Ayush returned the next morning, shouting madly on his way into the dormitory. He was overwhelmed that his classmates could go that crazy to bring him back. There was hugging and slapping and abusing and everyone congratulated each other and narrated their roles in the whole incident. Rohan cut himself out the moment he found time. He was restless. They had managed to get rid of the warden and bring their friends back, but the truth about Kajal still lay buried. He had told none of his friends about it. They were all gloating over their extra-ordinary achievement.
No one knew about her. No one cared.
He had felt special when he realized that it was Kajal who had saved him. It was the closest encounter he could ever have with her. It was thrilling... experiencing a vague bond with someone who no longer existed. All this time, he had been scared of her, and initially he had fought not to even believe in her existence. But she had been there all along, and even walked those very corridors once. Life had different, cruel plans for her. All this time she had only been asking for help, struggling, in her own way, for justice. And of all the students, she had chosen him, trusted him.
The principal began to call his classmates, in small groups, to the Staff-Room. Local parents and guardians wanted to investigate the circumstances that led to the mass runaway. However, the air had lightened drastically. The principal had already appeased them and they did not find any need to press the issue further. Rohan, unexpectedly, was called alone in the evening.
Mr. Lawrence sat at the head of a long table with his wife, Mrs. Nandana Lawrence, an elegant woman with a strict face and greying hair. Harry was sitting quietly in a corner. Mr. Roy, the vice-principal, was in a far corner writing something in a notebook. A police officer was exploring the campus through the windows while three constables were strolling outside. There were no parents.
"Come in, Mr. Agarwal," said Mr. Lawrence in a relaxed voice. Everyone had their eyes on him. Rohan waited for him to continue. "As I had said yesterday, let us start afresh. Let us forget what happened in the past and focus on what lies ahead."
What was it about? It was the last evening before the holidays. In a few hours, there would be a 'Chapel Service' and then they would be served 'Special Dinner'. New prefects would then be appointed. But rumor had it that the decisions had not been made yet and would be announced only after the holidays.
"Yes, Sir," he replied blankly.
"I am putting you back in the play team," Mr. Lawrence beamed at him. "There have been certain... eh, unforeseen turn of events, but let that not ruin the hard work you students have put in. I give you full responsibility of the play. Continue with your practices. You can contact Mrs. Sharma for help. And Harry," he turned around, "have you fixed a date yet?"
"Not yet, but I will let you know soon."
No props. No costumes. No date.
"I know it will be hard for you," Mr. Lawrence returned to Rohan. "But I also know that you can do it. Feel free to ask for anything you want. Go, work hard and win the audience. And I promise your contributions will not go unnoticed."
So, it was probably about the Head-Boy next year. But why, after all the ridiculous things he had said, were they putting him back in the play? It could have been some wicked scheme to win his loyalty and shut him up or a genuine gesture that they still believed in the goodness buried in him.
"By the way," said Mr. Roy from his seat, "why did you run away? What problem did you have with Mr. Kumar?"
Rohan could have simply enumerated all his problems - made up a few, perhaps - and accepted the offer. He would have an awesome trip to Delhi with Chandni and if everything went fine, he would end up as a Head-Boy and have his name engraved in the Auditorium for endless years to come. But the Green Room flashed before his eyes. He saw her hands tremble as she raised them to defend herself, saw the Pity, the Fear, the Helplessness.
"I did not have any problem with the warden," he declared.
"Then why did you run away? Class unity?"
"No, Sir." Rohan took a deep breath and looked directly at the police officer. "Because a girl was raped and murdered in this school and ever since, the school has covered it up with a fake story of her being killed by a leopard."
The room fell silent. Mr. Lawrence's face went dead pale. His wife and the vice-principal eyed him in utter surprise. Harry was staring at him in disbelief. Rohan could sense something cooking in his mind.
"What is he talking about?" the officer asked Mr. Lawrence.
Rohan told him about the weird incidents he had experienced in the Green Room. He then narrated what he saw the night he had followed Kajal. He had believed that the officer would look into it, but the latter just seemed amused. "What is this boy talking about, Mr. Lawrence?" he asked again. "Is it about the case of 1989?"
"Yes. And you see now," the principal rose to his feet, "it is not easy. We have to deal with maniacs like him. You saw what happened right now? You saw, didn't you? Despite what these boys did, I gave him another chance, and he... one bad fish spoils the whole pond!"
"I told you earlier," Harry intervened, "there was strong evidence to prove that she was killed by an animal. Her parents themselves withdrew the case."
"But I saw them dump her body in the cave," Rohan retaliated.
