No Safe Zone Read online

  ‘No, Reshma and the others are also being held captive somewhere else in this stepwell. Shhh! Someone’s coming.’

  The polo tournament was off to a great start. Rathod could see his friend had left no stone unturned to show off his royal heritage. Suraj was in his element – both on the field and off it. When he wasn’t steering his team to victory on the polo field, he was playing perfect host to visitors who were already in awe and shock at meeting a blue-blooded prince. They were being given a taste of what life would have been like in the hallowed portals of the Sonagarh Jal Mahal centuries ago and they were happy to overlook the chipped plaster and the peeling paint on the facade. Even more ironical, Rathod mused, were the real circumstances of the ‘prince’ whose agenda was to charm his guests into parting with some of their wealth with this display of ersatz riches.

  A whoop of joy went up on the field before him and a smattering of applause greeted the winning team, of which Suraj was the captain. The polo players went off for a well-deserved break while the spectators began to saunter off indoors to feast on the lavish spread that had been laid out. After exchanging pleasantries with his guests, a beaming Suraj strode towards Rathod.

  ‘Hey, Rats, did you see how I outplayed the other team? Feels so good to be playing polo again, man!’

  ‘You know me, Suraj, I don’t care much about the game,’ Rathod shrugged. ‘But I definitely am impressed at how you have put everything together in such a short time.’

  ‘It’s not been easy. I virtually had to put a gun to the old man’s head to make him part with the haveli in Udaipur. The sale of that property has funded this entire tournament and also paid for much of the repairs.’

  ‘Holy Moly! You have sold off the Udaipur haveli?’

  Suraj grinned from ear to ear. ‘You should have seen Raja Saheb’s face. For a moment I thought he was going to croak it. Never mind all that! Rats, are we any closer at striking a deal with the Europeans?’

  Rathod grimaced at the moniker. ‘How many times have I told you not to use that silly name. You really need to grow up.’

  Suraj’s loud laugh rang out. ‘All in good time, my friend. Once the deal goes through I’m even willing to call you Your Royal Highness!’

  Rathod gave a sly grin. ‘You might just have to do that. The deal will happen. Provided you keep your side of the bargain.’

  ‘You mean the girls?’

  Rathod rolled his eyes dramatically. ‘What else? They have all been chomping at the bit and salivating about orgiastic sex with doe-eyed virgins in an authentic Indian palace.’

  Suraj lowered his voice. ‘It’s all been organized. Four girls, all cherry picked. The preparations are on, as we speak. And you know the best part?’

  Suraj paused for dramatic effect before adding, ‘The European group we were in talks with has come through. After the tournament, the girls will be taken by the group to join their new adoptive families in Europe. All the documentation is ready. It’s like being paid twice for selling the same product.’

  ‘Well done, Suraj.’ Rathod guffawed. ‘This is indeed a double whammy. If all goes well here, these guys might come on board with finance for our operations across Europe.’

  ‘Triple celebration,’ Suraj pitched in, ‘You forget, my team is going to win the tournament.’

  They heard a rustle behind them and turned to see Suhas join them. A bit unsteadily he came towards them. ‘Did I hear something about celebrations?’

  Rathod laughed, ‘You’re already in celebration mode, Suhas.’

  Suhas grinned and the glassy look in his eyes left no one in any doubt that the Prime Minister’s son had already had his first fix of cocaine for the day.

  ‘Dude, that was A1 dope. Just what I needed after the stress of the last couple of days,’ sighed Suhas. ‘Poor Ranveer. God, Suraj, you shouldn’t have done it. I really miss him.’

  ‘You bloody homo!’ Suraj yelled at Suhas. ‘Just keep your trap shut. Or, I’ll make sure you OD on all that high quality stuff and join him in the other world.’

  ‘Enough!’ Rathod’s authoritative bark had both Suhas and Suraj quieten down instantly. ‘Will you two get a grip?’

  Suhas said meekly. ‘You guys never give me any credit. Just to remind you, most of your esteemed visitors are my contacts.’

  Rathod snapped. ‘That’s the only reason you’re here, my friend. So stick to the script. Play your part and all will be fine. Got it?’

  Suraj said quietly, ‘The girl who had taken Ranveer’s tablet has been found.’

