Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) (23 page)

It was a restless night. Her mind wandered all over the place. At one point, Aditya, who had come in by then, shook her and asked her if she needed something. ‘Do you think we should see a doctor?’ he asked her out of concern.

The Dharavi slum, the factory, Gangu Tai, the children in the factory, she remembered all of it. And then today’s conversation with Lieutenant Windle. It had raised more questions in her mind. She had promised to give him a copy of the email she had initially sent to Richard, seeking his help with the Footwear Association of America and Snuggles HQ. In that email she had detailed everything that she had seen at the Dharavi factory.

Worried that she might forget it, and driven by a restless, insomniac spirit, she got up. ‘You sleep. I am going to the study,’ she told Aditya. He opened his eyes for an instant and shut them immediately. In any case, he was tired after the drive to Greater Boston and back. The stress of the various discussions had only added to the fatigue.

Cirisha turned on her laptop and opened her inbox. The Dharavi email that she was looking for was over a year old. She couldn’t find it. It struck her that since it was over six months old, it would have been archived. Retrieving it from the archives was a painful process. That’s when she remembered. A few days ago, Richard had sent her an email erroneously. Wasn’t that on top of the mail she had sent Richard detailing the Dharavi findings? The entire sequence would be there in chronological order in that email. Thankfully, that email was easy to find.

Windle had specifically requested for a printout. She fired one. The printer took some time to warm up. She waited for the four pages to print. While she was waiting, she went back to her computer and read her initial email to him. She was reminded of Richard. His bubbly energetic self. She thought for a minute. Had she not been married to Aditya, she would have seriously considered Richard as someone she would want to spend her life with. His childlike, mad passion for academia was endearing. She would have loved to see the look on Cardoza’s and Deahl’s faces on being told that the two of them were getting married.

She went back to reading the emails. Two emails had come in from Richard that day, just about a week before his death. The first seemed to be a normal email, which had the word ‘Details’ in its subject line. Richard had erroneously forwarded the Dharavi slum email back to her. It was a cryptic message. The body of the email contained three meaningless words. She read it three times. And then a fourth time. She couldn’t figure out what it meant. In any case it was not meant for her. That’s what Richard’s next email had said. ‘Sent by mistake.’

The printout was ready. She picked up the papers from the printer and put them in her bag, even as she realized that she could have printed it out in college. She needn’t have done that at three in the morning.

The next morning, Windle produced Shivinder in front of the Massachusetts district court judge, who refused to grant him custody. Much to Windle’s despair, Shivinder was allowed to go free. However, he was ordered not to leave Boston till the police in India filed their charges. He was asked to appear in court in sixty days’ time to decide on the future course of action, in case Mumbai Police did not file charges till then.

43

27th May 2008, morning

MIT, Boston

For the first time, Cirisha was late for work that day. Cardoza and the research team were waiting for her to begin their discussion on her project.

‘I am sorry, Michael, I overslept. I’m really sorry for wasting the team’s time.’

‘It’s OK, Cirisha. Since you were not here, we started discussing Erica’s research. We will be done in fifteen minutes. Come and grab a seat. You too can listen in.’

Cardoza knew, as did everyone on the team, that Cirisha was not a habitual latecomer. Cirisha joined in. It was an interesting study on the reasons for rising suicide rates across various universities in America. Erica had done a detailed research on the causes and commonly used methods of committing suicide, and even presented some ideas to predict occurrence. Cirisha was left wondering if Richard too would eventually become a statistic for the study.

Erica was done in fifteen minutes and Cirisha got down to presenting her findings. Within ten minutes of Cirisha beginning to speak, Cardoza got up. ‘Folks, my apologies. I completely missed it. I just saw on my BlackBerry that I need to be in another meeting. Seriously sorry, guys. Let’s continue the discussion tomorrow.’ He looked at Cirisha and said, ‘Can you walk with me to the coffee shop? I need to get a dose of caffeine before I head to my sleepy meeting.’

On the way to the coffee shop, a quarter of a mile away from the Academic Block in the direction of the duPont Center, Cardoza spoke. He looked concerned. ‘Cirisha, take a break if you need to.’

‘Sorry, Michael.’

‘Richard was a good friend of yours. I am aware that you are extremely disturbed. But Cirisha, we need to move on. As long as we are at work, we need to make sure that we are not distracted. It’s been close to two months since that unfortunate incident.’

Cirisha looked up. This was the first time ever that Cardoza had told her to pull herself together. ‘I am sorry, Michael. I am not able to focus. I was awake for most of last night. And that’s the reason I got late today.’

‘It’s not about being late, Cirisha. For the last forty-five minutes or so, I have been noticing that there is something else going on in your mind.’

Cirisha turned her face away from Cardoza. She could not lie to him, he would see right through her. ‘Would you want to take off for a couple of weeks? Come back refreshed and charged up. I am fine with it. We are slightly behind schedule on this project but we will pull back.’

‘No, Michael. I will manage.’ Cirisha was firm. ‘I won’t give you reason to complain.’

‘That’s like a champion,’ said Cardoza and gave her a hug. It made Cirisha feel good. And when the coffee came in, she felt even better. ‘When will you be back from the meeting, Michael? We can finish this discussion today itself.’

