The Nidhi Kapoor Story (29 page)

“What… what happened to Preeti?” he spoke slowly.

Nidhi snapped as if waiting for this, as if she was the scriptwriter and knew what Nishant would say. “Did you bother to ask what happened to my mother when you left her to die?”

Nishant realized his mistake. He turned his head and started to stare at the sky. He shouldn’t have spoken.

Neelima had died in a fire a few days after Preeti went missing. The entire Kapoor family was in Khandala and like
most nights, Nishant and Neelima had an argument. That night however, things had taken an ugly turn and Neelima had threatened to put fire to Nishant’s favorite suit. Nishant thought she was bluffing and motioned towards the bar. He then poured himself a drink and sat in silence and insolence as Neelima drowned his wardrobe and bedroom with imported whiskey, hard vodka and virgin wines. When she was exhausted with the effort, Nishant hurled abuses at her for being a loudmouth, threw a lighter at her and left the room. When he left, he locked the door from the outside because he did not want Neelima’s bickering to trail him to the lovely weather in Khandala. Neelima flicked the Zippo and lit it. When the burning wardrobe failed to get any reaction from Nishant, she threatened to put herself on fire as well. Nishant was too drunk to pay heed and the next thing he knew, the entire house was on fire. Before Neelima could be rescued, she had suffered more than 90% burns. She was burnt so badly that she couldn’t be taken to Mumbai. If euthanasia were legal, Nidhi would have begged the only nurse at the sparse non-descript medical facility at Khandala to end her mother’s suffering. Neelima eventually died a slow and agonizing death in a hospital.

While Nishant was recounting the horrors of the night when Neelima had died, Nidhi slowly put her hand on the wheels of his wheelchair. She started rocking the wheelchair back and forth. “Papa, you know, during the night, the water in our pool gets really cold. They say cold water is really good. It makes blood move faster. It’s rejuvenating. But it gets tough to breathe when it gets too cold. And when the limbs go numb, it feels as if a million needles are jabbing you all over. Remember that night when you forced mumma
to stand in the pool? You remember how she was pleading? Don’t tell me you made all those tapes back then and you never looked at those again!”

Nishant remembered the night now. He had made Neelima strip and stand in the swimming pool in the cold water. He was so drunk and horny and he wanted to see the voluptuous curves of Neelima playing with water. He could not think of a more appropriate thing to do. It was punishment and pleasure at the same time. And he had recorded the entire episode with a small camera.

Nishant saw an opening. He thought if he could talk Nidhi down, maybe, maybe he’d have a chance. “Nidhi, it was so long ago. Life has punished me enough.
Beta
, if you continue to sit here in the open, you’d catch a cold,” he tried.

Even though Nishant was the one in danger, his eyes were benevolent and seemed concerned for Nidhi’s wellbeing. No wonder it was easy for Nishant to trap young women. But Nidhi was a Kapoor. Nishant’s daughter. She laughed. “Nice try, Papa.”

In one swift motion, Nidhi rolled the wheelchair forward. Nishant and his wheelchair fell into the pool with a loud splash. Water flew high and drenched Nidhi. She remained sitting at the edge of the pool. She just bent her neck and hid it in her chest to avoid the splash on her face. She shrugged and ran both her hands through her hair to fling off water from her hair.

The wheelchair meanwhile was sinking fast and Nishant was still trapped under the chair. He was struggling and was trying to escape from the chair, but he could not. Nidhi hadn’t given him any warning before pushing him into
the pool.

Nidhi kept looking at the scene peacefully. Nishant, on the other hand, was losing his breath. He hit the floor of the pool and the weight of chair on top of him kept him trapped there. He somehow pushed the chair away and broke free. He shot up like a rocket and surfaced at some distance from Nidhi. He gasped greedily and tried to suck in as much air as he could. A loud moan escaped his throat and water immediately rushed into the opening. He flapped his hands and tried to keep himself afloat. Yet again, his legs became his handicap. In the absence of any float from his lower body, the water pulled him in. He bobbed up and down for some time and eventually found a way to stay above surface. He seemed to have averted death yet again. The genes indeed were selfish.

Nidhi kept looking at Nishant while he was struggling. Nishant had reached the edge of the pool and had anchored his arms around the metal steps leading into the pool. He did not speak but his eyes were pleading for mercy. Nidhi was composed. “It’s cold
na
Papa? Come to think of it, mumma wasn’t even dressed. And you know mumma didn’t even know how to swim. Remember that, Papa?”