  Rathod’s mouth split into a smile.

  ‘Bravo! Tell Mehender Singh to keep a close watch on her. Make sure she is isolated and she stews it out. After the tournament is over and done with we can take a call on what to do with the slut.’

  Suraj’s eyes gleamed cunningly and Rathod knew instantly what he was thinking.

  ‘Rein in your libido, you son of a gun!’

  Thirteen

  Sonagarh Jal Mahal

  The still waters of Sonagarh Lake shimmered in the silver light of a crescent moon. Kabir took in the serene ambience from his vantage point on Devil’s Peak, his refuge during his growing up years. The craggy rocks, jutting out towards the sky, had offered protection and a few hours of sanity when the world around him was going crazy. Bholu had first introduced him to the place and to the original occupants of Devil’s Peak – the venomous cobras that burrowed themselves deep in the dark spaces between the rocks. No one dared to venture into their haven apart from Bholu and his clansmen – the Kalbeliyas – whose livelihood depended on catching snakes from the wild, taming them for performances and devising anti-venom medicines. Bholu had taught him how to share space with the serpents. He remembered laughing about it, ‘They can’t be more venomous than the people who reside in the palace.’

  Sonagarh Jal Mahal looked ethereal in the play of light and shadow. Within its high stone walls lay another world, where the privileged indulged in music and merriment. Coloured lights twinkled all along its walls, making it seem like something out of a child’s fairytale. It was as if some evil magician had taken hold of the palace, creating an illusion with soft lights to hide the evil core inside.

  He knew Qiara was trapped somewhere inside the palace with its secretive nooks and crannies. For the millionth time he berated himself for not being there for the only woman he’d ever loved. How could he ever make it up to her – what if he was already too late? As the dark thoughts whirled around in his head, like the breeze whistling between the craggy rocks, he looked up to the skies for deliverance – please God, let her be safe.

  The rustle of dried leaves alerted him to Bholu’s presence. He was dressed in the traditional snake-charmer’s garb.

  ‘All set?’ Kabir’s eyes scanned Bholu’s face for the slightest sign of anxiety and thankfully found none. ‘I hope you can rely on your clansmen to see this through.’

  ‘Absolutely. There is no doubt on that score. We Kalbeliyas have only each other to count on.’

  ‘OK then, do you want to go through the plan one more time?’

  ‘Stop treating me like an idiot, bro. Have you forgotten the – ?’ He turned away. ‘Never mind.’

  Kabir said quietly, ‘Why do you think I’m trusting you with the job of getting the PM’s son out safe and sound?’

  They shook hands and thumped each other on the back – it was more than an unspoken affirmation of brotherhood; it was also a gesture to boost their confidence ahead of a risky undertaking.

  Bholu dropped to his knees and started clearing away loose rocks, scratching at the earth. Kabir watched as his friend worked quickly. He had seen him do this plenty of times, and yet the sight of him grabbing the serpents that slithered out of their burrows made him jerk back in amazement. Bholu deftly handled the slithering creatures and carefully put them in the basket which he stashed inside a shoulder bag. Bholu had taught him a few tricks about handling the deadly creatures.

  ‘I’ll be here with the dop
e-head in thirty minutes tops,’ Bholu said and handed over the basket to Kabir. ‘You’re sure you haven’t forgotten how to handle these?’

  ‘You were a good teacher!’

  Bholu grinned. ‘Keep them as your backup plan. Only to be used if things go terribly wrong. Now, go get your woman, says the Guru.’

  Kabir was too tense about what lay ahead, to react to Bholu’s cheesy comment. He strapped the bag tight across his body, drew in a lungful of air and was on his way.

  Taking the steep path down the hillside, he slipped and slid down the track. Initially the going was tough but he found he was moving faster and more easily as he got accustomed to the rocky terrain. The wind was on his back, blowing in the memories of years ago, when he would ride down this very same path on Chetak.

  That fateful night had been just like this one. A crescent moon hung low on the dark sky, as if haphazardly pinned to a child’s felt board with cut-and-paste stars all around. Chetak had been waiting impatiently for their midnight sojourn. They had ridden through the forests till Kabir was only aware of the ground beneath him, Chetak’s strong mane under his hands, the wind on his face and his soul merging with the night sky. For a brief while he forgot about the injustice of his father’s actions earlier that day when Suraj was awarded the best polo player of the championship even though his team had beaten Suraj’s hollow.

