The Astral Alibi (27 page)

“I’m afraid not,” the older woman replied with a sigh. “Does that mean that what I feel instinctively is just a figment of my imagination?”

“Not necessarily,” Sonia admitted. “Sometimes when you don’t have information, you have to rely on instinct. Can you tell me about the inhabitants of this house?”

Mrs. Dharkar nodded. “First I must tell you about our children—Raujibua’s disciples. Sumeet, Kirit, and Bishan have lived with us for several years, studying classical music under Raujibua. They call him Guruji and me Guruma and they have been like our own children. Recently all three completed their training and just yesterday they were to leave us to begin a new life on their own. They were very devoted to their Guruji, specially Sumeet. But for the last few months, there have been…how should I put it…certain disagreements. Petty jealousies, arguments, and dissatisfaction…”

“Dissatisfaction?” Sonia prodded for more details.

Again, Mrs. Dharkar nodded. “Nothing very drastic, of course, and no vulgar display of jealousy, either. But I could sense the undercurrents. You see, even though Raujibua treated all his students equally, he was bound to have a favourite. Someone he would’ve wanted to carry on his name as a Guruji. And he had chosen Sumeet. And—I must say this—his choice was faultless. Sumeet is a wonderful boy. Disciplined, and a superb singer. Sumeet is definitely the right person to carry on his Guruji’s name. But unfortunately Bishan and Kirit did not seem to share our view. Both are good singers, too. But you need something more than good singing. A commitment, an involvement. And Raujibua knew his students well enough to know the difference.”

A tall, dusky girl in her twenties swept into the music room, her eyes searching for Mrs. Dharkar. Her features were sharp and she was a spitting image of the older woman.

“What is it, Vandana?” Mrs. Dharkar asked at once, sounding concerned.

“There are people outside who have waited a long time to offer their condolences to you.” Vandana spoke hesitantly. Her curious eyes flicked over Sonia and Jatin.

“I’ll be with them in a minute.” Mrs. Dharkar turned to Sonia apologetically. “Please excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s no problem, we’ll wait.”

As the two women walked out of the room, Sonia glanced at Mohnish, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“Her daughter, from her first marriage,” he explained. “Vandana is into computers, but has learnt classical singing from Raujibua. Although I don’t think she has much of a musical voice. Still, he insisted that, as per the tradition of his house, she had to learn.”

A few minutes later, Mrs. Dharkar returned, smiling faintly. “I’m sorry about that. But Raujibua has so many well-wishers. All wishing to help. All so sincere, but it does take its toll on me. I don’t know how I am going to see it through these next few days. Of course, Vandana and the three boys are a tremendous help. Specially Sumeet. He really loved his Guruji. My husband had been suffering for several years. He had a very complicated health condition which got worse because of a weak heart. These last few years, Sumeet insisted on dismissing all the nurses and looked after Raujibua himself. Administering his medicine, accompanying him for walks, and ensuring his regular dose of exercise—his own son would not have served Raujibua better than Sumeet did.”

Mrs. Dharkar’s eyes moistened. “But I’m straying from the main point. I was telling you how Kirit and Bishan were jealous of Sumeet. All three are exceptionally talented, but it has been obvious that Sumeet does have an edge over the others. And three days ago, my husband discovered that Bishan has been indulging in all those things that traditionally a disciple should refrain from during training. I believe Bishan said something to Raujibua which angered my husband and upset him so much that he threatened to disown Bishan. Yesterday, Raujibua was very restless. When I asked him what the matter was, he said people are not always what they seem and the best of people can give you pain and hurt. The argument with Bishan had really affected him deeply. The three of them had gifted him with an audio CD, and unfortunately it was while listening to it last evening, around seven, that he had a massive heart attack.”

Sudden tears welled up once more in her eyes. The others maintained a respectful silence as she grappled with the reality of her loss. At length, she shook her head. “It’s going to be really hard to live life without him.”

“But why do you feel that something’s not right here?” Sonia persisted.

“For the simple reason that it was most unexpected and shocking. Because the Doctors had assured me that if the medication continued,
nothing
would happen to my husband for at least a couple of years.”

