Looking up at the morning sky, which was blanketed with dull clouds that showered a light drizzle upon the trees whose leaves rustled in a chill breeze that blew across the pathway, which led to the canteen, where people flocked to have their morning meals, Mr.Chan walked with slow steps. He was in an agitated mood.
He ordered the usual breakfast, gave the usual smug smile for the stall owner’s usual lame joke, paid the usual, sat down at the usual table and began eating the usual way.
But unusually, the canteen seemed a bit crowded that day. Within a few gulps of his soup, an old lady came walking towards his two-seater, searching for a place to sit. In a sudden generous mood, Mr.Chan motioned with his spoon at the empty seat in front of him. The lady hesitated a moment or it could have been late response due to the friction that age induced in limbs. Mr.Chan could not judge which. But it took quite some time for the lady to settle down at the table with her cup of coffee.
Mr.Chan politely stared at his plate and ate with concentration. This was the norm when you eat with strangers. You either looked down at your plate as if marveling at a wonderful sculpture or you looked away into the distance as if in a deep, contemplative mood. Mr.Chan had chosen the first alternative.
The sound of the raindrops hitting the roof of the canteen grew louder. Mr.Chan looked up at the sky and happened to catch a glimpse of the old lady’s face as his gaze turned back towards his plate. Her face seemed familiar.
Chewing the meat hard, Mr.Chan tried to recollect where he had seen that face before. Behind the glass panel at the bank? Beside the billing machine at the supermarket? Inside the MRT in the seat opposite his?
“No... Somewhere else...” replied his mind.
After several mouthfuls of the soup, deeper thought and one more glance at the old lady’s face, the recollection dawned upon him. He knew where he had seen the face. In fact, he saw it every day - funny though, that he could not recollect it easily. It was the face that smiled at him from behind the tray collection counter. He saw that happy face every day, framed within the four sides of the usual slot, where he thrust his empty tray.
He drank another spoonful of the soup with a feeling of triumph and satisfaction with his memory.
“You have a photographic memory, Mr.Chan!” The visual of a smiling man, giving him a silver plaque, floated in and out of his mind. A low, rumble of thunder brought him back to the canteen. The visual that he now saw in front of him surprised him a little.
The old lady was stirring the cup of coffee - her eyes staring at the swirling, brown liquid. Her face did not have the usual smile. It was grim.
Mr.Chan wondered what could be wrong. She was not in her uniform today. Maybe she was fired from work? No. Why would anyone fire such a nice lady? You never know. With the current economic crisis maybe even canteens were...
Mr.Chan’s thoughts trailed off as he noticed a small, teardrop form on the edge of the lady’s left eye. But she was sipping the coffee solemnly and staring vaguely into the distance. The teardrop made its way slowly down her rugged cheek and fell softly upon the table.
Mr.Chan could not help but admire the beauty of the teardrop. The few rays of sunlight, which escaped through the slits in the dark clouds, touched its surface and made it glisten for a moment. He looked up at the woman. What sorrow could there be in her life, he wondered. His eyes looked around. People were walking past with filled trays, chatting between mouthfuls of food. No one cared to pause and ask her. None cared to know...
That was when Mr.Chan realized that he was done with his soup. Lifting the tray from the table he made his way to the tray collection point. There was a new face that stared coldly at him from behind the counter. Leaving the tray behind, he wiped his mouth with a tissue.
After dropping the tissue into a dustbin, he looked back. The old lady still sat at the table with her cup of coffee unfinished. The teardrop on the table glistened, screeching out for the attention that it was never destined to receive. A cleaner came up with a small cloth in his hand and was gone in an instant. The table was wiped clean – cleansed of all the dirt, the spillings and the teardrop...
“Many hands there are to wipe her tears off the table but none to wipe them off her face...” thought Mr.Chan, to himself and turned around. Opening up his umbrella, he ran out with light steps into the pouring rain with a smile on his face. He had the perfect, touching story for his next short film.
July 16, 2009
June 7, 2009
One Little Scar - Part 2
Continued from Part 1
“Have you brought what I asked for?” questioned the dark figure.
Inspector Yajur nodded. He grabbed a nearby wooden chair and seated himself in front of an old, wooden table.
There was a click. Above Yajur’s head, a fluorescent tube-light flickered on. The dark form stepped into the circle of light cast by it. The form had the face of a twenty-year-old youth. He seated himself opposite Yajur.
Yajur fished within his coat pocket and brought out a pack of biscuits. He flung it carelessly on the table and yawned.
“Could you please treat the reincarnation of a scientist with a little more respect?” requested the youth and grabbed the pack. Yajur gazed intently at the youth’s face for a moment.
“You’ll make a great actor, Nitin”, Yajur smiled for the first time.
“Why such a sudden prediction may I know?” asked Nitin, closing his eyes and lowering his head, to accept the appreciation with warmth.
“Every reporter in the city has been piqued by your act. You’re all over the news.”
“Good. Our plan has worked then”, Nitin remarked. He whistled with a biscuit in hand. A black cat jumped onto the table from below. He patted the cat as it devoured the biscuit with relish.
“It still doesn’t touch anything except good quality butter biscuits is it?” muttered Yajur, staring at the cat, “Spoilt little rascal!”
Yajur smirked.
“He can be choosy though. After all, he’s the one who helped us find Dr. Nathan’s diary, remember?”
Yajur nodded, patting the lower pocket of his coat, where the small, brown diary rested happily.
*****
This little diary had passed through an eventful life since its birth in a press in Pune in the year 1974. At a time when it was young and knew nothing of the outside world, it was placed inside a wooden crate and sent off on a long journey. It grew extremely excited when the crate was opened and its pages fluttered in the fresh air of a city (which it later learned to be Mumbai). The diary still remembered every detail of the first words that were written in it. They were written with a sharp, fountain pen on its cover page.
“To my dear Nathan, on the success of the Smiling Buddha – Ramanna”
To this day, the diary knew not who this Ramanna and Smiling Buddha were. But it cared not. It was loyal to its master, Nathan.
Nathan was a man of few words and of regular habits. Every week on a Friday night, he would make it a point to open the diary and write a line or two. He wrote about different things – sometimes his experiments, sometimes his emotions, sometimes events of the week and sometimes his plans for the future. The diary even vaguely recollected two verses of romantic poetry that he had scribbled, after he met Mrs. Nathan for the first time.
