Next morning, Tanvi got up with a severe headache. It must be the wind from the window that remained open throughout the night. She desperately wanted to have a cup of strong coffee. The luxuries of on-call room service are unimaginable at motels like this. So, she had no choice but to fetch for coffee herself. Tanvi draped the grey stole around her shoulders and walked towards the reception.
“Can I have a cup of coffee, please, and make it strong”.
While she sat at the sofa waiting for her coffee she was reminded of Moumita and her plans to go to Chakrata. She was a good company yesterday night. Tanvi thought of tagging along with them to Chakrata. “Bhaiyya, woh jo ek Bengali couple hai, woh kaun se room mei hai (what is the room number of the Bengali couple)”; she asked the guy at the reception.
“Mam you are the only person staying in this hotel. We have just 3 rooms”, replied the reception guy.
“Arrey, they must have checked out in the morning. They had plans to go to Chakrata. She was here yesterday night. That curly haired girl who was with me while I was checking into your hotel, I am asking about her.”
“No mam. I am absolutely sure there was no one else here yesterday”. The guy at the reception had a cold, unfriendly demeanor.
“These pahari guys are perpetually on dope”, Tanvi murmured to herself; took her cup of coffee and walked back to the room.
Tanvi wore her Puma shoes and went for walk towards Mall road of Kasauli. The market was slowly coming to life with shop-keepers sweeping the little section of road in front of their shops, while some were lifting shutters, hanging a nimbu-mirchi garland and mumbling a small prayer, bribing God to send potential customers. Tea stall was buzzing with maximum activity as the guy poured hot cup of tea to his initial set of customers usually workers from surrounding shops. Covered in thick shawls they were warming their huge and chapped hands around the tiny glass of tea.
Tanvi ordered a plate of aloo parantha from a shop adjacent to the famous sweet shop of Sanjay Dutt fame. It is said that during a movie shooting, Sanjay Dutt enjoyed a cup of tea and samosa at this shop and since then this very ordinary shop transformed into a landmark, and a must-visit place in Kasauli. That’s what 15 minutes of fame can do, in a small town like Kasauli.
While waiting for breakfast, Tanvi’s eyes fell on today’s newspaper. Headline read:
Delhi woman was raped before murder in Uttarakhand
She grappled the newspaper and looked closely. The dead girl featured in the newspaper had an uncanny resemblance with Moumita. The story further read:
“Uttarakhand Police, which is probing the murders of Bengali couple Jeet Paul, 24 and Moumita Chakrabarty, 27, have said that the woman, graphic designer from Delhi, was raped before being killed by the driver of their hired vehicle and his friends at Chakrata.
The four men – driver Raju Das and his pals – first murdered Jeet, took the Rs 2,000 he had in his wallet, and then targeted Moumita.
Raju who was hiding since four days was finally nabbed from the outskirts of Kasauli in Himachal Pradesh. He confessed to killing the young couple with the help of his friends. He broke down during interrogation and admitted that he had raped Moumita before killing her and dumping the body into a river.
While Raju, 25, was arrested on yesterday evening, his friends — Kundu Das 22, Babloo Das, 27, and Guddu Das, 26, are still absconding.
The couple was murdered on January 20th.”
Tanvi couldn’t believe what she was reading. She had met Moumita yesterday, that is, January 25th.
A chill went down her spine.
“This must be some other Moumita”, Tanvi was fighting the impending panic when she remembered clicking Moumita’s pictures in her mobile while she was singing. Tanvi frantically searched her bag and then ran disheveled, tightly gripping the newspaper in one hand towards the hotel room where she had forgotten her mobile.
Catching her breath, Tanvi picked up the mobile lying on the stool, and scrolled through the album. The picture had window pane glowing under the dim yellow light of the room, the corner of the bed peeping, shadow of a tree branch, and just a hazy, white speck where it should have been Moumita standing slantingly and singing.
Tanvi shrieked and fainted on the bed.
Read the previous post here – Chapter 9- Music That Leaves A Trail Behind
Read the next post here – Chapter 11 – From Paranormal Kasauli To Peppy Chandigarh
This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on IndiBlogger for the launch of the #Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.
2 comments
[…] Read the next post here – Chapter 10 – Fantastico Experience – Was She Or Was She Not? […]
[…] Read the next post here – Chapter 10 – Fantastico Experience – Was She Or Was She Not? […]