Betrayals And Paybacks Read online

  Sana Shetty

  WRITE INDIA PUBLISHERS www.writeindia.in First published by

  Write India Publishers in 2017 WRITE INDIA PUBLISHERS Ahmedabad 380022

  [email protected] www.writeindia.in

  Contact: +91-8866248175

  First Edition: October, 2017

  Copyright © Sana Shetty 2017

  Sana Shetty asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. ISBN: 978-81-933791-6-5

  www.facebook.com/WriteIndia Printed and bound in India. All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, and recording otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.

  Dedicated to

  My father, D.K. Shetty, who believed I could achieve anything and made me capable of that.

  Acknowledgements

  The dreams of childhood get buried in the responsibilities of adult life and sometimes it becomes very difficult to renew those dreams. Most of us let it wither and die. I am thankful to my family, my husband and my two beautiful daughters, who have let me live this dream. It wasn’t easy, agreed, but this passion was worth following. The obsession of writing everything and anything, has been a habit I am glad I did not let go.

  This journey includes my parents, who went against norms of not educating only ‘the boys’ and believing ‘the daughter’ is supposed to be tied to the home and hearth. They gave me those valuable wings of education and freedom to fly high. My husband, who believed in me and my daughters, who encouraged me to go ahead and finish that book and put it out there for people to see. They never let me give up.

  I am grateful to Write India Publishers, who found my work worth the trouble of sharing it with the world. Finally, I thank whatever greater power there is that made me who I am.

  Prologue

  Heritage Palace Hotel, Tamara Village, on the banks of the river Kaveri. The young man ran up the stairs and found himself on the terrace. Ironically, the full moon lit up the terrace, mocking him. To the beleaguered young man, it felt like it was challenging him to find a place to hide. But he was already tired. His feet couldn’t hold him up anymore and he stumbled along, trying to stay on his feet. It would be so easy to just let go and give himself up to these guys. After all there was no chance that these people would show any mercy, anyway. He was going to die, that’s it. Yet, that primal human instinct for survival wouldn’t let him give up.

  “Fool,” he chided himself. “Why come here?” He was going to be easy meat here, for sure. But then did he have a choice? They had blocked his every other exit. He looked around him desperately, like a trapped animal. Looking for any nook, any corner, where he could hide himself. But there was none. The only place to go from here was over those walls and into the river, provided he could climb it in the first place. Also there was no way he could have survived such a fall. It was sure death. So he was literally caught between the devil and the sea. River in his case, he thought wryly. As if in tandem to his feelings, he could hear the furious gurgling of the river far below.

  The pounding of footsteps on the stone staircase behind him, told him his pursuers were near. He ran towards the other end, crouching low as he felt his way into the shadows. His hand touched something hard and long, like a stick. An iron crowbar, left there by some workmen. He curled his fingers around it instinctively. The bruises on his hands and feet hurt and he was sure he had some broken ribs from where they had kicked him; even breathing was getting tedious and painful. There was the taste of blood in his mouth and some of it dripped down on the left side of his face from the deep cut on his head. He wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve but the blurring wouldn’t go away. He shook his head vigorously. “Alert! Be alert!” he chanted under his breath.

  The door to the terrace burst open and four men came into sight. Burly men, used to violence and now focussed on finishing him. As they rushed towards him, he lashed out blindly, catching one of them on the stomach and then another on the head with the crowbar. He heard their grunt of pain and their curses. But before long, one of the guys had overpowered him from behind and another had pried the crowbar from his fingers. He kicked hard and caught one of them on his shin.

  But he was fighting a losing battle. Soon enough, they had him pinned painfully to the rough stone floor. He lay there, gasping, the pain was blinding and he vomited out blood. As if on cue, the moon slid behind the dark clouds suddenly plunging the terrace into darkness. At least now they couldn’t see his expression of pain. He did not want them to have that satisfaction. The sadistic bastards!

  They had stopped trying to flatten him to the floor and stepped away, probably convinced that he had no fight left in him. Flipping over on his back, he looked up at them. In spite of all the beating he had taken and the surety of death staring him in the face, he felt triumphant. At least they did not have what they were looking for. Even if he died here today, they were going to get what they deserved.

  “Bad luck, hero,” one of them sneered, “we got you!”

  “You should have left well alone,” another clucked his tongue. “Tell us. Tell us where it is. Maybe it will save your life,” one of the guys

  knelt beside him, keeping his tone to a whisper, conspiratorial. In spite of himself, he laughed and his voice came out in a hoarse cough and he spat out more blood. He knew there was no way they would let him live. Not after all he knew.

  “Go to hell,” he whispered back hoarsely. The guy grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. “That is where you are going!” he ground out angrily. Another man joined him and the two of them started to drag him towards the door.

  ₪ ₪ ₪

  Chapter 1

  Mumbai, four days later.

