SECRETS A STORY!

Dear All, Salim reached the Hanuman temple at Matunga just as the bells and pipes from within the temple rose to a deafening crescendo. His taxi’s occupants, a small Tamil family, eased their way out from the back seat of the little black and yellow taxi. The father got out first, him being a large, tall and broad man with a slightly receding hairline and deep brown eyes, followed by his wife, a small woman with a glaring red bindi on her forehead which was far more imposing than her own two eyes. Finally, a five or six-year-old girl toppled out of the taxi’s plastic covered seat, clutching on to her piece of shiny green paper, the scrap being something that was used to wrap the toffee encircling the insides of her mouth at that instant. Salim smiled. He was a staunch old man, fifty-five years of age, who rarely showed any emotion. He was tall, with skin the color of pistachio shells and large grey eyes, with a seemingly colorless film over the grey haziness. He wore large square spectacles, which was broken as well. His spectacles balanced delicately on his nose and his right ear, since the frame to hold the glasses over his right ear was missing. Children in his taxi often looked at his glasses in wonder, as they could only see the glasses perched delicately on his crooked nose, see no frame over his left ear, and marvel at the amazing balance of it all. Salim looked at the child and handed her a small orange sweet that was on the taxi’s dashboard. The little girl grabbed it enthusiastically, even as the mother admonished her for accepting things from a stranger. Salim didn’t mind the mother scolding her child; in fact, it gladdened him. His own family had perished in a road accident last year, and since then, he had lived alone in his dingy small flat in Bandra. It was through the people who entered his taxi that he relived moments he shared with his family, as in seeing others’ families he remembered the ones he lost. The father handed over the taxi fare. Salim counted it and returned back the two rupees that was due back to the customer. The Tamil man smiled, and shook his head, saying, “Keep the change”. Salim however pulled the man’s hand towards him, and thrust the two rupee coins in his palm, saying, “Give this to the temple. May Allah have mercy on us all.” The Tamil man smiled again, and Salim started his taxi. Salim’s black and yellow taxi was one of the hundreds that traversed across the streets of Mumbai every day. While plans were underway to bring newer cars into the taxi fleets in Mumbai, the old Fiats were still the preferred mode of transport for all the citizens of Mumbai. They shook, stuttered and honked their way around the many galis and streets of the city, taking customers from Khar to Borivali to Vashi to Karjat. The taxis were one of the many constant features of Mumbai, just as famous as the Gateway, the red double-decker buses, and the fried delicacy vada pav. Salim circled around the temple for an hour or so. He hoped that some other customer would hail his taxi, and he could get another trip that night. It had become almost ten in the night, and he had started to get sleepy. It had been a long day and he was tired. He parked his taxi next to a shop selling bright orange marigolds, with the sweet seductive smell of jasmine and a Carnatic Tamil song by M. S. Subalakshmi entertaining his senses. Salim felt calm, and dozed off. He woke up with a start, and for a minute, he struggled to remember where he was and what he was doing. The smell of the old leather seats reminded him that he was still in the confines of his taxi. He got out of the car, stretched himself, and yawned one or two times, each time snapping his fingers in front of his mouth to keep the evil spirits-the jinn- from entering his body. He stared at his wristwatch, and then registered the fact that the time was much past midnight, one-fifteen a.m in fact. Salim returned into his taxi, and revved up the engine. He turned, and made his way back to his home in Bandra. While Matunga was predominantly traditional, with a heavy South Indian feel around it, Bandra was more like the modern and yuppie version of young Mumbai. With famous Hindi film stars claiming Bandra as their home, the place had steadily seen the rise of several hotels, discos, and lounge bars which catered to the tastes of the rich and mighty. While the poor scuttled around and stayed in their dingy flats, the privileged classes let their hair down and partied merrily in the various bars and discos. It was outside one such disco in Bandra that Salim first saw them. There were four of them-two men and two women. Calling them men and women would be stretching the truth, they were just past their teenage years and