Buried Truth

Here is a writer who is working on his new project. This is going to be his fifth book where the story will be filled with twists.

He writes mostly in the mystery genre but there are others also which are experimental. Most of his earnings come from royalties. He has been an established writer since his second book launch. His room is filled with books. He is writing now sitting at his desk. Let's see….

A professional writer lived in a lonely place in Simla with his wife. The place was surrounded by jungle and there was a small pond near his house. He had been living in this place after gaining some popularity as an author. He always wanted to live in seclusion. Few of his neighbor's lived far away from his house but he was not so amicable with them. He was very possessive about his wealth. Every morning he would come out of his house for jogging.

One morning when he was jogging on the field a man came across him.

Hello Ashok, the man greeted the writer.

Hello, the writer replied.  

How are you? I hope you are well. The man asked him. So, how's your work? Which project are you working on?

I am fine but what is your name? The writer asked the man.

My name is Tapas Chowdhury. The man replied. How's Mrs.? Doesn't she go out jogging?

She is well but doesn't love to go out. She just supervises the house. Ashok replied? Where do you stay?

There on the mountain, near to your house. Tapas replied. Do you go there? By the way, why don't you publish your secret novel?

This surprised the writer. He asked, what secret novel? I see you know me more than myself.

Yeah, Mr. Writer, I know everything about you but you don't know me at all. Tapas replied doing jogging.

The tone of the man didn't seem right to the writer. Though he was jogging also, didn't let him catch his surprise. He asked, do you come for jogging regularly?

Yeah, every day. Are you coming tomorrow? Tapas asked the writer.

Yeah, of course, the writer replied.

Won't you go to the daily market today? Tapas asked.

No, not today, there are enough groceries in my house. Ashok replied.

Then we will meet tomorrow and talk about your secret manuscript, Tapas said.

Yeah sure, Bye, The writer replied.

Bye, the man bid him. When the man was bidding the writer, he gave a smiling look like he knew everything about the author which looked trouble to the writer. His behaviour was not good for him.

Next day Ashok took a different path for jogging which calmer than the previous day's path. As he was jogging the man came in front of him again. The writer got baffled.

How's your day today, writer? The man asked.

Good, it was the writer's reply. Do you come here also?

I am everywhere with you, he answered. Are you surprised?

No, not at all; why would I be? Ashok replied.

Are you hiding from me? Tapas asked him. Well, today we were supposed to discuss your secret script.

But it was very difficult for him to proceed further. He spent the morning with him discussing some other topics which didn't have any relation with the script. At the end of jogging, they dispersed towards their home.

The next day the writer didn't go out. After he came home the previous day, he looked for his script which was under the almirah in a box. It was in a good condition. But how did he know about this? Or was he talking about this script? Or who was that man? These questions were tormenting him inside the whole day. The next morning, he was sitting on a chair drinking tea. His wife was in the kitchen with their young maid. He heard a doorbell.

Ashok: who is it?

It's me, your neighbour. A voice came over the opposite side. The writer got baffled because it was a known voice to him. He went towards the door and opened it.

You..? It was an automatic reaction from the writer because it was not expected of him.

The man from the previous morning was standing in front of him.

Surprised, Mr Writer? He asked. You didn't come for jogging so I came here. What happened?

The writer looked very confused. He didn't have an answer.

May I come in? Tapas asked.

The automatic reaction was, yes.

As he was coming inside, he asked about the manuscript. The writer felt irritated this time.

So, what is the condition of your secret manuscript? Tapas asked.

What are you talking about man? His answer was rude this time. I don't have any secret script and why are you following me?

His wife came out of the kitchen to see what happened in the drawing-room.

Hello mam, how are you? Tapas asked.

I am good. How are you? By the way, may I know your name? She asked.

Ashok introduced them to each other. He explained their meeting to her. Her name was Sujata.

Oh, that's great, you are here. Would you like to take anything?

Nothing but black coffee, is it possible? Tapas asked.

Yeah sure, why not..? Sujata answered.

She went to the kitchen and they were involved in the discussion.

So Mr Writer, where is the garden? Tapas asked.

What garden are you talking about? Ashok just eliminated the question by laughing.

You do not need to hide anything from me. I know everything, Tapas said. Does your recent wife know about your vicious past? Does she know about your dead wife? Does she know that you killed your wife and buried her in the garden?

Now the writer is extremely frightened. He didn't expect to be so perfect about his past. He was now netted by the unknown man.

