His Last Words

Chapter 2 The Persuasion

Chapter 2 The PersuasionAmit looked at his watch as he drove through pamarbazaar lane.

“Oh s**t! I am late! Didi is going to kill me today” he said to himself aloud.

The traffic was heavy as usual and his hopes of driving fast to his sister’s house were being spoiled every moment. The traffic conditions was getting worse every moment. Amit realised that he was about to be chided no matter what. The strict professor was anything but strict in front of his sister Nandini.

Nandini wasn’t his own sister. She was her cousin. However, she had done more for him than his parents. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t care about him or they had a poor relation but as fate would have it, he lost his parents when he was quite young. Since then Nandini had served as his acting mother and despite not being blood related they a mutual bonding stronger than any blood relation.

She got married a month ago to an engineer named Abhisekh Bhatia. Abhisekh also developed a liking for Amit especially after he helped and supported their marriage fighting against all odds to support them. It was raksha bandhan. Amit had a very poor choice for gifts. He therefore bought a novel called The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri as he knew his sister was a keen reader.

Every red signal appeared like a hurdle on a race course to him. As expected, he was late. He parked his car silently, but Nandini had already seen him through the window. Abhisekh and Nandini’s house wasn’t an extravagant one.

A normal two storeyed house built upon minimum infrastructure. However the colour contrast created with shades of green made it pleasant site. Amit was no Wordsworth, he was more of a 22nd century Newton; but every human eye finds refute in greenery. He liked to visit his sister’s place for two reasons.

First was obviously the blissful presence of his sister and the second was the dearness he used to receive from his sister’s in-laws. Well his recent fame and wealth were reasons for them to cherish him.

They knew that that their bahu’s cousin brother is both an ATM and an income tax saviour. Nandini, oblivious to everything was still the caring sister who never missed a chance to rebuke her little brother, who wasn’t that little anymore.

Amit reached the door’s entrance and his shivering forefinger pressed the doorbell.

“Look who’s here! So you finally thought of wasting your precious time and favour your sister?” said an angry Nandini, her eyes captivating a mixed feeling of anger and happiness. She was happy that her brother made it and was obviously angry for him being late.

“Sorry….It wasn’t my fault, the tr…..”

“It’s never your fault right! You are three hours late!” said Nandini.

“Three hours and twelve minutes actually” interrupted Amit only to increment the vexations of Nandini.

“Like hell you are! Give me a reason for not breaking your bones right now!” she said.

“Um…traffic?” he said in a perplexed tone, questioning my choice of words.

“What traffic? You….wait! You met a beautiful girl, didn’t you? Finally!” she said smiling.

“Of course not! Okay sorry, I got late as they were making me sign autographs” revolted Amit trying to save his only dedicated to my research identity in front of his sister.

“Don’t nag him like that bahu, he is a celebrity these days. Come in beta, make yourself comfortable” said Nandini’s mother-in-law. She called her bahu in the most adorable way and addressed Amit like he was some guest of honour for the day.

Amit knew very well why she was doing that. He wasn’t really glad about Nandini and Abhisekh’s relationship and didn’t spend a single penny for the reception until Amit galvanized their desires with his newfound wealth glorified by his flames of fame.

“Where is my rakhi?” said Amit to Nandini, expecting a smile and a decorated rakhi in her hand.

She did bring out one but before she tied it, she asked where her gift was.

“Here…hope you won’t slam it on me” said Amit as he submitted the novel to his beloved sister. Being a bookworm she immediately got rid of her angel after glancing at her gift. She tied the rakhi and the brother sister duo engaged in a warm cuddle.

They sat down for a meal, a special meal on the occasion of raksha bandhan.

The beautiful porcelain table with Italian carvings was a gift from Amit himself. His choice was elegant and precise. However Nandini’s self-prepared dishes outshone the extravagant articles. She was a good cook and her best preparation was butter chicken. She made the same that day and it was finger licking well!

Amit wanted to wait for Abhisekh to join them and thus waited till two. Abhi was back and everyone had lunch. Abhisekh was delighted to see his brother-in-law for he was among the only people who used to understand him apart from his wife Nandini.

Lunch was over and Abhisekh took Amit away from his parents, who were always busy buttering Amit.

“Lunch was fantastic! I never get tired of her cooking. You must’ve missed her cooking at Oxford” said Abhisekh, his eyes shining with praises for his wife.

“Maybe that’s why I left that place” exclaimed Amit with a gutsy smile.

“Well hope you didn’t mind my parents. I wanted to move out with Nandini. They don’t like her.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because despite everything your sister loves my parents.”

“What are you guys talking about?” interrupted Nandini. She was holding a tray with two cups filled with Darjeeling tea. The two boys shifted the topic and stated that they were discussing politics as they picked up a cup each.

“Well you have become thinner though” said Nandini addressing Amit.

“Well because….I don’t know more than few of you recipes” said Amit, smartly managing his words.

