New Delhi Station
Qiara settled into the lower berth of the first class AC compartment on the Delhi–Jaisalmer Express. She was amazed at the efficiency with which Rishi’s staff found her a berth in the train. From what she knew of Indian Railways, it took months to reserve a first-class seat on any train. He’d suggested she take a taxi to Jodhpur – but that was an option she would rather avoid as she wasn’t sure about the route. However, if he hadn’t managed to get her a ticket, she would have had no choice.
If there was one thing she regretted, it was sneaking out of the guest house without talking to Kabir. For him, the investigation into Khanna’s murder would be first priority. With Girls Rock! also under suspicion, he would never have let her go. Not even if she explained to him about Reshma.
‘Excuse me.’ A voice interrupted her train of thoughts.
She looked up to find a man in a grey safari suit carrying a briefcase smile down at her. ‘Is this Coupe F?’
She gave him a brief smile and replied, ‘No, this is H.’
He smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry to bother you.’
‘No problem,’ she mouthed automatically and looked away.
Through the dust-streaked darkened glass she watched people getting on to the train on the opposite track. Coolies were busily helping passengers with their luggage as vendors milled around hoping to sell everything from magazines to potato chips and water bottles. A sharp twang of nostalgia wrenched her insides. She had been barely seventeen when one of her closest friends, Dia, had invited her to accompany her to India for her elder sister’s wedding. Mamma had refused point-blank but her objections crumbled when Dia’s mum melodramatically threatened to call off the wedding unless they both accompanied her to Delhi. She still remembered how Dia’s mum had practically bulldozed Mamma until she had finally relented.
Everything about Delhi had mesmerized her. East End, where she had grown up – and which was considered to be London’s little India – was no match for the real deal. Mamma had been too involved with the wedding proceedings to realize she was spending most of her time with Kabir, the son of the wedding caterer. Initially he had treated her with disdain but she was intrigued by him. He teased her incessantly and she would give back as good as she got. When the teasing confrontation had turned to love she didn’t know.
With a jerk, the train started to pull out of the station, and she squashed away the memories. Dwelling on the past would do her a fat load of good. And yet the past seemed omnipresent.
Shaking the contents of her backpack out next to her she reached for Khanna’s tablet. She switched it on. The battery was running low. She scrolled through several folders, randomly selecting files. But before she could figure out anything of substance the battery died. Damn! Frustrated, she pushed it back in her backpack. But the face she had seen on it minutes before she had fled the Polo Club stayed in her head, filling her with a sense of dread.
It was a face she hadn’t seen in five years. In fact, the last time she had seen him was on the day of Mamma’s death. He’d turned up at their apartment soon after she and Sam had returned from the funeral home. She had still to come to grips with losing Mamma – even though she had been suffering from ovarian cancer and she’d known the end was near, she hadn’t expected it to come so soon after the diagnosis. Two traumatic weeks were all they had had between the cancer being detected and her passing. She had been in a daze of grief and loss and it had taken her a couple of minutes to recognize the man standing in front of her, mouthing words of sympathy and consolation. She stared blankly at him as he droned and his words had acted like a fuse on a ticking bomb. Her pent-up grief and rage had exploded.
‘You have no right to be here. Get out! Get out!’
Tears pouring down her face in an uncontrollable stream, she had raved and ranted at him until he was forced to leave. Sam had been shocked at her outburst.
Her eyes held the question that her lips would not ask – who was that man?
‘My father,’ she had said quietly. ‘Sam, don’t ask me anything else, please.’
The door opened and Qiara looked up with a start. A coolie was dragging large suitcases into the coupe. Qiara looked out of the window and realized they had reached Alwar station. A woman in her late twenties, dressed in a blue salwar kameez, arms jangling with the trademark red and white bangles that newlywed women wear, paid the coolie and took the berth opposite Qiara’s.
With a friendly smile at Qiara, the woman pushed back tendrils of hair that had escaped her long plait.
‘This is my first trip home to Jaipur after marriage. I can’t wait to see my parents and sisters.’