What do you want from me? Ashok asked.

 Yes, this is the right answer, Tapas said. I want your property. I want all of your money.

Have you gone out of your mind? Ashok shouted. This is impossible.

If it is impossible, the secret would be revealed to all, to your wife first and then the whole world, Tapas replied.

But how would you prove it? That is only a manuscript. We read many books like this. The writer said.

The secret is still in the garden, Tapas answered.

During their conversation, Sujata was in her kitchen preparing coffee and conversing with her maid.

Maid: who is that, Didi?

Sujata: your dada's friend, our neighbour. Give me the coffee powder, Malati.

Malati opened the cupboard and handed over the coffee powder to Sujata and said, I have never seen him. Where does he live?

Sujata: I have also never seen him before. He said that he lived near the mountain. The coffee was almost ready. She took the coffee plate and went towards the drawing-room.

Meanwhile, they were involved in their conversation. The writer was in great peril. He could neither shout nor drive him away. There was nothing to do. He had to be silent. Otherwise, everybody would have known his secret. He was looking very pale. So, some silly questions were coming from him. He had already become a puppet to Tapas.

Ashok: how did you get my manuscript?

Tapas: that's a silly question now. If I know everything about you then why wouldn't I get a manuscript? Listen…

Sujata interrupted…..she put the coffee on the table.

She asked, "what manuscript?"

Tapas answered, "the new one. We were talking about his new work. By the way, thank you for the coffee."

Yes, he is working on a thriller novel these days, she smiled and said. Here this is yours and this is yours and this one is mine.

Ashok was lost in thought. He had already ignited a cigarette and offered Tapas also. He took it and ignited it. Sujata had already joined them. As he was sipping the coffee she asked, what do you do?

Tapas: I am also a writer but not like your husband. He is a great man. People praise him a lot. They want more from him. He has written so many short stories, four novels, another is in progress… But I have written only two… (Pulling the smoke)…he added, have you read the mysterious palace which vanishes after every 15 days? I am the writer of that book. If you haven't read it yet I will give you a copy. I know it's not so popular. I am still struggling; which is why I am here for his advice.

Sujata: it seems an interesting work. I will definitely read it.

Ashok was listening to their conversation. Sujata observed that there was a change in his behaviour. He was not saying anything. He had been silent since Tapas came. His coffee was still untouched. She said, ok you talk to your friend. I have some jobs in the kitchen. I'll join both of you later.

Yeah sure, Tapas reacted.

And she went there. 

There was a silence between them until she reached the kitchen. Tapas started, "Listen, writer, after I get my percentage I'll leave this place and won't have any connection with you but till then, I'll be following all of your activities. I want it within seven days."

Ashok: that's really impossible.

Tapas: everything will be published then. I'll come in seven days.

Ashok was in trouble. He had to make a way out of this. In the meantime, Sujata was talking to her maid.

She said, "Ashok's behaviour looks very odd today".

Why? Malati asked, did you notice anything different? 

Sujata: he has been behaving differently since the man came. He was very silent during our conversation. I think he was lost in thought. He was thinking about something else. I have to find it.

Malati: he may be thinking about his new work. Don't be anxious always.

As Tapas was getting prepared to go out he said, you have only seven days Mr Writer. Till then manage what I want.

There was no reaction to the writer's face. Closing the door he came to the drawing-room. Sujata was standing in front of him.

She asked, what happened to you?

Ashok replied, nothing. What would happen to me?

She understood that Ashok was hiding something from her. He was not talking to her face to face.

Sujata: why were you lost in our conversation? Why did you forget to take your coffee? You look pale now. Tell me what has happened to you?

 Ashok: oh Sujata, you are merely being tensed about me. I am working on my new project and that is why I am being lost in my thoughts.

He didn't care for that but Sujata took it seriously. She started to follow all of his activities. Ashok had already been being tormented inside. He went to his room but before entering the room he checked downstairs if Sujata suspected anything. She had already entered the kitchen room. Checking the script under the almirah again he went on to shave his beard. It was a long time since he had not shaved. The only one thing was pressurizing him, "how he got this script?" He suspected his wife and maid also but there was no strong reason to be assured. Sujata loved him and she didn't know about this script or his vicious past. They had been staying together for only six months. The last one was his maid. She would come only in the morning and wasn't allowed to go into his room without his permission and he stayed in his room all the time. He couldn't take this stress. Days were passing like a clock's ticking. His sleep had gone. A black spot had been growing under his eyes. There was nothing he could manage; no idea to get relief from the unknown man. He couldn't share this with his wife also in case the truth is revealed. It was a matter of an enormous amount to him. Meanwhile, he had checked his garden a few times. Despite his wife knows he took everything casually. Sujata was observing everything. She forced him to tell the truth. Finally, the last day in the morning when Malati had already gone, without thinking of the consequences too much, he shared the truth with his wife. They were drinking coffee together on the table. Ashok looked pale.