  What had hurt even more was his step-mother’s taunt, ‘Get used to it, Kabir. You were born on the wrong side of the royal bed; you might be Raja Saheb’s son but Suraj is his first-born and heir to everything, including his affections.’

  He didn’t know why he let her taunts get to him. Especially when he knew she did everything in her considerable powers to ensure that he and his mother always got a raw deal. As for the Raja Saheb, he’d never been able to impress him. Not when he aced his exams and not when he became the youngest and finest polo player in the state. Winning the championship, he had believed, would finally make his father, who had been a champion polo player himself, proud of his second-born. However that was not to be. When the awards were announced, he had watched in disgust as Suraj walked away with the best player trophy. Unable to control his rage, Kabir had stormed out after giving the august gathering a piece of his mind. He knew the Raja Saheb would not tolerate such undignified behaviour but he didn’t care any longer. The injustice had burned like embers in his heart and the awards ceremony had only stoked it. Little did he know that in the blaze that ensued, everything would turn would turn to ashes and cinders.

  On returning to the stables with Chetak, a groomsman was waiting anxiously for him.

  ‘Kunwar Suraj Saheb was here and he was very angry,’ he wailed.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him tomorrow.’

  A couple of hours later, his mother was shaking him awake.

  ‘Get up, Kabir. Suraj’s throwing a massive tantrum. He won’t go away.’

  ‘I’ll go and speak to him.’

  Groggily, he’d walked out to find Suraj bearing down on the groomsman. A couple of attendants and Dewan Mehender Singh were also present.

  The groomsman was on the ground, pleading, ‘I didn’t do anything, Kunwar Saheb.’

  Suraj pulled the man up by his collar. ‘Then how is Chetak dead?’

  Kabir’s heart froze. ‘Chetak is dead? How can that be? I rode him only…’

  Suraj’s vicious laugh rang out. ‘Oh, so you were the one who killed Papa Saheb’s favourite horse? Wait till he finds out. You will be skinned alive.’

  Kabir barely heard what Suraj was saying. He ran as fast as he could to Chetak’s stall in the stables and collapsed at the sight that greeted him. His beautiful friend, so full of life and energy, now lay on the floor, stiff and cold. Sobs tore out of him as he fell on top of Chetak’s still warm body and gave vent to his despair. Even in his grief Kabir knew without a doubt who was responsible for this insane act of viciousness.

  He rushed at his half-brother, ready to throttle him, but Mehender Singh stepped in between them. He dragged Kabir away before he could lay a finger on Suraj.

  ‘Why did you do it, Suraj?’ he screamed. ‘You won the best polo player’s award even though you didn’t deserve it. Wasn’t that enough for you? Why did you have to kill Chetak?’

  ‘Look at the cry baby,’ Suraj taunted. ‘You know what, you little creep…I poisoned him. And you will never be able to prove I did it. You can go blue in the face but no one will believe you. Definitely not Papa Saheb. And then we will be forever rid of you.’

  And that was exactly what had happened. The Raja Saheb had refused to listen to him. Instead his father had blasted him for being a hateful person who was not worthy of being a prince.

  ‘You’ve always hated Suraj because he is my heir. Instead of admitting to your mistakes, you have always pinned the blame on him. You’re a poor loser, Kabir. What’s shocking is that you could kill your beloved Chetak to get even with your brother. Your hatred for Suraj is like poison that will not only ruin you but all of us. Get out of my palace and never show your face again.’

  At Raja Saheb’s instructions, Kabir was thrown out on the street kicking and screaming and the palace gates were slammed shut on his face.

  Bholu was the only one who had come to his aid, when he and his mother had been flung out of the palace like refuse.

  Qiara shivered as the chill of the night seeped in through the cracks of the stone walls. There had been a lot of activity in the cell next to hers. Raised voices, someone being slapped and the heart-wrenching sobs of a terrified girl had made her fear for not just the safety of the girls but her own too. The captors had shuffled the girl out and after that everything had gone deathly quiet.