As the years rolled by, the diary came to know Nathan better than anyone else in the world.
6th June 1980 was the first non-Friday on which the diary’s sleep was disturbed. Master picked it out of the drawer with trembling fingers that night. He wrote only two lines.
“Indira madam wants another test. I’ve been made the leader.”
Master stared long at these two lines before he shut the diary triumphantly. The diary felt the current of exhilaration streaming through master’s body, as he clutched it close to his heart. That was one unforgettable night for the diary, as it danced with its master in the warm, candlelight of his study.
From that day onwards, the diary and its master grew busy. The diary learnt from master that he was working on a top secret project of immense importance. The diary felt proud that master confided all plans of the project to it. It no longer had to stay in that dingy, table drawer. Master carried it with him, wherever he went.
All of a sudden one night, the diary was lurched out of master’s coat. The diary knew not which day it was, since master failed to mention it. The diary could sense that it was in a different environment, cold and musty, which was in contrast to the usual warm study. The diary was stunned for a while as master scribbled into it hurriedly with a blunt pencil stub. It grew even more aghast when it began to understand the meaning of the words that master wrote.
“To the members of Operation Shakti,
If ever you find this,
There is a leak. My kidnappers want the design. I won’t speak and so will die. Shakti should go on.”
The diary could recall still the warmth of the single drop of blood that fell upon its cover page as master dropped it into a muddy hole in the floor. That was the last time the diary felt master’s touch. It was now shut off from the world.
Darkness. Time passed. The diary knew master had been in some danger and was dead. He would have come back to take the diary, if he had escaped and been alive. The diary brooded over this thought in that cold, dank hole, not knowing how many years passed.
One fine day, the floorboards above the diary, creaked and fell apart. The claws of a cat landed on the diary and were gone in an instant. The hands of a young man groped its leather surface and pulled it out of the hole. The diary felt exhilarated to feel the fresh air once again. It allowed the young man to dust it and browse through all its pages. Finally, after twenty years of imprisonment, the diary had revealed its master’s last message to a human. It was now at peace.
*****
“Hey guys, look what I found!” said Nitin, holding up an old, diary “It was hidden beneath the floor in that cabin.”
“Wow! An old diary hidden in a place like this? Surely it must have the map to a long lost treasure!” spoke Uncle Ramanandh, leaning back on the bark of a tree with a snort.
“One little picnic of the famous five turns out to be an adventure!” announced Vasu, imitating the tone of a newsreader.
“Let me take a look” said Yajur and took the diary from Nitin.
“Where’s my butter biscuit pack? That is what you were supposed to get from the cat!” shouted eight-year-old Sathish.
“The cat was fast. Sorry”, Nitin replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Just then, there was a soft mew. All five pairs of eyes turned towards the bushes on the bank of the river. And there stood the black cat, calmly eating a butter biscuit. Sathish’s face turned red with fury.
“I’ll kill you, you little devil!” he screamed, running towards the cat, holding up
his falling trousers. The river valley echoed with laughter.
*****
Nitin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the cat devour the biscuits yet again.
“When is the press meet?” he asked Inspector Yajur, sitting across the table.
“This evening.”
Nitin raised his eyebrows with a look of concern.
“I’ve spoken to the psychologist. His report shall say what we want it to say. The press will hear yet another confirmation that you are indeed speaking the truth.”
Nitin showed a thumbs-up sign to Inspector Yajur, who stood up to leave.
“I forgot to mention”, he said, adjusting his cap, “I could spare only three today. The rest needed for the CM.”
“It’s okay. I’ll manage”, said Nitin, flexing his arms.
Inspector Yajur’s smile vanished as he walked out of the cabin and closed the wooden door behind him.
*****
Kabir opened the wooden door with absolutely no sound. He was an expert at handling creaky doors. The sound of crickets was loud and clear in the night. Through a few rays of moonlight that crept in through some crevices, he spotted the form lying on the table. His eyes gleamed at the sight of his target.
“Go on”, whispered Kothari, from behind.
Picking the rope out of his rear pocket, Kabir stepped silently towards the sleeping young man. He visualized Nitin Kumar’s face in the newspaper under the obituary column. “Yes. That’s where such nerdy faces belong”, he thought and chuckled.
That was when he heard the cocking of pistols. A kick on his spine, a blow on his head and a merciless grip on his neck, pinned his face onto the table. He heard the clinking of handcuffs, as his hands were secured behind his back. He heard a whine behind him and knew Kothari had met with the same fate. He felt the jab of a pistol’s nose on the backside of his skull. He lay thus, surrounded by three policemen, with his face on the table, just inches away from the face of the sleeping man. The sleeping man raised his head and looked at Kabir with a smile.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Murderer. Why do you want to kill me?”
*****
“I am sorry, Mr.Shukla. You are going as well.”
The voice of Inspector Yajur was calm as he held up the handcuffs. Shukla looked up helplessly at his boss. He was busy dusting his black coat.
“Let’s go Inspector”, spoke the boss, adjusting his sleeves.
More than his behavior, it was the face of the boss that puzzled Shukla the most. There was a cold sneer fixed on it even as he walked out of the mansion towards the jeep.
*****
“Are you sure you are not his reincarnation?” asked Dr. Chandran. He was staring with dazed eyes at Nitin. They were seated on a sofa, in the hall of Nitin’s flat. The time was nine in the night.
Nitin could only grin. It was taking some time for Dr. Chandran to understand the fact that it was all an act to lure the murderer of Dr. Nathan.
“We could have done nothing else”, said Inspector Yajur, “We had this diary, a scientist’s secret message before his death and an unknown murderer to nab.”
“We didn’t ask for it”, remarked Vasu, “We were having a picnic by the riverside, when a cat snatched this little fellow’s biscuits. Nitin went after it and found the diary during the chase.”
Sathish frowned at Vasu for calling him a little fellow.
“In a way, Sathish and this cat are the heroes of the day”, said Nitin, patting the black cat and smiling at Sathish.
“It was Nitin’s scar actually that gave us the idea”, spoke Ramanandh, “Yajur looked up Nathan’s case files and found that he too had a similar one on his forehead.”
“Then there was this TV show on rebirth, which Vasu saw and the whole plan fell into place. If Nitin were to act as the rebirth of Nathan and make a public statement, announcing that he knew who killed Nathan, the murderer out of nervousness would surely attempt to eliminate him. Our plan was to catch him in this attempt. And... we succeeded.”
