・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Monday had started on a strenuous note, for Swara had been too focused on how to convince Sahil to agree to the interview and fighting off the trepidation at having to face Udayan, to notice anything about her parents. Her own contemplation had made her oblivious to the subdued atmosphere at breakfast, for usually she was the one who was the source of bubbly conversation. Ragini had not forgotten their conversation of the previous day and holding Swara to her promise of recounting the entire meeting with Sahil to Laksh, had insisted that Swara meet her at their favourite spot, after dinner. Though puzzled and still feeling pangs of guilt, she made her way to the printing press where she found Ragini waiting for her along with Laksh.

Despite her surprise at seeing Laksh; she had not expected him to be willing to meet her, and despite her relief at noting that he did not appear to be displeased with her, she was not comfortable with recounting her encounter with Sahil. But as she spoke, she realised that her initial assumption that Laksh would have been a brilliant criminal lawyer was quite accurate; with his gentle questions and subtle comments he enabled her to give a detailed account. She was surprised when he made her repeat the sequence which led to Sahil taking the file, stressing on her confirming that he had taken it as opposed to her handing it over to him. She reiterated what had happened, though she could not miss the gleam which entered his eyes when she repeated what had happened.

"Thanks, that was quite helpful, let me see what we can do. Now can you do us a favour and not talk about this, especially meeting me, with anyone, specifically your parents and your friends. Can you do that for us?"

Swara nodded, she was not going to break the tenuous trust they had in her, she was not sure if it was trust but then it was a start to win their trust. She stayed in her chair, watching Ragini and Laksh whispering as her sister walked him to the back door of the printing press, which led to the back gate, wondering if they were talking about her. But when she saw Laksh lean over and kiss Ragini on her lips, all thoughts flew out of her head and when her sister came back she spluttered, "He kissed you and... and you did not kill him."

"Why should I!  Were you expecting me to do something like that?"

Still reeling under what she had witnessed and trying to reconcile the flushed sister she now saw with the aloof one she had known, Swara said, "No, it is not that...I was just surprised...I thought I knew about you and then I found out that all of you are friends, and now this..."

And as though some thing struck her, Swara narrowed her eyes and warned, "Now do not tell me that kiss was just between friends, I am sure it was not a chaste one..."

Ragini linked her arms with Swara and smiled, "No, we are friends, it is true, but then we also do love each other and did hope to get married. And then that accident happened, I said things which should not be said and we drifted apart. Now I think it is too late. Anyway, we have a lot of things to do, so we shall talk about all this, some other day. Is it fine?"

Swara did not pester her sister, the wistfulness and the pain of loss were apparent in Ragini's voice and she wondered how many lives had been destroyed by one person's momentary irresponsibility.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Prashanti was going to throw up, she was sure of that.

She was normally uncaring about who actually came over to the clinic from where Abhay did his consultancy, twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays. He was a good doctor; he earlier had been a general practitioner but had then specialised in orthopedics and gained quite a reputation among patients with arthritis and back pain. The appointments were difficult to get and often patients would have to wait for a couple of months to get one, he was rumoured to have magic in his fingers and his touch was soothing; she knew just how magical his fingers were from her personal experience, though in a different way, a way that sent ecstatic ruptures through her.

However, Prashanti also knew that despite the popularity of Dr Abhay and the apparent success of the consultancy clinic, the financial prosperity was not wholly on account of his acclaim as a doctor, it came on account of something else. She had a vague idea as to what it could be but never bothered much about it, as long as her personal needs were met by him.

This Tuesday she had a visit from the Serial lady, a repeat visitor who had been regular over the past few months; she could not be bothered with her actual name, though she was the one who booked the appointments. The Serial lady looked to be in her early forties; she was plump, shoddily dressed and had chapped feet, visible from under the hem of the dress she wore, which was a cross between a voluminous night gown and a long frock. Prashanti hated women who did not take care of themselves, she prided her manicured hands and her styled hair as well as her fashionable clothes, all paid for by Dr Abhay and she had a special dislike for the Serial lady, who would sit in the reception area and watch those inane 'Saas – bahu – souten' serials or discuss the same with someone else on the phone, whom Prashanthi presumed to be her mother.

Today the serial lady had come with another woman, who was a little better dressed in jeans, a tucked in denim shirt and flat shoes, though Prashanti sniffed at the way she had twisted her hair into a tight bun. Based on the conversation that Prashanthi overheard, she was a writer of sorts, so she was the Writer lady, and had come to seek Dr Abhay's advice regarding pain in her wrist.

