Authors: Bhaskar Chattopadhyay
Patang (29 page)
‘A reflection!’ Aditya said. ‘You had seen one kite at first and
then discovered that there were, in fact, two. Tony meant for you to see both the kites and realize that one was just a reflection of the other.’
A pool of blood from Ananya’s lifeless body had gathered on the floor between Rathod and Aditya. Rathod looked at the reflection of Aditya’s face in it and smiled sadly. ‘Perhaps I didn’t want to see.’
‘Seems that way,’ Aditya smiled too.
Rathod caressed Ananya’s head fondly.
‘So,’ Aditya asked. ‘What are you planning to do now?’
Rathod sighed. ‘There’s just one more thing that I need to do.’ He whipped out his cell phone and placed a call.
‘You’re not going to believe this, Wagle,’ he intoned without any greeting. ‘But I’ve finally caught the Patang Killer.’
Aditya looked at him admiringly as he gave Wagle the directions to Ananya’s apartment. Then Rathod calmly added, ‘No, Wagle, I’ll be right here. I don’t have anywhere else to go.’ He hung up and placed the phone beside him on the floor and continued to caress Ananya’s head.
Aditya smiled at Rathod and said in a soft, respectful voice, ‘Congratulations, sir!’
‘For what?’
‘For solving the greatest crime of your life.’
Rathod smiled. His headache was gone and his chest felt surprisingly light. The two men sat side by side, as the first rays of the sun crept in through the window and announced the arrival of another day. Two men indeed. One, a creation of the other. The other, a reflection of the self. A master-criminal and a super-sleuth!
Exhausted and drained of all strength, Rathod’s eyelids began to close in on themselves, and as they did Rathod looked into
the pool of blood for one last time. As his own eerily calm and appreciative face smiled back at him, Rathod experienced a moment of placid serenity he had never felt before. After several months, he knew, he would finally be able to sleep in peace.
The thing about writing a novel is that during the project, you tend to inhabit the world you are writing about. And when you’re writing a novel like
Patang
, the world you immerse yourself in is a decidedly dark one. You live and breathe in this ominous world that your characters come from, and I, for one, had a tough time living in it, perhaps because it was so alien to me. On at least three occasions, I had serious self-doubt about returning to normalcy. When my characters were frustrated, I was frustrated. When they were scared, I was scared too – so much so that it began to affect my behaviour and my health. It was during these dark moments, these moments of near-insanity, that my wife Sweta stood by me, giving me my space, taking care of my unjustified whims and demands, pulling me out of depression.
Patang
would not have been possible without her support. My sons, Ishaan and Emon, who perhaps had realized, in their own ways, that Dad was away – I thank you both. I promise to make it up to you, and to keep you as far away as possible from the grim world I’ve painted in this book.
While writing
Patang
, I remember there was this long patch when my characters had stopped talking to me, and I didn’t know what to do next. I used to sit in front of my laptop and stare at a white screen. Then, one day, I called up my good friend Abhishek Majumdar – himself a celebrated theatre personality and an extremely busy individual – and told him that I was
feeling hopeless and lost. ‘What the hell,’ he said. ‘Wait, I’ll come over, we’ll have paan!’ He did come over, and took me out of my shell and around the city, engaging me in several stimulating discussions on theatre, cinema, literature and egg rolls. It wouldn’t be right on my part to thank him or express my gratitude, simply because I know the bugger wouldn’t like that one bit, but I do want to say that his friendship means a lot to me.
A big thanks to my friend Kanishka Gupta from Writer’s Side Literary Agency, who saw potential in the novel and pitched it to the right set of people. Kanishka has helped me in ways that are known only to me. Right from giving me my first break to gently guiding me in an industry that was totally new to me, he has always been a true friend. Also, a note of thanks to Prashant Raj. When Prashant came to me and asked me to write a story for a film, I said I would do it, but I had no clue how to begin. Until then, I had only worked on translations, and although the seed of a whodunit had begun to germinate in my head I had not made the conscious decision of turning it into a novel. It was he who suggested an idea to me. This book is based on Prashant Raj’s original idea and is soon to be made into a film.
For helping me shape this book into what it is, I would like to thank my editors, Amish Raj Mulmi and Prerna Vohra, at Hachette India. It would not be an exaggeration to say that both Amish and Prerna believed in
Patang
more than I did, and without their suggestions, feedback and contributions
Patang
would not have been the story it is today. I say this from the bottom of my heart – the single biggest benefit I have received from this project is their friendship, and it has been one hell of a ride editing the book with them. A note of thanks to Maithili
Doshi Aphale for the beautiful cover design. Also, my deepest gratitude to Mr Sriram Raghavan for reading the novel and sharing his feedback on it. Thanks to Arijit Biswas and Arun Fulara for their valuable help and support.
Finally, I would like to thank my Maa, who took on the responsibility of reminding me that, novel be damned, I still had to have my meals on time.
Bhaskar Chattopadhyay
is an author and translator. He has written and edited a bestselling anthology of short stories,
14: Stories That Inspired Satyajit Ray
, and translated Bengali writers like Rabindranath Tagore, Rajshekhar Basu,Tarashankar Bandyopadhyay, Premendra Mitra, Upendrakishore Ray Chowdhury, Prabhat Kumar Mukhopadhyay, Hasan Azizul Haque, Narendra Nath Mitra, among others.
Patang
is his debut novel.
Bhaskar lives in Bengaluru with his wife, Sweta, and sons Ishaan and Emon.
Patang
‘I HATE THE RAIN…I HATE IT, HATE IT, HATE IT. BUT THE RAIN CAN’T STOP ME. NO ONE CAN…I’LL GO OUT AND PLAY TONIGHT…I WILL KILL ONLY FOUR. NO MORE, NO LESS. JUST FOUR.’
In the midst of one of the worst monsoons in Mumbai, a man is found brutally murdered, his body posed like a kite on the tallest cell tower in the city. As one corpse after another turns up in the unlikeliest of places, each gruesomely killed and carefully arranged in a grotesque manner, the Mumbai Police realize they have more on their hands than they can deal with. Enter Chandrakant Rathod, a maverick investigator the police turn to in times of need, who plays by his own rules and lives for the thrill of the chase.
Pitting his sharp instincts against the machinations of the sadistic, ruthless killer, the detective succeeds in nabbing the psychopath and putting him behind bars.
Then, three months later, the killings begin again.
A deadly game is afoot – one that will challenge Rathod to the utmost, for it is a game that he cannot hope to win…
