CHAPTER 26
Bangalore, October - 2012
I
stepped into the first auto-rickshaw I found on the street, not caring about the extra charge or the bargain that was inevitable at the end of the ride. The positive slope of my intoxication graph rose steeply as I swigged on the vodka from a couple of miniature Magic Moments bottles that I had taken from Aaina’s safety stock of tens of miniatures.
My mind drifted back to when I was lying beside Aaina, listening to her more intently than I had ever listened to anyone, looking at the ceiling fan doing circles right above my head. I had once watched an episode of Aahat in which a sleeping man gets shredded to pieces by a moving fan which falls on him. Though this thought crossed my mind when I looked up, I did not care. I was in love with Aaina, and I could die there, at that moment, with death being as unimportant as a free health check-up e-mail. Aaina had bared her heart and soul to me, and my mind was working faster than usual to process all of it.
Aaina and Tushagra did not meet very often, even though Tushagra insisted they should. Aaina liked spending more time in choosing her victims and planning each murder meticulously. Tushagra was spontaneous and could be relied upon if things went south, but he did not plan ahead of time. Tushagra chose the next victim after Raunak - a call centre colleague who Tushagra had hooked up with. Hooking up was not a problem - the problem was that he had blurted out more than a few things he should not have. Aaina had an issue with killing people who she considered innocent, but in a partnership, scratching each other’s backs was more important.
Since the IT boom, independent houses have become ubiquitous in Bangalore. The outskirts became mainstream locations first, owing to the IT boom and also to the numerous engineering colleges that had sprung up across the city. Landowners saw a huge opportunity in rentals – due to the heavy inflow of working professionals and students – and thus emerged independent houses. These houses were rented out either as flats or PGs or both. Areas like Mysore road, Banashankari, Marathahalli, Whitefield, HSR Layout and so many more had seen an emergence of such rental facilities. These places worked in the favour of youngsters who liked to live recklessly, without having anyone to monitor their activities, and in the favour of couples. These houses were also very important for students who were nose-deep in the quicksand of IPL betting and for bachelors who considered themselves sexually liberated.
Insha was Tushagra’s colleague at the call centre in BTM Layout – she had joined barely a week back. She hit it off with Tushagra on her first day at work, and they ended up getting cozy in her studio apartment on the terrace of an independent house in Jayanagar.
“CCTVs are a thing of the future for these landlords. I am sure her house does not have one,” Aaina told Tushagra. They were drinking together at her place, and Tushagra was worried because Insha had not come to office after the night she had met Tushagra. Tushagra also did not remember what he had told her, but Insha had told him to stop messaging her and that she was afraid of him – this had made things very serious. “I don’t remember any CCTVs,” Tushagra spoke between mouthfuls of whiskey. Aaina got off the couch, took her car keys, and said, “Let’s confirm it then?” She was swirling the keys around her index finger. Tushagra stood up and held her hand tightly, stopping her from fidgeting with the keys. “It fucks with my head, stop it!” he said sternly, looking Aaina in the eyes.
The two storeyed building looked classy from outside. Aaina peeped through the half open window of the car, “There would be no cameras here. What do you think about these chutiyas? Would they really spend on cameras? They don’t give a single fuck. My landlord has not even come to see the place once in the past 2 years – these people just need their rent on time. But anyway, I will go to give it a more thorough look,” Aaina continued as she casually strolled to the house and disappeared inside the stairwell.
Tushagra lit a cigarette and squinted, trying to see something. It was Sunday afternoon, and Foodpanda delivery guys frequented the house at the time. Foodpanda was trying to disrupt the food delivery business – Tushagra wondered what it would be like to work in a company like that, while he passively took long drags from his half-burnt cigarette. He was not sure what the future had in store for him, but at times he wanted to live a normal, stable life, have a girlfriend, a job, family – he wanted to be the engineer that was supposed to code, and not kill. He was awakened from his daydream when he saw Insha emerge from the stairwell. She had a couple of strolley bags in hand and a heavy black backpack that made her look hunched over. Tushagra pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head and wore his oversized sunglasses as he stole glances at her. Insha was stopping autos and negotiating with them. “Where is she going? If she gets an auto, she is gone, and I am fucked. Where the fuck is Aaina?” Tushagra muttered under his breath as he shuffled and shifted to the back seat. His phone suddenly rang, it was Aaina. “There are no cameras. But her flat is locked,” Aaina said. “Abbey! Come down quickly. She is here with her luggage and is trying to stop autos. If she gets one, we are done. Run!” Tushagra shouted into the phone and hung up. Aaina emerged within the next minute and stood beside Insha, lighting a cigarette as she examined the vicinity.
