My Friend Kavitha-II

Was that a hallucination or was it faked up completely by Kavitha just to rattle me up? I was completely mystified at the incident and could not understand the enigma of that numbers. Was it a code that has to be scratched to get into the bottom of this? 1101. 1+1+0+1=3, was it that three times she had attempted to suicide but met with success only the third time. Or was it that the numbers contained something digital ingredient in it owing to the fact that Rita was an engineering student and so even her ghost would be quite aware of the technological innovations. 20 + 0 + 22 + 23= 13, Ajay might be her 13th romantic affair, and on losing him she was very depressed which persuaded her to commit suicide. I looked at Kavitha. Her eyes were completely on the numbers and she kept moving around the table, sometimes going close to it and then to the side. Then she bent down on her crotch as if ready to take a leap which resembled a lady Sherlock Holmes on action (as per the narrations of Arthur Conan Doyle). All of a sudden she snapped her neck back. Then she came over to me and in a megalomanical style, she said “Shereen, tomorrow we leave early to our college”.

Madurai, our destination, was 200 kms from kavitha’s locality and due to the long and tiresome journey; we preferred to go by train although she was adamant to use the bus. We started as soon as the first ray of the sun had hit the earth. She never uttered a single word throughout. Occasionally she coughed and then was fully preoccupied in her thoughts. I never asked her intentions or what she had deciphered from yesterday. Often she turned sepulchral. I felt quite relived when the train approached Madurai station for her silence was piercing through my nerves. I had already drained four packets of cigarette. We had hurriedly moved out of the station and picked an auto rickshaw that was parked in front. I was about to say our college name (that was quite enough for it being the most famous university in Madurai) but Kavitha caught hold of my hand.
“Sethuram Lodge”
I was surprised for she had said that in a preposterous manner. For a moment I thought she did not want to go to the college right away and would want to fresh up before she jumps into any of her friends. It was almost four in the evening and the lodge was just a few minutes drive from the station. While she was in her room, I would drop in for a hearty meal as I was feeling very hungry having survived on just cigarettes throughout the day.

Sethuram lodge was located in the centre of the market. There were mobile stalls with flowers and fruits neatly arranged on it. Jack fruits were cut open with flies swarming around it thus infiltrating the premises with a disgusting stench owing to the fact that the jackfruit season had just commenced in Kerala, the aroma of which was pulverising and the most comforting element for the people around. Ladies, with wide variety of resplendent flowers painstakingly arranged on their back, wore thin sari unveiling their blouse and their bare stomach, tightening the sari just below their immensely huge belly button, sat on the street on either side selling flowers and other house hold items, gently pulling up the sari to their thighs, whenever a male customer approaches them. The lodge was centred in between a audio library shop, that played devotional songs solemnising Madurai Meenakshi( the goddess of Madurai) throughout the day, and a vegetarian hotel, that naturally would be the biggest crowd puller in that area owing to the fact that Madurai residents always had a heavy appetite and were enormously food loving. Before the auto rickshaw had come to a halt, Kavitha jumped out of the vehicle and ran into the lodge. I felt perplexed at her actions but my eyes were all fixed on the menu card, written on a stand, placed in front of the hotel. The odour of food stiffened my nerves while I could not resist the force that pulled me to its doorway. All of a sudden Kavitha came running out of the lodge and I saw her huge eyes swaying rapidly.
“Shereen, come over quickly”
I slowly took our luggage and followed her as she ran through the steps. She had the key with her for I could hear the chinking sound while she ran. I did not have to climb much for I lost her when I had just managed to reach the first floor tracing her in front of a room, already placing the key in the key hole and moving it back and forth for she was least concentrating on it as her eyes were fixed on to the crest of the door. With a loud bang, she opened the door and went inside. I came in front of the door, kept the luggage down and looked up inquisitively wondering what was that her eyes were bulging out at. Suddenly, I felt a twinge in my heart as I saw the number written in bold italics on the steel plate. 1101.

