POV: Shubman Gill.
‘ Didi, do you think he will be okay?’ Shubman whispered to Simran.
Both of them lay in bed together, both too lost in their own thoughts to fall asleep.
‘ Who?’
‘Ibrahim..’
Shubman watched as Simran wrapped a few strands of hair around her finger.
‘ I …he's a military man, he will be okay’ she answered after a while.
‘ I don't want to be with these new men,’ Shubman complained.
He turned around to face her and poked her arms. She let out an annoyed sigh and turned to face him.
‘ They were hand-picked by Ibrahim, I'm sure they are good men'
‘ Yeah, but they aren't Ibrahim’
Simran rolled her eyes and tried not to think about how worried she was. She didn't want to let Ibrahim go alone, but she couldn't come up with any reasons to stop him.
‘ We should go with him…’ Shubman quietly said.
‘ Absolutely not. It could be dangerous!’ she answered in anger.
‘ Exactly Di…it could be dangerous, and we are sending Ibrahim alone…I know he's a soldier, but still…’ he tried to explain.
‘ Don't be stupid, Shubman’ she said in a huff and turned away from him.
Simran didn't want Shubman to see how worried she was, or how she was almost tearing up.
‘ I don't know Simran Di…if Ibrahim goes and something happens to him, I can never forgive myself…even if I can't help him with anything, at least I am there for him..’
Shubman played his cards and watched as Simran's body stiffened. She sat up instantly and turned on the lights.
‘ Are we going?’ Shubman sat up excited.
‘ Wait…we, we need to come up with an excuse to give dad…also we need to convince ibrahim.' she said.
Both of them sat, legs crossed trying to come up with an excuse.
‘ Uh, I will talk to Ibrahim, he won't say no to me ... .you can, you can convince Dada," Shubman hesitantly said, looking at her.
Simran glared at him and pushed him away. Shubman laughed a little and settled even closer.
‘ Let's say that …you are tired of being home, and maybe the change of scenery would help you’ Simran tried to plan it out.
‘ Yes…and uh, people will see me, and my fans will know that I'm okay. I can make a post here and there?’ Shubman added.
Simran nodded and looked at Shubman who was smiling widely. Maybe Kolkata will help him heal a little.
‘ What if …what if it gets dangerous?’ Simran worried.
Shubman shrugged and let out a sad sigh.
‘ It can't be worse that this’
Simran nodded and kissed his hands.
‘ Talk to Ibrahim now, if he agrees now, I can convince dad tomorrow’
Shubman nodded and got off the bed. Simran gaze fell on his back and it ached her heart. There were bandages where the claw marks had appeared. Several other places had purplish bruises.
‘ Are you coming?’ Shubman's voice snapped her back to reality.
Both of them stood near the kitchen counter and watched as Ibrahim finished reciting the last few verses of the Surah he was on.
‘ Shouldn't you be sleeping?’ he asked,getting up and coming towards them.
‘ We wanted to talk to you about something….’ Shubman said.
He walked around the counter, trying to avoid eye contact with Ibrahim. Ibrahim watched as Shubman traced the counter trying to muster up the courage.
‘ You want to come to Kolkata?’ Ibrahim asked.
Shubman and Simran looked at him in surprise and nodded.
Ibrahim laughed in amusement.
‘ This could be a wasted trip, we might not find anything even if we go…’ he answered.
‘ Then ... .then we can see your childhood home and uh ..eat street food and drink chai ... .it won't be a wasted trip then’ Shubman said quietly.
Ibrahim nodded in agreement. Maybe it will help Shubman to get out of the apartment.
‘ Fine, but convincing your father is your responsibility. I will ask the manager to make the flight arrangements’
Shubman felt nervous as they neared the airport. This was more nerve-wracking than when he had to ask his father for permission. After hours of begging, his father finally agreed, on the condition that Shubman calls him every few hours.
‘ Are you nervous?’ Simran asked.
Shubman nodded and looked outside the windows. There was already a huge crowd near the gate.
" Don't worry baby ... .just remember, you are THE SHUBMAN GILL ... .you are the Desi spiderman, you can do this …’ she said, squeezing his hands.
Shubman nodded and mentally prepared himself to face the camera flashes.
‘ Shubman Gill…sir please pose for one photo' the crowd of paparazzis called out the minute he stepped out of his car.
Shubman smiled and posed for a here and there before he went upto the gates.
" Sir, where were you all these days?’ someone called out.
Shubman pretended to cough and gave them an answer.
He gave his passport to the security guard and waited, he could still hear the camera flashes going off.
‘ Shubman sir, saara bhabhi kaha hei?’ someone asked.
Simran held his elbow to stop him from turning around. They kept calling his name till he turned around and waved one last time and disappeared through the gates.