Nishant was now shivering. Nidhi got up, walked slowly towards Nishant and crouched in front of him. “Papa, do I leave you here in the pool?” She pulled a gun out of her pocket and pointed at him. “Or do I shoot you in the head and end your misery? Or you know what? Maybe I would not let you die like this in the swimming pool. I’d not let you die. Just the way I did not let you die after I mixed my anti-depressants in your drink.”

Nishant now knew who had tried to kill him all those years ago. His eyes were stoned. He was staring up at the muzzle of the gun. It was indeed intimidating to stare at the barrel of the gun. He was, after all, on the business side of the gun for the first time.

When Nidhi extended her hand to move the muzzle in front of Nishant, with a cat’s agility, Nishant lunged at it and tried to grab it. However, Nidhi had sharper reflexes. She pulled the gun back in time. She then started to laugh. Her’s was different from Nishant’s. It was pleasant, infectious. The kind you want to hear. The kind that could make you feel good. The kind that sends warm chocolate down your throat, unlike Nishant’s that was burly that oppressed you. Nidhi’s was sweet and intriguing. You would want to know the person behind that laughter. Spend time with her. Do everything for her and pray like hell that she would continue to laugh.

Nidhi pocketed the gun, bent over and with surprising strength, she yanked Nishant out of the water in one smooth motion. She let him lie on the grass next to the pool. He was on his belly and was staring at Nidhi’s bare feet.

Suddenly, he started to laugh. He started to wheeze because he had gulped a lot of water while he was in the pool. He laughed till he started choking on his breath. He coughed and his entire body heaved along with his coughs. His laughter came out as staccato bursts. But he kept laughing.

With considerable effort, he turned over on his back.

Nidhi smiled at him. She knew why he was laughing. She had predicted that he would go berserk when she would
pull him out of the pool. Like Nishant, Nidhi had planned things meticulously. She had thought about every step, every action and she had a backup plan in case something went awry. She wanted him to believe that he had defeated death yet again.

However, she had other, grander plans in store for him. Even now when he had suffered so much, death looked like an easy escape for Nishant Kapoor. But she wasn’t letting him go this easy.

Nishant looked up at the sky and thought that he saw the stars move. Slowly at first but the stars eventually picked up speed. They were going away way too fast to be real. Was he hallucinating again? Before he could decide, it dawned on him that he was being dragged away from the pool. Roughly, coarsely over the grass. The loose flannel shirt had ripped from under him and he could feel the blades of grass lash against his back. He saw that Nidhi had looped a rope around his legs and was dragging him towards the entrance of Ronak.

28. Day 32, Night. Ronak.

After her conversation with Tarana in the evening, Rujuta and Tambe had driven non-stop to Mumbai and then to Ronak. Even though they did not stop anywhere, it took them the best part of five hours to reach. It was more than enough time for Rujuta to piece the puzzle together. She knew the who and how of the Nidhi Kapoor mystery by now. The ‘why’ bit still eluded her. She had briefly spoken to Tarana and Tarana had affirmed Rujuta’s deductions. All that was left was to make an arrest. But before that, she had to speak to Nidhi about her intent. Her reason for her actions over the last thirty days.

Rujuta opened the door to Nidhi’s room and looked at her. Nidhi was sitting on the windowsill in her bedroom. She was smoking a cigarette leisurely. A .500-caliber Smith and Wesson Magnum was lying next to an open pack of Stikk and an ashtray. The gun, easily identifiable because of its characteristic long, chrome muzzle, was a favorite among hand-hunters. It was registered in Nidhi’s name. The music dock on the reading table wafted out old Hindi music. Oddly, it was Prakash’s favorite track from
Pyasa
.

Nidhi acknowledged Rujuta’s presence by merely looking up at her. Rujuta’s eyes were ablaze with the knowledge that she was looking in the eyes of a murderer.

Nidhi could feel the anger seething in Rujuta. On the contrary, Rujuta could not decode any emotions in Nidhi’s eyes. There was no remorse, no apologies. The eyes were
indifferent. There was a hint of acknowledgement but that was all that she gave away.