For a moment, I grasped why my friend was in such a hurry and why was she concerned throughout the journey. Probably, this was the lodge where they had spent their time for the exams. But all these days gone, what was Rita was trying to confer on her friend Kavitha, regarding something suspicious concerned with the room. Kavitha was staring at the walls as I saw her move her eyes hurriedly as if she was hunting for something that she had kept in the room.
“Shereen, Listen. I know you might have understood that we had stayed here during our exams. On that day, our exams got over (since we belonged to different sections our practicals varied), we had reserved our tickets back home and was about to vacate the room. She said that she was waiting for Ajay and would join me in the station. I waited there in the lounge till morning only to return back and find her lying on the track”.
Tears rolled down from her eyes when she had finished with her words that left her mind pondering for a moment. I did not console her for I knew that tears remained the most soothing practise to ease your tensions (based on the old law of thermodynamics that energy has to be converted from one form to another). When one feels tensed, tears prove to be the best factor to diminish the repercussions of the mounting pressure. Suddenly, she stopped crying and took a deep breath inside, a technique she had always told me to follow so as to pull out from the mongering thoughts, at times when our mind dithers. I moved near to the window and pulled the curtain. The crowd, with the typical evening purchase syndrome, had started pouring in as the market drooled on approaching the final hours for the business transactions of the day. I opened the window. A sudden gush of wind streamed into the room that pushed me back with a sudden force and with great difficulty I pulled the window back that had unbolted widely and most surprisingly without a bang.
“What the hell is this wind and that too on the first floor?”
There was no response from Kavitha. I turned around. She was staring at something she had picked up from the floor. It was a few pieces of broken bangles that had accumulated near her legs. She was staring at it when the silence was ruptured by a knock on the door. As the intensity of knocking intensified, I went and opened the door.
“How can I help you?”
A rough hoarse voice greeted me at the door. An old bearded man, his hair uncombed and falling over to his eyes, with a crooked figure and long hands, small eyes, thick eyebrows stood at the entrance, the very sight of him would spoil a month’s appetite.
“I heard the door bell”
“No thanks, we would let you know and by the way no one rang”
“Not in my all this age, I have missed a waiter’s bell”. He replied with his eyes firmly fixed on Kavitha.
“Ok, It might have been a mistake may be this is your first” I just wanted to wind up the discussion.
“Mistakes in this age surely is a premonition for something evil”
I gave him a warm smile unable to grasp what he had just delivered and closed the door to turn back to Kavitha.
“These belonged to my Rita. She had brought me here to show me this. What does this mean?”
“May be she wanted you to keep those bangles as a reminiscence of her”. I spoke out bluntly.
“No. Rita’s pose in that photo, the broken bangles, she wants the world to know something”. After a brief pause, she brought her face close to mine and said in a very malleable tenor “Rita did not suicide. She was killed and that too my poor dear was strangled to death”.
I was petrified. For a moment my mind became completely blank. Her eyes refused to take leave from my face as her looks intensified my fear. I tried to evade her looks and moved my face to and fro expressing vivid range of emotions at what she had just arrived at. Subsequently, I took both my hands and gripped her on her shoulder.
“Kavitha, if this is what you think, we should immediately go and meet Ajay, for I am confident that he was here on that wretched night”.
“Yes and I want to ask him why did he do that for she loved him very much”.

The last time I heard about Ajay was that he was taken into custody the second time on a written statement from Kavitha’s father (well I later came to know that it was not of political pressure but Kavitha had provided some snaps of Rita and Ajay together). She was convinced that Ajay was cruel to Rita that day as Rita had no plans to suicide. Ajay’s father, a business tycoon, did use his political influence to bring his son out. After amassing all these details, including where Ajay was now confined in (he was in his dad’s guest house in Munnar), we decided to continue our pursuit in Munnar. After a hearty meal (the first food of that day although Kavitha ate very less), we started right away so that we could be there early before the dawdling population makes it into the streets. The mountainous ride, hair pins after every twenty minutes and red sign boards with a wide range of quotes on life and time intentionally displayed to inculcate vigilantness among the drivers but a few of it losing their resplendence with the years and the rest unable to be perused as a result of being a relaxation spot for the birds; the roads crawling through the mountains, the journey being quite bumpy at the curves, with a few locals ascending the bus with all their utensils and food materials maybe to last days in the mountains, it turned out to be a real hectic journey in spite of the striking and sumptuous scenario outside as the sun slowly started creeping out from its den. I sat looking outside at the stretched hills, huge rocks on the side of the road (beneath each hill) resembled gaol birds vying for freedom from the cell in which they remained captured; the mountain goats feeding on the tropical grass obtruding us on their survival skills and their meticulous adaptability to the local flora from their easiness to stride through the steepness of the hills, All had obtained a deluge of their creator on them, an insignia of their existence in this world as Kavitha kept her head on my shoulders; Both of us really unaware of the impending perils we would have to prevail over to unravel the mysteriousness of the polemical pose of Rita in that frame.