looked like they were still in college. One of them, a tall fair-skinned guy in a snazzy green t-shirt and faded blue jeans sat on the edge of the footpath, clutching his head with one hand, and the other hand holding a bottle of some alcoholic beverage. The two girls stood close to him, leaning on a seemingly expensive looking car. While one wore a sparkling black dress that fluttered about her knees, the other wore a very tight red top and blue jeans. The fourth of the group, a tall and dark man looking very classy with a black jacket over a white t-shirt and jeans, stood close to them, waving frantically at Salim’s taxi. Salim hesitated. He had been looking forward to going back to his home and completing his sleep for the day. Seeing the obviously mostly-drunk young people there, he was more inclined to leaving them there and speeding straight to his home. As a Muslim, he had never tasted a drop of alcohol, and he was always uncomfortable with drunken people around him. Yet, seeing the young girls waiting on the road, and knowing that nights in Mumbai are not safe for anyone, and also because the money he would get from them would be lucrative-it was past midnight, and the customer of a taxi during that time would have to pay the fare on the meter plus an extra amount equaling half the meter fare, he slowed down his taxi in front of the young man. “Yay!” screamed one of the girls. The guy on the footpath was helped to his feet by the girl dressed in the red t-shirt, and she pushed him inside the back seat of the taxi. She then slid into the back herself, saying, “Amit, would you please get rid of that bottle? You already had enough!” The guy who hailed the taxi shuffled into the back seat as well, leaving the girl in the black dress to take the seat next to Salim in the front. Salim grunted. He wished he hadn’t stopped the taxi now. “Where to go?” asked Salim, as he flung down the meter on the passenger’s side of the front seat, and started his car. The girl in the front said, “Thane. Ghodbunder Road. Go via Mulund- we need to drop the two in the back at Mulund’s West check junction. Near R-Mall.” Salim grunted, and nodded. Thane. It was going to be a long ride. It would perhaps take an hour, or perhaps more. But it should be a smooth journey, there wouldn’t be much traffic on the roads at this hour. ** ** ** Amit put the bottle to his lips, and took another gulp of the chilled drink. He felt the burning sensation as the liquid traveled down his throat, and also felt a mist-like feeling settle over his eyes. “Oh, Amit...not again. If you dare barf on my jeans, I swear I will never forgive you...You better stop drinking! You’re drunk, man!” Nina looked angrily at Amit on her right, and then looked imploringly at Peter to her left. Peter nodded to her, and lunged forward, trying to grab the bottle from Amit’s hand. But Amit was faster, and he quickly passed the bottle to his right hand, which was now outside the window, his fingers curled menacingly on the bottle’s thin throat. “Peter, my boy, you need to be faster than that to grab from me!! Ha ha...” Amit laughed, throwing his head back. And as if to emphasize his point, he took another gulp of his drink. “Amit, please stop. You already had a lot to drink tonight. Your dad will scream at all of us if he sees you this drunk,” Peter said. He had a sensible-sounding voice, deep and well-sounded. Amit smirked. “Yeah right, he’s going to give me a welcome party at two in the night! Buzz off, Pete...” From the front seat, Shraddha shot a warning glance at Peter, her eyes looking into Peter’s eyes through the front rear-view mirror. It was a quick and stern glance, and Peter recognized the message behind that instantly. Leave him alone. Let him be. Shraddha pulled the window lever and brought down the window. The taxi was moving fast, as the roads were quite empty, and hence there was a steady stream of wind that brushed her face. Her short black hair flew, and she flinched a little in the cold wind. She turned in her seat, and looked at the three behind. “Hey, did you guys see Anupama back there? Arre, Anupama-the model?” Nina’s eyes opened widely, and she grinned. “Oh, she was looking so lovely, wasn’t she? I think Peter here tried to flirt with her, but she just wasn’t listening!” Peter nudged Nina angrily and said, “Yeah, right, dream on...I just recognized her and just told her she was looking very pretty...” “That reminds me, did you see her nose, Shraddha? I read in some magazine that she had got a nose-job done! I think she looks rather splendid with her new nose!” Amit intervened, saying with a naughty smirk, “I think her nose is not the only thing that she got fixed!! Pete, my brother, did you see anything prettier than usual on