Showing posts with label Britain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Britain. Show all posts

The tale of Zaara


Jalandhar, India

Zaara’s home was a huge mansion. It was manned by two female servants and a gardener. They lived in the annex to the house, while she lived alone. Mrs. Zaara, as they learnt was a masterchef at Cardamom  at the Taj in Jalandhar. She was one of the most famous continental cooks in the country and authored many cookbooks. She was also famous for throwing up lavish parties at her home. She was a famous figure.

“You can stay with me.” She told Deborah and Thomas. “I have a guest suite. I’ll ask Vinni to prepare that for your stay. I don’t want questions from people, so I’ll be telling them that these are assistants whom I met at Hong Kong. I wanted them to be here to instruct me on modifications in cooking and taste.” She winked at them. “Make sure you reciprocate me.”

In the evening as they sat at the dining table for their dinner. Zaara Asked them, “so how did India treat you so far?”

Thomas sneaked a look at Deborah and answered, “Pretty bad! We got mugged and then cheated. Actually, madam, as an information – we are penniless at the moment.  Our  passports have been stolen and we are in an identity crises.”

“Oh my!” Zaara sighed. “ Didn’t you go to the British office?”

“That would take a lot of money.”Thomas replied.

“Perhaps, we don’t even want to go back.” Deborah replied rather hastily as Thomas ended his sentence. She wanted this interrogation to end.

“Oh, that’s another story entirely.” Zaara raised her eyebrows as she continued. “This country is full of illegals like you. They have learnt to put up with them. I don’t think you’ll have much of a problem here. The midland scum, you’d be.”

“You have offended me more than once Zaara. Whatever you have with Dawson’s is a personal matter, and moreover in my opinion John was a really respectable person.” Deborah protested.

“Respectable?” Zaara sounded furious now. “ If there was someone respectable in that family, that rascal of a man killed him?”

“Hah…your daughter?” Deborah answered sarcastically.

“William Dawson, if you know him. His elder brother.”

Deborah froze.

“If you have the mettle to listen then I’ll tell you all.” Zaara said.

“But how do I know whatever you are telling you is the truth?” Deborah asked, still unable together herself after what she had just heard.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

Zaara started.

“A pack of hyenas can sometimes prove too good for a solitary lion. William Dawson was that lion among the hyenas.  A gem of a man, he was a great friend of my husband’s. The tallest leader in the midlands –his popularity was growing in the conservative party day by day.An honest man, and an intelligent one on it –he stood taller than anyone in the conservatives and the labour alike. It seemed that he was destined to be the most popular leader in the United Kingdom in many years. He died suddenly in a car crash along with her wife. “

“I know how he died Zaara, everyone in the Britain knows it.”  Deborah remarked.

“So foolish of all of you to believe that. “  Zaara snapped with a sigh. “Do you know Carl Kingston and Tim Dickens?”

“Yes. The chancellor of the exchequer and the chief of Scotland yard.” Deborah replied.

“Good. What you don’t know is that John Dawson and both of them had been friends since they studied together at Wolvorhampton.”

“That’s good.” Deborah said.

“Yes, for them it was good, but not for others.” Zaara searched for Wolverhampton university ethnic sex videos.

There was a steamy sex video playing in front of them.
“Zaara! What on the earth..?” Thomas protested.

“The boy is a British and the girl is an ethnic Turk.” Zaara continued with her story. “Both were rich and had come to Wolverhampton for studies, but as the fate would have it, they fell in love with each other.” She stopped the video.

“The boy is my cousin. My aunt’s son. Palmer – the most illustrious among the university students. The hottest contender for the PhD in Political Science, something that John desired as well.  Now,he most cunningly came close to Palmer, so that he won his trust as a good friend. One day he invited Palmer and his girlfriend to his place for a party. He effectively drugged them and arranged them to be in a room for the night in that condition. The only thing he shouldn’t have done is videographing of this film that played in front of you. Worst still, this was fed in Palmer’s phone and distributed among friends. The video spread like wild fire. Palmer was accused  of defaming the girl. The relationship broke and the girl returned to Turkey, where it was discovered that she was pregnant. She was quietly nestled in Istanbul, where she gave birth to the child who was adopted by his uncle and aunt at a small Turkish village. As for Palmer, he was so hopelessly drawn into shame and infamy that he committed suicide. The  PhD went to John Dawson and he joined the conservatives directly after completion.”
There was a silence. Zaara resumed.

