What Maya Saw Page 11

  ‘Don’t you want to tie your hair? It will get tangled.’

  Some throat clearing.

  ‘Isn’t that top a little flimsy?’

  ‘I’m not sure that bright pink and black make a good combination.’

  Some car-key jangling and foot tapping.

  ‘Maya, you haven’t worn those slippers in years. They look like they’ll fall apart.’

  ‘Mummy, please,’ Maya retorted. ‘I’m almost 15.’

  She plonked into the front seat with a leave-me-alone scowl. But when the car passed Bombay Gym, Maya could no longer pretend that a squabble with her mother or lack of cool footwear was the big problem in her life.

  The brown splotches on the quadrangle floor and the eerie sensation of being watched from dark windows came back to haunt her. As did the message that had been waiting on her phone in the morning.

  ‘Not such a good morning. It may be the last you ever have.’

  ‘Of course, they won’t kill me,’ Maya reasoned as the car drew up at St Paul’s. ‘They think I have the journal so they’ll never kill me. But ...’

  Maya decided not to dwell on the ‘but’. She opened the car door with clumsy hands and compelled herself to step onto the pavement. She would never feel safe again till the keys had been found. That was the only way to end this nightmare and get her life back.

  Engrossed in these dire thoughts, Maya didn’t notice the missing tile on the pavement. She stepped right into the crack, tripped and snapped the skimpy strap of her green beaded slipper.

  ‘Oh great,’ Maya muttered. Now she would have to call her mother, who was a mistress at the art of ‘I told you so.’

  Maya was roughly rummaging for her phone when a voice —low and just a bit familiar—said, ‘Oops’.

  Maya looked up startled. Sanath was smiling down at her. He looked – and then looked again at the soft hair, the plum-coloured lips and the flamy pink skirt that flared around at Maya’s knees. ‘Nice … nice owl,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Maya flushed.

  ‘You OK?’ Sanath asked. ‘Are you waiting for someone?’

  ‘Actually, my slipper broke,’ Maya mumbled ‘It’s nothing. No problem. Thanks.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you get it fixed?’ Sanath asked, looking around. ‘How will you manage the rest of the day?’

  ‘Uhhh. I’ll manage.’ No, that sounded very moronic. She needed to sound more upbeat. ‘It will all work out.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ Maya said, switching from dazed to hyper-happy. ‘It was silly of me to wear these slippers. They’re a bit flimsy. Anyway, why aren’t you in class?’

  Sanath shrugged. ‘Why aren’t you in class?’

  ‘I got a bit late and then my slipper broke,’ Maya said. ‘Well, obviously.’

  ‘I got bit late. Then I decided to wrap up some bank work.’

  ‘Oh,’ Maya said. ‘Then you better go and finish it.’

  ‘Nothing so urgent. Let’s figure your slipper first. Give me a minute. Don’t go anywhere.’

  Maya pointed at her slipper. The ridiculousness of the situation struck her, and she flashed her impish smile. ‘I’m not exactly marathon material at the moment.’

  Sanath looked up with surprised interest for the second time, before sprinting back to the college gate and conducting a brief conversation with the stocky chowkidar, involving lots of pointing and gestures. Then he strode back to Maya.

  ‘I forgot that you don’t speak Hindi,’ she remarked.

  ‘Don’t say that in front of Giri the College Watchman,’ Sanath remonstrated. ‘He prides himself on his English. I think he said that there’s one of those cobbler guys down the road.’

  ‘Great, thanks so much,’ Maya nodded, trying to shuffle away in a dignified fashion. She wished Sanath would just go so that she could scrape along in peace. ‘OK, bye.’

  ‘That’s not working too well,’ Sanath observed. He stooped and picked up the slipper. ‘I’ve a better idea. I can be a walking stick.’

  ‘No, no,’ Maya blushed, swaying on one foot. ‘Please go to the bank. I’ll feel really guilty about delaying you.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Sanath said, grabbing her elbow. ‘Instead, just listen to me for a minute. Hop. Hop. Hop.’

  ‘It won’t work,’ Maya protested.

  ‘Hop.’

  Maya gave in. After all, there were few things she would rather do than clutch Sanath’s white cotton sleeve, inhale his citrusy aftershave and hop along in a fog of adoration.