her?!?” Nina angrily slapped Amit on the cheek, as he slumped into a round of laughter. Peter shook his head, and again caught Shraddha’s well meaning glance on the rear-view mirror. “I think that’s so rude. Amit, I tell you, you are the limit. And so what if she went through some surgery? Let it be her nose or any other part of the body, who cares? She can keep it a secret, all of us have our very own dark, dirty secrets!” Nina said, in a matter-of-fact way. Peter nodded in approval, while Amit slumped his head on the taxi window, moaning a faint ‘yes’. Nina turned around, her eyes bright and smiling. “Hey! That’s a good idea! I was just thinking that we were all going to fall asleep in the taxi. Now, we don’t have to do that! Let’s play a game!” Amit groaned. “Not now, Nina...” Peter jumped to her support. “Yeah, let’s play. At least we won’t miss our stops. And so we can tell our driver bhaiya where to stop!” Shraddha was still not interested. “What game is it anyway?” Nina clapped her hands, and excitedly said, “You gave me the idea. Dark secrets. Each of us will now confess one deep and dirty secret that no one else knows. The deepest and darkest secret wins!” Shraddha feigned interest now. She too clapped her hands and said, “Cool! What do we win?” Nina groaned. “We’ll think of that on the way. But let’s start! I saw this in a party once-it was loads of fun. One of the guys there confessed that he loved a girl there that day-and they got married a year later!” “Yeah, sure, lots of romantics here. That is not the kind of secret we want to hear today,” said Peter, shaking his head. “Let’s hear the gory stuff. Dark secrets, that’s what you said, right? Dark secrets it is. Dirty dark secrets that no one else knows about you! Let’s hear it!” Shraddha and Nina clapped as if to herald the start of the game. Peter looked quite excited too. Amit still looked dazed, but he too nodded his head. “Okay. Now, everyone think of their dark secret that they are going to reveal. Five minutes,” said Shraddha. Amit smirked. “I know mine already.” Nina nudged Amit with her elbow. “I have to think. Hold on.” She closed her eyes, her eyebrows straining in order to remember. Peter sat quietly, staring out of the window at the closed stalls and shops zooming past him. Shraddha bit her lip while thinking, a habit that she had got from childhood. Nina burst the silence with a happy shout. “Yes! I got mine!” “Tell us, Nina...we are dying to hear yours...” Amit said, rolling his eyes. He took another swig of the bottle, and Shraddha glared at him angrily. She felt that Amit never took things seriously, and had a kind of indifferent attitude to living and life. Even now, when they were trying to liven things up, he was ruining the atmosphere with his wisecracks. Shraddha sometimes thought that she disliked Amit very much. But Amit was a part of her circle of friends, and so she grudgingly sat through his cynicism. However, Nina was unperturbed. She started her story excitedly. “Well, you guys know that I am a very safe kind of girl and I prefer to live life in my own sweet way. I have my life, and I rarely bug others as I don’t like anyone to bug me either. You know, the Jesus line, do unto others as you want them to do unto you and all that.” She paused dramatically, and looked around to see three pairs of eyes staring at her. Maybe it was her imagination, but she caught the taxi driver’s eyes also looking at her through the rear-view mirror, his curiosity glistening in his eyes. She felt satisfied with the attention she was getting. “But there was this girl Sheila in my hostel. She was just too much. A total b*tch, if you know what I mean. I doubt it she ever had any friends there. She was that sort of person, you know...you never liked such kind of people. Lost in her own world, and always having a negative attitude to everything. Whenever we would plan something, she would offer her own holier-than-thou opinion, and create all sorts of unnecessary ruckus. I hated her, and I’m sure that none of my hostel-mates liked her either.” Nina paused. Shraddha smiled to herself. Nina was trying so hard to convince everyone that Sheila was the ‘bad’ girl. Shraddha wondered why. Nina continued, “So last month, we had this fashion show at the hostel...a simple do, you know, just for fun, with the students from the fashion technology institute designing. And I was supposed to be the showstopper for the show, there was this beautiful blue gown that I was to sashay down in. I fell in love with the dress, I mean, it looked so right with my blue lenses". Here, Peter chuckled “And I was all super excited and stuff. But then, Madam Sheila decided that she wanted to be the showstopper, saying that I have done lots of ramp