“As if this wasn’t enough, John didn’t stop there. The next roadblock to his political aspirations was no one other than his own brother – WILLIAM DAWSON. With him in the scene, John stood nowhere even on his own home turf. He cracked a conspiracy with the help of his old university friends and other foes of William – killing him in the accident. He became the innocent younger brother and scion of the dynasty now – the rightful heir to his brother’s throne and glory.”

“How do you know this?” Deborah spoke in a voice that seemed lost somewhere in her mind.

“My daughter, Sarah was married to John. A proud wife, she entered his home-office one day to hear as he spoke of the conspiracy. She was immediately confined and scared into submission when she protested that this was wrong. All her communications were stopped immediately. John reported that she was severely ill. She was given tranquilizers and sedatives in heavy doses in the meanwhile. Her trauma continued. She was brainwashed and deprived of love. Only in the little Deborah – William’s daughter could she find love. They got exceedingly close.”

Deborah realized that the lady actually knew the truth. Something that no one else knew. 

“John knew this relationship between the two. Now he played a third game to tame the girl. The bastard even had an eye on the ancestral property and money. He wanted all of it by himself.  He caught Deborah and Sarah red handed having sex one day, and then played the victim. In this process however, he threw Deborah away effectively  to Portugal. By this time Sarah had become useless for him. He conspired to get her killed as well,  however, on much insitance from me , she told me the whole story.”

“Oh god! He killed her as well!” Deborah spoke in disgust.

“No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t kill two people – Sarah Dawson and Annie Dawson.” Zaara Disclosed.

Deborah was shocked. Her mother was still alive.

“ Who was buried for Annie then?” Deborah asked.

That’s where all the new dimensions get added, dear.” Zaara disclosed.  “Everythng about Annie’s death was an illusion. She had lately come in contact with an Indian magician – a metaphysisist as he called himself. His name was Gorakshak – the protector of the cows. He had been in London lecturing about Metaphysics and the dimensions of the soul – something in which Annie was interested as well. This man could read faces, and into the future. He controlled the dark realms of the soul –he claimed. He could somehow guess what’s going to happen that fateful night. He rescued Annie that night and got her to me. That night, I was there alone with him and with an unconscious Annie. I couldn’t escape his intense eyes, and even though I was forty four that time I felt like a twenty year old girl. He felt like an angel in the bed. I begot him a daughter; he named her Trishna – illusion. So far as the funeral ceremony I concerned – it was all an illusion – casted by Gorakshak.”

“As for Annie, he took her to India, and soon Sarah and me as well. Sarah didn’t die. She disappeared. She is in this country now – a metaphysisist. Her name was changed by Gorakshak to Tara.”
Deborah listened in awe. “Where is Annie?”

“Not far from here. She bore a son to Gorakshak as well. They named him Vikas.” Zaara answered.

“At the end, we had our revenge after all. “ Zaara  continued. “ John had a weakness for having a prostitute each night. That’s where Tara and Trishna stuck him. They sucked his very life out of him and threw his soul into the depths of hell, where he now burns.”

“Do you know that the poor Deborah burns in that case now? She is the accused in the case for John’s death?” Deborah was raged.

“It is because John was about to get what he did with others anyways. His friends in the government and the Scotland Yard were behind his life. He was proving a threat equal to his elder brother. Lately they arranged Jessica Simpson – the pop artist to date him. She was to drug him that night anyways and poison him. Thereafter they would arrange her flight to the island of Madagascer for her to live a luxurious life without her name. We killed Jessica Simpson. The government and yard thought that they had done their work well, till they found proof of two females there and found Jessica dead at her apartment. They thought that there was someone who knew the secret. In order to cover themselves, they dragged Deborah into the case with a false evidence of presence of her body fluids. We asked Gorakshak to intervene and help the girl, but he denied saying that god had a different plan for Deborah and he would help her. That it seemed was certainly right, till we got the news that her flight crashed here in India –not far from this place.”

There were tears in Zaara’s eyes.  No one was speaking anything now. There was perfect silence.

Two Identities

5
London
Just as Deborah turned around to board the tube, she was stopped by a voice. It was calm and deep, but sounded firm

“Richard Hayes, Metropolitan Police.”

She turned around and found herself staring at the identity card of a Met officer.

“Yes”, she said hesitantly.

“Madam, are you Ms. Deborah Dawson?” he asked.