Munnar's mesmerising greenery, mountain scenery, calmness and cool refreshing air has always been a hub for the honeymooners and tourists throughout the year. The dawning rays in connivance with the morning breeze emanated a recipe of novelty in us, the fragrance invigorating the substance of mind already infiltrated with impugned, unsubstantial conjectures. The tea estates were a sumptuous feast to one’s eyes as the workers had already gathered to commence their routine work of plucking the tea leaves and dumping in their basket, tied around their waist. The small breeze rejuvenated the creatures around as the humming birds wafted to the rhythm of the breeze while the cats delivered their unremitting cries to rope in their much needed attention and the street dogs lay lazily on the roads with their eyes firmly fixed on the food stalls. All the spectacular scenario around bolstered our morale except a half naked fakir who sat on the pavement near the bus station exposing his hairy crotch, his huge black balls sagging and his thin long penis hanging down loosely spoiling the opulent talisman and the sketching of the true essence of Munnar. I turned around to Kavitha who was quite busy searching for an auto for she had the address written down on a piece of paper which she was unable to memorise owing to her anxiety and nervousness.

The estate which belonged to Ajay was small compared to the immensely huge estates others had over there. The gate was open so our auto drove into the mansion that covered almost two-third of the estate. There were neatly arranged flower pots with different varieties of flowers in it. The area around the mansion was atrophied either due to improperness on behalf of the proprietor or it reflected the sluggishness of the workers there. A kariveetti tree stood on to the left of the mansion on which sat a crow that gave us a reception with its callous shrieks that reminded me of the old folk tale about crows on their capability to notify the house folks at the arrival of some very particular guests. I could see a frustration curtailing Kavitha’s actions else she would have been quickly on her feet and made it onto the doorbell by now. She hindered and looked at me. I could reach her feelings for all this days and years with her, it was quite feasible for me to read her mind. I knew that she had a trouble facing Ajay. She had always told me that both Ajay and Rita were terribly in love and that nothing could come in between them. But Rita’s suicide had devoured her assurances for if Rita had any intentions to suicide, at least she would have dropped a hint on this to Kavitha, which was quite enough for Kavitha to placate her so that she returned back to her normalcy. But things had occurred abruptly even before Kavitha could do something. I knew she had a hesitation to meet Ajay after quite along time. I stepped in and pressed the doorbell, with Kavitha shrugging herself behind my back so as to avoid a direct eye contact with Ajay right at the door.

It transpired just as I expected. Ajay opened the door. He looked sullen and gloomy. He did not smile at us but his nonchalant composure indicated that he was expecting one of us some day. His eyes met Kavitha’s and for a second both were left in their thoughts.
“Kavi, won’t you talk with me?”
“I never expected this situation”
Both of them sunk their heads down and an ephemeral silence spilled out disturbed by the ubiquitous cries from the crow, which sat on the Karveetti tree outside, until I interrupted.
“Can we come inside Ajay or do you wish us to leave?”
Ajay opened the door wide and nodded us to come in. We entered a huge sitting room with divan beds in the centre, fully carpeted, an old grandfather clock on to the left, and a small vestibule with the portrait of a lady at the far right. With a sheer resemblance to Ajay, the lady portrayed could be easily identified as his mom for she had passed away quite a few years back when Ajay was just seven (I knew a lot about Ajay from Kavitha). There were a flight of steps on either side in order to get to the top. (I only could explain where my eyes reached, but a lot still remains to be narrated especially a fountain like object pumping air out probably with the help of a compressor, and leaf like patterns floating in the air due to the force of the pumped compressed air, the entire thing stood on the floor above and right were the steps halted). I was running my eyes around when Ajay interrupted with his nasal voice.
“Janaki, bring some cool drinks here”.
I was expecting a middle aged lady to emerge from inside carrying a tray with the drinks on it. But contrary to my expectation, a young lady appeared. She wore a traditional dress of blanket type cloth tied around her body exposing her bare shoulders. Although dark in complexion, she had a round chubby soft face with small soft eyes, thick black hair, long and pointed nose, plastic earrings and a small traditional sticker(Bhindi) on her forehead thus exhibiting her naturalness with panache. She never looked at us neither Ajay as her eyes were completely fixed on the tray .As she turned back after placing the tray on the stand, I was fascinated by her desi(local) mode of dressing. It was a single piece of cloth first rolled around her bottom and then the piece extended like a typical sari tied around her breasts making her abdomen slightly visible. The cloth although resembled a ruck sack but she was a delight to watch for the dressing ballooned her buttock, protruding it and the curve above it taking a fine bend, exhibiting her feminity quite libidinously. She was quite young probably around 19 or 20. I was quite conspicuous of her presence there for I could sniff signs of melancholy in her looks.