“But what if the murderer never came to know of Nitin’s statement?” asked Dr. Chandran.
“Good point. Publicity is always a problem”, grinned Yajur, “To catch everyone’s attention, we decided this act should be done on a special stage. That is when Nitin told us about the anniversary celebrations in his university. You know the rest that happened.”
“But what about the facts you stated that day on stage?” asked Dr. Chandran, looking at Nitin.
“All picked up from this little diary”, he replied, “The act needed some credibility.”
“But who did you expect would authorize that the things you said of Nathan were true?”
“That is what you were there for”, quipped Nitin, “Did you really think that it was a coincidence for you to be the chief guest at the function?”
Dr. Chandran lowered his head and massaged his temple with his fingers. His head was in whirl. He had somehow expected Nitin to be Nathan. He felt cheated now like the audience of a magic show, after the secret behind the trick was revealed.
“Why are you telling me all this?” he asked suddenly.
“We are being honest and expect some honesty in return from you”, said Nitin.
Dr. Chandran gave a puzzled look.
“There is something that we want to learn more about, Dr. Chandran”, spoke Yajur.
“About what?”
“Operation Shakti. The real Operation Shakti.”
There was silence.
“Look. What do you mean the real Operation Shakti?” stammered Dr. Chandran, “There was only one. Pokhran. 1998. Abdul Kalam. You guys should know...”
“You forget that we’ve read this”, said Nitin and held up the leather diary.
“Come on, Dr. Chandran. Tell us the truth”, demanded Inspector Yajur, “I have three culprits locked up in prison and I need to know what to charge them with.”
“I can only say that you cannot charge them with the murder of Dr. Nathan!”
“Why?”
“Because that would mean revealing a lot of details to the courts and to the public.”
“Details of...?”
Dr. Chandran lowered his head and spoke after a moment of deep thought, “Of the real Operation Shakti.”
Ramanandh raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Since you guys know so much already, there’s nothing wrong in telling you this”, said Dr. Chandran and began to explain.
“Dr. Nathan was one of the best nuclear physicists in India and was part of the team that performed the 1974 Pokhran test. Dr. Raja Ramanna was the leader of the project and this diary was obviously presented to Nathan after the test completion.”
“Was ‘Smiling Buddha’ the codename for the nuclear test?”
Dr. Chandran nodded.
“After that one, there was a lot of international pressure on India to stop further tests. Canada cut off its supplies. The NSG imposed severe restrictions. So things kind of stopped.”
“NSG?” asked Ramanandh.
“Nuclear Suppliers Group”, stated Dr. Chandran, a little restlessly, “It was formed to reduce nuclear proliferation. It imposed a lot of restrictions on the transfer of nuclear raw materials.”
“Okay proceed.”
“In 1980, when Indira Gandhi came back to power, she wanted another test. That was when India’s second nuclear project actually began, codenamed Operation Shakti and Dr. Nathan was appointed its leader. Things needed to be kept a secret to avoid another international outcry. Therefore, Nathan spent almost three years, drawing up elaborate plans for the project. Unfortunately, the lady who wanted to see the test, did not live to see even its plans. She was shot dead.”
“Rajiv Gandhi, who followed, was not very keen on nuclear weapons and hence, the government funding for the project was cut off. However, a couple of years later, he underwent a change of mind and gave us the green signal. Operation Shakti got a new life. Work began on the first reactor in 1988. It was pretty slow progress due to the need for secrecy. Just when things were shaping up really well, Dr. Nathan was found dead in his home. Things halted again. Even before the truth behind that death could be uncovered, Mr. Rajiv died as well.”
“A court inquiry followed. All facts about Dr. Nathan could not be disclosed at such an inquiry. Revealing that would have led to international complications. Hence, despite Dr. Nathan having several wounds on his body, his death was pronounced as natural and the case was dismissed.”
“It was only much later in 1996, under Vajpayee that nuclear plans could be properly implemented. It is a little known fact, that the project led by Abdul Kalam, drew a lot of its plans from the original ones made by Dr. Nathan, a decade ago. In fact, the name too was carried over. At last in 1998, the mushroom cloud bloomed again and Nathan’s dream came true.”
Dr. Chandran paused for a moment and asked, “Do you see the problem now? You cannot charge them with Nathan’s murder because the inquiry would ask for the motives of the murderer. And that will surely bring out details of the original Operation Shakti into the public view. The criminal himself might reveal it. Moreover, what proof do you have that this criminal killed Dr. Nathan? Is a mere murder attempt on a supposed reincarnation of Nathan enough to prove his guilt?”
“Damn. Now I understand why that fellow was giving me a sneery look throughout the enquiry”, said Yajur, “He knew all along that he cannot be touched.”
“What do we do then? Let them go free?” asked Nitin.
“Being Nathan’s friend, I wouldn’t agree to that.” Dr. Chandran’s voice had a tone of solemnity.
“There’s got to be some way out”, remarked Ramanandh, “Can’t we book them for some other crime perhaps? They deserve punishment no matter what.”
“Ah. This situation is a bit tricky. I guess I need some time to think.”
Yajur stood up and walked out of the room, as the others merely stared at each other.
*****
Nitin was woken up by a vigorous knocking on his door. Yawning sleepily, he stared at the wall clock. It was six thirty in the morning. The knocking grew more furious by the minute. In an irritated mood, he walked out into the hall, unlatched the door and opened it. Inspector Yajur barged in, breathing heavily.
Without any explanation, he dived beneath the sofa and began searching for something.
“What are you looking for? What happened?” asked Nitin, in a dazed sort of manner.
Yajur pointed at the newspaper, lying outside the door.
“Third page”, he uttered and continued scanning the room.
Nitin picked up the newspaper and turned to page three. His jaw dropped open.
“Fire in police station kills two!
September 5th, 2009, Chennai: A fire that broke out at the Royapettah police station, last midnight, killed two people and heavily damaged property. The deceased were identified as Mr Dutta (51) and Mr. Saurabh Shukla (45). Interestingly, the two had been arrested the previous day on charges of attempted murder on Mr. Nitin Kumar, the lad who claimed to be the reincarnation of Dr. Nathan.”
“How... How did this happen?” stammered Nitin, staring at the article, “And what are you searching for here?”
“Read further”, spoke Yajur, opening up the glass window and examining the sill outside.