  Vedant Birajdar, stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his middle and another casually hanging around his neck. He used the corner of the towel to vigorously rub the dark black curls that fell over his forehead. It felt good to be back. He wouldn’t call this small apartment home. Home was far away. If he closed his eyes, he could picture the open fields and smell the pungent aroma of spices. He could see the mountains at a distance, their heads buried in the clouds. The rain spattered thick bushes lining the floor of the forest and the moss covered trees that grew thick and far in-between them. But then, he wasn’t complaining. After all, Mumbai had been kind enough to him. He had done well for himself. Having a two bedroom apartment in an upmarket place like this, was quite an achievement. He had his high paying marketing job to thank and of course his older brother, Tarun.

  Tarun! Hell! He hadn’t called him in seven days and he would be furious. His older brother, Tarun, lived in the village and ran the Heritage Palace, a hotel that their father had set up. He liked to check up on him at least once a week. And Vedant had been so busy travelling these past few days for work; he had totally forgotten to call him. He hadn’t even informed him of his tour. But then that too was Tarun’s own fault. Serves him right if he was worried, he thought. It would have been much easier had his brother agreed to carry a mobile. He turned away from the dressing table and strode towards the living room. The living room was spacious with very little furniture. On a small round table, near the television stand, was the phone with the answering machine. That too had been Tarun’s idea. Vedant could never understand his dislike of mobile phones. He never used one and refused to call him on his. He considered it an invasion of privacy. Sometimes, Vedant believed Tarun belonged to another era. He would leave messages on the answering machine whenever Vedant was not home.

&nb
sp; He looked at the machine, sure enough there were messages. He pushed the play button, grinning to himself as he imagined what Tarun would have to say to him. Tarun could be quite paranoid, if he did not hear from him. But his smile froze and his heart skipped a beat or two, as he heard the voice on the tape.

  “Hmmm….hi….this is Jay. Sorry Ved, I know I am breaking the promise we made to your brother and calling you, but this is ….this is about your brother. He does not know I am calling you, okay. So don’t tell him. But…well…hmmm… I guess you are not home. So call me as soon as you get this message. It is sort of urgent. I hope you still have my number, it is the same. And yes, please…be careful. Bye.”

  Vedant stared at the phone, not trusting his ears. Jay! Jay Varma! Immediately the face of a smiling twenty year old leapt into his mind. It had been eight long years but he could still picture the face perfectly. It made him so home sick; it almost felt like physical pain. He tried to focus on what the message had been about. Jay said he had been calling up to talk about Tarun. Tarun! Something had to be wrong. As he reached over to pick up the handset, the machine whirred again and Jay’s voice was speaking to him once again.

  “Ved… please ….where the hell are you?” he sounded agitated, almost angry. “I am getting worried. I hope you are okay. You…We need to talk. It is urgent. Please…please just call me,” he begged.

  And then there was another and another, all pleading for him to call. Message after message, were all the same and Jay was getting more and more desperate, worried. After the ninth call, Jay’s voice came over the machine in a pant, as if he had been running and he sounded tired, “Ved….I don’t know where the hell you are and if you don’t want to talk….it’s fine. But please, just come back. I don’t know who else to turn to. Come back! I can’t say more. Tarun…Tarun is… I’ll just say that trouble is brewing for him. I can’t talk about this on the phone. I don’t know who else will be listening to this message. They have begun to keep a watch on me. But you have to come back….pl….please. Just come home.” Did his voice crack there in the end? Vedant stared at the machine, unable to get himself to move.

  Then there was one last message, again from Jay. He sounded sad. “Ved, I wish I could have seen you just one more time. There was so much I wanted to tell but it is not to be, I guess. I may never ever see you again and in case I don’t …just remember …... A silent voice speaks a thousand words. All you have to do is listen, please; just listen to what he is saying. May Krishna guide you. Can’t say more. Please, please be careful, be safe.”

  After that there was just the crackling of the machine, before that too died down. The silence was deafening. He waited, expecting it to start up again, but it stayed silent. His mind raced with possibilities and counter possibilities. Was this a joke? Was somebody trying to pull a fast one on him? No that was Jay’s voice alright. And Jay wouldn’t joke about such things. Something was amiss. Why was Jay worried about him? Why did he keep telling him to be careful? Careful, about what? Who was keeping a watch on him? And what did that strange last message mean. Who was Krishna? Krishna, as in the lord Krishna? He had never known Jay to be a religious person, so did the message mean something else? He had sounded so strange, as if he was trying to say something more than what his words had meant. What sort of riddle was this? And in that last message he had sounded afraid…broken. Why or who was he so afraid of? Tarun! He said something about trouble brewing for Tarun. And there were no messages from Tarun, at all. It had been more than seven days, since he had last spoken to Tarun and this was so unlike him. There should have been at least one panic call from him.

  It can’t be anything too bad, he told himself, trying to quell the quivering in the pit of his stomach. But then Jay had broken a promise to never keep in touch and he was not one to break promises just for the fun of it. Only one way to find out.

