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...