“The cause of the fire has met with a lot of strange speculations. Mr. Kathumuthu, one of the constables, who was on duty when the incident occurred, asserted that he saw a cat meddle with the wires in an open, electric junction box near the station, causing a short circuit and thereby the fire. The police have filed a case and investigations are ongoing.”
“A cat?” uttered Nitin and froze, staring at Yajur. Yajur nodded and his gaze froze at Nitin’s feet. There was a soft mew. Nitin looked down. And there it was standing between his feet.
Nitin dropped the paper in shock and stepped away. The cat mewed again and stepped over the fallen newspaper. It stared for a moment at the title of the article and the photos of the dead men. Then it looked up at the two guys. Nitin would have sworn that at that moment, its jaws broke into a smile - a kind of a peaceful smile, the peace that follows revenge. And then, with a sudden leap, the black cat jumped onto the window sill and was gone in an instant.
Nitin and Yajur stared at each other in shock. It was not the fire that they were thinking of, not the death of the two criminals, neither the headlines of the newspaper nor the Indian nuclear tests. Their minds were thinking about something else, something small, something they had not noticed at all, something on the forehead of the black cat... one little scar...
“Have you brought what I asked for?” questioned the dark figure.
Inspector Yajur nodded. He grabbed a nearby wooden chair and seated himself in front of an old, wooden table.
There was a click. Above Yajur’s head, a fluorescent tube-light flickered on. The dark form stepped into the circle of light cast by it. The form had the face of a twenty-year-old youth. He seated himself opposite Yajur.
Yajur fished within his coat pocket and brought out a pack of biscuits. He flung it carelessly on the table and yawned.
“Could you please treat the reincarnation of a scientist with a little more respect?” requested the youth and grabbed the pack. Yajur gazed intently at the youth’s face for a moment.
“You’ll make a great actor, Nitin”, Yajur smiled for the first time.
“Why such a sudden prediction may I know?” asked Nitin, closing his eyes and lowering his head, to accept the appreciation with warmth.
“Every reporter in the city has been piqued by your act. You’re all over the news.”
“Good. Our plan has worked then”, Nitin remarked. He whistled with a biscuit in hand. A black cat jumped onto the table from below. He patted the cat as it devoured the biscuit with relish.
“It still doesn’t touch anything except good quality butter biscuits is it?” muttered Yajur, staring at the cat, “Spoilt little rascal!”
Yajur smirked.
“He can be choosy though. After all, he’s the one who helped us find Dr. Nathan’s diary, remember?”
Yajur nodded, patting the lower pocket of his coat, where the small, brown diary rested happily.
*****
This little diary had passed through an eventful life since its birth in a press in Pune in the year 1974. At a time when it was young and knew nothing of the outside world, it was placed inside a wooden crate and sent off on a long journey. It grew extremely excited when the crate was opened and its pages fluttered in the fresh air of a city (which it later learned to be Mumbai). The diary still remembered every detail of the first words that were written in it. They were written with a sharp, fountain pen on its cover page.
“To my dear Nathan, on the success of the Smiling Buddha – Ramanna”
To this day, the diary knew not who this Ramanna and Smiling Buddha were. But it cared not. It was loyal to its master, Nathan.
Nathan was a man of few words and of regular habits. Every week on a Friday night, he would make it a point to open the diary and write a line or two. He wrote about different things – sometimes his experiments, sometimes his emotions, sometimes events of the week and sometimes his plans for the future. The diary even vaguely recollected two verses of romantic poetry that he had scribbled, after he met Mrs. Nathan for the first time.
As the years rolled by, the diary came to know Nathan better than anyone else in the world.
6th June 1980 was the first non-Friday on which the diary’s sleep was disturbed. Master picked it out of the drawer with trembling fingers that night. He wrote only two lines.
“Indira madam wants another test. I’ve been made the leader.”
Master stared long at these two lines before he shut the diary triumphantly. The diary felt the current of exhilaration streaming through master’s body, as he clutched it close to his heart. That was one unforgettable night for the diary, as it danced with its master in the warm, candlelight of his study.
From that day onwards, the diary and its master grew busy. The diary learnt from master that he was working on a top secret project of immense importance. The diary felt proud that master confided all plans of the project to it. It no longer had to stay in that dingy, table drawer. Master carried it with him, wherever he went.
All of a sudden one night, the diary was lurched out of master’s coat. The diary knew not which day it was, since master failed to mention it. The diary could sense that it was in a different environment, cold and musty, which was in contrast to the usual warm study. The diary was stunned for a while as master scribbled into it hurriedly with a blunt pencil stub. It grew even more aghast when it began to understand the meaning of the words that master wrote.
“To the members of Operation Shakti,
If ever you find this,
There is a leak. My kidnappers want the design. I won’t speak and so will die. Shakti should go on.”
The diary could recall still the warmth of the single drop of blood that fell upon its cover page as master dropped it into a muddy hole in the floor. That was the last time the diary felt master’s touch. It was now shut off from the world.
Darkness. Time passed. The diary knew master had been in some danger and was dead. He would have come back to take the diary, if he had escaped and been alive. The diary brooded over this thought in that cold, dank hole, not knowing how many years passed.
One fine day, the floorboards above the diary, creaked and fell apart. The claws of a cat landed on the diary and were gone in an instant. The hands of a young man groped its leather surface and pulled it out of the hole. The diary felt exhilarated to feel the fresh air once again. It allowed the young man to dust it and browse through all its pages. Finally, after twenty years of imprisonment, the diary had revealed its master’s last message to a human. It was now at peace.
*****
“Hey guys, look what I found!” said Nitin, holding up an old, diary “It was hidden beneath the floor in that cabin.”
“Wow! An old diary hidden in a place like this? Surely it must have the map to a long lost treasure!” spoke Uncle Ramanandh, leaning back on the bark of a tree with a snort.
“One little picnic of the famous five turns out to be an adventure!” announced Vasu, imitating the tone of a newsreader.
“Let me take a look” said Yajur and took the diary from Nitin.
“Where’s my butter biscuit pack? That is what you were supposed to get from the cat!” shouted eight-year-old Sathish.
“The cat was fast. Sorry”, Nitin replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Just then, there was a soft mew. All five pairs of eyes turned towards the bushes on the bank of the river. And there stood the black cat, calmly eating a butter biscuit. Sathish’s face turned red with fury.