"So what is your research all about?"

"Wives and Mistresses."

The Serial lady laughed, though Prashanti wondered how she would find it funny, considering the serials she watched, "What is there to research about?"

"The inequity between them; the sympathy and the support the wife receives from society, while the mistress is maligned and marginalised, and the man, who is the main culprit, is rarely punished or questioned."

Prashanti's ears perked up, the topic was intriguing and she could not help listening in, and it was not that the women were whispering, she had no make no effort to hear them out.

The Serial lady guffawed, another sore point with Prashanti, "Well, if the woman is stupid enough to sleep with a married man, she might as well accept the labelling."

"So, no blaming the man? That is not fair."

"Of course, the man is to blame, men are always at fault. But then you are talking about the women, so here I would blame the mistress, even if the wife is a shrew, the woman should have sense not to get involved with a married man. And if the man has a lovely wife, then she is being selfish and stupid. Unless you are getting some financial gain out of the relationship, apart from the physical gain, in which case, well, let us not start labelling what that would make you."

"Yes, but it seems a little unfair..."

"That is the way society is, and most of the times, the man is only looking for some fun on the side, why else would he not divorce his wife and make the relationship with the mistress public? I am not saying they should get married, but even if it is a live-in relationship, why all the secrecy, if you have nothing to hide? I am telling you, all that the men want is fun and most women are stupid to believe them..."

"So what would you suggest?"

"A confrontation by the mistress, so that she knows where she stands. And once she gets clarity as to her status, hopefully she also garners some sense and acts accordingly. There really is no use..."

Prashanti switched off, the conversation was a little too true to her relation with Dr Abhay. She never noticed when the women left and long after their departure, their discussion stayed with her and she could not help compare her situation with what she had overhead. She had never labelled her relationship with Abhay, if sleeping with him could be a relationship, but now, she realised that the role of a mistress fitted her, fitted her too well. She had been with him for almost eight years and while there had been no change in her place with him it did not mean it would continue, or even if it did, it meant that she would always be the mistress. There was no way he would leave his wife and kids and all she had gotten out was a tag of being a mistress, a wardrobe filled with lots of clothes, handbags and shoes and the hushed whispers about her at family functions.

It would have to change and she intended to be compensated, adequately. 

And while Prashanti was contemplating her course of action, Meghna and Ragini separated outside the clinic; Meghna discretely deflated the small air pillows that she had strapped round her waist and as she tightened the belt the dowdy gown changed to a fitted flowing dress. A change of shoes and she was unrecognisable as the Serial lady. Ragini only changed her shoes, unpinned her hair, rolled down the sleeves, untucked her shirt while unbuttoning the first three, changing it to a denim jacket and transforming herself into a casually dressed young woman.

They knew that their conversation would be noted and it would mess with Prashanti's head, her insecurity with Dr Abhay and her greed would have her make a move that would upset the beautiful family he had. And that in turn would upset some other arrangement.

It was what they wanted. And if they had a counter, it would read 'One down.'

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Anu Maa had a secret, her own secret. It was not a dirty one, nor was it one to be ashamed of, but then Anu Maa preferred to pretend it was a secret, even though everyone in her family knew about it. She was obsessed with crime detection serials and was an avid fan of the CID series, she never missed a single episode and even caught all the reruns. Though that was public knowledge, what she managed to keep hidden was her fascination with the American CSI series, it was difficult to follow the same when the language, or more importantly the accent was not familiar but with repeated watching and learning to read the sub-titles, she enjoyed the shows, especially since she knew that her family did not know about her CSI watching binges and her mild infatuation with Detective Mac Taylor of the CSI:NY series.

And today, on the second Wednesday of September, Anu Maa finally got to live her fantasy; nothing much but for her it gave her a chance to be a part of the game, though rather as a member of the team that was perpetuating the action instead of the one that would be investigating it. However, she was going to use the knowledge gained to ensure that she did not get caught. She had planned out her course of action with caution; a simple saree on each occasion, casually draped and with an unassuming air that allowed her mingle with all those elderly women who occupy their time by visiting the temples. Her sole intention had been to befriend and familiarise herself with Dr Abhay's wife.

Dr Abhay's wife, Gauri, was a god fearing woman, who prayed devotedly and fervently, at the local temple near their house. Annapurna had seized on this habit and had started to visit that temple often, coinciding her visits to those days when Gauri would come to the temple, Wednesdays being one such day of the week.

This Wednesday was the day the final peg was to be put in place.