‘What meeting? This is the meeting I wanted to have. There is no other meeting. I made it up because I found you so distracted that it was futile going on like that.’ Cirisha smiled.

Cardoza swiped his card and they walked back.

‘Yesterday I met a lieutenant from the Boston Police Department,’ Cirisha mentioned to him as they walked back.

‘What for?’

‘In connection with the Snuggles case. Remember I had told you about the Indian arm of Snuggles?’

‘Oh yes. Now that you say it, I do.’

‘The CEO has been arrested.’

‘Yes, yes. I recollect. You did mention it. Why do people take advantage of their seniority and do stupid things? The incremental benefits of doing such acts are negligible. Remind me. This could be a good subject for us to research. Behavioural impact of authority and hierarchy in a global organization. Getting sponsorship won’t be difficult. Some MNC will be happy to shell out the money for this.’

‘Not a bad idea.’ And then after a pause, she added. ‘So, are we doing the rest of the discussion now?’

‘No, Cirisha. I’ve lost the flow now. And in any case, most of the team would have disappeared. Let’s continue the session tomorrow.’

‘Sorry, Michael,’ Cirisha looked extremely apologetic. Cardoza smiled. ‘I will be in my room then. Please call me if you need anything.’ Cardoza nodded and they went their respective ways.

Cirisha got busy with the closing analysis of the Dharavi slum research. She was alone in her room, collating the data and arranging it in a presentable format, when her phone rang.

‘Cirisha Narayanan?’ A heavy voice. It was familiar, but Cirisha couldn’t make out whose it was.

‘Yes.’

‘Lieutenant Windle. I came by the day before.’

‘Oh yes. How can I help you, lieutenant?’

‘I called to inform you that Mr Singh has been released from custody, as per a court order.’

‘Oh, is that so? Thank you very much for letting me know.’ She didn’t seem too bothered.

‘Do you see any threat from this individual? I have also spoken with the chief of MIT Police. We would be happy to provide you with cover for the next few days in case you feel the need.’

‘That won’t be necessary, lieutenant.’

‘Do let me know should a need for that arise.’

‘Sure. I appreciate the help, lieutenant. And by the way, I have printed out the emails that you asked for. I’ll send them out today.’

‘I will have them picked up from your office either tomorrow morning or latest by the day after, miss. We are in any case waiting for a response from the Indian side.’

‘Sure. Thank you, lieutenant.’

Cirisha looked at the far right corner of her table. A folder with the printouts was kept ready for Windle. She prided herself on being so organized. She turned her attention to the iMac. In the time that she was talking to Windle, the computer screen had got locked. She had to key in her ID and password again to log in. She did that. Her mind was somewhere else. Her fingers moved on her iMac as if they knew the topography by heart. The moment she pressed ‘enter’, her eyes opened wide. Her hands, which were on the keyboard, started shivering. The right hand lifted itself and came to rest on her forehead. ‘What the hell was that?’ She hurriedly pulled out her laptop from her bag and brought it up. Despite having an iMac at work, she always carried her laptop. It was necessary given her travel schedule. After logging in, she searched in her laptop for something she had seen not so long ago. In a few seconds, it was up there. She looked into her screen and copied something to her phone. It would be safe and accessible there.

That’s when it dawned on her that what she was looking for was right there on her table. In one of the folders on the top right corner.

44

27th May, night

Boston

‘I will be late, Adi.’ When Cirisha told him this, Aditya was not too happy. But of late he had reconciled himself to the fact that Cirisha and he were progressively being torn apart from each other. The fact that Cirisha did not tell him why she would be late made it worse. The loneliness too was killing. Sitting at home doing nothing was not something he was too kicked about. And life in the United States can get pretty boring for someone who is used to the hustle and bustle of an Indian metropolis.

By seven in the evening, the campus was pretty deserted. Cirisha looked out of the window. The road to the parking lot was empty. Not a soul in sight. Three cars were still parked there. One was hers. The headlights were on in the other, which meant that someone was about to leave. The third looked like Deahl’s. Ever since he got suspended from academic activity, James had come in to work every single day, without fail. He would come in at 8.45 a.m. and leave around 5.30 p.m. Today, for some strange reason, he was still at work.

She was pacing up and down her room. Nervous. Was she doing the right thing? She couldn’t say. Maybe she shouldn’t do it after all. What if she got caught? A thousand and one questions went through her mind as she settled into her chair. She looked out of the window. Deahl’s car lights came on. She let out a muted scream. So Deahl was leaving. There would be no one on the second floor. Just thinking about what she was about to do made her legs start to shake. She forcibly held them still with her right hand. The clock on the wall in front said 7.43 p.m.

Convinced that the wait was enough and that there would be nobody on the upper floor, she got up and strode towards her cabin door. Turning right, she walked with measured steps towards the main door, which connected her floor to the elevator lobby. The fire escape was to the right. She walked straight ahead and pressed the elevator button, only to realize that she had only a floor to climb. Opening the door to the fire escape, she took the short flight of steps and reached the second floor. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes to eight.

She breezed through the glass doors into the corridor, which had faculty rooms on both sides. All the rooms were closed. She knew that Deahl’s room was the last one on the left—the closest that any academician could get to a corner office. She walked half the length of the corridor and stopped.