"I assure you boy," the officer said, "the police must have thoroughly searched every cave around."
"They must have relocated her body, to a safer place. It wouldn't have been long before they realized their mistake."
"Enough is enough!" bellowed Mr. Lawrence. "You pack your bags tomorrow and never return. Mr. Chapman," he turned to Harry again, "this time I will not let you talk me out of this!"
Mr. Chapman!
And now he looked alike.
"Mr. Agarwal," said Harry Chapman, "we are more concerned about the safety of our students than even their own parents could ever be. I am not trying to defend this school, all I am..."
"No, sir," Rohan suddenly felt bold. He would stand up to these men, just like Kajal did. "You are only trying to defend your father."
Color vanished from Harry's face. He fumbled for words. The officer just looked from one face to another, expecting explanation. Mrs. Lawrence and Mr. Roy sat stunned on their seats. Mr. Lawrence was trembling with rage. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry had found his words by then. "How dare you! My family has been serving this school for generations. How dare you accuse my father?"
"He was the director of the play, wasn't he?" Rohan said calmly. "Isn't it curious that his name never surfaced even though he was solely responsible for every student during rehearsals? Mr. Williams had to take his side, because reputation is all you people care about!"
"Get out of this room before I get you arrested!" snarled Mr. Lawrence.
"But I am telling the truth," Rohan stood his ground.
"The truth?" Harry stood up. "All based on a dream? A dead girl's attempt to unravel the truth? Then tell us where her body is?" There was a strange restlessness on his face. His eyes were searching Rohan for an answer. "Mr. Thapa here will have it recovered immediately, won't you, sir?"
Mr. Thapa, the police inspector, smiled at the sarcasm.
"I don't know," Rohan replied.
"Your lady ghost did not show you this, did she? The most crucial part in unravelling her murder mystery!"
"I..." Rohan had no words to argue. He felt like a wounded deer surrounded by a pride of lions.
"I don't want to see your face again," Mr. Lawrence waved his hand. "Get out!"
Rohan turned to Mr. Thapa for support, but his looks were not encouraging. He looked around at others. They all stared at him as if he was some sort of criminal. He walked out into the quadrangle, feeling more miserable than ever.
He heard boys celebrating in the dormitories above. The sun had just set in the west leaving a trail of deep orange in the dark blue sky. He leaned on the parapet and looked down at the Auditorium. Why hadn't she shown him what they did with her body? It was indeed the most crucial part and she had left it out. He had a feeling she did it for a reason. What reason?
Think!
What would he have done had he known about it? He would have certainly blurted it out in front of everyone. The principal would then have called the police. Body recovered. Case reopened. So simple!
Or was it? What if the principal refused to notify the police? What if the principal, or someone else, recovered and destroyed the body and all evidence once for all?
He tried to recollect everything that had happened. He had found her earring but there was nothing he could make out from it. He had then seen her in the Swimming Pool. He gazed in the direction of the pool. Did they bury her there? But why would they dig up the pool? Maybe, somewhere near it? He had seen pug marks in the dormitory. A skull had appeared behind what seemed to be a door...
The door! He had seen it many times before, but never knew what was on the other side. And right now, he was looking in that very direction.
He ran back to the Staff-Room. "Her body was hidden in the store-room in the Basketball Court!" he announced.
A silence fell across the room. No one moved for a few tensed moments. "Just had another dream?" Mr. Lawrence taunted. He seemed irritated, yet amused by his audacity.
Harry somehow found this news disturbing. He sprang from his chair and took an aggressive step towards Rohan. "I will not tolerate this anymore," he shouted at Mr. Lawrence, who was taken aback by his outburst. "I want this boy out of my school this very moment!"
Rohan ignored him and spoke directly to Mr. Thapa, "Please sir, you have to check that room."
"No, he won't, you silly boy," interrupted Harry. "You think you can order anyone around here. This is my school and I will not allow this. Mr. Roy, please call the guards and have this boy thrown out."
Mr. Roy stood up, but didn't move.
"You haven't fixed a date or venue for the play, have you, Mr. Chapman?" It was Mrs. Lawrence. Her grey eyes were fixed on Harry, her sharp jaws moving slightly. This unexpected question silenced everyone.
"What?"
"Why don't we have a look in the room this boy is talking about," suggested Mrs. Lawrence, her eyes still glued to Harry.
"This boy is mentally sick! Retard! I will not allow this. I want him out."
"Yes, we will send him away. But he deserves to know that he is wrong. At least, we can do this much for a boy who spent his entire childhood in this school. If he is to be expelled, he has the right to know why we did so." She kept her tone flat.