“Kavi” Ajay began after a brief pause making certain that no one’s around,
“Do you believe that I would do that to my Rita?”
Kavitha looked straight into his face with her big eyes bludgeoning at him.
“No Kavi, I cannot do that. Ever since I lost my mom, I always yearned for love in my life. I had started this relationship with intentions unbeknownst to you all. But she had capitulated my masquerade plunging me into a state of contrition at my past life and pulled me out from the pit of dilemmas that would have buried me alive had she not come into my life in time.”
Before he had completed tears streamed from his eyes and he burst out crying like a child, his mind kneeling way down to his emotions. I got up from the seat leaving him behind for self consolation, trying hard to divert my attention to a knick knack sound coming from the window the perpetrator being a crow tapping its beak on the window pane.
“I know you were there in the lodge to meet her” Kavitha continued not heeding to his whimper.” What did you do to her then”.
“Yes, I was there. But I was informed that both of you had vacated the lodge two hours ago and that you were already late for the train”.

“This bloody crow, shoo…”. The bawl came from outside which was followed by a loud banging of the door.
“Get me the gun, I wanna kill this fucking crow”. A young man, almost around the age of Ajay, with a long face and piercing eyes, pursed lips, with cropped hair entered the hall. He was rubbing his fingers on his arm as if sustained to some injuries, when he noticed some new faces in the room.
“Rohit, these are my colleague or rather my juniors Kavitha and Shereen”. Ajay introduced us audaciously.
“Oh my.. another case of astute romancing and escapade”. Rohit blurted out eyeing at us.
I felt shy at what Rohit had just delivered as I profoundly swayed my eyes over to Kavitha. She was looking down neither interested in the conversations nor in the guest who had just dropped in, her concentration completely drawn into her intimate friend’s dilapidated tale.
“No, No” Ajay interrupted. “This is something else, I will tell you and by the way guys, this is my intimate friend Rohit”.
“OK, guys not breaking up the matter. Carry on. I wanna wash my hand. The birds here are quite dangerous especially the crows”. He gave a pat on my shoulder, with his piercing eyes fixed on Kavitha, and went inside.
There was a brief pause for Rohit’s presence had indeed disturbed the privacy, Kavitha had wished for. She got up from her seat and looked straight into Ajay’s eyes, as if her looks pierced directly into his heart, such was the rigidness she vivified in her eyes.
“One last question Ajay”. She fettered from spilling out her emotional grievances.
“Who told you there that we had left quite early and the room was empty?”
Ajay began concentrating hard in order to figure out the person when she continued,
“Was it an old bearded man, with long hands and thick eyebrows, with a bent body shape?”
“Yes you are right. I still remember him, an ugly old man. But how did you know”
Kavitha was reticent. Without even turning back to him walked out of the room. I followed her waving my hand to Ajay as he stood transfixed at the door, quite confused seemingly unable to comprehend the character who was his lover’s most intimate friend. As we walked by, I could hear the obnoxious cries from a crow, and Rohit’s warning on the birds made me turn back and look over and over again, keeping my hand over my head, expecting a sudden attack as I saw Kavitha speeding herself strenuously submerged in her thoughts, slightly bothered on the notification and warning.

{To be continued}

My Friend Kavitha-I

It was my sister’s sheer compulsion that made me ponder on the existence of ghosts for she believed that, with her pernickety illusions, I would be able to pen a horror script that would satisfy her permutations on chillness. I really have no such personnel experiences to share with my readers on such a frivoling topic as I adjudge the notion that the world of today had no legroom for ghosts and vampires, the entire thing nothing more than a fantasy notched up to blemish the beauty of darkness. But I really would like to share with you a horrendous incident during our university period the very thought of which would often slip me into jitters although the entire incident gyrated around my colleague, Kavitha.