“I’ll kill you, you little devil!” he screamed, running towards the cat, holding up
his falling trousers. The river valley echoed with laughter.
*****
Nitin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the cat devour the biscuits yet again.
“When is the press meet?” he asked Inspector Yajur, sitting across the table.
“This evening.”
Nitin raised his eyebrows with a look of concern.
“I’ve spoken to the psychologist. His report shall say what we want it to say. The press will hear yet another confirmation that you are indeed speaking the truth.”
Nitin showed a thumbs-up sign to Inspector Yajur, who stood up to leave.
“I forgot to mention”, he said, adjusting his cap, “I could spare only three today. The rest needed for the CM.”
“It’s okay. I’ll manage”, said Nitin, flexing his arms.
Inspector Yajur’s smile vanished as he walked out of the cabin and closed the wooden door behind him.
*****
Kabir opened the wooden door with absolutely no sound. He was an expert at handling creaky doors. The sound of crickets was loud and clear in the night. Through a few rays of moonlight that crept in through some crevices, he spotted the form lying on the table. His eyes gleamed at the sight of his target.
“Go on”, whispered Kothari, from behind.
Picking the rope out of his rear pocket, Kabir stepped silently towards the sleeping young man. He visualized Nitin Kumar’s face in the newspaper under the obituary column. “Yes. That’s where such nerdy faces belong”, he thought and chuckled.
That was when he heard the cocking of pistols. A kick on his spine, a blow on his head and a merciless grip on his neck, pinned his face onto the table. He heard the clinking of handcuffs, as his hands were secured behind his back. He heard a whine behind him and knew Kothari had met with the same fate. He felt the jab of a pistol’s nose on the backside of his skull. He lay thus, surrounded by three policemen, with his face on the table, just inches away from the face of the sleeping man. The sleeping man raised his head and looked at Kabir with a smile.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Murderer. Why do you want to kill me?”
*****
“I am sorry, Mr.Shukla. You are going as well.”
The voice of Inspector Yajur was calm as he held up the handcuffs. Shukla looked up helplessly at his boss. He was busy dusting his black coat.
“Let’s go Inspector”, spoke the boss, adjusting his sleeves.
More than his behavior, it was the face of the boss that puzzled Shukla the most. There was a cold sneer fixed on it even as he walked out of the mansion towards the jeep.
*****
“Are you sure you are not his reincarnation?” asked Dr. Chandran. He was staring with dazed eyes at Nitin. They were seated on a sofa, in the hall of Nitin’s flat. The time was nine in the night.
Nitin could only grin. It was taking some time for Dr. Chandran to understand the fact that it was all an act to lure the murderer of Dr. Nathan.
“We could have done nothing else”, said Inspector Yajur, “We had this diary, a scientist’s secret message before his death and an unknown murderer to nab.”
“We didn’t ask for it”, remarked Vasu, “We were having a picnic by the riverside, when a cat snatched this little fellow’s biscuits. Nitin went after it and found the diary during the chase.”
Sathish frowned at Vasu for calling him a little fellow.
“In a way, Sathish and this cat are the heroes of the day”, said Nitin, patting the black cat and smiling at Sathish.
“It was Nitin’s scar actually that gave us the idea”, spoke Ramanandh, “Yajur looked up Nathan’s case files and found that he too had a similar one on his forehead.”
“Then there was this TV show on rebirth, which Vasu saw and the whole plan fell into place. If Nitin were to act as the rebirth of Nathan and make a public statement, announcing that he knew who killed Nathan, the murderer out of nervousness would surely attempt to eliminate him. Our plan was to catch him in this attempt. And... we succeeded.”
“But what if the murderer never came to know of Nitin’s statement?” asked Dr. Chandran.
“Good point. Publicity is always a problem”, grinned Yajur, “To catch everyone’s attention, we decided this act should be done on a special stage. That is when Nitin told us about the anniversary celebrations in his university. You know the rest that happened.”
“But what about the facts you stated that day on stage?” asked Dr. Chandran, looking at Nitin.
“All picked up from this little diary”, he replied, “The act needed some credibility.”
“But who did you expect would authorize that the things you said of Nathan were true?”
“That is what you were there for”, quipped Nitin, “Did you really think that it was a coincidence for you to be the chief guest at the function?”
Dr. Chandran lowered his head and massaged his temple with his fingers. His head was in whirl. He had somehow expected Nitin to be Nathan. He felt cheated now like the audience of a magic show, after the secret behind the trick was revealed.
“Why are you telling me all this?” he asked suddenly.
“We are being honest and expect some honesty in return from you”, said Nitin.
Dr. Chandran gave a puzzled look.
“There is something that we want to learn more about, Dr. Chandran”, spoke Yajur.
“About what?”
“Operation Shakti. The real Operation Shakti.”
There was silence.
“Look. What do you mean the real Operation Shakti?” stammered Dr. Chandran, “There was only one. Pokhran. 1998. Abdul Kalam. You guys should know...”
“You forget that we’ve read this”, said Nitin and held up the leather diary.
“Come on, Dr. Chandran. Tell us the truth”, demanded Inspector Yajur, “I have three culprits locked up in prison and I need to know what to charge them with.”
“I can only say that you cannot charge them with the murder of Dr. Nathan!”
“Why?”
“Because that would mean revealing a lot of details to the courts and to the public.”
“Details of...?”
Dr. Chandran lowered his head and spoke after a moment of deep thought, “Of the real Operation Shakti.”
Ramanandh raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Since you guys know so much already, there’s nothing wrong in telling you this”, said Dr. Chandran and began to explain.
“Dr. Nathan was one of the best nuclear physicists in India and was part of the team that performed the 1974 Pokhran test. Dr. Raja Ramanna was the leader of the project and this diary was obviously presented to Nathan after the test completion.”
“Was ‘Smiling Buddha’ the codename for the nuclear test?”
Dr. Chandran nodded.
“After that one, there was a lot of international pressure on India to stop further tests. Canada cut off its supplies. The NSG imposed severe restrictions. So things kind of stopped.”
“NSG?” asked Ramanandh.
“Nuclear Suppliers Group”, stated Dr. Chandran, a little restlessly, “It was formed to reduce nuclear proliferation. It imposed a lot of restrictions on the transfer of nuclear raw materials.”
“Okay proceed.”
