Nine: Vengeance of the Warrior (20 page)

‘Not yet, Kalingan. My revenge comes first!’

Agreed. Today the Kala Yogis will do your bidding. But let me help you. Let me take over.

She stood up suddenly. Her chair rolled back and hit the cabinet behind her. She had let the Kalingan take control. He made the calls. Everything was quiet, still.

They will come …

Tejaswi was back in her seat, staring at the screen. The Kalingan was her saviour and she trusted him completely. She felt his power deep within, it was intoxicating. She glanced at the wall clock. 8.30 a.m. She started her workout. It got her in the zone. She was so focused that she didn’t even realize when two hours slipped by. She completed her routine, stretched and headed to the kitchen. She threw some fruits and carrots into a blender and poured the smoothie into a tall glass. Slowly she sipped the drink, savouring the taste of the bitter–sweet concoction. Her body felt strong, invigorated. She wandered around her house. And stopped in front of a photograph of herself taken when she had just opened the store. Tejaswi was looking at a stranger: the innocence in her eyes that shone through despite the eyepatch, the softness in her expression—all that had gone. She saw her reflection in the hall mirror. And smiled. Her eyes were cold, dark, deep pools of power. The longer she stared, the more she felt a palpable aura of intensity. When alone at home, she didn’t wear the eyepatch and she liked what she saw in her reflection—one eye was coffee-coloured and the other onyx, an ominous blend of real and fake.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

Tejaswi felt a flood of energy hit her solar plexus and spread to her limbs. She blinked rapidly. Her head felt clearer, her senses more alert. She felt more … of everything and an immense joy and pleasure flooded her being. It was as if she was pumped on some incredible meds that made her feel strong and invincible. The Kalingan was in tune with her. He loved her. Tejaswi closed her eyes and emptied her mind to nothingness. ‘I love you, my warrior.’ The more she connected with the Kalingan spirit, the more intensely she felt the power surge within her. The energy forced her to move, to slip into his thoughts—and they were one. She cried out in pleasure. Tejaswi closed her eyes and savoured the moment. Life was complete.

Then the doorbell sounded. Tejaswi took a deep breath and headed to the door, opened it. Outside, two men in black suits stood expressionless. One was taller and more muscular than the other. Both were bald.

‘We received your message,’ the shorter one said, stepping closer. ‘I am Rakha, this is Mersa.’ Tejaswi moved aside to let them in. She shut the door and turned to face them.

‘Go to the kitchen, it is to the left. I will be with you in a few minutes,’ Tejaswi ordered. She hurried to her room. She was psyched up, inspired as though she was heading out to fight a war. The file was in the drawer, it had all the details of Karl and his five friends. Tejaswi strode into the kitchen. She stared at the two men without speaking. They nodded, as if they understood.

‘We isolated the one who travels through air. He is in London. And the other—the one who heals with his hands—was in Los Angeles. Our men have tracked them. They are on their way to India. The protectors are with them,’ Mersa said.

‘Good. Keep tabs and continue to spread terror. You have my power. The Ojaa magic has benefited all of us. We have nothing to worry about.’ Tejaswi smiled.

‘We are at your service,’ Rakha said. ‘We have served the Kalingan spirit and we shall do as you say.’ He bowed slightly.

Tejaswi nodded. ‘Take a look at this file. I want you to scare the living daylights out of these five men. Let them know that I have sent you. I want you to make sure that they come to the launch and apologize publicly. My shop will be reopening in three days. Can you handle it?’

‘Of course,’ Rakha said, leafing through the file.

‘You want them dead after that?’ Mersa asked.

‘No. I want them to live in fear. For the rest of their miserable lives,’ she said grimly.

‘Done.’ He pointed to the picture of Karl. ‘What about this one?’

Tejaswi smiled and felt a tremor of joy unfold. ‘Him?’ She shook her head. ‘This man must suffer slow torture. I want you to place a decapitated chicken outside his shop tonight. Mark his shutters with blood. Then find him. Kidnap the guy and take him to my farm. Lock him up for a few days. I will deal with him later.’

