Another week passed, and Nina was still being held captive.

There wasn’t a whole lot to do when one was held captive in a room. The days passed by quickly taking with them one of the most precious things              .

Time.

Time had always been her enemy more than her friend in the past. Time had cost her the lives of her sisters.

But now, she was determined not to let time cost Suraj’s or her life.

However, there was nothing much for her to do. During the day, even though her captor was in the house, Nina’s meals were still brought into her room. The only time she was allowed out was when she made a brief trip to the next room for a shower.

And whenever she came out of her shower, she could see her captor bathing in the lake outside the forest house. That was the only time she could see him.

She watched him swim in powerful strokes in the refreshing lake water.

What was his next plan of action? How was he going to avenge the death of his loved one? Did he already plan an attack on Suraj?

Being kept in the dark and the uncertainty was definitely making her lose her mind.

But she knew Suraj was doing fine. She could hear the news that her captor played each night before he went to sleep.

She knew she needed some form of contact with her captor. So, some days, she deliberately took her time to shower in the inadequate bath, just so she would be there when her captor returned. Even though he saw her come out of the bathroom, he ignored her. He kept typing something on his laptop while the old man escorted her back to her room.

It was frustrating.

How was she going to seduce her captor’s mind if he barely even spoke to her?

Then it came to her.

If he didn’t talk, then she would be the one speaking.

 

GAURAV LAY ON the bed to catch up on sleep, but his mind was too active to be able to relax.

Some of the transactions he had been trying to retrace were once again found.

Even though the bank had been quick to eliminate the proof from their database, they weren’t able to do so completely.

Gaurav still had a long way to go, but he was glad he was at least a few steps closer to gathering evidence. The bastard was busy searching for his wife frantically to be focusing on anything else.

Gaurav clicked on one of the news links that streamed local news channels. Each night, apart from Vikram providing him with updates, he kept himself informed through the news.

So far, Suraj Bhupati had given several statements requesting whoever had kidnapped his wife to return her safely.

The local news channel that was currently streaming wasn’t discussing anything about the kidnap or the progress. It was apparently a special program about Nina Bhupati’s life.

Gaurav frowned in irritation. He clicked on another link. This channel was featuring the same as well. He tried a couple more channels with the same result.

Why were they talking about his captive’s life as though she was an important national figure?

And most of the information was frivolous. It was about the dresses Nina Bhupati had designed and worn over the past ten years while she accompanied her husband to social occasions. And it was followed by heated discussions about the various hairstyles she had and which ones suited her the best.

Gaurav tolerated the video for fifteen minutes, hoping there would be some information about the latest updates, but the program continued in the same vein.

Disgusted, he closed the link and frowned at the laptop screen.

He heard a feminine scoff “Great,” said Nina Bhupati’s voice. “More than nine years of charity work and several awards for it, a few from even the president of India, but this is what people remember me by? Whether I look better with my hair up or down?”

Gaurav frowned. For a second, he thought he was imagining Nina Bhupati’s voice. Then he realized that the walls were made of wood, and one could hear almost everything the other spoke if they were loud enough.

He didn’t reply, but he grudgingly agreed with her. Very few programs spoke about her charitable work or the awards she received. A few who did, it was mostly as a passing reference.

Gaurav knew Nina Bhupati spent a considerable amount of time on charity. One particular organization started by her was especially well applauded. The organization collected leftover food from functions and parties around some of the cities and towns in India and donated to the homeless and needy.

Although Gaurav knew the organization as such was a genuine one, he felt Nina Bhupati did it to either cover up or compensate for the evils deeds she and her husband participated in. And maybe also for tax reasons. He did do a detailed investigation of their charitable organizations, and so far he wasn’t able to identify any anomalies. That and most of the businesses that the Bhupatis owned exclusively, remained squeaky clean.

“I didn’t realize until now that I’m shallow enough to care what everyone thinks of me when I’m gone,” she said. “And I’m a hell of a lot more than just what I wear or my hairstyle.” There was a chuckle. “Definitely more than my current hairstyle and clothes.”

A bolt of discomfort passed through Gaurav at the reminder. He didn’t like the feeling.