“In 1980, when Indira Gandhi came back to power, she wanted another test. That was when India’s second nuclear project actually began, codenamed Operation Shakti and Dr. Nathan was appointed its leader. Things needed to be kept a secret to avoid another international outcry. Therefore, Nathan spent almost three years, drawing up elaborate plans for the project. Unfortunately, the lady who wanted to see the test, did not live to see even its plans. She was shot dead.”
“Rajiv Gandhi, who followed, was not very keen on nuclear weapons and hence, the government funding for the project was cut off. However, a couple of years later, he underwent a change of mind and gave us the green signal. Operation Shakti got a new life. Work began on the first reactor in 1988. It was pretty slow progress due to the need for secrecy. Just when things were shaping up really well, Dr. Nathan was found dead in his home. Things halted again. Even before the truth behind that death could be uncovered, Mr. Rajiv died as well.”
“A court inquiry followed. All facts about Dr. Nathan could not be disclosed at such an inquiry. Revealing that would have led to international complications. Hence, despite Dr. Nathan having several wounds on his body, his death was pronounced as natural and the case was dismissed.”
“It was only much later in 1996, under Vajpayee that nuclear plans could be properly implemented. It is a little known fact, that the project led by Abdul Kalam, drew a lot of its plans from the original ones made by Dr. Nathan, a decade ago. In fact, the name too was carried over. At last in 1998, the mushroom cloud bloomed again and Nathan’s dream came true.”
Dr. Chandran paused for a moment and asked, “Do you see the problem now? You cannot charge them with Nathan’s murder because the inquiry would ask for the motives of the murderer. And that will surely bring out details of the original Operation Shakti into the public view. The criminal himself might reveal it. Moreover, what proof do you have that this criminal killed Dr. Nathan? Is a mere murder attempt on a supposed reincarnation of Nathan enough to prove his guilt?”
“Damn. Now I understand why that fellow was giving me a sneery look throughout the enquiry”, said Yajur, “He knew all along that he cannot be touched.”
“What do we do then? Let them go free?” asked Nitin.
“Being Nathan’s friend, I wouldn’t agree to that.” Dr. Chandran’s voice had a tone of solemnity.
“There’s got to be some way out”, remarked Ramanandh, “Can’t we book them for some other crime perhaps? They deserve punishment no matter what.”
“Ah. This situation is a bit tricky. I guess I need some time to think.”
Yajur stood up and walked out of the room, as the others merely stared at each other.
*****
Nitin was woken up by a vigorous knocking on his door. Yawning sleepily, he stared at the wall clock. It was six thirty in the morning. The knocking grew more furious by the minute. In an irritated mood, he walked out into the hall, unlatched the door and opened it. Inspector Yajur barged in, breathing heavily.
Without any explanation, he dived beneath the sofa and began searching for something.
“What are you looking for? What happened?” asked Nitin, in a dazed sort of manner.
Yajur pointed at the newspaper, lying outside the door.
“Third page”, he uttered and continued scanning the room.
Nitin picked up the newspaper and turned to page three. His jaw dropped open.
“Fire in police station kills two!
September 5th, 2009, Chennai: A fire that broke out at the Royapettah police station, last midnight, killed two people and heavily damaged property. The deceased were identified as Mr Dutta (51) and Mr. Saurabh Shukla (45). Interestingly, the two had been arrested the previous day on charges of attempted murder on Mr. Nitin Kumar, the lad who claimed to be the reincarnation of Dr. Nathan.”
“How... How did this happen?” stammered Nitin, staring at the article, “And what are you searching for here?”
“Read further”, spoke Yajur, opening up the glass window and examining the sill outside.
“The cause of the fire has met with a lot of strange speculations. Mr. Kathumuthu, one of the constables, who was on duty when the incident occurred, asserted that he saw a cat meddle with the wires in an open, electric junction box near the station, causing a short circuit and thereby the fire. The police have filed a case and investigations are ongoing.”
“A cat?” uttered Nitin and froze, staring at Yajur. Yajur nodded and his gaze froze at Nitin’s feet. There was a soft mew. Nitin looked down. And there it was standing between his feet.
Nitin dropped the paper in shock and stepped away. The cat mewed again and stepped over the fallen newspaper. It stared for a moment at the title of the article and the photos of the dead men. Then it looked up at the two guys. Nitin would have sworn that at that moment, its jaws broke into a smile - a kind of a peaceful smile, the peace that follows revenge. And then, with a sudden leap, the black cat jumped onto the window sill and was gone in an instant.
Nitin and Yajur stared at each other in shock. It was not the fire that they were thinking of, not the death of the two criminals, neither the headlines of the newspaper nor the Indian nuclear tests. Their minds were thinking about something else, something small, something they had not noticed at all, something on the forehead of the black cat... one little scar...
May 1, 2009
One Little Scar (Part 1)
“College Youth Was Genius Scientist
September 4th, 2009, Chennai: In a stunning revelation at the Anna University premises this morning, R. Nitin Kumar, a twenty year old Bio-engineering undergraduate, proclaimed in public that he was the reincarnation of late Padma Sri Dr. Nathan, the Mumbai-born nuclear physicist, who died under mysterious circumstances a couple of decades ago.
Making his statement on the stage set for the University’s thirty first anniversary celebrations, Mr. Nitin revealed several unknown facts about Dr. Nathan’s private life. Dr. Chandran, who was a close friend and associate of Dr. Nathan, was coincidentally the chief-guest at the function. In a statement to the press after the function, he revealed that all of Mr. Nitin’s statements regarding Dr. Nathan were true and that he was surprised by Nitin’s knowledge. He, however, refused to comment on Mr. Nitin’s claim of being Dr. Nathan’s reincarnation.
It is indeed well known that Dr. Nathan was found dead in his home in Chennai on the night of 4th September 1989, after being reportedly missing for a week. After thorough investigations and proceedings for two years, the Madras High Court pronounced a verdict of death due to natural causes in August 1991. However, this incident has sparked off a new debate over the cause of Dr. Nathan’s death, especially since Mr. Nitin announced, “I was Dr. Nathan and I was murdered!”
Mr. Nitin also expressed confidence in identifying the culprits responsible and began screaming for revenge. The college authorities were forced to drag him off the stage and they eventually handed him over to the police for investigations. The Chennai Director General of Police, Mr. Karuna Sagar, when contacted said that Mr. Nitin was currently being referred to an experienced psychologist to undergo mental tests. He, however, declined to reveal Mr. Nitin’s place of custody.”