“Well said. Anyways, didn’t you find anyone there?” she asked.

“Please didi! You know that I didn’t go there to woo girls” replied Amit. He remembered about Alicia all of a sudden. The green-eyed blonde from Detroit who tricked him for a one night stand. Not that Amit was dissatisfied with the experience, but still!

“You are turning thirty next month. This is the time to tie the knot!” she emphasized.

“But with whom” inquired Amit.

“Well I have a few options”

“No, I don’t want those options. They would probably be girls waiting to prey on my bank account.”

Amit had a bitter experience regarding that in LA, where a stripper girl escaped with his wallet; and Amit remained hypnotised to her curves.

Saying that Amit closed the topic. He was clear about it. He was against an arranged marriage. He was still in search of true love and wasn’t successful yet. Maybe quenching the thirst for true love is denied to the society gems.

He left his sister’s place a bit late at night. It was already ten thirty at night. Luckily he used to refrain from alcoholic products and thus the jeopardy of falling victim to a road-rash was unquestionable.

He placed himself on the driver’s seat adjusting the rear view mirror. With a turn on the hand gear and a push of the left leg on the accelerator the BMW was set in motion. However as he drove comfortably amidst the minimum traffic of late light, an unforeseen Suzuki car bumped itself against Amit all of a sudden. He didn’t suffer from any serious injuries. His habit of always wearing seat belt and keeping the air bags in check paid off.

He got out of his car to have a word with the careless driver whose car was lying crashed against a lamp post with a broken windshield and a pair of smashed headlights. To his surprise the driver was dead. He realised that he was in deep trouble. Cops and their questionings were evident despite him not being guilty.

He decided to leave at once as the street had no surveillance cameras and his car’s strong built didn’t let any strong scratch to leave a mark (nothing that a layer of home-made servicing couldn’t fix). However the instincts of a gentleman prevented him. He decided to have a look and felt the blow of terror once again.

That man wasn’t dead because of the crash. It was due to some poison that he had consumed. The dense white bubbles exposed around the edges of his lips were signifying it. Amit realised another thing for sure; things were a lot more complicated.

He looked at the man’s watch and that read a time of 10:28. It was too late. Luckily the road was lonely and there weren’t any faces nearby.

He couldn’t figure out anything and escaping home felt the safest option to him. Another kick on the accelerator and he was back on his way home. He made it within twenty minutes as he was driving furiously. The roads on the way to his home were surveillance free and they used to be vacant after eight thirty at night. The most desirable and soothing condition one can expect. People could do car racing as well.

Once Amit reached home he straightaway parked his car in his garage and did the necessary things to cover the dents. Those tasks took more than fifteen minutes. Amit was terribly tired, but the fear of prevailing tumult is more than enough to evaporate tiredness and fill the bones with an unkempt strength to do the unthinkable. The same happened for Amit.

Once he was done he wiped the drops of sweat surrounding his forehead and locked the garage. He didn’t have a watchman for his huge house. He was willing to appoint one. His willingness hadn’t been dissipated but he thanked god for not having got one yet. His car crash memory was only available to him and god; and god knew well that Amit was not to be blamed.

Mrs Walters, his house’s caretaker had been waiting for his arrival. She was an aged woman, about to step in her mid-fifties. She was more or less a legal guardian of Amit, or at least had become after the death of his parents. She had served as his governess earlier and when Amit’s parents passed away leaving behind a huge house and an eight year old Amit, she took it upon herself to manage things.

Having no family of her own she decided to find so in Amit. She wanted to raise Amit till he turned eighteen and get legal access and freedom. Well, as time passed she became his everything and the rest is predictable. She stayed as the house’s caretaker and Amit’s guardian.

She had been away from him for four years when he went to Oxford. His return was a delightful present from Jesus for her. They had a bond beyond the borders of religion and bloodline.

That day Amit was later than ever. Mr Walters fell asleep waiting for him and his car’s sound couldn’t wake her up. Amit silently entered the living room of his gigantic house and witnessed a sleeping Mrs Walters. He didn’t wish to wake her and went upstairs, to his room.

It had been weeks since he had last checked his e-mails. He had decided to check them that day but the very thought had eloped in the helical hustle of the day. His pupils had contracted and his eyes were red. His bones and muscles were aching. He needed some consolation and a cup of cocoa, but above everything, he needed some sleep. An eight-hour long sleep that could refresh him completely.

He didn’t change into his sleeping gown as usual, neither did he adjust the AC. He threw his body on the lonely king sized bed and the soft spongy surface made his close his eyes with peace.

It wasn’t any natural peace. This was a peace forced upon a man by himself. A process catalysed by tiredness. A process that temporarily loosens the grip of horror and stress on a man.

“Tomorrow will be a better day” said Amit to himself before falling asleep completely, like a drunkard. Well, he was not in his senses. He had the skill and knack for solving codes and numerical, but was a staunch non-believer of astrology. Thus his prediction about a peaceful future was nothing more than a hope or mirage.