walks, that she wanted to do this properly at least once. As if, you know, she was blaming me for doing modeling-I mean, what’s it to her, right?” Shraddha again caught Peter in the mirror, and saw his smile. Nina didn’t notice. “The fashion people were eager to get on with it, they just wanted to show off their designs, they didn’t care who wore it! I mean, they just said, okay fine, let Sheila do it, and we will let Nina wear something else. I was horrified, I mean, they couldn’t just drop me like that for no reason, right... I was furious, but I didn’t show it. I agreed to it, but I was dead-set in my mind that Sheila would do the show only over my dead body.” Nina paused again. This time, even Amit was drawn to the story. He waited in anticipation. “So...”Nina spoke hesitatingly. “I knew she was allergic to coconut. And the morning of the show, I made sure that her morning cereal with milk had a small amount of coconut milk as well. The taste was masked, you know. She ate it all up, and by noon, she was in spots and rash enveloped her body.” Nina paused again. “And my photo in the blue gown is still the coolest pic in my portfolio today.” She smiled happily, her story completed. There was silence for ten seconds in the taxi. Then Peter and Amit burst out laughing. Even Shraddha smiled. “Nina, you are so wicked!” Nina laughed, while Peter said, “You know, for a minute I wondered if you were going to kill her or something! I’ll be wary of what I eat at your home from now on!!” Nina playfully smacked Peter. Amit nodded thoughtfully. Peter then said, “Man, that was wicked. I don’t think my secret is worth a telling now. Mine was quite silly, you know.” “Oh, tell it anyways,” coaxed Nina. Amit was looking out of the window, seemingly lost in thought. “It’s rather silly, really...I once stole a t-shirt from a department store. I mean, I didn’t do it on purpose-or at least, I think I didn’t. There was this smart t-shirt I liked; it was quite costly, more than a thousand bucks at least. Black and quite funky. But since the price was so high, I thought I will try it out, see if it fits. And so I went to the changing room, wore it and looked at myself in the mirror. The light was dim, so I got out, to look at the mirrors in the shop. Then, some friends of mine strolled in the shop, we got talking, and we all went together to lunch. It was when I was washing my hands at the restaurant that I realized I had walked out wearing a t-shirt that I hadn’t bought! I could have gone back and returned it-but I didn’t. I went straight back home.” Peter looked around. And as if to conclude, he said, “I never went back in that shop after that day. And I never wore that t-shirt again either. It hangs in my wardrobe like a trophy, a symbol from the past. I don’t know why, but whenever I see it, a thrill, a shiver runs down my spine. I was quite proud that day, really felt quite smart-although it was just an honest mistake. There was a sense of thrill, you know...like I had gotten away with it all...and I even felt quite proud...although, ashamed...” Again, silence for a few moments resided in the taxi. Nina shook her head, and said, “That’s pretty lame, you know.” Amit muttered, “What a loser story that was, Pete...that is your idea of a dark secret? Man, you need to get a life!” Shraddha leapt to Peter’s defence. “Oh sure, Amit, not everyone is evil incarnate as you are.” Turning to Peter, she said, “My story is similar to yours, Pete. I felt proud-but with a tinge of shame.” Shraddha coughed, and began her story. “This happened in my childhood. I was going to tell you all another story when we started this game-but I remembered this just now. I was six or seven at that time. My maid beat me once, quite severely, for something, I don’t remember it now. Strange, isn’t it? We only remember what we want to remember anyways. I read that somewhere. And though I remember what happened to Asha didi, I can’t remember why she beat me.” Her brows came close to each other, as she made an effort to remember. She shook her head, pulled back her flying tresses, and continued, “I was so angry, it is a child’s anger after all. All the people around us tell us that children are cute and innocent and sweet, but I feel differently-maybe because I was different at that age. I, as a child, felt rage too-besides love. Love and hate, those are the emotions of my childhood. And that day, Asha didi was the target of my rage. I remember quite well-I went calmly to my mother’s drawer, pulled out her gold bracelet that she used to dangle in front of me often, saying that she would gift me that when I was older. And I went to didi’s room, and threw it-yes, I flung it-into her large brown-or was it green-bag containing her sarees and