"What is he talking about?" asked Mr. Thapa, curious for the first time.
"I think he is referring to a storage room in our Basketball Court," explained Mr. Lawrence. "Mr. Roy, please call the Games-Master and ask him for the keys."
Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Mr. Roy had already punched in a number. "He does not have the key," declared Mr. Roy after making a quick call.
"Then who has it?" asked Mr. Lawrence.
"Maybe the grounds-men?"
"Then call them here, right now," Mr. Lawrence had begun to lose patience. "You!" he glared at Rohan, "wait outside."
Rohan went out immediately. He could hear the men arguing inside. Harry did not approve of the school being raided by police and Mr. Lawrence was doing his best to fulfil the demand of his wife. There was tension in the air and he was the sole cause. He felt his insides swirling. He felt sick. About ten minutes later, Mohan, one of the grounds-men came jogging down the corridor. He was short and thin and wore dirty brown overall and tattered shoes. He appeared as if he had seen a ghost. Wondering why he had been summoned so urgently, he entered the room. Rohan peeped through the door.
"Do you have the key to the room in the Basketball Court?" asked Mr. Roy.
"Sir, key? I not opened that room even, Sir" replied Mohan.
"Do you have the key or not?" snapped Mr. Lawrence.
"No, Sir. Key I don't have."
"Then who has it?" demanded Mr. Roy.
"Sir, I don't know."
"Don't know? Then where have you been storing your equipment all these years?"
"Sir, there is equipment store besides changing-room. The Swimming Pool..."
"Then what is the room in the Basketball Court for?"
"Sir, I don't know, Sir."
"Don't know?" Mr. Thapa took a step towards him. "How long have you been working here?"
"Eleven years, sir."
Mr. Thapa raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything.
"Where is Raju?" asked Mr. Roy.
"He is coming, Sir."
"We don't have time," growled Mr. Lawrence. "Call him, NOW!"
Rohan stepped aside as Mohan rushed out. These grounds-men had no idea what was inside the room. Pipelines, probably. But Rohan had seen them in the changing-room itself. Raju arrived within five minutes. He too was scared to death.
"Yes, Sir?" he asked, his voice barely audible. He was standing the way a soldier stands for inspection.
"Where is the key?" demanded Mr. Lawrence.
"I don't keep it."
"Then how do you use that room?"
"Sir, we have never used that room. There is a store room next to the Gymnasium and one by the pool. We don't use any room other than these."
"How long have you been working here?" enquired Mr. Thapa.
"Thirteen years, sir. Thirteen years!"
"Thirteen years," Mr. Thapa looked at Mr. Lawrence, "and he doesn't know what that room is used for."
"What nonsense is this?" Mr. Lawrence shouted at the men. "No one knows what's in the room?"
"Why don't we break open the door and find out ourselves?" Mrs. Lawrence put in. Rohan saw her exchange looks with Harry.
"Okay, Mr. Lawrence," said Mr. Thapa. "With your permission?"
"I will not allow this!" Harry marched in front of Mr. Thapa.
"Please, Mr. Chapman, let us do our work. This will totally be off the record."
"I demand you produce a search warrant!"
Mr. Thapa stiffened. "Considering your boys ran away just yesterday, do you actually believe that I will even have to make an effort to obtain a warrant?"
"Harry, please," Mr. Lawrence intervened. "Let us quickly get this over with."
Harry wanted to explode, but instead, he gave way to Mr. Thapa. Mr. Lawrence led them to the Basketball Court. Harry sulked behind, throwing angry glances at Mrs. Lawrence. Rohan walked in between the grounds-men, who appeared more nervous than he himself was. They did not know what was happening, but whatever it was, it seemed important. They walked in utter silence. Rohan kept his head low, not wanting to make any eye contact with the men ahead. What had he landed himself into? What if he was wrong? He had decided. He would lock himself in that room and never come out.
The sky had darkened. A bitter cold hung over the school. The Junior School boys had lined up class-wise in the Junior School courtyard. They looked like a miniature army in grey overcoat, ready for their heroic march to the Dining Hall. An excitement broke out among them the moment they saw Rohan. He was currently the face of the batch that had done the unthinkable. A few of them waved at him and smiled before the teachers sprang into action and ended the palaver. Mr. Lawrence waited for them to leave before proceeding to the Basketball Court. They halted in front of the red door. It was as grave as a tomb. Raju procured a thick iron rod and broke the lock. The door was opened. It was pitch black inside.
"No lights?" murmured Mr. Thapa.