Qiara simply nodded, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation, and got up as if to stretch herself.
‘Excuse me, please. I need to get some water.’
She snatched her backpack and headed down the corridor. She may as well get a packet of chips. Blocking the door of the train was the man in the safari suit whom she’d seen earlier. He was talking into his phone and didn’t notice her.
‘Yes, I’m sure it’s her,’ he said into the phone. ‘She is in Coupe H. Short hair with red tints. Exactly as in the picture you sent me.’
Alarm zinged through Qiara. Turning away hastily, she rushed back the same way she’d come. What was going on? The man was clearly talking about her but to whom and why? Was she being followed from Delhi? Could it be the assassin’s accomplice? As the questions piled up, her head started to pound in beat with the rocking of the train. Oh heck! Now she’d missed her chance of getting off as well. In her hurry to avoid being seen by the Safari Suit, she walked further away from her coupe. She was now in the crowded second-class two-tier compartments.
Was he following her? She looked behind tentatively and was relieved to see no sign of him. She stopped to catch her breath at the junction of two coaches. The train was now hurtling down the tracks and rocking in rhythm to the motion. She pulled open the door and felt the rush of cool wind against her face; in the distance she could see the lights of the city that swept past in a blur. The sky was fast turning dark, and night would soon paint the cityscape an inky black.
She heard a footfall behind her and her heart rattled in her chest.
A man stood at the other end, lighting a cigarette. He gave her a thorough look over. A sliver of fear cut through her.
An alarming thought ricocheted in her brain: only one person knew she was on her way to Jodhpur aboard this very train. Rishi Mathur. She glanced warily at the man who stood a couple of feet away from her. Was he Safari Suit’s accomplice? And what a fool she was – making an easy target of herself!
Kabir ran down the steps of Alwar Station towards the platform only to see the tail end of the Delhi–Jaisalmer Express disappear from sight. Dammit! He had missed it by a whisker. Turning around, he raced up the stairs, pushing his way out through the crowds thronging the parking lot. Mounting his motorbike, he kept beeping and cursing, wishing the people in front of him would melt away. After what seemed like an inordinately long time, he was out of the crowded town centre and zipping down the highway.
From the moment he’d found out that Qiara was on her way to Jodhpur, a tight knot of tension had twisted his insides. He had all but threatened to throw Rishi behind bars if he did not reveal why Qiara was going to Jodhpur. At that point, a terrified Rishi confessed he didn’t know much except that one of his regular clients – Harisingh Rathod – had called him with an urgent request to make sure Qiara was on board the train. Soon after, Qiara had asked him to organize her trip to Jyotinagar, a small hamlet on the outskirts of Jodhpur. His job was not to ask his clients question, he warily pointed out to Kabir.
Kabir would have liked to grill Rishi further but knew he had no time to waste if he wanted to catch up with Qiara. By the time he had negotiated the peak-hour traffic to get to New Delhi station, the train had already left. His gut warned him that Qiara was hurtling towards danger, and the thought was reason enough for him to break all speed limits. The next stop was Bandikui Junction and if he rode like the wind, he might just be able to catch up and bring her back to a safe zone.
Back in her coupe, Qiara collapsed into her berth.
The newly married woman gave Qiara a smile. ‘Didn’t get any water?’
Qiara shrugged. ‘It was a short halt and I didn’t want to risk missing the train.’
‘Yes, the stations are so crowded.’ The woman said sympathetically. ‘I have some juice. Want some?’
‘Thank you.’
Qiara gratefully accepted the tetrapack of mango juice she held out and took a gulp.
‘My name is Rachel.’ She giggled self-consciously. ‘Actually, it’s Rachna, but I work in a call centre and my American name is Rachel.’
She finished her words with a distinctly Texan drawl.
Qiara was amused. ‘Rachna to Rachel and Austin via Alwar, eh?’
Rachel squealed with delight. ‘Yes, something like that.’