Gauri, who had grown to be a little fond of Annapurna Maasi, and that caused a significant amount of grief to Annapurna, which persisted despite her self-conviction that it was a necessary step in their plan; what she would let Gauri know was not a lie but a truth that would hurt her though she knew that all she would be telling was a truth. Once the puja was done, as was their habit, Gauri and Annapurna sat down at a corner of the temples, enjoying the weather, which was cool and sunny, a relief after the consistent rains for the past couple of weeks. 

After a few minutes, Annapurna said, "Gauri beta, I am hesitant but then I really do not have anyone else to ask about so I am asking you."

"Please Maasi, do no embarrass me by apologising or hesitating, what is it that you want to know?"

"Remember, I told you about my niece, Prashanti?"

When Gauri nodded, Annapurna continued, "I did tell you that she works in a clinic and sometime last week, she came and told us that she and the doctor whom she works for are in love with each other and would like to get married. Now, we cannot object but nor can we just accept it, so I needed your help."

"My help?"

"You did say your husband was also a doctor, right? So maybe if he could make a few discreet enquiries..."

Gauri laughed, "Of course he will, if he does not, I will make him do it. Do you have the details?"

Annapurna floundered, "I do not recall the name, something with 'A' but I do have a few photographs."

Rummaging through her purse, she pulled out a cover, which had a dozen photographs or so, of Prashanti and Dr Abhay. All of them were candid casual shots, but the intimacy between the two was unmistakable. 

As Guari's face blanched and she rushed away without another word, still clutching the photographs, Annapurna sat back and relaxed; two months of careful conversations about errant husbands and foolish wives, subtle suggestions as to how a wife being cheated on should react and artful advice as to how to proceed in such a case, all had unconsciously created a tinderbox in Gauri's mind. The photographs were the match to set it aflame.

And though she felt guilty for hurting Gauri with the truth, she could not but be happy at the way events would play out. Dr Abhay deserved a confrontation with the truth.

It was two down.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Dr Abhay cursed the day he had met Prashanti, cursed the day he had decided to take payment for his silence, cursed the day he married, cursed the day he... he had run out of things to curse. 

The ruckus his three year old son was creating and the petulant screams of his seven year old daughter were not helping. Nor was the fact that his wife had only taken a breather, to drink a glass of water or two, before she resumed lambasting him. And still could not understand how his wife had guessed about his affair based on a few casual photographs, never realising that his shocked reaction and hesitant denial had been the only confirmation his wife needed.

Eight years ago, when he had sealed his deal of silence, it had given him tremendous monetary benefits, one that continued till date. It had also allowed him to indulge in his fantasies with a much younger, vibrant and willing Prashanti; his wife had never been the adventurous kind when it came to bed, not that she was adventurous in any thing. But she was a nice person, a good mother and a great cook, who adored and respected him, and made a pretty picture when she had to accompany him for official functions. 

Prashanti on the other hand, was good only in bed and while he did not care for her professional incompetency, it was getting tiresome to cover up her ineptitude. Eight years ago, the money and her pliant body had been enough to overlook a lot of things, though deep down he knew that she was likely to destroy more lives with her carelessness and apathy. But lately, he had been prone to misgivings and contrary realisations, for despite his lapses, he was a good doctor, one who did rejoice in healing the patients who had been delivered to his care. And in spite having an affair with Prashanthi, he loved his wife and his children. 

Maybe with time, he had stopped being enamoured with Prashanti and maybe the money did not seem as enticing as it did then.  Further, he wanted to be a doctor, one with the respectability that he had, which was possible as long as he stayed married. If he had to choose, he would chose his wife and family, over an affair, especially if it involved Prashanti and her incessant demands for money. 

Once he came to the realisation, it was easy to make his decision.

Prashanthi was a liability, one that had to be disposed off immediately. Having made up his mind he picked up his mobile to make a call.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

The scheduled visit by Dr Karan Kapoor on Friday, turned out to be a pleasant surprise when Sanjay Sengupta found that the doctor was accompanied by his son. Sanjay Sengupta prided on being able to command the doctors to answer his beck and call, though he was always perplexed as to what exactly motivated Dr Kapoor; Sanjay could never understand that there were people who were not influenced by power or motivated by money. He had often asked him and always received the same answer, 'You are a patient and I am a doctor, irrespective of your reasons, it is simple, if you cannot come to the hospital, I will come to your home. As my patient, your health is important.'