Sujata asked, what happened, Ashok? Tell me everything clearly. I have been following your steps for a few days. You are in some kind of trouble.

He casually replied, no nothing. I am pondering over my character.

She asked again, tell me the truth Ashok. You are hiding something from me. I can realize that. You haven't written anything since he went.

The writer took Sujata's hand in his and said, sorry Sujata, I haven't told you a hidden truth yet. It's about my previous wife.

Sujata said, "she left you, I know that you told me about her. What's more then?"

Ashok replied, no she didn't leave me. I killed and buried her in the garden.

Sujata got extremely shocked. She thought that she had been cheated by him, he hid a vicious truth.

She screamed, what are you saying? You lied to me. You said that you had a fight between you and your wife about your wealth.

Ashok said, yes, we had a fight but I didn't want to share anything with her. She was pressurizing me so much. I couldn't concentrate on my work. So, I killed and buried her in the garden. Sorry Sujata, I am extremely sorry for that. There was no point to tell you the truth because I would lose you.

Sujata: oh god, how could you do this? She became silent for a moment.

She added, well, now show me where have you buried her?

Ashok took her to the garden and pointed towards the buried place. They stayed silent for some time.

Ashok started, I can't understand what I would do. I can't take this stress anymore.

Sujata: why are you afraid now?

Ashok: Tapas, that unknown man knows this secret.

Sujata asked instantly, what? How did he know?

Ashok explained, I wrote a script about this which is still under my almirah. He has that exact script and knows the buried place but I don't know how? Now he wants my wealth; otherwise, he will reveal everything and I'll be destroyed then.

 Sujata asked, Tapas, our neighbour?

Ashok replied, yes, but I doubt his genuine name. I went to the valley to check his place but didn't get any traces.

In the meantime, Tapas had already come and been listening to their conversation from outside.

Tapas said you are right, Mr Writer. I am not Tapas and not a writer also. My name is Priyotosh. I don't live there on the valley; I live somewhere else which I never told you and you will never know.

He couldn't understand what was happening in front of him. Priyotosh added, "you have already been recorded and there is no solid proof about your crime. Give me the tape recorder Sujata."

It was his most surprising time when Sujata handed over a small tape recorder which was inside her pants. Priyotosh switched on the recorder and checked if everything was okay. Ashok was dumbfounded. His wife was the witness of his secret now. She had already checked the garden also.

Priyotosh added, "we are lovers. It was pre-planned to catch you red-handedly."

Ashok screamed, you bitch.

He ran towards the recorder to grasp it with his knife which he had already been carrying in his pocket but failed. Priyotosh hit him hard on his face and kicked in his stomach. After a long scuffle Priyotosh took away his knife and hit him on his nose and started to kick on his face. Ashok was bleeding. The floor was bloodshed.

Priyotosh stood up and said, "you bustard. Do you know who you buried?"

It was his second unexpected moment when Priyitosh added she was her cousin.

Sujata started to describe.

Sujata: yes, Mr Writer. She was my cousin. We used to communicate very often which she hid from you. She never told you about me; whenever you went outside she called me and shared everything. She always said that she was facing a lot of trouble with your attitude towards her. You tortured her every day which was mental and simultaneously physical. You caged her in this lonely place. You didn't allow her to go outside; you didn't allow any maid here also. She could not talk to any neighbour because this place is far away from the neighbourhood. Oh god, how can anyone live here? She wanted to live happily but you didn't give her happiness. It had been tremendous at a time when she busted out one day, the day when you killed her after an extreme fight. You were also looking for plots. So you killed and buried her in the garden. Her corpses are still there. You want plots, right, Mr Writer? Now, this is your story. Go fuck your stories. How could you kill anyone in reality to find a story?

Sujata and Priyotosh killed and drowned him near the lake to the house. Malati had already been informed not to come further because they told her that they were moving to another city.

The end

The writer finished another story. Whenever he writes all of his characters come alive in front of him and deal with him. And this is how he deals with them. He only directs them towards away.

The end