A Touch of Evil

Bhaskar stood 80 feet above the water, his fingers clenched on the riveted handrail. A drop of sweat made its way through his brow over taut nerves. He had been standing on the Howrah Bridge since dusk, or was it afternoon ? He did not know, time had lost him. Again. Time always played that trick with him. The Kolkata sun was long gone and so had his love for Smita.

It seemed like an eternity. He met Smita Afreen during his third year at Presidency, during the annual college fest. She had the most enchanting eyes his had ever met. The endless night-long conversations that ensued, the long phone calls when he had graduated and got a job in Kolkata, the sunsets they shared on the banks of Hooghly, the altercations in her family regarding his religion, their wedding amidst non-consenting relatives, their new apartment. Everything seemed like a wild roller coaster ride. A ride, of his choosing.

The apartment, he thought, that was where he did wrong. They had moved into the new apartment this summer, 6 months after their marriage. It was a posh locality with lots of friendly people. Shekhar was a good friend, or at least he was one until sometime ago.

Shekhar came into their lives very naturally, he lived next door. The three of them shared many evenings and dinners together. Since Shekhar was single, he spent many evenings at their place. Over rounds of drinks and rummy, Bhaskar had missed the sparkle in Smita’s eyes when she laughed at Shekhar’s jokes and boyish charm. Bhaskar’s promotion two months back meant longer hours at the office. The more he worked, the more distant she appeared to him. He was surprised when he found the bottle of expensive perfume on the nightstand. “Shekhar got it for me, the other day”, was her casual response.

Then more gifts followed. Bhaskar hadn’t bothered much, Shekhar was a good chap after all. Until Wednesday afternoon. Two days back, he had to return home early due to an acute pain that had spread in his abdomen. He had pressed the bell 4 times before it was answered by a harried Smita. Her hair was in disarray; her eyes had a tinge of evil. “Bhaskar ! How come you are so early from office today ? Me and Shekhar were just discussing Veerappan’s murder”, she half-expected him to believe it.

Bhaskar hadn’t slept the whole night. How was he supposed to live with the fact that the woman whom he had so dearly loved, had not been faithful to him ? He loved her more than his own life and suddenly all her words seemed to be hollow now. She had betrayed his trust. How could she even sleep peacefully in the same bed with him ? In the dim moonlight filtering through the window screen, her face appeared to mock at him. He had decided to put an end to it.

Today, was a holiday for Dussehra at the office, he did not have to go to work. The pain in his abdomen had recurred this morning. “Do not take more than 4 pills within 18 hours sir, these tablets are very potent”, the chemist had warned. Smita was preparing a four course festival lunch.

She had been flitting gaily around the apartment, making small talk about the latest Shobha De novel she had been reading. Bhaskar would not look straight at her. “How can she expect me to reciprocate with tenderness when she has been so treacherous herself ?”. Bhaskar appeared a fool to himself in his mental mirror. “She does not deserve to live”, he had finally passed a judgment on her.

Lunch was an extravagant affair that afternoon. Shekhar was his usual charming self, telling stories made up by himself. Smita had been cherubic all morning, the afternoon saw her the same. She had asked umpteen times, “What’s the matter, you look pale ?”. He made excuses of the pain he had been feeling. Bhaskar excused himself from the table, he had a very important file to be delivered urgently. He would be back in an hour or so, he said. He had mixed the pills in a bowl of kheer.

Yes, it seemed like an eternity. The breeze from the river softly caressed his hair. He stood still, very still. The buzz of the cellphone got him back to life. The distraught voice of Smita seemed to resound from some far off land, “Wh..where have you been ? I..I’ve been trying to call you…since 3 hours..Shek…Shekhar collapsed at our place..they took him to the hospital, he…he was declared dead..Bhaskar..i’m scared, come back soon”.

His mind was at peace, the pills had been potent.


S Rahul Rao
Stillwater, Oklahoma. 26th Oct 2004