Rachel prattled on about herself, but Qiara’s brain had already tuned her out. Were the assassin, Safari Suit and the man she had encountered in the corridor all keeping tabs on her? What about Rishi Mathur? And what was she going to do now?
There was a knock on the door and Qiara almost jumped out of her skin. Rachel looked at her weirdly. ‘Are you alright?’
Qiara nodded, but could feel a panic attack coming on. The door opened and she was relieved to find it was only the ticket collector (TC).
Rachel fished out her ticket from her purse and gave it to him, asking him about the next stop.
‘Bandikui Junction…we should be there in the next ten minutes or so.’
The TC checked Rachel’s identification and put a tick against her name on his list.
Qiara’s synapses snapped into place. ‘Excuse me. I need to get off at Bandikui Junction.’
‘Just a minute, Madam.’ He glanced at his papers. ‘You are travelling in first class and according to my list, none of the reservations are for Bandikui Junction. Can you show me your ticket, please?’
‘Well, actually…’ she dithered, furiously trying to think on the fly, and keep the conversation going. ‘The ticket is in my backpack. I might miss the station.’
He gave her a long suspicious look. ‘I need to see your ticket. What’s your name?’
She glanced at Rachel who was watching her intently and blurted out, ‘Kiran Walia.’
‘But there is no one listed by that name here,’ he said waving the documents in her face.
‘Are you travelling without a ticket?’ he asked sternly.
Her refusal to answer prompted him to launch into a spiel about educated people behaving in an irresponsible manner. She shuffled her feet, making no effort to stop his ranting, inwardly praying they would pull into the station.
‘No, Sir. I do have a ticket,’ Qiara pitched in.
‘If you have a ticket, show it to me now.’
Qiara spotted Safari Suit peeping in curiously from behind the TC. ‘Sir, my name is Kiran. But the ticket is in the name of Qiara Rana.’
Safari Suit’s jaw nearly dropped open in shock as she pressed her point.
‘She changed her travel plans and I was only too happy to get a ticket at the last minute. Sir, I will pay whatever fine you want me to.’
‘No, this will not do. There will be action against you.’
The train began to pull into the station. The TC marched her towards the exit as Safari Suit looked on.
She heard Rachel call out, ‘Good luck.’
Qiara had never felt safer sitting in the musty little railway office with its red paan-juice-stained walls. As long as she was here she was fine. But what if Safari Suit had disembarked too and was looking for her? What if he had a weapon? Her throat squeezed at the thought. Maybe the TC could help her if she told him she was being stalked. Right now, though, he was looking at her as if she had lost her marbles.
‘Can I have some water, please?’
He nodded and walked over to a rusty old cooler and brought over some water in a plastic throwaway cup.
Finishing it off in one go, she scrunched up the cup and looked around for a trash can. There wasn’t one. She placed it in front of her.
‘Thank you. Sir, I lied to you. My name is Qiara Rana.’
‘Lady, are you insane? One minute you say you’re Kiran Walia. The next moment, Qiara Rana.’
‘I can show you my passport.’
She pulled it out from her backpack and offered it to him.
‘Why did you say you’re Kiran Walia?’
‘I’m being followed. The man in the next coupe, in the grey safari suit…I heard him talking to someone on the phone and he was describing me. I got scared. And I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Do you want me to call the police?’
‘No, Sir. I’ll just go back to Delhi. When is the next train?’
After giving her the details, he left.
It was dark outside and the station was now deserted. It was a small station and only a few trains stopped on their way to different destinations. She had no clue if Safari Suit was lying in wait for her. Now that the TC had left, she couldn’t wait in the office for much longer. The other officials were giving her strange looks.
For a moment she wished she could call up Kabir and ask him to come get her. Sweeping the thought out of her head, she dug into her backpack and pulled out a scarf. Tying it around her head and face in the manner she had seen many young women cover themselves, she hoped she would be able to slip away unnoticed by Safari Suit and any accomplice who may be out there looking for her.
Stepping out of the office she walked down the platform, staying as close as possible to the shadows. Fortunately the station was not very well lit. Her heart thudded with every step she took.