"Go ahead," Mr. Lawrence pushed Rohan inside, "good luck finding your girl!"
Rohan stepped inside. The air was damp and stale. He didn't know what to do. The room was far bigger than it had initially appeared. He held out his hands and inched forward. He didn't know what he was doing, but he had to do something. The further he went, the more obvious it became - he would be spending the rest of his life locked up in this room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out vague shapes sprouting from the floor. At least the room was not empty. He was wondering what they could be when, all of a sudden, the three constables came in with flashlights. Rohan noticed cylindrical objects scattered around the room. They appeared to be barrels. The constables made their way to the center and looked around. Apparently, the room had once been used for storing construction equipment and material. Old, rusty shovels lay covered in cobwebs. One of them kicked a heap of large, black polybags causing everyone to sneeze in the dust that emanated. "Stop it!" cried the others.
Rohan wiped his watery eyes and examined one of the barrels. It was about four feet high and made of thick plastic. It was empty, and so were the others. The constables just stood at their places and flashed their lights. Rohan searched every corner of the room, ducking under webs, picking up barrels lying on the floor, venturing behind what seemed to be a huge pile of rusted equipment caked with web. His uniform became dirty, and he knew his hair was covered in cobweb. He had lost hope. He was wrong and the realization began to dawn upon him. Or maybe, he had brought them to a wrong place. In either case, he was given one chance and he blew it. He stood by the pile of polybags, his mind racing. He was never going to find her body; and now it seemed stupid that there even existed a dead body. He kicked at the polybags and slipped and crashed. His knees hit something hard.
"Careful there!" said one of the constables.
He tried to get up, but stopped midway. There was a lump in the floor.
"We don't have the entire day!" Mr. Lawrence shouted from outside.
"Are you all right, kid?" the constable came to help him up. "Let's get out of here."
"There is something buried here." Rohan was on all fours, furiously removing the polybags, ignoring the pungent smell.
"What?"
"There is something buried here," Rohan repeated.
The constable pointed his flashlight on the floor. Something was indeed buried and judging by its size, it seemed to be one of the barrels. A constable went out and returned with Mr. Thapa. "What is it?" asked the police officer.
"I don't know, sir," the constable shrugged. "Maybe a barrel."
"Then dig it out!"
Spades were arranged and the grounds-men began to dig while Mr. Thapa examined the room. Mr. Lawrence watched from the door, his eyes wide with astonishment. Rohan could not see Harry from inside the room. They didn't have to dig deep before a barrel surfaced. It was sealed.
"There is something inside!" Mohan gasped as he tried to lift it.
They carried it outside to the court, the three flashlights dancing all over its mud covered surface. Mrs. Lawrence covered her mouth as soon as they emerged from the room. Harry, who had been pacing nervously, stopped dead.
"Open it!" Mr. Thapa ordered.
The seal was broken. They all stepped back and covered their noses. A foul smell made their eyes water. The constables covered their faces with handkerchiefs and pulled out a black plastic bag... and Mrs. Lawrence gasped at what she saw.
It was a withered human skeleton, covered with black residue of rotten flesh. A skull lay entangled in a dirty mass of black hair, looking at them through its empty eye-sockets.
Rohan was aware of everyone retreating from it, but he just stood there. He had seen her beautiful face a few days ago, and now, all that remained of her was a horrifying skull telling the story of her misery. When he had first seen her in the magazine, he had imagined what she would have been now. A mother, probably, living happily with the love of her life. But there she was... right there, in front of him. The beauty who once turned every head, now had all heads turned away from her, the beauty who died in a faraway cave, cold and dark, with no one beside her. She did not deserve this. And for the first time since he joined the school nine years ago, tears rolled down his cheeks.
Harry hated his father the moment the barrel was brought out. And above that, he hated himself. He had always expected to find her body, but now that it was in front of him, he felt sorry for her. The three constables dared not empty out the bag. Mr. Thapa was busy making phone calls. Out of the blue, they had found a dead body, all right. But how would they track down the people involved in the murder and even if they did, from where the hell would they collect evidence. The boy had mulishly stood for her, but he would be of no help in a legal battle.
"What is this, Mr. Chapman? What am I to report?" asked Mr. Thapa in utter bewilderment.
"Mr. Edward Smith Chapman," Harry replied blankly.
Mr. Thapa was unable to process the information. He had thought over every possible way to extract information from him, but never had he even imagined that it would be given away so easily.
"He is in Manali," Harry added. "He is dying. I believe, he will confess... "
... and what will she do with him then? Maybe, he would go into the forest again, and never return.