DUPLICITY
Vidya S Kamalesh
“He’s just left his office.”
“Any breakthroughs?” her voice trembled slightly.
“No, still trailing him. I’ll call you soon. “
I hung up abruptly, noticing his car swinging out of hisoffice campus and off up the road. Thecar turned left at the end of the road, as I hurtled to keep an eye on him froma safe distance, gripping the steering wheel tightly with my sweaty palms. The way ahead was completely jammed withvehicles. His right arm was visible frombehind where I was, resting on the open car window with a lighted cigarette.
The prospect of trailing this successful executive in histhirties, tall, medium complexioned, with broad shoulders, dark hair and astrikingly confident and serious face; was something I’d been contemplatingwith a certain awkwardness.
Big cities, big money. Big people living double lives, perpetually stuck with uncertainties andrisks all around. Games that never amount to more than they’re meant should,however, play themselves out, sooner or later.
The car ahead slowed down, halting at a parking lot beside alarge college campus. Stepping outsmartly, he slammed the door shut and crossed over to the opposite pavement ofthe busy road, looking out casually on either side.
As I grappled with parking my car at some distance, anattractive young lady, fair, slender, with shoulder length hair in a red halterdress came running into his arms cheerfully. Guessing she must have been waiting for him, I crossed the pavementbriskly, watching them walk into the café together.
Taking my place at the cigarette stall in the corner, Isilently watched them catching up animatedly over coffee and snacks. The glass exterior of the café glintedbrightly in the now setting sun. An hourlater, they headed towards the deserted parking lot area, holding each otherclosely as he whispered in her ears andshe giggled. My hand instinctivelyfumbled for my car keys in my left pocket as I camouflaged myself behind someovergrown hedges at a short distance from the neat row of parked cars, leavingthem apparently alone.
Headlights from a passing vehicle interrupted me armed withmy camera, illuminating the place in bright white, while I was unmindfullyclicking their intimate goodbyes.
My heart raced.
Her hands loosened the grip on his shoulders, eyes widenedwith shock. She froze, now aware of my unexpectedand unnecessary presence.
Damn.
Tension erupted like lava, scorching me inside, wiping outevery other feeling. I doubled the gripon my digicam and immediately turned, darting past the bushes hearing herexclaim. With sheer panic throbbing inmy head, I burst out of one lane to another aimlessly, making spontaneousdeviations here and there, till I was completely sure that neither he nor hisfemale accomplice had any possibilities of trailing me. The lady had caught a glimpse of my facebefore I managed to exit. He would have,at the most, seen a figure slipping into the dark shadows of the bushes.
Long time later, I walked back to my car panting heavily,watching the varying length of my dark shadow as I passed by under theilluminated yellow street lamps on the pavement.
I looked up at the night sky; the stars stared back,unblinking, indifferent and unobscured by pasts, ghosts and memories.
No, I wasn’t born for this kind of life.
I desperately longed to get back to my Colt, now lying idlylocked up in my closet, from after my suspension from duty. A bullet too many and getting spotted withsome really bad company became public knowledge; and the vigilance departmentstarted breathing down my neck like vultures after carcass. And here I am, off the force as a private eyeleading the trail of an extra-marital affair, while being simultaneously andironically tangled with my very own internal affairs, waiting to get the casesoff my back.
Grabbing some much needed Jack Daniel’s back home, I turnedover the day’s newspaper and lighted a smoke. A huge photograph of a familiar face filled most of the inner page.
My next case. Anothercorrupt individual.
“Battle for Mayor’s Post Intensifies”
The instructions were clear. Aid a little low risk tragic incident and conveniently frame the rivalfor the job.
Downing the bottle, I looked into all the photographs in mydigicam, while trying to remember every small detail right from the beginningof the investigation of this extra-marital affair after the tip off. The drink was enough to cast all theseunforgiving fragments of bitterness, disappointment and uncertainty, togetherinto a comforting blur.
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling downright miserableabout the nature of my job. Unsettlingquestions buzzed in my mind repeatedly about the serious consequences ofproving this extra-marital affair. Itwas my sole duty as a private investigator though, to keep up the responsibilitiesfrom my side to my client, with the job that she had entrusted me to do, goingto any extent to do it well.
Attempting to console her with that reasoning, I phoned hersoon afterwards, assuring to meet her the next morning.
Still flipping through the photos, I visualized theconfrontation in my head. Short, fairand slightly plump, she was a prominent figure independently running her owncharity trusts and orphanages successfully, and had a very impressive andpleasing personality. Pondering over thesensitivity of the issue at hand, I felt drained, exhausted.
I sighed.
My job was done.
Almost.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drop home?”
“…Vikram…really, I’m fine,” she said, pulling her facetogether. It was an extremely stickymoment. She rushed on,”…my sister mustbe waiting in the car…thanks, for all your help…”
Recognizing my dismissal, I gave her one last glance watchingher turn away while trying to stash the envelope containing the photographs I’dhanded over minutes ago into her leather handbag. Behind her, the ceramic Buddha sat still withstrong incense wafting around leisurely, with his eyes closed, looking serene,at peace and rather paradoxical.
I stepped out of the Chinese restaurant, the honking ofvehicles and hankering of vendors clearly growing louder by decibels. I looked at her car ahead, my eyes stillunfocussed, as I imagined her sister growing restless waiting for her inside.