“Yes”, Deborah answered.

“The police has the orders to detain you for questioning on John Dawson murder case. You can read the papers.” The officer handed over some papers to her.

As she read, the expressions of her face changed from confusion, to anger and then to shock.

…..Ms .Deborah Dawson to be detained by the police as a prime suspect in Dawson murder case…..

“This is nonsense. I was…” Deborah protested, but the officer interrupted her in between – “Any statement you make can be used in favor or against you, madam. It would be best if you consult your lawyer in this matter. As for me, I’m just doing my duty.”

Deborah’s face turned pale.
As she left the tube station and entered the police vehicle, there were flashes of lights and sounds of camera clicks. A group of reporters with video cameras had also gathered outside the station. Deborah covered her face with handkerchief. As she sat in the car, Deborah vaguely heard the reporter speaking in the camera-

“…as the Coventry crime bureau have given confirmation that the body fluids found at the crime scene belonged to Ms. Deborah Dawson….”

 The sound died in the vehicle sirens as the car moved on to the road.




6
Bangalore
Each day, Pankaj longed to return to his humble home, but his body had rendered him unable to do so. His driving license, identity card, and passport – all proved that he was Rajat. No one would believe that he wasn’t. He seemed to be living an artificial life. He’d better not lived at all.

It was early morning. As Pankaj returned from jogging and sat for breakfast, he was reminded the days when when he went jogging with Rajat. They would return back to have some tea and cookies. Both of them were still together. His soul and Rajat’s body, but it was so different.
He remembered how awkward it felt when Diya tried to kiss him on the first day. He was still uncomfortable with her. She often told him that he had become a stranger to her..

He visited his home once; Pankaj’s home. His parents and family had adjusted to life without him. He just remained in their background memories, maybe in their subconscious mind, but there was no trace of him in their routine life, except the photograph on the wall. He remembered how his mother had started crying on his first visit. There was an uncomfortable silence as he sat down for the tea. He visited them a couple of times again after that. Last time, his brother escorted him while leaving and quietly told her – “Bhayia, we have moved on. I know you have come to sympathize, but each time you come, it seems that it was just yesterday when Pankaj died. Each time mother keeps crying late till night. The family feels the loss. I don’t want you to feel bad about it, but I want you to let us move on, Bhayiya. It’s a request.”

He looked straight into his brother’s eyes. There was a pain in them. He meant what he said. He broke the contact. Looked down into the ground and nodded his head in affirmation. They shook hands like strangers – formally as if it didn’t mean anything and then he turned around. He kept thinking about everything. That night, when he went home; he hid his face in the pillow and just cried. He never went back to his home again.

He called Itisha one week after the death.

“Hi Itisha, Pankaj.”

There was no response for a minute, but after that there was this rather rude voice – “Rajat, I don’t know if this is to hurt me or you’re making fun of him.” And she snapped off the call. He tried calling again, but she didn’t pick up. After two months of calling and messaging, she finally decided to meet at the Cubbon Parks.

They sat on the bench in the park sipping coke.

“I don’t know what you rich guys feel, but love is not a commodity, Rajat.” She said.

“I know, Rajat…..um..Pankaj, I’m sorry was my closest friend. I feel so much about him…” Rajat said.

There was a silence. She asked “How is Diya?”

“She is fine.”

Silence.

“Well I think I must go.” Itisha said breaking the silence. “I’ve got to take my mother from hospital. She goes there for physiotherapy these days.”
She said goodbye and turned around.

There was a call from her a few months after the meeting. She was getting engaged over the weekend.

 



A few weeks later, Bangalore
“Rajat, I have appointed you as the Chief Manager of our East India project at Kolkata. It would take you away from Bangalore so that you can de-stress. It’s a new project, so you can understand and do better.”

Rajat’s past memory had weakened a lot after the accident in which Pankaj died. Miraculously, he had escaped unhurt. His father was concerned about his health. Rajat couldn’t even recognize people whom the family knew so closely. Whenever he talked to him, there was contempt in his voice and a line across his face.  Sending him to Kolkata might bring a nice change in his life. He would meet new people and make new friends. He would be able to get off the old things.

“What is the project dad?” Rajat asked.

“Our CEO would brief you about it.” He answered. “When do you want to be there?” He asked.

“Tomorrow, maybe!” Rajat answered.

“Are you sure?”


“Yes.” Rajat answered.