“Perhaps his medication…”

“No, Sumeet took special care of it. Raujibua did not miss a single dose. And I was also there to supervise and keep an eye on things. It was definitely nothing to do with careless medication.”

“Doctors can go wrong in their diagnosis,” Sonia pointed out, very gently.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, but I’m not convinced,” Mrs. Dharkar remarked. “My one solace is that he passed away listening to music, as was his most dear wish.”

Sonia nodded in sympathy. “Rimaji, what do you want me to do?”

“I know you think that Raujibua’s passing away is completely natural. And that I am making an issue out of nothing. But I still would like you to investigate the matter—privately, of course. Talk to people, do whatever you think necessary, but satisfy me that
I
am
wrong
and that no mischief featured in my husband’s death!”

Sonia flashed Mohnish a glance. “I understand that you’re upset, Rimaji. And that you think life has been unfair in taking your husband away from you before his time. And I’m willing to look into this for your sake. But to remove your misgivings may be easier than you think.”

The other woman nodded. “At least it will clear my doubts. Please, just go ahead and do that. Prove that my suspicions and my instincts are incorrect!”

“All right.” Sonia sighed. “Can I meet Kirit, Bishan, and Sumeet?”

“Right away?”

“If it’s possible. Not together, of course, and preferably in their rooms or cottages. I believe they have their own rooms here?”

“Yes. This is their home. They have single-room cottages but they take their meals with the family. Give me a minute while I send Vandana to organize the meetings.”

Mrs. Dharkar rose and exited from the Hall of Music. Sonia turned to Mohnish and Jatin.

“Instinct stronger than evidence? Not the first time I’ve come across such a situation,” she remarked. “But this time, what if instinct wins over evidence? What if instinct is proved accurate?”

Kirit stood by the bed, in the simply furnished room. A tambora—a musical instrument—rested against the wall. Jatin perched on the bed, which was covered with a pink-checked bedsheet. Sonia sat on a chair by the table, her hand casually riffling through the photos placed on it. A copper-plated ornate double photo frame took a prominent place on the table. Kirit’s face smiled back from one frame, but the other side was empty. Which of these snaps was going to be put on the other half of the photo frame, she wondered idly. She studied the minimal decorations of the room and Kirit’s neat appearance.

Kirit was in his late twenties. Square-rimmed glasses sat on a chiseled nose. A pronounced jawline gave him the look of an athlete. But he was an artist. And it was evident when he spoke, soft-voiced and musical.

“I can’t begin to tell you what I feel about Guruji’s passing away. It’s a shock and a terrible one!” Kirit sighed, moist-eyed.

“You have been training with him—for how many years?” Sonia asked.

“Ten years. I did go back home, on and off, but I’ve spent a large part of the last ten years slogging to achieve an accomplished singer’s status.”

“And you think that you are finally there?”

“Guruji thought so. That’s why he declared that my training was complete. I am now free to step out into the world and establish myself with the singing of Gwalior Gharana.”

Sadness tinged his tone. He stared down at his square-nailed fingers, hesitating. As if making up his mind. He glanced up.

“Guruma said that I could speak my mind to you. But how can I tell you that I feel so incomplete, so horrible? There was so much I would’ve said to Guruji. I never got a chance to tell him how much I appreciated what he did for me. I was caught up with unimportant ideas—thoughts, feelings that I had no right to feel. I believed that I was justified in what I thought, but I realise now that nothing justifies going against your teacher’s wishes. I have failed him in many ways. I have failed my father, because that was what Guruji was to me. He was like a father to me—to
all
of us.”

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. “I wish I had listened to him! He was right and I was wrong!”

Jatin flashed his Boss a look. She was staring at Kirit, puzzled.

“Raujibua was right about what?” she asked the young man.

“About everything,” the singer mumbled. “About
everything
!”

The tiny yellow flowers of the mustard field bobbed with the wind. Vandana led Sonia and Jatin past the yawning hole of a huge stone well, then up a narrow mud path.

“I’m sure Bishan is here, since I couldn’t find him anywhere at all. He is prone to swinging moods and I’ve often found him in his favourite spot. Behind the water pump shed. Look—there he is.” Vandana pointed out a lone figure leaning against a Banyan tree. “Will you wait here a minute, Miss Samarth? I’ll just explain Mom’s request to him.”