Once the check up was done, Kabir requested some time to discuss a new device, and Sanjay being flattered, agreed. Kabir spoke softly, with a confidence he did not feel and a calmness that belied the within fear churning within him, he was hoping it would go smooth but then there were so many things that could go wrong, which is why he had decided to attempt the same a day before the day of the interview, the lesser the time the device was on them the greater their chances of learning anything without being caught, while giving them a few hours to test out the device.

Sanjay Sengupta was impressed and pleased; he had heard about the Fitbit but then had dismissed it as a unnecessary gadget, after a few apps in his latest iPhone could do what the Fitbit promised as a fraction of that cost; he was not enamoured at the idea of wearing too may devices. However, he was intrigued by the device that Kabir showed, it looked like a fitbit but apparently was not exactly one,  and the way Kabir explained it and pointed out the great benefits that a constant monitoring of his heart and other vitals would mean, Sanjay was quite impressed, more with Kabir's deference than the technical capabilities of the device, so impressed was he that he readily agreed with Kabir's hesitant suggestion that Sahil could also wear one.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

Sanjay Sengupta was not impressed by either of the Gadodia sisters.

When he accompanied Sahil to the office of the Gadodia Publications for the interview on Saturday afternoon, he was met by Shekar and Ragini, and the five minutes of pleasantries were quite unpleasant for him; Shekar seemed evasive and uncomfortable, as though he was upset with his contribution to the previous week's article while Ragini was polite but cold, which he concluded was a natural state for her. After a quick tour of the offices, which was at his request and one that was accepted with visible reluctance, the Senguptas were finally led to the small conference room where the interview was to be held.

Sanjay decided that he liked Udayan, concluding that he was an impressive and impassive young man, who would be an asset to his publications, which he hoped would be the case once SNLRS enforced the penalties of the NDA clause and Shekar would have no option but to seek his assistance. He would extend it for that would ensure that the Gadodia Publications be transferred to the Mitra Group. A normally prudent man, he could not help be excited at owning the newspapers, though nothing showed on his face but exasperation as they waited for Swara to make an appearance.

Swara's tardiness did not go down well with him; for he was a stickler for time and was known to be punctual to the second and after fifteen minutes of waiting, was almost tempted to walk out. Two things held him back; one the unexpressed pleasure of being interviewed, for despite being a successful businessman he had not had many interviews, the few that he had been invited to were more on account of him having married into the Mitra family, so he was proud that his son was being interviewed and secondly, he was slightly curious to meet Swara for he wanted to judge what sort of person she exactly was and what might have motivated her to share the transcripts. But when Swara walked in, twenty minutes after the appointed time, in a flurry of vibrant skirts and jingling bracelets, Sanjay was baffled.

It took them another fifteen minutes to start the interview. They had to have tea, which Swara insisted and she kept talking with animated gestures throughout, her clinking bracelets provided a noisy background and he was grateful when Udayan almost ordered her to remove them for the duration of the interview.

The initial questions, he had a copy of them all, were fairly routine and he sat in silence, hearing to what his son had to say. Despite Sahil being his son and of whom he was very fond, he could not help notice that the interview was boring and half way through he stopped listening, his attention perking up when he heard Swara's counter to one answer that Sahil had given.

"Are you sure that there is no advice you would give your younger self? I thought you would say that you would be more careful while driving so that there are further accidents."

"Accident?" Sahil squeaked, his face taking a grayish hue.

And before Sanjay could say anything, Swara had continued, "Yes, you have a limp, right? So I assumed that you must have had an accident, which is why I said that."

Sahil had floundered a bit before saying, "That was eight years ago and I do not drive anymore so..."

Sanjay interrupted, "Swara, Sahil hurt his leg when he fell from the stairs, not in a car accident. I agree that it is a reasonable conclusion but then is it pertinent to this interview?"

And he was relieved that she agreed and went to the next question. He did not want any attention drawn to what had happened eight years ago, which was becoming increasingly difficult once the rapid fire question session started. Despite Sahil giving only short answers, Swara seemed determined to have the last word.

"Who is your inspiration?" 

"My father" 

Sanjay's paternal pride had been pricked when Swara mumbled, "Definitely, seeing the way he protects you.

Who is the messiest person you know?"

"My cousin, he is..." 

"I knew it could not be your father, he cleans up real well, does he not?

What's the most interesting thing you've read or seen this week?" 

" A report that stated that  'India has gone from British Raj to Billionaire Raj' it was interesting to see that income inequity is proportionate to the per Capita income growth..." 

"And here I am thinking it is the transcripts...