  The first part of the three-legged journey was completed in companionable silence – till Maya realised she was wasting this Bollywood moment. ‘How’s Sri Lankan cricket doing?’ she asked mid-hop.

  Sanath looked a little thrown. ‘All the girls here seem into Sri Lankan cricket,’ he remarked.

  ‘And black-and-white photography,’ Maya replied, and then bit her tongue. Her brain, she realised, had turned to mush. Not even the fact that he might be a Shadow made any difference to her tingly, breathless elation.

  Given that they had just three legs and one brain between them, they were making disappointingly quick progress. Sanath was good at avoiding the sunken, crumbling bits of the pavement, as well as the mess of plastic bags that oozed something turgid and brown. ‘Seize the moment,’ Maya berated herself. ‘Make unforgettable conversation. Create an impact.’

  ‘Umm …’ she started, trying to think of something so witty that Minty-the-Model would be vanquished forever.

  ‘Yes?’ Sanath asked.

  ‘How did you land up in Bombay?’ Maya asked.

  ‘My college in Sri Lanka has an exchange programme with St Paul’s,’ Sanath said. His voice remained casual, but the pensive look had returned to his eyes. ‘I thought it would be a good chance. To see the world. To get away for a bit.’

  ‘Are your parents in Colombo?’

  ‘My father is,’ Sanath replied – so curtly that Maya could almost see the barbed wire and ‘Keep Away’ sign coming up. She bit her lip and lapsed into silence for the remaining ten hops.

  The mochi was polishing a pair of black office shoes with buckles. He put them aside for the damsel in distress and the promise of a fat bonus. Sanath and Maya watched in silence while he fixed the slipper.

  ‘Thanks so much,’ she said as they walked back to the college. ‘Now please go to the bank. I hope you haven’t gotten too delayed.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To class, obviously.’

  ‘Oh,’ Sanath hesitated. ‘Ummm, you don’t want to catch a movie maybe? To talk about black-and-white photography?’

  ‘At 9.30 on Monday morning?’ Maya exclaimed, and then bit her tongue again. Why did she always have to behave like a prissy schoolgirl? ‘Maybe we can watch a movie another time.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Sanath shrugged. His face shut down, almost as if a switch had been turned off. ‘See you around.’

  Abruptly, he strode away. As he turned the corner, he pulled out his phone.

  Sloshing with jealousy, Maya walked into the college. Could he be calling tiny, sweet Minty and asking if she wanted to watch a movie? Or one of those other gorgeous creatures draped around the banyan tree as if they were in a Vogue photo shoot?

  Why, oh why was she such a nincompoop? Would Sanath ever bother to even talk to her again?

  Maya attended a girls’ school. The boys she encountered at Chemistry Olympiad sessions and poetry competitions weren’t the sort to inspire instant passion. All she really knew about gorgeous guys was the stuff she read in books. But even she knew she had smashed her chances.

  Weighed down by despondency, Maya trudged into the dark little waiting room that connected the college entrance to the quadrangle. Light barely penetrated the small, barred windows and the room had a dungeon-like feel about it.

  Automatically, Maya’s footsteps quickened. She was almost at the door when it happened.

  A sudden movement in the corner of the room. A flash of a
rms and something shiny. A thump. A moment of blinding pain. Blurry confusion and then nothing.

  CHAPTER 17

  ‘She’s waking up,’ a voice drilled into her head.

  Maya tried to ignore it and return to the black, velvety silence. She winced as something cold mopped her face. ‘Guh way,’ she croaked.

  ‘Maya, Maya,’ the voice shouted even louder. ‘Open your eyes.’

  Maya tried her best to ignore the insistent words.

  ‘… assaulted. Should we tell the police ...’

  ‘… accident. May have tripped …’

  ‘… Wagle …’

  ‘… no connection whatsoever …’

  A hand shook her. Gentle at first, and then determined. Reluctantly, Maya opened her eyes and was overcome with waves of nausea and realisation. Something had happened. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

  ‘Maya, what happened?’

  Maya looked up and saw two faces swimming in and out of focus. One was Radhika Rathod. The other was a stranger with alarmed eyes and dangling silver earrings.