Kavitha was unique. She was plump and had a round face, with her big eyes occupying a major share of her face and salacious eyelashes and most notably her straight well nourished long hair, tied and kept stiff in an aristocratic manner. I still remember my first day at the university, while I was engulfed with thoughts of discontinuing there; she came up to me and introduced herself in an audacious but belligerent style, which promulgated a lasting impression of her in me. Ever since she remained one of my close confidantes and her loquacious nature possessed a sense of respite, soothing and comforting, which made her quite popular among the boys. She harboured a diplomatic efficacy for she made acquaintance with everyone in the college, from the university principal to the canteen boy, who used to wait hours near the college gate smartly dressed just for a jiffy with her. Her most intimate friend was Rita, who was completely contradictory with her. Rita was a very silent girl. She was quite tall. Her delicate feminine features, long legs, her tight dressing and thick lips inundated one with illicit emotions as her perpetual movements were a feast to one’s eyes. Many a times, I had spotted her with one of my seniors, palpitating seeds of doubt in me, the affinity when they were together, their laughs and chatters oblivious of the surroundings. I had inquired on this matter to Kavitha, to rationalise the logic of their relationship as I did not muddle the opportunity I got, on the pretext of their relationship, to flirt with her. She was eluding away from my queries. Finally she conceded that they were in love much to my dismay as I had already diverted the questions of romantic allusions at her leaving behind the matter of subject importance.

During the university exams, they used to take a room outside the hostel for their combined study as well as for the computer classes offered by various training centres that was out of college curriculum. Since they were hardworking and outstanding students, no one bothered their stay outside. They vacated the room only after completion of all the papers. I used to be with them during the initial part of the study leave, dropping them in the middle for much broader concentration. Once after the seventh semester holidays, I had come late from my home. Poignant and heartbreaking information welcomed me at the railway station as I experienced a terrible pain in my head.

“Rita suicided. She jumped in front of a train.”
I did not believe them but the manner by which my friends expressed that, I knew that something terrible has occurred. Rita. What happened to her? Why did she do this? Questions started corkscrewing my mind as tears rolled down from my eyes.
“Where is Kavitha”.I enquired suddenly redeeming myself.
“Her parents came and took her away. She was the first to see her body lying transfigured in the railway track. She had fainted then and there and was rushed to the hospital.”
She was the only person who knew Rita personally. She might be even aware of the persuasion behind this suicide. Suddenly, the scene of Rita with my senior flashed through my mind. Instantaneously and fully rejuvenated, I enquired
“Where is Ajay”
“Ajay is missing.”

I tried to reach Kavitha but had a negative response from her mom, every time I rang up to her house. There was a sequence of events that followed the horrendous episode. Ajay was arrested a few days later and police interrogated him. He was released and the police pin pointed his fear the obvious reason behind his going into hiding at the death of Rita. Since I have seen them together on quite a few occasions, I knew there was something incongruous and suspicious. Kavitha’s father complained to the local police about their affair and later with a political backing pressurised the police to take ajay into custody. One day I was surprised to find a familiar number in my mobile. I picked it up instantly and in the most unpretentious approach and with a placating tone, I addressed the person at the other end.
“Kavitha, how are you? May I know when you are coming back for your attendance is already lagging.”
“I would like to see you personally. So please come over to my house.”
She kept the phone.
Words, sometimes petite and sturdy, hold a lot of spiralling feelings in it be it be obnoxious retorting or pedantic soothing. I knew from her voice that she had something to talk to me very seriously about. I decided to start right away.

It was almost five in the evening when I reached her house. Her house was located a few yards away from the main road but owing to its height, it was noticeable from a distance. The sun looked all set for its hibernation as it sprayed the red crayon in the sky signalling the end of an arduous day task. The winds slowly kissed the palm leaves that surrounded the house, thus symbolising a carribean style of reception delivered probably on my arrival. The gate was partly open. I went inside and knocked the door. A short, stout lady opened the door. From her resemblance to Kavitha, I knew that she was her mom. She looked worn out as if she had not slept the previous days. She did not smile neither the usual curious look sprouted on her face when a young stranger drops in to her house at this part of the day.
“Kavitha..”
“Yes, I am here”

