The Delhi Deception (12 page)

Oh no, he’s here to subdue us again,
Carla thought, her heart beating faster. Her throat felt tight, making her swallow hard, forcing the hot, humid air through the narrowed passage. Carla was led to a bench, where her hair was brushed into a damp, oily braid. The attendant removed the excess oil from her skin with a muslin cloth and proceeded to dress her like the others. A pale turquoise, sheer silk sari with a small paisley pattern embroidered in silver along the border was chosen for her. Carla was so engrossed by the eunuch’s every move that she was quite unaware of how beguiling she might look in the folds of the sari.

The trendy woman in the jeans fussed around Carla, pointing to her freckles in dismay and saying in English that she did not have the right shade of foundation to cover those spots. Suddenly, quite irritated at the triviality of her freckles causing so much dismay, Carla said curtly, “Use the blush; it should cover my freckles just fine.”

The makeup artist was taken aback by the outburst and quickly applied kohl and mascara to Carla’s eyes, brushing a pink powder over her cheeks and nose. She used a light pink lipstick, leaned back to examine Carla from a slight distance, and then, murmuring approval, asked Carla to move to the end of the room to join the other girls.

Carla couldn’t help but recognize how lovely Nazeema looked as she moved toward Carla and took her hand in hers, small, warm, and comforting. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Just then a ruckus erupted at the other end of the room. The eunuch had patiently started the dreaded administering of the drug once again.
I will not be able to prevent it this time.
Carla felt defeated. She sat down on the hard stone bench, and holding her hands together in a childlike pose, she prayed.

She opened her eyes as the wide sleeve of the eunuch’s kameez brushed her face. He looked at her dispassionately and reached out for her left arm. He studied it for a moment, and then tied the rubber belt firmly above her elbow; the rubber pinched the soft skin of her upper arm.

Carla tried to make eye contact—maybe she could assure him of her cooperation—but he was looking intently at the syringe filled with the yellow, toxic liquid, tapping it gently, expelling air bubbles. Carla’s fingers started tingling, and she closed her eyes. She felt the sting of the needle on her arm, and a warm sensation flooded through her veins. She could almost track the rush of the drug through her body. Her heart beat violently in her chest. Looking down at her lifeless, heavy limbs, she became confused. And then, suddenly, the heroin-laden blood rushed to her brain.

The sari unwrapped around her body and was transformed into large gossamer wings. Delicate yet strong, they lifted her into the bright blue sky. It felt wonderful to soar so high. But now the light was becoming uncomfortably bright and hot, stinging her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. She dipped her head and found herself flying lower. The sky was darker now—the birds flying with her were laughing and pointing at her. Beaklike noses prevented her from identifying the flying bird-human creatures.

The sky was blue and purple like an angry bruise. Suddenly the wings disintegrated, and the sari wrapped itself around Carla. She tried to lift her arms, wanting to flap like a bird, but they were too heavy. Someone had tied a rope around her hands and feet, and they were pulling her down—it was dark and cold, and she was thirsty; maybe she could drink from the large, black lake…

Although not fully conscious, Carla sensed someone pushing or maybe carrying her. Just trying to grasp what was happening was exhausting, and she drifted off again. She barely touched the ground, yet she was unable to lift herself off the ground.

The sound of loud music brought her out of her stupor. She had to shade her eyes from the bright, blinding light. A man was talking loudly next to her, his voice echoing hollowly in her ears. She tried to understand what he was saying; he wasn’t speaking English.

Some movement beyond the pool of light caught her attention. Feeling strangely alert, she squinted through the gloom and saw men standing in groups or alone. Some were talking animatedly; others were drinking, with seeming disinterest in what was happening. A vague recollection was tugging at Carla’s consciousness.
I know what they’re doing; I’ve seen it before.
Carla desperately tried to stay alert, but the powerful drug kept dragging her down into the fog, the nightmare.
I’m so tired; if only I could lie down for a moment.

She closed her eyes and started swaying. Her brain was spinning around and around to the cacophony of loud music. She could feel the dampness of the evening grass of childhood between her toes. They played their spinning game, falling down, laughing; last kid standing was the winner.

The droning voice suddenly made sense as she opened her eyes again. She looked at his mouth with its full lips and perfect white teeth; the mouth was moving fast, the tip of the velvety pink tongue licking the dryness from the lips, like a snake tasting the air.

“I have ten lacs, ten lacs for this beautiful, intelligent, mature woman. A sure prize—any more bids, gentlemen? Yes, we have eleven lacs, eleven lacs.

“Any more bids, gentlemen? Yes, we have eleven lacs, eleven lacs.”

Oh my God, I’m being sold
. The dawning realization shook Carla out of her drugged haze.

The bidding was heating up between two men. One looked Middle Eastern; he wore a dark Western suit and had a slight build. The other was tall, wearing traditional Afghani clothes. He was standing in the shadows, casually raising his hand to counter bid on Carla.

Her heart was beating impossibly fast, yet she managed to stay focused, watching the bidding with morbid curiosity. A young boy was carrying a lamp past the Afghan, and as his face lit for a moment, Carla recognized the unusual light gray of his eyes.
I know him from somewhere…
With desperation she tried to recall where she knew him from, but the heroin impeded all lucid thought. Then, again, she sank into oblivion, deeper into the vortex of her incubus.