‘Okay.’ They left without another word, file in hand.

A week later

Tejaswi’s organic mushroom farm had been revamped. Behind the farm was a shed, hidden away from prying eyes. ‘We have stored five hundred bags in the shed,’ Rakha told her.

‘Excellent!’ Tejaswi replied. The Kala Yogis had helped her set up what now looked like a storage facility for ammonium nitrate. Legally, she could use it as a chemical fertilizer. ‘Keep it underground. After all the terror attacks, cops have their eyes on ammonium nitrate. Even if this place is searched, they must not find it.’ Tejaswi had bought gunny bags from a black marketeer and stored them in the shed before the ammonium nitrate came in. ‘We shall wait a few more weeks before production.’

Mersa nodded. ‘Yes, madam. Eventually, we make use of it.’

‘I want it to be deadly, Mersa. I want people to know that I mean business.’

‘It will be easy to make the combination more lethal by adding small metal objects like nails and ball bearings.’

The Kalingan smiled at the idea of using the devastating shrapnel.
I have a very interesting plan.

22

Anita

‘Hello, Anita! It’s me, Tejaswi. Sorry I haven’t been in touch, but so much has happened.’

‘Hi!’ Anita responded, cradling the phone against her ear. ‘How are you?’ It had been weeks since Tejaswi had been in contact and now, out of the blue, she had called. And it was at the most inopportune time.

Tejaswi’s voice crackled through. ‘I’m fine. All good. I’m going to launch my store this weekend and I want you to come.’

‘Wow!’ Anita said, surprised at Tejaswi’s sudden positive attitude. ‘That’s great. I’m out of town at the moment, but will surely make it back in time. Where did you disappear to all this time?’ Anita glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was all over the place, messy and desperately in need of trimming. She made a mental note to go to the salon as soon as she returned to Mumbai.

Anita tried to stay focused on the call. The mobile was now sandwiched between her shoulder and ear, an ache was starting at the base of her neck. Anita sat down. After the all-nighter she had pulled with copious cups of coffee and not enough sleep, she felt exhaustion seep into her bones. She dragged her knapsack towards her and unzipped it. The more she thought about it, the more she sensed that she was being watched by the protectors of the Nine. The flight from Mumbai to Bhopal that she had taken three days ago was a distant memory, but she felt that there were people who were still keeping an eye on her. She slapped her pockets and found the visiting card. She had got it from a tour guide for Sanchi. Her obsession to find proof of the existence of the Nine had reached a fever pitch after she had met Akash.

Tejaswi’s voice was bright and chirpy. ‘Anita, so much has changed in me. I am not scared of anyone any more. I feel strong, invigorated. I have been going to the gym, sorting out my life, getting it back together again. My organic farm is also up and running. And the store is stocked up, ready for business.’ Anita couldn’t help wondering if Tejaswi was on drugs, at the same time feeling a smidgen of envy. Then, Tejaswi did the oddest thing. She giggled, like a little girl.

Anita froze, dropped the phone, then quickly retrieved it. ‘Er … that’s wonderful, I’m so happy for you.’ She wondered if this was the same Tejaswi or some self-assured twin of hers. Was she on some kind of happy pills? ‘You must tell me all about it when we meet.’

‘Yes, it’s been a wonderful change and this was because I had knocked my head and …’ Tejaswi went on while Anita continued her rummaging. Inside her bag, she found a tourist map of Sanchi. And her notebook where she had jotted down the list of Ashokan pillars. Anita had travelled a long way to get here—all the way to Bhopal, then on to Sanchi by road. There was no reference to the Nine, nor could Anita conjure up far-fetched links to the pillars. It was a wasted effort. To add to the frustration of the trip, the editor had given her an urgent assignment, threatening to demote her if she didn’t complete it in time. Anita had worked on it all night. Fishing in her pockets, Anita found the other scraps of paper on which she had jotted down notes during her visit to the ancient sites. Nothing relevant. She sighed, feeling exhausted and depressed. She wanted to go back home and talk to her Grandma. And tell her not to worry. Lately, she had been quieter than usual.