Sonia nodded. She watched Vandana trudge over the path and tap Bishan on the shoulder. There was something about the girl that was rather appealing. Her confidence, the way she held her head?

“A rupee for your thoughts, Boss!” Jatin said. He picked up a stalk of straw and chewed on it.

“Just wondering if we are wasting our time.”

“Boss, a case is a case. Even if it is to prove that there is no case!” He grinned.

“Right!” She returned his smile, as she watched Vandana retrace her steps.

“Go ahead, Miss Samarth,” the girl said. “But be warned. He almost snapped my head off!” A faint smile curved her lips.

“Thanks!”

“You can find your way back to the house, can’t you?”

“Oh yes, we can, don’t worry. But it would be good if we could meet Sumeet immediately after this.”

Sonia and Jatin turned and headed towards Bishan. Black wavy hair was prematurely peppered with grey. His white kurta encased broad shoulders.

His deep black eyes glinted with anger. “What do you want?” he demanded harshly.

Sonia raised surprised eyebrows at his hostile tone.

“Didn’t Vandana explain? We’d like to talk to you.”

“Why? Why did Guruma ask me to speak to you? I don’t know you. You are not even connected with the family!”

“Perhaps because sometimes talking to an outsider helps relieve the grief?” Sonia suggested mildly. She chose a flat stone to sit on and motioned Jatin to do the same.

“Grief! I feel no grief. Only anger. Hot, burning anger! Why did Guruji have to quit like that? It’s so unfair!” he snarled.

“Most people don’t know exactly when a heart attack is going to strike them!” Sonia said wryly.

“But he was not
supposed
to die of heart attack. He was
ill
! He had some more years before he needed to say a final goodbye to us! He had so much more to teach us! He was a storehouse of musical knowledge—precious knowledge which only
he
possessed. He had no right to leave without completing his task. I feel so betrayed! So lost, lonely! I loved him so much!”

“And yet you had arguments with him?” Sonia inserted gently.

For a second, Bishan looked startled. “Arguments are a part of every healthy relationship! I admit that I did things which angered him, but at least I wasn’t stupidly obedient like his favorite, Sumeet! And yet Guruji chose and trained him to take his place! Even though Kirit and I are equally good singers. Guruji was partial and it made me mad! I feel that he ought to have waited and observed, to see who would really flourish in the music world. Who would
really
make Gwalior Gharana proud and who would keep his name flying high!
I
would have! And I
will,
but now he won’t be here to see it! To see that his choice was wrong!”

Bishan glared out at the horizon.

His self-confidence surprised Sonia.

“Perhaps he will. Perhaps his soul is here somewhere, waiting to see who really does him proud,” she supplied softly.

Bishan stared at her with eyes bright with unshed tears.

His sobbing wouldn’t cease. Sumeet’s tears flowed with an intensity which touched Sonia’s heart. The young man’s face was blotched and swollen with grief, and he shut his eyes tight to block the tears, but they squeezed out from the corners.

“I can’t talk now, please leave me alone!” he sobbed.

Sonia and Jatin sat in chairs opposite him.

“You loved him a great deal, didn’t you?” she remarked. “Guruma told me.”

“Guruma…yes, I loved him like I would never love anyone else in my life. He was everything to me!
Everything…
All I know of life comes from him. And now he’s
gone
! I shall never see him again, never talk to him, never go to him for advice…Oh, what shall I do!” He clasped his hands over his face.

Sonia maintained a respectful silence, waiting until his sobs tapered into hiccups. Jatin poured a glass of water from a jug and handed it to him. Sumeet accepted the glass absently, sipping indifferently from it. At length, he brushed away his tears, sniffed, and glanced at them.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s all right,” Sonia cut in quickly. “We understand.”

“Life is strange. But death is stranger,” he murmured. “Here I am, grieving because my father is no more. But what about him? I must think of him. It was the best thing that could have happened to him. He was suffering so much! And his dear wish—to die while listening to music…His dearest wish came true! I should thank God for that! That he passed away peacefully, just as he desired. Do you think I’m making sense?” Sumeet asked Sonia eagerly.