  The whistling of the wind kept her company and she tried to quell her fears by thinking of Kabir. Instantly, her heart filled with a longing so deep and primal, she had to bite down on her knuckles to stop herself from screaming his name. How had she misjudged him? And yet, even while she had believed the worst of him, she had loved him, pined for him and had dreamt of no other man but him. If only she had one chance to say what was in her heart, to tell him there would never be anyone else but him. The only problem was she had left it for too long and it was too late now…all because of her stupid pride. Even when she knew it was her father who had manipulated him, she had still been too proud to say she had misjudged him, that she had never stopped loving him.

  And then it hit her, smack in her face – she was still alive, wasn’t she? If she ever needed a reason to get out of here, it was right in front of her. Because, she loved Kabir. Because, she needed to find out if he loved her back, as much as she did. That was the only truth that mattered. She had to find a way out of this dungeon. She wasn’t about to curl up and die!

  The thought energized her as if she had been given a shot of adrenaline. While gnawing at the piece of twine with her teeth she nearly tore it, biting her own skin off in the process. Frustrated, she scuffed the ground with her bound feet for any sharp object that might be lying around. But apart from raising dust and giving herself a coughing fit, her efforts were in vain. Pushing herself against the wall, she raised herself and hopped forward. Her hands scoured the surface and she cried out loud when a piece of rock pierced her palm. Angling her bound hands, she rubbed the twine against the rock, wincing as the action scraped the skin off her wrists. Despite the pain, she kept at it. Bit by bit the twine began to give way and finally she was able to pull it off with her teeth. The surge of relief that flooded through her made her forget her bleeding, lacerated wrists. She ripped the rope that was tied around her ankles. Tearing off a strip from the hem of her kurta she wrapped it around her hands to stop the bleeding.

  The bolt clanked open taking Qiara completely by surprise. The door would be thrown open any second now; she scrambled into a corner, her heart racing fast and furious. Grabbing the rope, she managed to loop it over her ankles and hid her hands between her knees, micro seconds before a man walked in holding a petroma
x lamp. The glare of the lamp hurt her light-deprived eyes.

  ‘Qiara!’

  She squinted at the man towering over her. She would recognise that voice anywhere.

  ‘So, this is how you greet your daughter? By drugging her, tying her up and throwing her into a dungeon?’

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘The time for pretence is over. You are the one who should be answering that question. Why am I being kept a prisoner? And what do you intend to do with me? Sell me to the highest bidder?’

  ‘Qiara!’

  His voice boomed in the cave-like room, and a faint echo reverberated for a few seconds.

  ‘Don’t deny it. I have seen with my own eyes what goes on at Garima Nursing Home.’

  ‘It’s a mistake. They were supposed to get the woman who had Ranveer Khanna’s tablet.’

  ‘No mistake. They got the right person. And believe it or not, I am glad they brought me here. How else would I have had this opportunity to meet you in your own, what should I say, work environment?’

  Mehender Singh was at a loss for words and Qiara drew a sharp breath.

  ‘Whoa! No answers? OK, here is another question for you… Am I really your daughter? Was I born to you and Mamma?’

  As Mehender Singh looked away from her, her blood boiled over with rage.

  ‘You owe me an explanation. Who am I?’

  Mehender Singh’s voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘She was your mother all right. But I am not your father.’

  Her head reeled at his revelation. Finally she had her answer, but why did she feel so hollow? As if every drop of emotion had been drained out of her, leaving her dry, dead, done.

  She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes when Singh began to speak.

  ‘Your mother and I belonged to the same community. Her parents’ house and mine were next to each other. One of my closest pals was Jawahar Singh who worked with me in the palace. When he joined the Indian Army, I invited him to spend some time at my house. That was when he met your mother. They fell in love and tried to hide it from the rest of her family as they would never have accepted him. He was posted at the border and would often come to our village on the pretext of meeting me. They were going to get married but unfortunately he was called away on duty and never returned. In the hope that he’d return and marry her, she’d kept her pregnancy a secret. When it was no longer possible to hide her condition, she told her parents. They turned her out and the village khap ordered that as soon as you were born, you and your mother should be killed for bringing dishonour to the community. It was terrifying for your mother. She didn’t have any one to turn to. And I stepped up only because I had promised Jawahar that if anything happened to him, I would look out for her. The only way I could keep my promise was by marrying her.’