her other things.” Shraddha coughed again. Peter noticed that Shraddha’s eyes were welling up slightly. “That night, Mummy noticed her ornament was missing. Daddy also was alerted, and a search began. They didn’t think of searching Asha didi’s room at all, a thought like that never entered their minds. Mother was totally sure that the bracelet was in her drawer and nowhere else. When the search yielded no results, Daddy decided to search in Asha didi’s room as well. And sure enough, they found it there, lying behind Asha didi’s grey chiffon sarees.” A tear rolled down Shraddha’s left cheek. “Daddy was furious, Mummy was shocked. There was pandemonium in the house that day. Daddy personally searched through the other servant’s room too, muttering that no one could be trusted. Asha didi cried and cried, she swore that she didn’t take it, that it was someone else. But there was no use to her crying. She was ordered to get out of the house, Dad flung her green bag outside the gate-yes, it was a green bag, I see it now- and she fell at Mummy’s feet, Mummy crying, running back to the door of the house, wrapping me in the pallu of her red and golden saree. And Asha didi stopped protesting her innocence, and she walked out of the gate, even as Daddy continued to hurl abuses at her. The neighbours were watching too, by then. And Asha didi left. But before she did-she looked at me once from the gate.” Shraddha closed her eyes. And her words came out in a whisper. “She knew it was me who did it. Her piercing stare drove right into me. I never said a word. And I have never told anyone of this.” Her eyes opened. “Until now.” Peter reached out, and patted Shraddha’s head. Nina looked flushed, and she looked at Amit. Amit was still staring out of the window. The bottle in his hand still had a quarter of its entire volume still in it. Amit spoke. “I liked your story, Shraddha. It was interesting. Yours, I think, came close to something really dark and gory, as Peter would put it. Peter’s story was hideous, Nina’s was more like childish spite. Yours seems rather important to you, but I think it is a case of simple spite still. You want to hear a real dark secret? Listen to this.” Amit stopped talking, and moved slightly inward. “I am a murderer,” he hissed. Nina cupped a hand to her mouth. Peter took in a breath of air. Shraddha remained passive. However, she thought she heard the driver gasp as well. “Did you guys never wonder why I left so abruptly last year, in the middle of college to the UK? It was because of this.” Amit smiled, and drank a little of the vodka still remaining in the bottle. He enjoyed the shock on his friends’ faces. “My brother and I went to this party one night. And I was quite drunk. Really, totally drunk. More drunk than now, Pete my boy!” He made a face at Peter. “But I wanted to drive, and my brother allowed me to as well...I was in my car, he was in his...And we raced. It was night on the highway; there were not many cars on the road. Eastern Express Highway. To Mulund, you know, the eastern side. I was winning. And everything was cool. And from somewhere, this auto rickshaw came in from the left. I couldn’t stop, and I crashed right into it. The auto jumped, I mean, it just got flung away, and I saw it in the air, flying, and landing with a thud in front, and it bounced, the glass shattering, pieces flying everywhere...and it bounced and fell on the road, the glass shattering...” Amit spoke, almost in a whisper. “The strangest thing was that...that there was no sound...No, I mean, I heard the thud, I heard the crash, the glass smashing into bits...I saw the blood too, yes there was a lot of blood...I could see it shine on the tarred road...all that blood, but, there was no screaming...do you understand? I didn’t hear one human cry...I have thought over it again and again, but I never once heard any one shouting...I later came to know that two women were in the car, a mother and her twenty-something daughter...The driver too...they died...maybe with the first impact, the crash, they died...” Shraddha put a hand on her forehead. She was sweating. There was no wind from the window, and it was then she realized that the taxi was stopped at a red light. She looked at the old driver, and saw he was sweating as well, no doubt by the story. They could have driven past the red light, but all the occupants of the taxi seemed to be thankful they hadn’t. They were nearing Mulund, they had reached Bhandup on the LBS Marg already. Amit took another gulp of the bottle, staring outside the window. “There was no screaming, there was, like, silence there that day...A deafening silence, I never did understand why those women didn’t scream...Even the driver...he didn’t scream either...” “What