Inspector Yajur folded up the newspaper with a smile and placed it on the glass table in front of him. He picked up a small, brown diary from the table and walked out of the room, chuckling to himself.
***
“I want him dead”, pronounced the boss and flung out a newspaper onto the mahogany table. Kabir unfolded it and saw the passport-size photograph of a young man, smiling back at him, from within an article. His name was printed as Nitin Kumar and there was a thick red circle drawn around his face.
“Looks quite dumb. What did he do?” asked Kabir, looking up from the newspaper.
“Not your business”, the boss replied firmly. His back was turned towards Kabir. There was a weird pause for a moment, interrupted only by the tapping of computer keys.
"What do I get?” asked Kabir, pushing aside the newspaper.
“All the money you want. And more...” answered Shukla from the opposite corner of the room, pointing at a suitcase lying on the table. He was seated in front of a computer and was typing and clicking the mouse fervently. Kabir noticed that his rotund face was drenched with sweat and that he bit his lower lip intermittently.
Kabir stared at the small suitcase on the table, slid his palms into his pant pockets and let out a deep breath.
“He’s in custody. Extra risk...” he said, shrugging his shoulders in a matter-of-fact manner.
“No it’s not!” shouted the boss, turning around for the first time. Kabir could sense a tinge of nervousness in his voice today. The sound of the keyboard keys halted and Shukla looked up.
After a moment, the boss explained in a cooler tone, “Kothari’s on the spot. He’ll give you the signal when the coast is clear. You just have to go in and finish it off without a sound.”
Kabir nodded and picked up the suitcase lying on the table. Swinging it lazily in his arms, he walked towards the exit and opened the door.
“So you guarantee to finish the job right?” asked the nervous voice of Shukla.
Kabir turned to gaze at Shukla and the boss for a moment. “I can guarantee only one thing”, he said, pausing at the doorstep, “That man’s photo will appear again in the newspaper... under a different column though...”
There was a soft chuckle and Kabir vanished behind the closing door.
The boss waited and listened. Once the sound of Kabir's footsteps faded away, he walked over briskly towards Shukla and stared at the computer monitor in front of him.
“Any success?”
“Yes. There’s this Ian Stevenson guy from Canada who has done research on this and he has concluded that it is possible. People can remember memories of their past lives. They might even have physical similarities carried over from their previous births, he says.”
The boss instantly reached out and pulled the newspaper that lay on the table. He stared at the face of Nitin Kumar in the article, especially at the scar above his left eyebrow. He looked up and found Shukla gaping at the scar as well, with wide open eyes. Both their minds raced backwards in time towards a single, moonlit night... twenty years ago...
***
The night was silent except for the muffled sounds of flowing water. The wooden cabin was lit by a single candle that flickered in a chill breeze blowing in through a broken glass window. Beside the candle sat two solemn-looking men on wooden chairs. Away from them, in a dark corner of the cabin, sat Dr. Nathan with his hands folded, staring at the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.
“So you’re not going to open your mouth?” asked one of the two solemn men. There was no response from the scientist. The two solemn men looked at each other. One of them was a twenty-years-younger Shukla and the other was his similarly young boss.
“Patriotism...Hmm...” uttered the boss and smirked, “Funny isn’t it? Men draw lines to live peacefully. The same men are then ready to die for those stupid lines.”
Shukla grinned. The boss checked his wristwatch in the flickering light.
“Look Mr.Scientist! I can’t waste any more time. Just tell me where the design documents are. I’ll let you go. Don’t be foolish and think you are saving your country by not talking.”
Dr. Nathan’s eyes looked up at the boss for an instant and returned to the floor once again. In the yellow light cast by the candle, a scar over his left eyebrow glowed red with fresh blood.
“I’ll not keep pleading, Mr.Scientist. You’re life is not worth to me any more than just a bullet.”
“Then why torture?” asked Dr. Nathan, still staring at the floor, “Just kill me”
The boss let out a sigh and stood up. Shukla took the cue and blew out the candle.
***
The same Shukla, sagged back in his chair, twenty years later.
“We shouldn’t have killed him boss...”
Shukla’s tone was almost reduced to a whimper. His lower lip quivered with same intensity as his watery eyes as he stuttered, "He... He's now...back...for revenge...”
“He won’t have it...” the boss uttered firmly through gritted teeth. His right hand was crumpling the newspaper sheets. “At least not in this new birth of his...”
***
A police jeep screeched to a halt outside a dilapidated wooden cabin and Inspector Yajur alighted. Sub-inspector Kothari and a couple of other constables, who had been standing guard at the entrance to the building, came running towards the jeep, and saluted Yajur. Inspector Yajur nodded and walked briskly towards the rotting door and unbolted it.
“I have some enquiries to make with Nitin. I do not wish to be disturbed for any reason for the next half an hour”, he said in a commanding tone and walked in, bolting the door behind him, even before Kothari could nod.
Once within the cabin, Yajur blinked in the semi-darkness. As he took a step forward, the floorboards creaked beneath his feet. There was the soft mew of a cat and a dark form stirred in a corner of the room.
“Have you brought what I asked for?” questioned the dark figure.
Inspector Yajur nodded.
***
Outside the wooden cabin, the two constables stood guard at the bolted door. Away from their view, beneath a tree that grew on the banks of a narrow river, stood Sub-inspector Kothari.
Kicking a pebble into the flowing water in disgust, he dialed a number on his mobile phone.
“Hello Kabir. Not yet. You got to wait...”
To Be Continued...
September 4th, 2009, Chennai: In a stunning revelation at the Anna University premises this morning, R. Nitin Kumar, a twenty year old Bio-engineering undergraduate, proclaimed in public that he was the reincarnation of late Padma Sri Dr. Nathan, the Mumbai-born nuclear physicist, who died under mysterious circumstances a couple of decades ago.
Making his statement on the stage set for the University’s thirty first anniversary celebrations, Mr. Nitin revealed several unknown facts about Dr. Nathan’s private life. Dr. Chandran, who was a close friend and associate of Dr. Nathan, was coincidentally the chief-guest at the function. In a statement to the press after the function, he revealed that all of Mr. Nitin’s statements regarding Dr. Nathan were true and that he was surprised by Nitin’s knowledge. He, however, refused to comment on Mr. Nitin’s claim of being Dr. Nathan’s reincarnation.