The house was quite big. The entrance led to a big hall with a neatly arranged parapet cushioned sofa sets. Behind the sofa was the stairs that led to the upper portion of the house. I heard kavitha’s voice from the top of the stairs for only the bottom portion was visible from the entrance. She came down on the spur of the moment. She seemed suddenly to become so sophisticated.
“Mom, this is my friend Shereen. He will be with us tonight.”
With that she caught hold of my hand and dashed to her room along the stairs. She released my hand only when we had entered her room, closing the door behind us. Her room was quite small compared to the enormity of the house. There was a bed in the middle of the room and a wooden almirah (three of them together, Oh my god she really kept a huge collection with her) on to the left of her bed. To the right was a dressing table arranged tidily. On the table stood a photo which I think was the contentious issue perpetuating in her. She was in a dexterous laughing position and her hands on the shoulders of her most intimate friend Rita. There was something peculiar rather appalling in the way Rita posed for the photo. She was not smiling but postured a terrified look, her eyes bulging out, filled with terror and her lips tightened, a pose seemingly possible during a physical encounter or strangling. I really wondered what could have been her mood when such a boffin was taken. I felt scared seeing her in that appalling pose and I tried to evade my eyes from it to face kavitha.
“Shereen, What do you think about that photo?”
I looked at her inquisitively and baffled.
“It looks as if someone’s strangling her.”
“Yes, do you think that this photo was clicked with Rita pertaining that pose”
“Then”
“When this photo was taken, we both were hugging each other and were in high spirits owing to the fact that she and ajay decided to get engaged. Two days back, she had changed and retained that frightening pose. At times, I see tears dripping down from her eyes and occasional sobs at night.”
Words dried up in my mouth. A strange dreadfulness envisaged me as I tried not to even glance at that photo.
“You are joking”
“Do you think so? I would call up a person all this way just to share a joke?”

I was told to rest in the room adjacent to her. Her parents seemed very confident about her for they never had even a drop of suspicion in their looks. I kept my bag on the bed but I was worried for it sounded really mystical, the expression of Rita coz it was quite impossible, even for an artist of magnanimous calibre, to pose in front of the camera in such a dreadful manner. Kavitha had asked me to fresh up for the dinner and be alert for she would require my help sometimes way in the middle of the night. Two days back all of a sudden Rita started showing signs of smother, as if someone strangling her followed by her sobs. How could this be possible? I decided to flip through the sequence of events that followed her death. Maybe this might be Kavitha’s hallucination but for a girl of her character, adamant and full of guts, such imbecilic thoughts would rarely spring up. If kavitha was being truthful what had occurred two days back for that transformation of Rita’s expression. The only thing that was sonorous with this incident had been the arrest of Ajay, Rita’s long time boyfriend. What could be the reason? The long and lethargic journey had capitulated me for I found my eyes unable to resist the mounting drowsiness thereby pulling me into a deep slumber.

It was in the middle of the night that I heard a knock outside and I woke up to find Kavitha standing at the entrance, her hair falling down loosely on her shoulders and a few of them sliding down her forehead. (I forgot to switch off the light in the room, not that I was scared but the place was quite new for me)
“Shereen, can you come over to my room”
As she left, I could hear the thumping of my heart for a sense of fear had gripped me that resisted me from jumping out of the bed swiftly. Slowly, without the slightest commotion I went over to her room and closed the door behind. It was pitch dark inside. Her previous narrations, scuttling in me and the chilling silence disturbed by her frequent panting, made my hair stand on the end.
“Kavitha. Iam here”
(I was expecting a lady dressed up in a white sari with a disfigured face and long pointed down teeth, to appear all of a sudden from nowhere and her eerie shrieks would then reverberate in the air)
Kavitha switched on the light. She was in her gown. She was sweating. For a moment I could not really take my eyes of her for she resembled a damsel with her glowing skin, her gown sticking to her body thus evincing her fat but well shaped breasts and her protuberantial nipples. She was not wearing anything inside. Drops of sweat was trickling down through her forehead and making ingress into her parted lips for they were wide open in astonishment. Her cleavage was quite visible for she had left the top buttons open, the hastiness due to the dreadful situation her mind was entangled in. She was breathing quite hastily but was not creating a commotion, the to and fro motion of her chest, and every time she gasps out she kept a hand on her breast.
“See what is written beneath the photo”
I suddenly regained the situation to turn over and face the mysterious photo frame. Rita was in that same appalling pose but the part of the frame below her photo was completely wet as if water was sprayed on that area. And most surprisingly and to my disbelief, below the frame the water drops had collected to form a cluster of numbers 1, 1, 0 and 1.

{To Be Continued}