Shubman scrolled through Instagram and saw that posts about him were already circulating. His fans were happy with his appearance, they were grateful for his recovery. Keeping the phone aside he looked at the clouds, the sight of the endless blue sky made him feel sleepy. He yawned and closed his eyes for a bit.
‘ Shubman, wake up…we are here’ Simran's voice woke him up.
He sat up confused, wiping the drool from his mouth. He was out cold for almost 3 hours.
‘ We landed?’ he asked, getting up.
‘ Yeah, you snored the whole time’ Simran laughed.
Shubman pushed her along the aisle, nearly knocking her over.
‘ Please be careful…’ Ibrahim said as he held Simran's hands.
Simran turned around and stuck out her tongue at Shubman.
‘Ibrahim, you are my bodyguard…why are you protecting her?’ Shubman said, pretending to be angry.
‘ She almost fell down’
‘Her standards are down there, she can also be down there’ Shubman laughed.
Simran scoffed and hit Shubman across the chest.
‘ Please don't fight in here, we need to go’ Ibrahim sounded tired of their childishness.
The city streets were already bustling with people and endless traffic by the time they reached the hotel. After checking in and taking a few hours of rest, all of them decided to go out to grab a bite
‘ Where is Abrar?’ Shubman asked.
‘ He will come in the evening, he has another case..’ Ibrahim looked distracted.
‘ Are you sure you want to be here? The place is packed’ Ibrahim asked, parking the car.
Shubman hesitated, but Simran nodded.
Ibrahim talked into the ear piece and made sure that his men were nearby when they got out of the car.
Shubman and Simran both wore masks and sunglasses, but still they got glances from the crowd. The security men in their black uniforms formed a circle around them as they entered the cafe’
A waitress greeted them and directed them to a corner table, and took their orders.
‘Ibrahim, why do you look so distracted?’ Simran asked.
Ibrahim looked up from his phone and shook his head.
‘Just going over security details’
‘ When will we visit his house?’
‘ When Abrar comes’
The waitress came and laid out plates of scrumptious pastries and set down mouth watering coffee drinks.
‘ Did you get just a black coffee?’ Simran asked, making a face.
Ibrahim laughed and nodded.
‘ How do you drink that, it's so bitter…’ she pretended to be disgusted.
Shubman watched as Simran sliced her cake piece in half and pushed the plate towards Ibrahim while trying to avoid eye contact with him.
He scratched his head, before taking a few bites.
Shubman tried not to laugh out loud at their awkward interaction.
‘ So Ibrahim, will you take us to your childhood house?’ Shubman asked, playing with the straw.
‘ Yeah, my uncle lives there now. I told him we would be coming. Get ready to eat a lot, because he does not let anyone leave without stuffing them with food’ Ibrahim smiled widely.
Shubman and Simran exchanged excited glances.
‘ Sir we need to go, the crowd getting interested in you’
They paid the bill in a hurry and exited the cafe only to be mobbed by fans. Shubman obliged the fans with a few photos and went to his car.
Shubman lay on the hotel bed and stared at the crown moldings. His gaze wandered at the chandelier, then to the vintage looking wallpaper, then to the high windows. The afternoon light filtered through the white curtains which was gently moving wind. He thought of Ishaan, and how he always stood near the windows smoking.
He turned to the side and took out his phone, he scrolled through their previous texts.
‘ “Teri yaad sataundi ah”
“Your memory makes me suffer” ( Roughly translation)
He sent a text to Ishaan and waited for a few minutes.
No response.
He buried his face in the pillow and tried not to cry. If he's suffering, he knew that Ishaan was suffering too. He was counting days till this was over he could go running into Ishaan's arms.
‘ Kaka, Abrar is here’ Simran said walking into the room.
She stopped when she saw Shubman wiping his tears.
‘ Baby…’
Shubman sat up and smiled a little.
‘ I…I thought of him when I saw the curtains. This once…uh,, he was smoking near the window and unknowingly burned a hole in the curtain….’ he laughed.
Simran kissed his forehead.
‘ He…he…uh must miss me right?’
‘ I'm sure he does’
Simran thought of the times she heard him cry on the call, whenever she called him.
Abrar greeted them with warmth when they came down to the lobby.
‘ How are you now?’ he asked, taking Shubman's hands.
‘ Better….I think’ he answered.
‘ Ibrahim told me about the dream…in Sha Allah, it will be fine…we will find out what Mayank is hiding and then we will see what we have to do’ Abrar assured him.
‘ we will meet my uncle first, and then go to second location’
Shubman took a few pictures of this and that and they drove to Ibrahim's house. The famous yellow taxis, the architectural beauty of the buildings. People from all walks of life, walking here and there trying to get to places. The street vendors serve chai and food to the people surrounding them.
‘ I want chai," Shubman said, stretching.