did you do?” Nina asked. She looked cold, and Peter flung his arm around her shoulders. He felt the coldness of her body. “I did...nothing. My brother parked his car somewhere there, and jumped into my car, pushing me from the driver’s seat. And he drove back to our house. Dad and Mum got to know everything, and within three hours, I was standing in the queue for a Jet airways flight to Heathrow. I read about it in the papers in London, it was the rage on Indian websites at that time...all the three died...” Amit became quiet. “Oh my God...the November case...that was you who did it...the police never found out who it was...” Shraddha whispered. She felt a thumping in her head, a painful and constant thumping. Amit poured the remaining contents of the bottle into his mouth, gulped it down, and looked at the other occupants of the taxi. He smiled at all of them, and said, in a louder voice than before, “Now that, my friends, is a real dark secret. And I doubt if anyone here can beat that. I killed three people that day...And I am still here, alive and well to remember that episode of my life...” He noticed the bottle was empty, and threw it outside the window, where it shattered on the road. Just as the glass shattered, the taxi screeched to a halt. Shraddha and the taxi driver exchanged glances. Shraddha was sweating, and she saw beads of perspiration on his face as well. He looked scared. Amit laughed loudly, while the others remained quiet. His laughter was painful and strained, breaking through the eerie silence. He clapped his hands, and said, “This serves all of you right for thinking up such a lousy game! Shraddha darling, you got to admit, my story beats yours! Murder has to be the deepest, darkest secret one can have! And I win the competition!” And to celebrate his achievement, he drummed his hands on the back of the driver’s seat. The taxi had slowed down. Shraddha noticed the taxi driver hanging his head down, shaking his head one or two times. Shraddha shook her head as well; the story had disturbed the driver too. Nina was still shivering. Peter looked away, not wanting to even look at Amit. Shraddha felt nauseous, she cursed herself for agreeing to such a game. It was certainly no longer fun-she knew more than she wanted to know about Amit. In the middle of that, a voice said, “The competition isn’t over yet. I have a story too. And I have committed murder as well.” Amit opened his eyes and rubbed them with his fists. Nina and Peter watched open-mouthed. And Shraddha stared to her right in sheer surprise. The taxi driver was telling his story. ** ** ** Salim wiped his eyes. He then took a rag from the dashboard, and wiped the steering wheel, followed by his greasy palms. He started the car again, and the car was nearing the Mulund-Thane junction. He spoke in a clear voice, loud but not jarring. “I never thought I would ever commit murder, you know. I mean, it was something alien to me, and something amazingly stupendous for an old man like me to do. But, when you fall into a rage-like you, what was your name, Shraddha, isn’t it-you can’t control it. And I fell into my rage’s demand then. I killed a man, a young man. He had taken my son’s life, and so I took his. I had to do it. I am sure my son would never forgive me if I let his killer walk alive. My son didn’t get justice-and when I got a chance to set things right-I just used it. I don’t regret what I did either. I believe in karma, in retribution, you know. I did just that...it was fair...he was walking free, while my dear son died...no, I did the right thing...he had to be punished...” Nina gasped, and started sobbing loudly. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and black mascara lines traced the path of the tears on her cheeks. Peter flung his arm around her again, muttering, “Shh...it’s okay, there’s nothing to be afraid of...shh, don’t cry, don’t cry...” Amit was drunk, and he clapped his hands on hearing Nina’s cries. “Hey, I killed three, driver sahab!! I still win...” Saying so, Amit vomited outside the car by flinging his head out of the window. After a few moments, he seemed to have fallen asleep-or rather, knocked out with all the alcohol in his system. He sat with his head resting on the car’s window, eyes partly closed. Shraddha sat on her seat, wide awake, looking straight ahead at the road. “Stop all the stories. That’s enough. Nina is quite disturbed,” she said, still not looking at Salim. “Get me out of this goddamned taxi, Peter...I just can’t stand it here...oh, stupid game, stupid game...”Nina screamed. Nina was clawing at the seats, banging her hands on Salim and Shraddha’s seats as well. Peter noticed that the Mulund junction had arrived, and loudly said, “Stop the taxi, bhaiya.” Salim