...What is your biggest/weirdest fear?" 

"I hate being fat, which is why I exercise" 

"Running to keep fit and it also helps from being caught?" And Swara had laughed, a giggly one as though she found herself cleverly funny.

"What was your favourite game?" 

Musical Chairs" 

"Hmm, I thought it would be 'catch me, if you can.' Guess I got it wrong. 

What was your favourite toy?" 

"Cars" 

"Strange and yet you do not drive?"

By the time the interview was done, Sahil was feeling out of sorts and Sanjay was furious, though he did not show it; he could not shake off the growing suspicion that they had been played and that Swara's display of frivolousness was more of an act than a display of a natural tendency. Swara's parting words only strengthened his suspicions for once the interview was over, Swara had come around the table and shaking hands with both of them, said, "Thank you so much for agreeing to the interview. I enjoyed doing it. I love talking so it is fun to do interviews and they are a great way to learn about others too, right?"

He could not resist, either giving an answer or the sarcasm in his voice, "Yes, beta, though it would be truer if you allowed the interviewee to answer completely."

Her eyes grew large at his words, he was sure she had understood but his momentary pleasure disappeared when she cribbed, "Not fair, Uncle, I was just trying to help. And you have to agree it is such a coincidence that one would think the events are linked, if one did not know that facts; Sahil's limp from the acci... falling down the stairs... and Sanskaar's accident which left him crippled. Anyway, it was still lovely talking to you."

She smiled, one of brilliant innocence and then asked, "I will write out the transcripts and sent them to you for approval?"

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・

The shattering of the glass echoed in the cavernous silence of the penthouse, though it hardly caused any reaction, apparently, it was a regular feature. However, this time when a louder crash accompanied the glass, Sahil shivered, slightly. He knew about his father's temper, had witnessed a few outbursts and also had been on the receiving end of a couple of them, but he had never seen his father rage as today. Wanting  to smooth things he asked, "Dad, I think you are overreacting. I know Swara a little better and she is a kid, you saw how she was dressed and the way she was talking. Maybe you should not read too much into her words..."

Sahil spluttered to a silence when his father glared at him, he had always been a little frightened but then tonight his father terrified him, "That gaudy bohemian bitch actually had the temerity to accuse you of causing the accident and you think I am over reacting?"

Sahil cringed at his father's words, he could not forget that night; the blinding lights, the sounds of metal crashing, the screams that had filled the air and the subsequent deafening silence stenched with the smell of expensive whiskey. He had not even known what exactly had happened, he had woken up in the hospital with his leg in a plaster cast; his father had taken care of everything and had assured him that nothing serious had happened. It was only when he had overhead his father talking to Dr Abhay that he had pieced what exactly had happened.

And hearing his father rave about Swara and rant at him brought back those memories. Though the guilt continued to kill him, he could never summon the courage to confess; as the days passed he managed to suppress that guilt too. He had never touched a drink or a car after that day but nothing could change what had happened and he tried not to listen to his father's tirade, though there was not no way he could avoid it all.

"...I know you are not even responsible for her dying, it was that stupid truck driver who had to materialise out of nowhere..."

"If you had been sober that day as you were now, your reflexes would have prevented you from crashing into their car..."

"...you were driving well over the speed limit and you misjudged the angle, instead of clearing the truck, you crashed..."

"...if only Sanskaar had succeeded when he tried to commit suicide.."

"...maybe I should have helped him, it would have saved us all..."

Sahil heaved a sigh of relief when his father's mobile rang, though he was apprehensive as to who the caller could be and once he saw his father's face turn a blotchy red, he grew nervous, especially when his father almost screamed, "Listen Abhay, you are a goddamned greedy pig. I have paid you millions and you still seem to need more money. Now you listen to me, this is the last time you will try to blackmail me. I said I will take care of things and I do not need any reminders from a worm like you."

And as his father collapsed on the sofa, his breath in heavy pants, Sahil rushed forward, "Dad, you have to take it a little slow, your blood pressure is rising, I am sure. Here let me check."

But when he reached for his father's hand, Sanjay pulled his wrist free and tearing the fit-bit from his arm, flung it at the wall, with all the force he could muster. It gave a whirring wail and then the tiny, almost invisible, blinking light switched off.

Not exactly a cliff hanger, but I could resist stopping here. The next update- Subterfuge - picks up exactly where we left it. And in the mean time could you please let me know how this was? And what do think might happen next? But I would like to say that you need not worry much, we are close to wrapping up things, so maybe, it would be fine.

love,
Nyna