‘ Wait…now?’ Ibrahim asked.
‘ From your house…’ he said, yawning.
Ibrahim nodded.
‘ It's so beautiful here, even though it's crowded. People look friendlier, I don't…I don't know what it is, but I really like the vibe’ Simran said staring outside the window.
Ibrahim's uncle greeted them enthusiastically. All hugs and kisses. Shubman and Simran stared in awe as he took them through the beautiful courtyard to the living room. The house had high high pillars, with an open roof in the middle, the ground was covered in black and white checkered tiles, and the doors and windows were a dark green which complimented the cream walls. There were signs of damage here and there, it could be overlooked by the beautiful flowers and plants in the garden.
Shubman and Simran sat in the living room, their eyes wandering over the endless bookshelves.
‘ My father was a bookworm soldier and my mother was a teacher....’ Ibrahim said as he served them tea.
They smiled and helped themselves to the food.
‘ How come there are no pictures of your childhood?’ Simran asked, her eyes wandering around the walls.
‘ We don't keep photos hanging in the house, it prevents the angels from coming into the house…’ Abrar answered.
‘ oh..?’ Shubman said awkwardly.
" That's just our belief, you can follow yours, son," Ibrahim's uncle said.
Shubman rubbed his stomach and stretched. They had so much food to eat, he felt like a stuffed pillow. Funnily enough, he still kept thinking about the mutton curry he had too many servings of. He sat in the rocking chair in the courtyard and sleepily watched the clouds go by.
‘ So if you don't have pictures in the house, how do you remember them?’ Simran asked.
Both of them were in the kitchen, putting the dishes away.
‘ If we love them, we won't forget about them’ Ibrahim said.
‘ no I mean…memories you know..’ she tried to explain.
Ibrahim laughed.
‘ We have photo albums you know …’
Simran looked at him flustered and turned away.
‘ Do you want to see them? The photos?’ Ibrahim asked.
Simran nodded.
Ibrahim led her upstairs to his bedroom. The room was spacious, but everything was covered in blankets to prevent the dust from settling on them. Ibrahim removed the sheet from the sofas and let her sit down.
‘ Here’ he handed her an old bulky album.
She smiled and went through them with interest. Ibrahim watched as a smile formed on her lips, as she saw his childhood photos. She ran her long fingers over the plastic covers as she admired all the memories.
‘ Who…who is this?’ Simran asked, pointing to a picture.
Ibrahim looked closely and gave a sad smile.
‘ That's my son, Mehran’
‘ Wow, he looks exactly like you…how old is he now?’ Simran asked.
‘ He would have been 27 if he was alive’
‘ Oh…I'm so sorry’
Ibrahim shook his head and smiled.
‘ It's okay’
Simran closed the album and set it aside, she brought her knees up to her chest, rested her head on her knees and stared at Ibrahim. He unconsciously played with his ring finger.
‘ How old were you when you got married?’
‘ Uh…24 I think…when Mehran was born, I was 26’
‘ I'm sorry, Ibrahim’
He rested his eyes back and closed his eyes.
‘ There is nothing more painful than a father having to carry the weight of a child's dead body’ he softly said.
Ibrahim could still feel the weight bearing down on him.
‘ I…I could have saved him, Simran. He ….he didn't want to report to duty that day, but I forced him to….’
‘ When…when they called me, I couldn't receive the call. I keep thinking ... .what if I had my phone with me, I could have reached there faster. ….I could have saved him’
‘ Ibrahim…’ Simran softly said.
‘ I can't sleep at night…I keep seeing him in my arms, covered in blood. …I keep seeing my wife, standing near the window, never turning towards me ….. I..’
Ibrahim covered his face and tried to stop himself from crying.
Simran went towards him and sat down near him. She knew she shouldn't be touching him, but she did. She ran her fingers through his hair. Ibrahim lowered his hands and closed his eyes. She ran her fingers over his eyebrows, and down the bridge of his nose. There was a faint scent of vanilla on her hand.
‘ You shouldn't be with me…’ Ibrahim said softly.
Simran ran her fingers down his sharp jaws.
‘ Simran…I'm….I'm a lot older than you’
Ibrahim could barely speak. He hasn't been touched in so long, her touch made him feel out of breath, he felt like dying in her arms.
‘ Sim…Sim…’
Simran slightly pressed her finger against his soft lips.
‘ What's written will happen…let it happen, ibrahim.' she whispered to him.
A shiver ran down his spine, as she rested her head on his chest. Simran could hear his heart beating frantically. He sat still, not knowing what to do.
A few moments passed, and a disheartened Simran got up to leave. She took a few steps, when Ibrahim grabbed her arms and pulled her into a hug.
‘ Ibrahim!’ she gasped.