It is indeed well known that Dr. Nathan was found dead in his home in Chennai on the night of 4th September 1989, after being reportedly missing for a week. After thorough investigations and proceedings for two years, the Madras High Court pronounced a verdict of death due to natural causes in August 1991. However, this incident has sparked off a new debate over the cause of Dr. Nathan’s death, especially since Mr. Nitin announced, “I was Dr. Nathan and I was murdered!”
Mr. Nitin also expressed confidence in identifying the culprits responsible and began screaming for revenge. The college authorities were forced to drag him off the stage and they eventually handed him over to the police for investigations. The Chennai Director General of Police, Mr. Karuna Sagar, when contacted said that Mr. Nitin was currently being referred to an experienced psychologist to undergo mental tests. He, however, declined to reveal Mr. Nitin’s place of custody.”
Inspector Yajur folded up the newspaper with a smile and placed it on the glass table in front of him. He picked up a small, brown diary from the table and walked out of the room, chuckling to himself.
***
“I want him dead”, pronounced the boss and flung out a newspaper onto the mahogany table. Kabir unfolded it and saw the passport-size photograph of a young man, smiling back at him, from within an article. His name was printed as Nitin Kumar and there was a thick red circle drawn around his face.
“Looks quite dumb. What did he do?” asked Kabir, looking up from the newspaper.
“Not your business”, the boss replied firmly. His back was turned towards Kabir. There was a weird pause for a moment, interrupted only by the tapping of computer keys.
"What do I get?” asked Kabir, pushing aside the newspaper.
“All the money you want. And more...” answered Shukla from the opposite corner of the room, pointing at a suitcase lying on the table. He was seated in front of a computer and was typing and clicking the mouse fervently. Kabir noticed that his rotund face was drenched with sweat and that he bit his lower lip intermittently.
Kabir stared at the small suitcase on the table, slid his palms into his pant pockets and let out a deep breath.
“He’s in custody. Extra risk...” he said, shrugging his shoulders in a matter-of-fact manner.
“No it’s not!” shouted the boss, turning around for the first time. Kabir could sense a tinge of nervousness in his voice today. The sound of the keyboard keys halted and Shukla looked up.
After a moment, the boss explained in a cooler tone, “Kothari’s on the spot. He’ll give you the signal when the coast is clear. You just have to go in and finish it off without a sound.”
Kabir nodded and picked up the suitcase lying on the table. Swinging it lazily in his arms, he walked towards the exit and opened the door.
“So you guarantee to finish the job right?” asked the nervous voice of Shukla.
Kabir turned to gaze at Shukla and the boss for a moment. “I can guarantee only one thing”, he said, pausing at the doorstep, “That man’s photo will appear again in the newspaper... under a different column though...”
There was a soft chuckle and Kabir vanished behind the closing door.
The boss waited and listened. Once the sound of Kabir's footsteps faded away, he walked over briskly towards Shukla and stared at the computer monitor in front of him.
“Any success?”
“Yes. There’s this Ian Stevenson guy from Canada who has done research on this and he has concluded that it is possible. People can remember memories of their past lives. They might even have physical similarities carried over from their previous births, he says.”
The boss instantly reached out and pulled the newspaper that lay on the table. He stared at the face of Nitin Kumar in the article, especially at the scar above his left eyebrow. He looked up and found Shukla gaping at the scar as well, with wide open eyes. Both their minds raced backwards in time towards a single, moonlit night... twenty years ago...
***
The night was silent except for the muffled sounds of flowing water. The wooden cabin was lit by a single candle that flickered in a chill breeze blowing in through a broken glass window. Beside the candle sat two solemn-looking men on wooden chairs. Away from them, in a dark corner of the cabin, sat Dr. Nathan with his hands folded, staring at the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.
“So you’re not going to open your mouth?” asked one of the two solemn men. There was no response from the scientist. The two solemn men looked at each other. One of them was a twenty-years-younger Shukla and the other was his similarly young boss.
“Patriotism...Hmm...” uttered the boss and smirked, “Funny isn’t it? Men draw lines to live peacefully. The same men are then ready to die for those stupid lines.”
Shukla grinned. The boss checked his wristwatch in the flickering light.
“Look Mr.Scientist! I can’t waste any more time. Just tell me where the design documents are. I’ll let you go. Don’t be foolish and think you are saving your country by not talking.”
Dr. Nathan’s eyes looked up at the boss for an instant and returned to the floor once again. In the yellow light cast by the candle, a scar over his left eyebrow glowed red with fresh blood.
“I’ll not keep pleading, Mr.Scientist. You’re life is not worth to me any more than just a bullet.”
“Then why torture?” asked Dr. Nathan, still staring at the floor, “Just kill me”
The boss let out a sigh and stood up. Shukla took the cue and blew out the candle.
***
The same Shukla, sagged back in his chair, twenty years later.
“We shouldn’t have killed him boss...”
Shukla’s tone was almost reduced to a whimper. His lower lip quivered with same intensity as his watery eyes as he stuttered, "He... He's now...back...for revenge...”
“He won’t have it...” the boss uttered firmly through gritted teeth. His right hand was crumpling the newspaper sheets. “At least not in this new birth of his...”
***
A police jeep screeched to a halt outside a dilapidated wooden cabin and Inspector Yajur alighted. Sub-inspector Kothari and a couple of other constables, who had been standing guard at the entrance to the building, came running towards the jeep, and saluted Yajur. Inspector Yajur nodded and walked briskly towards the rotting door and unbolted it.
“I have some enquiries to make with Nitin. I do not wish to be disturbed for any reason for the next half an hour”, he said in a commanding tone and walked in, bolting the door behind him, even before Kothari could nod.
Once within the cabin, Yajur blinked in the semi-darkness. As he took a step forward, the floorboards creaked beneath his feet. There was the soft mew of a cat and a dark form stirred in a corner of the room.
“Have you brought what I asked for?” questioned the dark figure.
Inspector Yajur nodded.
***
Outside the wooden cabin, the two constables stood guard at the bolted door. Away from their view, beneath a tree that grew on the banks of a narrow river, stood Sub-inspector Kothari.
Kicking a pebble into the flowing water in disgust, he dialed a number on his mobile phone.
“Hello Kabir. Not yet. You got to wait...”
To Be Continued...
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