“Autos are pretty difficult to find on Sundays, especially here,” Aaina turned towards Insha and smiled. “Totally man! I am getting late for my bus, and this shit is pissing me off,” Insha replied. “I so feel you. My friend stays in this building. I had to come get him because he was not feeling well, and he did not get any autos for one whole hour, would you believe it? Thankfully, I have my car. Hey, if you are getting late, I can drop you someplace with more autos,” Aaina offered. “Thank you so much,” said Insha she she hugged Aaina. Tushagra covered his face with the hoodie and lay down on the backseat as he heard the boot of the car open and close. Insha and Aaina kept the luggage in the boot and sat on the two front seats of the car. “Shall I drop you to Madivala?” Aaina asked Insha who nodded and replied, “If you don’t mind, can you also stub that cigarette out? I feel dizzy when people smoke around me, and I am already a little dizzy. Don’t mind please?” “Well, of course!” Aaina said as she threw the cigarette butt out and turned on the engine. Aaina was perturbed – she was not ready for this, but she was doing the best that she could. She started driving slowly, looking around for nothing, thinking furiously in her head.
The main roads in Bangalore are generally named “Xth main”, X being a number. The attached narrower lanes, which are perpendicular to the Mains are named as “Yth cross”. Aaina noticed that they were in the 8th cross and she could see a board which said 11th cross at the end of the road. “Pardon my driving, I am new at this. I hope we have some time. I am bad at reversing the car, so I will go to the end of the road and take a U turn. Will take 5 minutes. Chalega na?” Aaina asked as she drove and Insha nodded.
Tushagra got up, looking out of the window. Surprisingly, the roads were almost empty, with a few people walking around for errands, and they had almost reached the dead end, which had no house, but a dilapidated brick wall with No Entry painted on it. Tushagra looked around secretly, there was no one to be seen on the roads nearby. Whoever was there, was at a safe distance. He felt this was his cue.
From the backseat, he grabbed Insha’s face, covering her mouth with his hand, “Get her!” he shouted at Aaina, who was not ready for this at all. Insha started screaming, and Tushagra’s bony hands started muffling her screams. Insha tried to grab something to retaliate with, and she caught hold of Aaina’s office ID card. Insha hit Tushagra in the eye with it. Tushagra reeled back and Insha shouted for help. The first shout of “Help” was caught midway as Tushagra jumped and held her jaws strongly with his hands. Her nails wildly scratched at his hands as she tried to free herself from his grip and from the seat belt. Tushagra looked at Aaina, who sat there, frozen. “How will it work like this Didi? Would you do something?” he laughed at Aaina. Tushagra’s hands were bloody from the scratches by now, but he held on to Insha’s jaws strongly. Aaina hurriedly stuffed a rag into Insha’s open mouth and started looking around. “I don’t need anything else,” Tushagra said and the next second, with all his might, pulled Insha’s jaws in opposite directions. The clefts which started forming at the ends of her mouth were momentary, as within the next moment, the sheer force of Tushagra’s pull had ripped her face into two. Warm, bubbling blood spurted from the inside of her mouth and the top half of Insha’s head fell back, still partially attached to the other half by the neck. Aaina rushed out of the car, opened the boot, and took out the transparent film roll. “We need to wrap her up! There is a lot of blood,” Aaina was more attentive now, they had done this in broad daylight, and she was the one responsible for the cover ups. Tushagra held the two parts of Insha’s head with his hands and snapped them back together. Aaina rolled the plastic wrap around Insha’s head and upper body. “Clean the car as much as you can, use the wipes and the rags kept in the trunk,” she instructed Tushagra who quickly did as he was told. He used the Asian Paints bucket kept at the corner of the wall near a public tap to fetch water and washed the car as Aaina proceeded to wrap Insha all over with the plastic wrap. Luckily, the corner where the car was parked was away from the sight of the people who were out on the road. Tushagra kept a very attentive watch while Aaina wrapped up the whole body and wiped the seats. “They probably use this bucket for shitting in the greens,” Tushagra said, panting, as he finished washing the car and watered the nearby weeds with the bloody water. They shifted Insha’s body to the back seat and then to the boot. “Let’s go, grab some beer, it is a long drive to Bidadi Lake.”
“Bhaiya, we reached,” the driver shouted at me and I came back to my senses, I had almost fallen asleep. “How much is it, Anna?” I asked the driver and he showed me four fingers, indicating four hundred rupees. But I was in no mood to quarrel or negotiate, I just handed him the money and under my breath, muttered, “Madarchod!”