‘ Stay …stay with me for as long as it's written, when you have to leave, I won't ask you to wait’ Ibrahim whispered. He pulled away from her, and kissed her hands.
‘ Shubman, wake up ... .we need to leave’ Abrar shook him awake.
Shubman looked around confused. That was a long nap.
‘ Why am I sleeping so much?’ he mumbled.
‘ You didn't sleep much the past few weeks, did you?’
Shubman shook his head and stretched.
‘then it's okay to sleep..’
‘ I want to live here, it's so peaceful, even if I can hear the traffic outside’
‘ you can buy a house…’
‘ Hmm…maybe’
‘ Let's go guys, it's a long ride’ Ibrahim announced coming down.
All of them thanked the uncle and left to see Mayanks house.
Shubman felt nervous as they neared the gates of Mayank’s ancestral home. The whole ride, he kept thinking of what he would find when he goes to the house. Will the other half they are searching for be hidden there? Maybe the jinn was lying all along, maybe they will be able to get rid of it.
They slowed down in front of enormous black gates. A man came running towards the car. Ibrahim stepped out, and discussed a few things with him, and got in the car.
‘ What…what's going on?’ Shubman stuttered.
‘ he's the caretaker, he will show us around’
‘ He agreed that easily?’
‘ He uh…he knows Shubman…so he agreed’
‘ What…what do you mean?’ Shubman gulped in fear.
‘ Mayank said that you will come, and when you do, he's supposed to show you around’
Shubman felt himself getting cold. He grabbed Simran's hands to calm himself down.
They climbed the white marble staircase and waited for the door to open. All of them looked around in wonder, at the beauty of the building. If the outside was this grand, they all wondered what the inside would look like.
The large wooden doors opened and the man they previously saw stood in front of them with an Arti Tali. He smiled widely at Shubman, and tried to put the tilak on his forehead, but Shubman panicked and moved away.
Shubman stumbled back in horror. He didn't want to do this. What did Mayank say to him, that he's been welcomed like this.
‘ Chote sarkaar said that you will come, please come inside sir..’ he said gesturing inside.
Their eyes wandered on the large chandeliers, the white marble floors, the grand staircase and numerous pictures of the family.
‘ Maalik was a classical music guru. Everyone respected him a lot’ the servant explained
‘ What about his kids?’ Ibrahim asked.
‘ He had just one son, Ekalavya…he passed away in an accident.’ he answered.
‘ What about his wife?’
‘ She …she died in childbirth’
They all nervously looked around at each other.
‘ Where….where's his room? Ibrahim asked.
He gestured up the staircase. They followed him, through the massive hallway, photos of the owners staring down at them. They stopped at the end of the hallway, in front of a locked door. The servant took out the key and opened the door for them.
They carefully entered into a spacious bedroom. High windows, minimal decorations. Black and white furniture to compliment the white walls and high ceilings.
‘ Why does this place look familiar?’ Simran asked, confused.
‘ because this is exactly what Shubman sirs bedroom looks like’ Ibrahim answered.
Shubman felt faint, Ibrahim was right, it was an exact replica of his room, minus the missing trophies. Even the action figures and their arrangements matched with his room. His grip around Simran's hand tightened.
They looked around, trying to find anything out of the ordinary, but nothing.
‘ There's a door here…’ Abrar mumbled.
He slid the white doors, revealing another room. They walked in, and switched on the lights.
Shubman collapsed onto the floor as he realized what he was staring at. Pictures, from top to bottom, all pictures of him. Pictures, he didn't know about, pictures of him sleeping, of him at the academy, of him at tournaments, When he's out with his friends, pictures of him with Ishaan. Shubman looked around in horror, trembling and crying in fear.
‘ The jinn was right….’ Abrar said as his eyes fell on the sitar and the gungroo lying on the side of the room.
Ibrahim and Abrar looked around, and found papers covered in blood, with Arabic scribbles on them. Ibrahim wandered to another part of the room and opened a room and reeled back in horror and disgust.
There was blood everywhere, flies buzzing around.
‘ Ab…’ he could barely managed to say.
All of them gathered around him. Simran gagged and looked away. Shubman was too shocked to look away. He continued to stare at his name written in blood, all over the wall. Ibrahim tiptoed inside the room. Knives and blades were scattered on the table. He looked at the jars lined up on the shelves, marked with whatever animal was in it.
‘ There's nothing here ….we need to go Abrar said to them.
Shubman walked out of the house in trance, he didn't hear Simran calling out to him, he didn't hear the servant thanking him for blessing Mayank's house with his presence. The minute he stepped foot outside of the gates, he fell to his knees and vomited. He couldn't believe his eyes, if this was half of his madness, he was afraid to see the complete thing. What did Mayank do to him? What was he hiding? Did he really….did he really engage in black magic to ruin Shubman's life?