“By the way, just so you know, I’ve had this short choppy hairstyle for most of my life, until I was almost fifteen,” she said. “And it was by choice. And these clothes I’m wearing right now… they are way better than what I could afford or had worn most of my life.”

Apart from the fact that she came from a humble background and got married to a rich man, Gaurav didn’t know anything else about her past. He doubted if anyone else did either. Because one look at her face and body, no one had ever thought of questioning why Suraj Bhupati had married her.

It hadn’t really mattered to him either, but now that he had surfed through the channels discussing about her so much, he was curious to know what exactly his captive’s past consisted of.

An old interview with her mother was aired recently by one of the channels. Nina Bhupati’s mother was very forthcoming about her daughter. She had used the words like ‘selfish’, ‘ambitious’ and ‘ungrateful’ to describe her daughter.

There was a sigh. “Maybe it isn’t the people’s fault,” she said. “After my mother called me ungrateful in her recent interview, probably talking about my dresses and hair was kinder. And just in case you are curious to know why she called me those names, it was because I wouldn’t give in to her demands for money or acknowledge her as family. She isn’t my family. My sisters were the only family I ever had.”

He could hear the creak of the bed as though she was settling in a comfortable position. “Sure, my mother gave birth to me, but I stopped considering that selfish bitch as family from a very long time ago.”

Gaurav was taken aback by the usage of her language. Not just because Nina Bhupati had a public image of a classy, polished society woman, but also because the swear words were directed against her mother. However, he wasn’t naive to think all mothers were selfless and loving like his had been.

Nina Bhupati continued to talk.

“I know we are supposed to love our mother because she is the first person we are connected to, and she is the one who gives us blood and nourishment and protects us while we are inside her stomach. And when we are born, even though the physical cord that joined us is severed, another more important cord is formed. An emotional cord. That’s what matters.”

 Gaurav could hear the wistfulness in her tone when she spoke of the bond between a mother and an unborn child.

“My mother and I had no such emotional cord,” she stated. “She was selfish right from the beginning. Well… sometimes or rather most of the times, I’m selfish like her, too. Genetics, I guess.” There was a self-depreciating laugh. “But God knows how my sisters turned out to be such angels even though they were born from that devil’s womb. In fact, both my sisters looked just like my mother. Ethereally beautiful. But they couldn’t have been more different when it came to their characters. Uma and Devi had the purest of hearts, and their innocence shone through even though we saw hell while growing up.”

Gaurav wanted to ask her to stop talking because he knew she was trying to establish a connection between them. But he wasn’t able to tell her, and neither was he able to tune her out. Something about the tone in which she was speaking, compelled him to listen to her.

“I was seven when our mother abandoned us. My younger sister, Uma, was only five at that time and my older sister, Devi, was nine. My father was already long gone by then. He had left us the night Uma was born. Apparently, he stuck around that long, hoping she’d be born a boy.” There was a soft snort.

“My mother always cursed whenever she referred to him. She hated him for abandoning his family, but she did the same thing with us.

“She accepted a marriage offer from someone who was her ticket out of near-poverty. My sisters and I begged her to take us along, but she didn’t agree. She said she was lucky that she even got such an offer. She said we sucked out most of her youth and her dreams from her.”

There was a pause before she continued. “I suppose, it was partially true, but it wasn’t our fault to be born either.

“Uma didn’t even know that our mother had left. Because right from her birth, it was Devi and sometimes me, who kept taking care of her. When our mother left, she dropped us with an older couple where she used to work. We wondered why they bothered taking us in, even though they had grown children who had left their home.

“We found out that very first night, when we saw the old man trying to slip next to Devi in her bed. The three of us screamed and shouted, and made a loud enough fuss. It had stopped the old man, but it got us thrown out of their house during the middle of the night.

“We didn’t mind. As long as the dirty old man kept away from us, we were good. The neighbors knew what had happened, but they didn’t bother to check on us or help us, because they feared we would end up being their liabilities.

“Somehow, we managed to survive on our own without any help. We thought we were quite smart to be able to do that, which we actually weren’t. We were naive. Because we were just three homeless girls who were living on the streets.”