  Maya shifted and realised she was lying on a hard, narrow bench in a darkish room – and fragments of memory returned. ‘Somebody attacked me,’ she gasped. ‘Here. Hiding here. I think.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Radhika Rathod asked. ‘The chowkidar found you lying on the floor about 15 minutes ago. Could you have fallen down?’

  Maya rubbed her eyes and tried not to cry. ‘Somebody jumped on me,’ she insisted, struggling to sit up.

  She looked around and spotted her bag, lying in a mess of keys and pens and books. ‘My bag?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ Radhika Rathod replied. ‘If you can walk, I’ll take you to the staffroom. You have a bump on your forehead but hopefully no other damage. A little ice will help.’

  ‘My bag …’ Maya insisted.

  ‘Later, later,’ Radhika Rathod said in the fake-soothing voice that adults use with colicky babies.

  Maya had just struggled to her feet when Sanath walked into the room on his way to the quadrangle. He stopped in astonishment. ‘Maya,’ he asked. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ Maya said, trying to smile through the giddiness. ‘Is your bank work done?’

  Sanath ignored the question. ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘She says someone knocked her down,’ Radhika Rathod replied. ‘But we’re not sure. Luckily, she’s not badly hurt. It must have been some silly joke. Or she may have fallen. Sometimes the mind plays tricks.’

  Sanath’s lips tightened, and he stared at the bag. ‘Somebody’s trashed her bag,’ he said. He bent down and scooped up the pens, keys and books and shoved them back into the satchel. He handed it to Maya who was looking around. ‘Is my yellow pad there?’ she asked.

  Sanath and Radhika Rathod peered into the bag. Sanath shook his head and said, ‘No. No yellow pad here.’

  ‘Oh. It had my assignment and some notes. And …’ Maya’s voice shook. Her scrawled notes from the evening before flashed into her mind.

  The list of possible clues in the chapel. The Greek Key Design.

  ‘Who would take your pad?’ Radhika Rathod asked. ‘What did it have? Your assignment? Some research? This is definitely a prank gone wrong. Let’s get you to the staffroom. A cup of tea will help.’

  Maya wobbled but obeyed. She wished Sanath would come to the staffroom with her – but he seemed in an awful hurry. He rushed across the quadrangle and disappeared down a corridor.

  Radhika Rathod led the way through corridors and staircases, and Maya found herself in a long, friendly room with cane armchairs and faded orange cushions. The walls were decorated with Teachers’ Day cards, caricatures and posters. Mahatma Gandhi exhorting, ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’

  Radhika Rathod put a glass of tea on the low table. ‘Lots of sugar,’ she said. ‘It’s good for shock. Do you want to lie down?’

  ‘I’m feeling much better, Miss Rathod,’ Maya said, embarrassed by the fuss. Bits and pieces of her still hurt, but she could function. ‘I think I should go to class.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ the teacher asked, relieved. ‘Then tidy yourself up and come to the classroom. I better go. I need to take over from Professor Kekobad.’

  Maya sipped the reviving, sugary tea. Then she combed her hair. The artful style of the morning was impossible to replicate and the bump in her forehead was impossible to camouflage. But she dusted down her top and skirt, and stood up. Waves of dizziness ebbed and flowed.

  Maya should have been afraid. Instead, she felt bubble-wrapped by a sense of detachment.

  Suddenly, she could see it all. The Shadows had attacked her because they were desperate for Father Lorenzo’s diary. But they didn’t dare hurt her grievously because they needed her. They hadn’t managed to crack the clues in the chapel for years and years. They were probably waiting and hoping that Maya, Veda and Aadil would lead the way.

  Till then they would keep watch – maybe they were watching right now, monitoring her every move. Suspicions as intangible and bitter as smoke, swirled around her. Professor Kekobad’s voice echoed in her head, ‘Trust no one. Trust no one.’

  Maya tried to escape from the gathering clouds of mistrust. The staffroom was in an unfamiliar part of the college, on the first floor of a new building constructed sometime in the 1970s. Maya realised that it was connected to the main structure by a long corridor that overlooked the canteen.

  Her green slippers slap-slapped on the stone floor as she hurried past locked rooms. She was at the very end of the open corridor when she glanced down towards the canteen.