Rujuta had thought that Nidhi would make an attempt to defend herself. Or at least take some sort of evasive action. But Nidhi did nothing of the sort and remained sitting at her place. Rujuta wondered how someone could stay so calm after doing the inexplicable things that Nidhi had done. Rujuta had a million things going through her head. She felt that she needed to calm down before she could speak with Nidhi. She put a cigarette in between her lips and fumbled for a lighter. Both Rujuta and Nidhi realized at the same time that Rujuta did not have one. Nidhi got up from the windowsill, walked slowly to where Rujuta was standing. She craned her neck towards Rujuta’s. Rujuta could smell a faint lavender perfume that Nidhi was wearing. Rujuta strained her neck to allow her cigarette to meet Nidhi’s. The two women, each gorgeous in her own right, were so close for the first time since they had made an acquaintance a few weeks ago. None of them was aware about other’s life back then and yet, the looming conversation was to decide the course of action that their lives would take on from here.

The two Stikks kissed each other precariously. The amber baton of life slowly passed from Nidhi’s to Rujuta’s. The faint orange glow grew brighter and the thin paper burnt gloriously. Rujuta inhaled into her Stikk. The light between the two Stikks got murkier, to a darker shade of crimson, and a fresh smell of burning tobacco filled the air around them. Rujuta moved away and blew out a cloud of smoke. Nidhi walked back to her windowsill and sat next to the ashtray and the Magnum 500. Her gait was slow and measured.

The two women continued to smoke in silence. Measuring each other. Looking at each other. Seeping in the sights and sounds around them. The tape had moved onto other hits from Guru Dutt.

After a while, Nidhi crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and her fingers brushed the cold muzzle of the gun. She tentatively picked it up and started to fiddle with it. Rujuta looked at it but wasn’t alarmed. She knew that Nidhi wasn’t going to harm her. If she had to, she would’ve done so by now. Unless she was a cold-hearted killer bitch. She could very well be.

Rujuta had a lot of questions for Nidhi. She was mentally prepared to find a reason to be sympathetic to Nidhi and help her when she eventually went through the imminent long trial. Nidhi was all of twenty seven and had a long life ahead of her and she could definitely do with some help. Rujuta took some time to find her words, but when she started to speak, Nidhi interrupted her.

“I am sorry for Prakash. I did not mean to hurt him. I merely wanted to distract the two of you, to get you off my tail for a few days so that I could do what I had set out to. It had taken me almost ten years to plan and execute this. I could not let anyone come in between and stop me. To be honest, I think I had him fooled. If not for you, he would have never ever suspected me. You know… I… I saw the car tumble down the hill. I saw you making the phone call. To the police, was it? I really admire your courage Rujuta. You are very brave. You were so calm, so composed back there. Cold and solid. Like, like this gun.” Nidhi pointed the gun towards Rujuta.

She paused, took in a deep breath and continued, “You know, I would’ve done the same. I would’ve reacted exactly like that. Oh, and the car? It’s parked at my Khandala house. You’d find it parked in the bungalow.” Nidhi smiled feebly, broke her long monologue and took a break to light another cigarette.

Initially, Rujuta did not comprehend what Nidhi had implied. Speed was not her forte. But once her brain absorbed the data points, she eventually came to the conclusion. She twisted her neck to her left, the way she would when she was thinking. When it dawned on her that it was Nidhi who had pushed the car down the ravine, she shuddered.

She was now looking at Prakash’s murderer. Even though Rujuta was trying hard to not display any emotions at the mention of Prakash, her eyes clouded involuntarily. She knew this was the last time she was getting emotional about Prakash. She now had closure. She let the lone tear roll down the side of her cheek onto the thick carpet padding the floor of the room. It did not make any sound when it fell. Everything was silent. Silent like the nights when Prakash and Rujuta headed out on their nightly excursions. Silent like it was after the car had landed in the abyss. Silent like the time when she stood under the shower naked when she reached home after the accident. Just that her heart was wrenching with pain and was screaming in agony. Screaming out loud. Loud like the uproar Prakash’s bike made when Prakash and Rujuta went out for their nightly sojourns on the roads of Mumbai. Loud like the noise of metal against rocks that the car made when it was going down the cliff. Loud like her deafening moans in her shower
when she knew that Prakash was not coming back.

She had made it the mission of her life to find Prakash’s murderer and here she was. Staring into the eyes of the murderer. She could simply snatch the gun from Nidhi and pump all five rounds of the Magnum 500 into her gut. Or she could choose to trust the judicial system and get Nidhi arrested.