The Last Love Letter

Chapter 33

'Dad I want to go to the zoo.’

‘The zoo. Sure. What do you want to see there, Sara?’

‘Hmm, I think…monkeys and lions…and crocodiles too.’

Akash smiled at his daughter. She had just woken up from her afternoon nap and now sat on the edge of the bed looking at him. He was in the lone chair in the bedroom, a cup of tea next to him on a side table. He had just entered the bedroom after making two cups, one for himself and one for his mother. She was in the other bedroom and had only said ‘thank you’ when he had handed her the cup. Akash avoided eye contact, scared that it would recommence that afternoon’s conversation. So, just like he had during lunch, Akash avoided looking at his mother.
‘Why a monkey as your first choice?’

‘Because we used to be monkeys, Dad. Did you know that?’ She paused and Akash nodded. ‘I want to know the difference between monkeys and us, Dad. Because our teacher in school sometimes, you know, calls us monkeys.’

Akash laughed, and that eased his nerves a bit. ‘And the lion?’

‘Because lions can eat us. Dad, promise me the lion won’t come out of its cage when we are at the zoo?’

‘No, Sara, he won’t, and even if he comes out, your dad will take care of him.’

She laughed hysterically at the way he said it: teeth grinding, eyebrows narrowed, his voice guttural.

At that moment, Akash’s phone rang. He looked at the screen, anticipating Subah’s call, but it was someone else. After a brief conversation, he took Sara to a park close by. As she played on the seesaw with another child, he felt someone touch him from behind. It was his mother.

‘I’m sorry, Akash.’

‘Oh, come on, Ma. You don’t have to be sorry. You said what you wanted to, and I said what I wanted to.’

‘I just want to tell you that I respect your feelings and we won’t discuss this again.’

‘Thanks, Ma.’ He hugged her. ‘I just wanted you to know that Nisha is here in my mind, in our memories, in Sara. She will always be with us.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she whispered, trying her best to believe her only son, not aware of the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes.

An hour later, back at home, Akash was feeling restless. It was 7 in the evening, and Subah had replied to neither his text nor his email. That was odd. He tried her number again, and this time, the phone had been switched off.
He felt a wave of worry sweep over him. Where was Subah? Had she reached Mumbai? Was there any change in the schedule? He checked the website of Jehangir Art Gallery and found the event listed for noon the next day. There was a telephone number too, a landline number, and he dialled it. The man who answered identified himself as the nightwatchman and informed him that the offices of the gallery had closed at 6. He had no information about anyone named Subah.

Akash began to search the web for any information online. The event had been listed on a few online portals, but that could be due to either his press brief or auto-generated content from the gallery’s website. His client had disappeared, and he had no clue what to do next. Did he know which hotel she was staying in? The answer was no. Did he know by which flight she had gone to Mumbai? The answer was no. Did he know anyone who knew the two of them except Rohit? The answer was no. All he had was her cellphone number and her email address.

Akash had never been in this kind of a situation before in his life. Clients were always there, asking questions, demanding more work, delaying payments. Never had he come across a situation where his client simply disappeared. But previously in his job, including at Johnnie Sparks, he had dealt with companies, not individuals. Subah was different. She was the company, and now she was unreachable and he had no idea what to do.