  Sanath was standing at the juice counter with a girl in a short denim skirt. The girl turned to flash him a beguiling smile, and Maya recognised her. Minty.

  Minty the Model.

  Minty with her fluttering eyelashes, winsome smile and tiny figure, who made Maya feel clunky and charmless. And hopeless. ‘Just go to class,’ Maya told herself. ‘There’s no point in this.’

  Still, she watched the couple in the canteen. She had to.

  As Sanath counted out his money and spoke to the canteen boy, Minty put a possessive hand on his back. Her scarlet nails screamed against the white of his shirt.

  Then, before Maya’s horrified eyes, it happened. The flesh from that smooth, manicured hand seemed to tear and slowly fall away. Maya clutched the parapet and squeezed her eyes shut. When she looked again, all that remained was the bony hand of a skeleton.

  Yellowish bones tipped with crimson fingernails.

  Maya almost shrieked, but stopped herself just in time. Instead, she stumbled towards the classroom with Professor Kekobad’s voice bellowing in her ears. ‘Trust no one.’

  CHAPTER 18

  In Lecture Room 113, Radhika Rathod was explaining how the seven islands of Mumbai gradually fused into a single landmass.

  Maya slipped into a seat next to Lola, who scribbled on a scrap of pink paper and passed it to Maya. ‘You ok? Heard you’d fainted or something? Why? What happened??????’

  ‘Tell you later,’ Maya whispered.

  Lola waggled expressive eyebrows and passed on another note. ‘Apparently some library guy was attacked in the college some days ago. Weird rumours. You OK????’

  Then a third note. ‘Btw you look great!!!! Love the look. Nicely accessorised with a bump on the head.’

  Maya grimaced. Her fashion crisis of the morning seemed so long ago. She’d all but forgotten that she was sporting her New Look. And now it hardly mattered. She was tormented by that image of Minty and Sanath and all the questions that it raised.

  Lola flashed her a hashtag sign and muttered, ‘Super cool’. But she straightened up under Radhika Rathod’s arctic stare.

  Normally, Radhika Rathod was the most relaxed of the three teachers. But today, she exuded a don’t-mess-with-me vibe. She kept glancing at Maya – but her expression was glacial. The events of the past couple of days had clearly upset her.

  Maya gave Lola a weak smile.
Then she slumped into her chair, exhausted and unable to concentrate. Her head was sore. But not as troublesome as her heart. ‘You’re a fool,’ she told herself. ‘Why would Sanath, who’s gorgeous and so much older, be interested in a 14-year-old schoolgirl?’

  Maya could come up with only one reason. Sanath was a Shadow. The designated spy who’d been asked to keep an eye on Maya.

  The Shadows read people and understood their vulnerabilities. They must know about her crush on Sanath. They must think she was the lamest, saddest person around – so desperate that she would hand over all the clues to him in exchange for a coffee at Starbucks.

  Maya was so occupied with doleful reflections that she missed Radhika Rathod’s crisp instructions. She barely registered the bustle around her till Lola gave her a nudge. ‘Group work time.’

  ‘What?’ Maya asked, flustered.

  ‘We’ve to work in our groups? What group are you in? Professor Kekobad gave us our groups this morning. You’ll never guess who I’m with. The divine Owais and Amara. Not bad, huh?’

  ‘Professor Kekobad made the groups?’ Maya asked.

  ‘Guess so,’ Lola shrugged. ‘Anyway, I think your group leader’s come to find you. For sure you guys are going to do more work than we are. Have fun.’

  Maya looked up to see Veda and Aadil heading towards her desk. ‘You’re in our group,’ Veda said. ‘Pack up quickly. We only have a couple of hours so let’s hurry.’

  Maya grabbed her bag and followed Veda out of the class. ‘What are we supposed to do?’ she asked. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To the chapel,’ Veda said, trotting through the quadrangle towards the heavy wooden door. ‘Hurry.’

  Aadil pushed open the door and the threesome entered the cool, deserted space. Maya flopped down onto a pew. Bits of her twinged, and the bump on her head throbbed.

  ‘What happened to you in the morning?’ Veda demanded. ‘Did you faint because of the heat?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Maya said. ‘I was walking into the college, and you know that little room just before you step into the quad? The one with the three windows? Somebody was waiting there and pounced on me.’