Shankar's death affects me deeply. I sleep, cry and sleep again. I stop going to the Taj Mahal. I stop meeting Nita. I stop seeing films. I press the 'Pause' button on my life. For a fortnight or so after Shankar's death, I roam around Agra like a crazed animal. Shakil, the university student, finds me standing outside Shankar's room one evening, staring at the lock on the door like a drunkard looks at a bottle of whisky. Bihari, the cobbler, discovers me sitting next to the municipal tap, with water dripping from my eyes instead of from the tap. Abdul, the gardener at Swapna Palace, catches me tiptoeing around the outhouse like Shankar used to. In the peak of winter, the city becomes a hot and lonely desert for me. I try to lose myself in its anarchic existence. I try to become a nonsense syllable in its ceaseless chatter, and I almost succeed in sending myself into a stupor.
By the time I wake up, it is too late. There is a phone call at the local public call office and Shakil comes running to tell me. 'Raju, Raju, someone called Nita phoned. She wants you in the Emergency Ward of Singhania Hospital right now.'
My heart leaps to my mouth when I hear this and I run the entire three miles to Singhania Hospital. I narrowly avoid crashing into a doctor, almost overturn a trolley and charge into the Emergency Ward like an Inspector bursting in on an armed robbery.
'Where is Nita?' I demand of a bewildered nurse.
'I am here, Raju.' Nita's voice sounds weak. She is behind a curtained partition, lying on a trolley.
One look at her and I almost faint from shock. She has livid bruises all over her face and her lips are peculiarly twisted, as if her jaw has been dislocated. There is blood on two of her teeth, and her left eye is blackened.
'Who . . . who has done this to you?' I ask, barely recognizing my own voice.
She has difficulty speaking. 'It was a man from Mumbai. Shyam sent me to his room at the
Palace Hotel. He tied me up and did all this to me. What you see on my face is nothing. See what he did to my body.'
Nita turns on her side and I see deep red welt marks on her slim back, as if someone has used a horsewhip. Then she pushes up her blouse and I almost die. There are cigarette burn marks all over her chest, looking like ugly pockmarks on the smooth brown flesh of her breasts. I have seen this before.
My blood begins to boil. 'I know who has done this to you. Did he say his name? I will kill him.'
'I don't know his name, but he was tall and—'
Shyam enters the room at this point, clutching a packet of medicine. He takes one look at me, and goes berserk. 'You bastard,' he yells and catches me by the collar. 'How dare you come here?
It is only because of you this has happened to Nita.'
'Are you out of your mind, Shyam?' I cry.
'No, it is you who is mad. You think Nita is your personal property, and you have been telling her to quit the profession and not oblige customers any longer. Do you know how much this party from Mumbai paid for her? Five thousand rupees. But my sister believed you; she must have resisted him and look what happened. Now let me tell you something. If you want to see Nita again, then come to me with four lakh rupees. If you cannot produce this sum, then forget about Nita. If I see you even lurking about the hospital, I will have you killed, understand? Now get out.'
I could have killed Shyam that very instant, throttled him and choked the breath out of his lungs, or gouged out his eyes with my fingernails. But I remembered the promise I had made to Nita and somehow kept my simmering anger in check. I could not bear to see Nita's face any longer, and left the Emergency Ward. I knew only one thing. Somehow I had to get hold of four lakh rupees. But from where?
* * *