At a stall a couple of men were drinking tea and smoking cigarettes. They glanced her way and she quickly walked past keeping her head down.
Further down, a man stood in the shadows. He was carrying a briefcase. Was it Safari Suit? She stopped in her tracks, swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and turned away.
Heart in her mouth, she wondered if she should make a run for it. A quick look confirmed he was looking at her. She increased her pace and started walking towards the exit.
Just then a train pulled in and a wave of commuters surrounded her. Keeping herself bang in the middle of the crowd, she hurried along.
Ahead of her a bunch of girls were laughing and talking among themselves. She tagged behind them, looking around nervously. The man with the briefcase had gone. She exhaled and adjusted the scarf around her head.
Kabir was slowly going out of his mind.
He’d been riding non-stop for hours at breakneck speed. A couple of times he’d narrowly missed running over people, especially in the densely populated stretches. He’d stopped just once to fill up on fuel. He knew he’d badly over-estimated his ability to make it to Bandikui Junction. There had been huge tracts of potholed roads he hadn’t factored in. And now here he was, at the station, an hour and a half after the train had left. Frustration and fatigue made his shoulders and neck throb painfully.
Ever since Qiara had put in an appearance, his entire life seemed to be spinning out of control. It had taken him a long time to keep the lid tightly shut on his memories and his single-minded focus on work had helped. Over the years, the feeling of inadequacy had lessened, but ironically, his colleagues had misread his aloofness as arrogance. He wondered how they would react once they realized how badly he had goofed up.
He couldn’t go tearing after the train any more – there was no way he would be able to catch up. His only option was to call up Zayed, inform him about Qiara’s disappearance and get him to alert the police at Jaipur. Perhaps they could coordinate with the railway authorities at Jaipur and keep her safe till he arrived. He could almost hear Zayed gloating at his monumental goof-up. He would rather face the flak than risk Qiara’s safety any more.
Embarrassment was only a small part of the whole sorry tale. The thought of letting down Aman Sir was like a dull throb in his chest that wouldn’t go away. He should have informed Aman Sir about his personal connection with Qiara, who was now under investigation by the ED as a representative of Girls Rock! Talk about conflict of interest. He also had no doubt that if push came to shove, he would not blink an eyelid before protecting Qiara, professional integrity be damned!
He headed to the bank of taps that stood on the platform. He opened the faucet, cupped his hand and drank thirstily for a long while. Sticking his head under the gushing water, he let it flow over his head. It felt heavenly as the water washed away the dust and grime and relaxed the tense muscles of his shoulders.
Shutting off the water, he flopped down on the stone bench and held his head in his hands. Fear for Qiara and anger at himself mingled in his bloodstream, making him edgy and restless. He shook the water out of his hair trying to clear his head and plan his next move.
The sound of girlish giggles caught his attention and he looked up to find he’d sprayed water on a bunch of girls who were walking past.
One of them wolf whistled and remarked, ‘Oye hoye, yeh toh bilkul hero hai. Dole-shole dekh toh uske.’
The other girls burst out laughing as their eyes roved over his drenched black T-shirt clinging to his muscular frame.
He couldn’t hide his grin at their appreciation. His eyes strayed towards a girl whose head was covered with a red bandhni scarf. She was the only one who wasn’t looking at him. Something about her seemed familiar. His heart tripped a beat. It couldn’t be – fatigue was making him hallucinate.
She put her hand up to adjust the scarf and he noticed the thick bangle on her left wrist. It was exactly like the one Qiara wore.
He leapt to his feet.
At the same instant she turned to look at him. Her scarf slipped and her large brown eyes, full of fear and apprehension, locked with his.
The next moment, she was dashing down towards him. She threw herself slam-bang into his hard chest. He closed his arms around her, rocking on his heels, at the impact of her small, flying form.
Flinging her arms around his neck she locked her lips with his. The girls’ cat calls were drowned out by the sensations that swirled through him. His breath mingled with hers and his lips crushed her soft, wet lips in a scorching kiss that had the firepower to melt their bones.