slowly changes into a suspicious one.

“How do you know him? Where did you meet him?” he asks. I think my answers have made him alert enough to stop him from yawning anymore.

“I…”, I am again in two minds. Should I mention about Rudolf hall? Have Anish and Madhumita already filed a complaint against me? Because if that is so, I might be giving evidence against myself here!

“I met him online,” I lie.

The cop is now very interested. He raises one eye brow. And he doesn’t yawn anymore.

“Online?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Where exactly online?” he asks, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and failing spectacularly.

“Tinder,” I utter the first thing that comes to my mind. Because I definitely can’t say Facebook or Insta. I don’t exist on those platforms anymore. Well, at least not as Myra anyway.

“When did you meet him first? In reality?” he questions.

“We met near BKC,” I say, giving a random answer, without incriminating myself in the sabotage crime at Rudolf hall.

“Do you know where he works?” he asks.

“Yes. Actually he works with event management, and that day he was organizing some event at some hall in BKC. That is why we met there,” I say, more confidently now.

“Do you remember any details of the hall or the event?”

I crinkle my nose and squint my eyes in an attempt to show him that I am trying to recollect.

“I think it was a painting exhibition at some Rudolf hall,” I say after taking a pause long enough to seem like I took my time to think over and recall.

“Okay. When was this?” he asks.

“Day before yesterday,” I reply.

“Okay. Any contact after that?”

“I had night duty that day. We met for dinner the next evening, that is yesterday,” I say.

“Where did you meet?” he asks.

“Hotel Sitara,” I tell him, giving the exact address as well.

“So that was the last time you saw him?” he asks.

“Yes, in fact, he disappeared from the midst of our date. I stepped aside to speak on the phone, and when I went back to our table, he was gone. His phone is switched off since, and he hasn’t replied to any of my messages,” I say.

The cop is now furiously jotting down all details. Yawning gone.

“What time was that?” he asks.

“Around 9 pm,” I say.

“Do you know any of his friends, or family, or colleagues? Have you checked with anyone?” he asks further.

I feel ashamed to admit that I don’t know a single thing about the man.

“No,” I say, a bit sheepishly, “we had just met, and hadn’t even reached any such conversation,” I clarify further, hoping I am not making a fool of myself.

The cop doesn’t look judgmental, and I think he is just thankful that I have made his boring day a bit interesting.

“There is more,” I say.

“What else?” he asks, interest brimming his eyes which are watery from the previous onslaught of yawns.

“I think someone is stalking me,” I say.

He sits up straight. I have piqued his interest.

“Why do you think so?” he asks.

“A blue Innova has been following me from past two days. From that night duty,” I say.

“The same day that you met Viraj?” he questions.

I think for a moment.

“I haven’t made any such association like this till now. But yes, the same night,” I say. “I think I saw the same car today morning as well, but I couldn’t be sure as I had to hurry for my shift. Later when I came back home, the Innova was gone. But it felt like someone had been in my house. Things seemed moved,” I say.

The cop is now eyeing me surreptitiously.

“Did you check with the security?” he asks.

Should I mention about Lisa K? I can’t. I can’t utter anything that has the potential to boomerang.

“Yes. And I think there was an unknown visitor at around 10 in the morning. But the security had no clue. There’s no working CCTV either,” I add.

“Hmm,” the cop ponders. I bet this is the most exciting day of his career.

“Was anything missing?” he asks.

“No, I didn’t find anything amiss. But the furniture looked…moved,” I say.

“And why would someone move your furniture?” he asks.

I shrug. “I have no idea,” I say. I don’t tell him anything about my suspicions about Madhumita. I don’t tell him anything about the entry in the name of Lisa K. because that would link my fake profile to Anish and Madhumita. Any way it is now his job to check all the entries and all.

“What car does Viraj own?” he asks.

I don’t know. And I am not car crazy, so even if I may have seen his car, I just can’t remember what the make or colour was.

“I don’t know,” I say, not sure what he is implying.

He looks at me for a few moments with an expression I cannot read, and it makes me slightly nervous and uncomfortable.

He then pulls his gaze away towards his notebook.

He takes down my name, address, place of work, phone number, and Viraj’s contact number.

He then again looks at me with that unfathomable expression.

“How was Viraj’s mood at dinner yesterday? Was he enjoying?” he asks.

I don’t see the relevance. What does this have to do with anything?

“Of course, we were having a good time,” I say, even as I begin doubting my own words. At least I was. Was he?

“I don’t want to disappoint you. But madam, he is an adult. And till now we have not received any missing complaint from any of his family or friends. So there is a possibility that he probably was not enjoying your company, and disappeared just to get you off his back? That explains why you know nothing about him, and that also explains why his cell phone is switched off. No offence, but just think. Isn’t that the most likely scenario?”

“And what about the stalking?” I counter question.

“Well, that may be him, for all we know!”