Anita half-listened to Tejaswi’s exuberant prattle and murmured ‘hmmm’s in between to indicate that she was listening. Tejaswi was never a chatterbox, Anita could hardly get a word out of her. This was some other woman or a split personality. ‘… So I expect to see you then,’ she finished.

Anita responded, ‘I would love to come. It would be great to catch up. I just came back from London and barely got over jet lag, and now I’m in Bhopal on an assignment. I’m exhausted.’

‘Then you must try the herbal remedies produced at our farm. We are getting the first batch ready in time for the opening of the shop.’

‘Yeah, I need some tonics. I feel like my brain has been squeezed and left out to dry.’

‘Oh, and Anita, just a small favour, could you get me some press coverage?’

Anita smiled. ‘Press coverage? No problem. Anything for you, brave girl. Glad to hear you’re back on your feet. But shouldn’t you be careful? What about that guy … that neighbour’s shop?’

Tejaswi was quick to respond. ‘I know what you’re thinking, but you don’t have to worry about me any more. I am not afraid of Karl. I have dealt with the situation.’

Anita nearly dropped the phone again. She spoke urgently, ‘Dealt with the situation? As in? How? You’re sure you’re safe?’

‘You don’t have to worry about me … I’ve got my guardian angel with me,’ she laughed again. ‘And what were you doing in London?’

‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it when we meet.’

‘Great! I’ll catch up with you soon.’ She hung up.

Weird. Anita’s curiosity was piqued. Tejaswi and laugh? She hardly ever smiled. And guardian angel? In a few months she had changed so much. This was absolutely amazing! Anita had met women who had suffered traumatic experiences, had written about them, and usually, the trauma they suffered was not easily forgotten. The scars remained deeply embedded in their personalities. And Karl had hurt her real bad, insulting her and then killing her father. Anita felt an instinctive urge to switch her research and find out what had happened in Tejaswi’s life to bring about such a change.

She surveyed her room. It was downright ugly. And she felt like she desperately needed to get out of this dump. Enough of the Nine, she decided, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror.

23

Zubin

Delhi airport was bustling with activity. Zubin weaved his way through the crowd and, like the rest of the passengers, waited in the immigration queue. The sense of unease he had been experiencing ever since his visit to the conference in New York had escalated into a throbbing in his pineal gland. Zubin did not scare easily. He studied his surroundings carefully. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that the naked eye could catch. There was the usual hustle and bustle of passengers. Before this trip, Zubin had managed to wrap up his ongoing projects: he delegated some of his jobs to his assistants and even roped in a biologist to handle some of the lab work.

He headed to the toilets. There were a few people inside, who eventually left. Unseen by Zubin, one person entered and locked the door behind him. And then it happened in a flash. The stranger tapped Zubin on the shoulder. Zubin turned. The stranger was dressed in black, with soft shoes. His pupils were red. ‘The Kalingan’s Yogi!’ Zubin mumbled to himself. He had just made a bad move by turning squarely towards the man. But he reacted quickly and, using his knapsack as a shield, blocked the dagger that would have got him in the chest. The attacker grabbed Zubin’s bag and threw it aside. Zubin faced him, poised, ready. The man moved cunningly, slicing the air with the sharp weapon. Zubin stepped back, missing the blade by centimetres. This dangerous dance continued for a few minutes. Then, switching from defence to attack mode, Zubin caught the man by his wrist, the knife inches from his left eye. He gripped the man’s hand with all his strength. The attacker was strong and the knife was just millimetres from Zubin’s eye, getting closer. With one last effort, Zubin shifted, landed a hard kick, got the man in the shin. The man staggered and fell in one of the stalls.