  His heart thudding madly, he sank down on the chair near the table and picked up the phone. He hesitated, contemplating calling Tarun to see if he was okay. Then decided he would call Jay and talk to him first. If this was some sort of a joke, he did not want Tarun to panic. He dialled the number automatically, surprising himself. Even after all these years, he had no trouble whatsoever, recollecting the number. It was something that was seared into his brain. A part of a memory he held so dear, he hadn’t been able to let go. He could hear the phone trilling on the other end and another face flooded his memory. A pretty face, with its slight upturned nose, high cheekbones and small petal shaped lips; dark brown eyes that smiled even before the smile could touch the lips. His heart skipped a beat, as he waited. Would she answer the phone? Would she even speak to him, after what he had done to her? He had walked out on her and on the dreams of a future together.

  He closed his eyes tight, gripping the handset and went through a few moments of agony as the phone continued to ring on the other end. Just when he thought no one was going to answer, a very soft, tired voice came over the phone, “Hello?”

  That was almost an anti-climax. It was a very unfamiliar voice, not what he had been expecting anyway. Maybe he had the wrong number after all.

  He hesitated and asked a little uncertainly, “Yeah…. hello! May I…may I speak to Jay, please?”

  “Jay?” there was a long pause and Vedant was now almost certain he had dialled the wrong number. Maybe Jay had changed his number. But he did mention in that first message that his number was the same.

  The woman on the other end appeared unsure too. She lowered her voice a little above a whisper and asked, “May I know who is calling?”

  “I…,” Vedant thought quickly and then said, “I…I’m his friend.” He did not know why he was reluctant to mention his name.

  “Oh….oh well. I guess you haven’t heard,” the woman on the other end said, a little sadly Vedant thought.

  “Heard what?” He asked cautiously, his heart starting to race again.

  “I’m sorry son, Jay died four days ago,” The voice on the other end said gently.

  For a moment Vedant forgot to breathe. And if he hadn’t already been sitting, he probably would have fallen down. He felt the blood rushing to his head and he gripped the phone tighter and repeated stupidly, “Died? Fo…foo…four days ago?” Jay dead….no…that can’t be! How could he be dead? He had just been listening to his voice, thinking about him. Jay had asked him to call back. He had the wrong number!

  “This is Jay Varma’s house, right?” he asked, his voice trembling.

  “Yes, this is Jay Varma’s house. He committed suicide four days ago.” The voice of the woman echoed through the house. Suicide!? Suicide! No way! The Jay he knew would never kill himself.

  Jay had been the most resilient guy he knew. There was no way he could have given up on life. He needed to go. Go home. Jay had begged him to come back. Images after images, flashed through his head. Images of a boy, full of life and laughter. His head felt as if it would burst open and he closed his eyes tight, quelling a desire to scream. Desperately, he tried to focus, to listen to what the woman was telling him. It was quite some time before he could get himself to listen. He had pressed the receiver so close to his ears that it ached, but still he couldn’t let up the pressure. The woman at the other end was still talking, “Can you tell me your name son? Hello… you still there? Hello..?”

  “Yes… I… I’m still here,” He managed to mumble, struggling for words.

  “I’m sorry to break the news to you like this,” the woman said sympathetically.

  “Yes…I…am sorry too. What about his sister? Is she..?” he was still mumbling, scrambling through the fog in his brain.

  “She is okay, I guess. At least as much as you could expect her to be, under the circumstances. You did not tell me your name, son?” “I…I..am Vedant.”

  “Vedant! Vedant Birajdar! Oh my god! How strange that you should call now. If only…” she stopped.

  “Yes, if only I had called earlier,” he said ruefully. He could feel the gush of emotions,
as it threatened to break through. “I guess I am about four days too late, aren’t I?”

  “No, don’t blame yourself, son. It is no one’s fault. But I know it is a real shocker for you. After all you two were so close. Almost like brothers.” The woman was almost speaking to herself.

  “You know me?” Vedant asked, confused.

  “Yes, of course I know you. I am Raunak Goud’s mother. Remember Raunak?”

  “Yes of course, Mrs Goud. I hope you are well,” He was speaking automatically, vaguely wondering why Mrs Goud was there. He hadn’t realised she was close to the Varma family. But then again, in that small village, where everyone knew everyone else, it was hardly surprising. In fact, Raunak was almost his age and they had all spent a lot of time together as children.

  “I am, dear. You take care. And yes, perhaps…” she hesitated.

  “What is it, Mrs Goud?”

  “You should call your brother. Take care,” she had cut the phone before he could ask any more questions.

  Her words “he committed suicide four days ago” still kept ringing in his ears.

  Finally, Vedant loosened his grip on the phone and it clattered onto the table. The pain and emotions broke through as he buried his face in his hands, letting the tears flow. Jay, his best friend was dead. It felt like a part of him had gone numb. If only he had been here to pick up that phone and spoken to him one last time. Damn it!! Guilt tore into his conscience. Jay’s last words rang hauntingly in his ears…I may never see you again…Maybe he had needed help. But no, wait! He had said something about Tarun being in some sort of trouble. He suddenly realised, Mrs Goud too had hinted at something like that. She had asked him call his brother. Something was definitely amiss.

  Almost snatching the receiver off the table, he dialled again. The phone was picked up after the second ring and a melodious voice came through, “Hello?” It was not a voice he was familiar with. Maybe Tarun had hired a new secretary or a telephone operator. But he was sure he had dialled the house number and not the hotel.