The auctioneer nodded as the bidding ended, and Carla was carried out to an adjoining room where she was dressed in a large black burqa that covered her body and most of her face. A pair of cheap imitation Dior sunglasses were placed over her eyes. Two men carried her to the waiting jeep and lay her down on the back seat.

Carla felt hot and thirsty as she regained consciousness, but her moaning went unheard as the jeep’s engine roared into life and, with a jolt, pulled away.

Lying on the back seat of the jeep, Carla listened intently to the sounds. Again she tried to gauge her whereabouts. A dull headache threatened her concentration, but she was determined, and to her surprise, she found herself reliving an unmistakable street scenario: the sound of vehicles; hooting; the loud cries of pedestrians; sidewalk traders. The jeep was moving slowly through the traffic. The men in the front seats were silent, except for the occasional expletive uttered in Hindi by the driver.

We must be leaving Old Delhi,
Carla thought, as the jeep started traveling faster and the roads seemed less congested.
What if we are heading for the airport? Oh God, what am I going to do?
She began to panic.
I must stay calm
. Her only hope was to think and behave rationally.

The situation worsened with the jeep accelerating, making Carla nauseous, bitter gall welling up in the back of her throat.

Then, the jeep suddenly stopped. The driver and passenger got out, and as Carla tried to sit up, her door was opened and strong arms lifted her out of the car and bundled her into the back of another car. She tried to stay upright, but someone got in beside her and pushed her down on the seat. She had no strength in her body, and with a sigh she surrendered wearily. Closing her eyes, she drifted into a shadowy state of sleep and wakefulness. The sounds from outside mingled with her dreams. She was confused, unable to discern reality.

She laughed as Andrew insisted on carrying her over the threshold of their front door after their weeklong honeymoon on the idyllic islands of the Seychelles.

“You’ll break your back—I’m at least four kilos heavier from all those pina coladas on the beach!”

Andrew smiled as his face turned red with the effort of lifting Carla. “What are you talking about? You’re as light as a feather!”

He stumbled over the mail on the floor at the entrance, and the two of them fell down clumsily, laughing and moaning as they crashed to the wooden floor.

“Wow! What a smashing start to our marriage,” Andrew said, laughter lines accentuated by his glorious tropical suntan.

Carla remained motionless on her back, too winded to move. Andrew leaned over her; he stopped smiling, and his eyes were filled with concern. “Are you OK? Carla, can you hear me?”

Mustering a smile, she gasped: “I’ll be OK, Andrew, stop fussing!
”

“No, Carla, it’s me, George. Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened? Come. Sit up. Drink something.” George lifted Carla and gave her some water from a plastic bottle. It tasted strange and made her gag. “It’s OK. I’ve added some electrolytes and paracetamol. Drink as much as you can. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

After a few sips, Carla sank back into George’s arms.

“I don’t understand. How did you find me?” Carla asked.

“We’ll discuss that later, but right now you must try and sleep. But you’re going to feel very unwell for the next twenty-four hours.” He stroked her face gently and continued, “I won’t leave you. You have nothing to worry about now. You’re going to be safe. OK?”

She nodded, the effort sapping her of every bit of energy. Watching the ceiling fan spinning hypnotically, round and round, Carla closed her eyes and fell asleep.

“Sunil, is the room ready?” George called out.

His bearer hurried to his side and said, “Anjee, Sahib. I can help you with the madam?”

“No, thanks, it’s fine. I can manage.”

The slightly built Sunil moved nimbly, quite youthfully despite the round potbelly that betrayed his age. He led the way as George lifted Carla effortlessly and carried her through to a bedroom, where he lay her down on a large bed. On the bedside table were a pile of clean white towels and a bowl of water. An empty bucket was on the floor next to the bed.

When Sunil left the room, George undressed Carla, throwing the clothes on the floor. Wetting a towel, he wiped her down, and then he covered her with a white cotton quilt embroidered with a tree-of-life motif. He carefully brushed a few strands of hair off her face and, with a sigh, sank into a large rattan armchair next to the bed. He looked at her face relaxed in sleep, but her skin was pale, the freckles over the bridge of her nose pronounced, making her look very young. He felt a pang of regret and held her clammy hand in his.

He let go of her hand as Sunil knocked softly on the door and entered carrying a tray with a cup of tea and a small plate of biscuits. “Thank you, Sunil. You can go to bed. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Good night, Sahib.”

Taking a sip of his tea, George quickly called Sunil back. “Don’t mention tonight to anyone, especially that gossiper Saroj. You understand?”

“Of course, Sahib.” Sunil mimicked locking up his mouth and tossing the key away with an exaggerated cricket-bowling move. George smiled, despite himself.

Throughout the night George watched Carla as she broke out in cold sweats, running high fevers and vomiting. He was worn out, but resisted sleep. Finally, as Carla was resting peacefully and only when the first rays of the dawn broke through the blinds, George surrendered to sleep.

The incessant chirping of the mynahs nettled Carla. Her nerves were frayed. Her head pounded terribly. She tried standing, but her legs buckled, and she felt herself falling.

“I’ve got you. You’re still weak. If you’re in a hurry to go somewhere, just ask, OK?” George smiled a little roguishly and said, “Plus, you’re stark naked!”

Carla grabbed the sheet from the bed and covered herself hurriedly. George handed her an oxford blue men’s shirt, which she put on very quickly, her eyes on George, confused and accusing.