Mumbaistan (27 page)

A chill went down Samir's spine. He moved.

Rishi realized that Samir was still alive.

He cursed under his breath.

'I'll just be back, Sam. Don't move,' he said.

Rishi went back into the factory.

◉

By now, Samir had managed to stumble up to the fallen Rishi. He watched Bahaar crouching and crying over the body.

'Was it always him?' Samir asked.

Bahaar was silent. Her shoulders shuddered as she tried to control herself.

A single tear escaped Samir's eye. He reached out to her.

Bahaar grasped his extended hands. Her soft touch unleashed a wave of emotion that made him tremble.

Samir still had Gardullah's revolver in his hand. Bahaar gently tugged at the revolver, and Samir let go. Bahaar took the revolver out of Samir's hands, and spun its barrel towards him. Samir looked at her, confused.

'Yes', she finally replied, as she pulled the trigger.

Click. The gun was empty.

Click, Click, Click.

Bahaar kept pulling the trigger in vain.

◉

The truck was moving at full speed. Samir stirred. He rolled from one side to the other at the back of the truck, with every slight turn it took.

Grabbing on to the canvas on the side, he steadied and raised himself up to see the truck driver ahead. Samir called out to him.

But no sound emanated from his mouth. He pulled at the handkerchief stuffed in his mouth. Rishi's handkerchief.

A passing streetlight flashed a sliver of light on the handkerchief. Samir looked at it and saw an embroidered 'Beekay' emblazoned on the corner. To his shock, he saw that there was a lipstick 'kiss impression' around the embroidered 'Beekay'. Bahaar's lips.

Samir let out a scream. The revelation brought his world crashing down.

The driver spun around.

The truck collided with a tree. Darkness.

◉

The gun clattered out of Bahaar's hands.

She stood staring at Samir, dumbstruck by the turn of events. Then she reached out and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing. 'Oh Samir, please forgive me,' she whispered into his ear. He gradually softened and hugged her back. They stood entwined in each other's arms, lost to the world.

After a few minutes, Samir began to laugh. As peals of laughter rolled out of his mouth, he looked deep into Bahaar's eyes. She was confused at first, and then laughed along with him. Her laughter sounded just the same to him, and she still had that twinkle in her eye.

Samir hugged her even more tightly. Bahaar reciprocated with equal fervor.

But when he started stumbling towards the railing, Bahaar realized that something was amiss. She struggled to break away from him, but Samir's grip on her was strong. She screamed, but Samir continued to guffaw, not letting go. He had reached the edge of the railing now.

With one massive heave, he tumbled, with Bahaar wrapped around him, into the sea below. 'Happy birthday, sweetheart!' he whispered into her ear as the waves rose up to meet them.

Samir's laughter was still echoing in the air when Raghu hobbled up to the railing and looked down into the water.

There was no one there. Only choppy waves and blackness. He kept looking, hoping that Samir's head would break the water's surface. But the water had closed over Samir and Bahaar. Swallowing them up as if they had never existed.

Samir Khanna, the Coma Man had finally disappeared, forever.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to:

My mother, Shakuntala, whose prayers to God make my world a better place to live in.

Kapish Mehra, who won me over with his dynamism and by the professionalism displayed by his organization.

Kausalya Saptharishi, my editor, who invested her faith in my work and remains its true custodian.

Amrita Mukerji, my copy editor, whose unfailing eye has made my work a better read.

Tuhin A. Sinha, who wrote an email that started me on my journey as a novelist.

Aditi Prakash, who took time out from impending motherhood and made that all-important introduction.

Farida Haider, who was one of the first to read my work and give me the feedback that I desperately required.

Rajvardhan, additional commissioner of police, Mumbai, who inspired me in just one meeting.

Suhel Buddha, ex-Mumbai police, who triggered my thoughts so that they could find their targets.

Deepak Rao, Mumbai police historian, whose meticulous explanation of police procedure gave me numerous insights that I had not previously seen.

And last but not the least...

Goddess Mumbadevi, who protects my city, so that we may live without fear.