slowed the taxi and stopped. He was silent again. Peter got out of the taxi, with Nina jumping out right beside him. She was crying hysterically, tugging at Peter’s jacket. Peter hunched down and stared at Shraddha in the front seat. “I think I should just go with Nina-I will make sure she reaches home safely. She-she is not herself.” Shraddha nodded. And she bravely put on a smile. “It’s okay, Peter. I will get out at Teen Haath Naka, and then the taxi can go on to drop off Amit.” Peter looked at Salim, and then looked at Amit slumped on the back seat. He whispered, “Are you sure you want to go in this cab? You have two murderers for company, you know.” Salim heard that, and smiled at Peter. “Don’t worry, sahib. I am not a madman. Your friend will reach her home safely.” Shraddha looked at Salim's calm face and then courageously smiled at Peter. Nina was howling as she sat on the footpath. Shraddha said, “It’s okay, Pete. Half an hour, or maybe fifteen minutes. I’ll reach my home. I will go on in this cab.” Peter sighed. Looking at Salim, he said, “Make sure she reaches home.” Salim nodded, his eyes still on the road. “Safely,” added Peter, as he escorted a weeping Nina to an auto rickshaw parked on the side of the road. “Let’s go?” Salim asked. Shraddha stole a glance at Amit, sprawled on the back seat. “Go,” she replied. There was total silence in the car for the next ten or fifteen minutes. Amit lay quiet on the back seat. Shraddha was still getting her senses back in order. The horrendous game Nina thought of had backfired, and she blamed herself. Nina was a nervous wreck always, and this episode should have shot her blood pressure up by a few more points. Thank God Peter is with her, he is sensible. Amit, a murderer of three. And this driver-God, he’s so old, you’d expect someone like him to act more responsibly. Still, with numbers on his side, Amit was the worse of the two. Amit...she never had liked him, and the reason for his sudden escapade to London was terrifying. She still remembered the headlines of the tragedy. ‘MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY.’ ‘WHERE WERE THE TRAFFIC COPS?’ ‘MOTHER AND DAUGHTER DIE IN HORRIFIC ACCIDENT.’ ‘EYEWITNESSES SAW WHITE MERCEDES.’ ‘ONE WEEK AND NO KILLER IN SIGHT.’ ‘END OF A FAMILY.’ ‘CASE AT A DEAD END: COPS.’ ‘WHITE MERCEDES DISAPPEARS.’ The taxi came to a halt in front of the Eternity Mall in Thane. Shraddha got out quickly, thanking her lucky stars that she was finally out. She pushed Amit on the back seat, but he didn’t respond. She opened her purse and took out a few hundred rupee notes. “How much, Bhaiya?” she said, noting that the meter read 220 rupees. “Whatever’s on the meter is enough, madam,” said Salim, politely. His eyes were still fixed on the road. Shraddha shrugged and gave him three hundred rupees. She added, “Make sure this Amit gets out of your cab. The extra money is for you to take him out and drop him at the building. Residency on Ghodbunder Road. The watchman there will know Amit.” Salim nodded, his eyes still fixed straight ahead. Just as she was about to turn to leave, her curiosity got the better of her. She lowered her head, and said, “Out of curiosity-how did you kill him? The man you murdered, I mean. The man who killed your son. How did you kill him?” Salim turned towards Shraddha. His grey eyes, imposing behind the large broken spectacles, sparkled and he smiled, a very simple all-knowing smile. He replied with just one word. “Watch.” The taxi revved up, and it zoomed straight ahead. The speeding taxi went straight ahead, and hit the giant pillars holding up the Teen Haath Naka flyover. There was a loud crash, glass shattering, and a truck coming in from the left crashed into the taxi, the back of the taxi being crushed against the giant round pillar. And just as the black and yellow taxi burst into flames, Shraddha remembered a newspaper headline again. ** ** ** END OF A FAMILY. (Nov 22, 2007) By our correspondent. The third victim of last week’s hit-and-run accident at Mulund breathed his last at Mumbai’s L. H. Hospital yesterday. Ali Sheikh, a 32-year-old auto-rickshaw driver, was driving the rickshaw into which an unidentified white Mercedes rammed into last Monday. The two passengers in the rickshaw, Ali’s wife Zulfiya, 26, and her mother Shenaz Ahmed, 55, were the other victims on that day. While the two women had died on the spot, Ali was in a coma in the hospital for a week. He finally succumbed to his injuries yesterday night. Doctors claimed internal hemorrhage as the cause of Ali’s demise. Ali is survived by his father Salim Sheikh, a taxi driver staying at Bandra. Investigations are on to find the driver of the white Mercedes, and the Mercedes itself. Best Regards Daksh