She was looking down examining her manicured nails. Checking her watch casually, she looked outof the window, our eyes met.
I was then sliding uncontrollably on an expanding avalancheof shock, as sparks of recognition flickered between us.
We stared, frozen, dumbfounded, as reality seemed to closeupon me; and we both realized we didn’t exactly need a formal introduction.
Vidya S Kamalesh
“He’s just left his office.”
“Any breakthroughs?” her voice trembled slightly.
“No, still trailing him. I’ll call you soon. “
I hung up abruptly, noticing his car swinging out of hisoffice campus and off up the road. Thecar turned left at the end of the road, as I hurtled to keep an eye on him froma safe distance, gripping the steering wheel tightly with my sweaty palms. The way ahead was completely jammed withvehicles. His right arm was visible frombehind where I was, resting on the open car window with a lighted cigarette.
The prospect of trailing this successful executive in histhirties, tall, medium complexioned, with broad shoulders, dark hair and astrikingly confident and serious face; was something I’d been contemplatingwith a certain awkwardness.
Big cities, big money. Big people living double lives, perpetually stuck with uncertainties andrisks all around. Games that never amount to more than they’re meant should,however, play themselves out, sooner or later.
The car ahead slowed down, halting at a parking lot beside alarge college campus. Stepping outsmartly, he slammed the door shut and crossed over to the opposite pavement ofthe busy road, looking out casually on either side.
As I grappled with parking my car at some distance, anattractive young lady, fair, slender, with shoulder length hair in a red halterdress came running into his arms cheerfully. Guessing she must have been waiting for him, I crossed the pavementbriskly, watching them walk into the café together.
Taking my place at the cigarette stall in the corner, Isilently watched them catching up animatedly over coffee and snacks. The glass exterior of the café glintedbrightly in the now setting sun. An hourlater, they headed towards the deserted parking lot area, holding each otherclosely as he whispered in her ears andshe giggled. My hand instinctivelyfumbled for my car keys in my left pocket as I camouflaged myself behind someovergrown hedges at a short distance from the neat row of parked cars, leavingthem apparently alone.
Headlights from a passing vehicle interrupted me armed withmy camera, illuminating the place in bright white, while I was unmindfullyclicking their intimate goodbyes.
My heart raced.
Her hands loosened the grip on his shoulders, eyes widenedwith shock. She froze, now aware of my unexpectedand unnecessary presence.
Damn.
Tension erupted like lava, scorching me inside, wiping outevery other feeling. I doubled the gripon my digicam and immediately turned, darting past the bushes hearing herexclaim. With sheer panic throbbing inmy head, I burst out of one lane to another aimlessly, making spontaneousdeviations here and there, till I was completely sure that neither he nor hisfemale accomplice had any possibilities of trailing me. The lady had caught a glimpse of my facebefore I managed to exit. He would have,at the most, seen a figure slipping into the dark shadows of the bushes.
Long time later, I walked back to my car panting heavily,watching the varying length of my dark shadow as I passed by under theilluminated yellow street lamps on the pavement.
I looked up at the night sky; the stars stared back,unblinking, indifferent and unobscured by pasts, ghosts and memories.
No, I wasn’t born for this kind of life.
I desperately longed to get back to my Colt, now lying idlylocked up in my closet, from after my suspension from duty. A bullet too many and getting spotted withsome really bad company became public knowledge; and the vigilance departmentstarted breathing down my neck like vultures after carcass. And here I am, off the force as a private eyeleading the trail of an extra-marital affair, while being simultaneously andironically tangled with my very own internal affairs, waiting to get the casesoff my back.
Grabbing some much needed Jack Daniel’s back home, I turnedover the day’s newspaper and lighted a smoke. A huge photograph of a familiar face filled most of the inner page.
My next case. Anothercorrupt individual.
“Battle for Mayor’s Post Intensifies”
The instructions were clear. Aid a little low risk tragic incident and conveniently frame the rivalfor the job.
Downing the bottle, I looked into all the photographs in mydigicam, while trying to remember every small detail right from the beginningof the investigation of this extra-marital affair after the tip off. The drink was enough to cast all theseunforgiving fragments of bitterness, disappointment and uncertainty, togetherinto a comforting blur.
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling downright miserableabout the nature of my job. Unsettlingquestions buzzed in my mind repeatedly about the serious consequences ofproving this extra-marital affair. Itwas my sole duty as a private investigator though, to keep up the responsibilitiesfrom my side to my client, with the job that she had entrusted me to do, goingto any extent to do it well.
Attempting to console her with that reasoning, I phoned hersoon afterwards, assuring to meet her the next morning.
Still flipping through the photos, I visualized theconfrontation in my head. Short, fairand slightly plump, she was a prominent figure independently running her owncharity trusts and orphanages successfully, and had a very impressive andpleasing personality. Pondering over thesensitivity of the issue at hand, I felt drained, exhausted.
I sighed.
My job was done.
Almost.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drop home?”
“…Vikram…really, I’m fine,” she said, pulling her facetogether. It was an extremely stickymoment. She rushed on,”…my sister mustbe waiting in the car…thanks, for all your help…”
Recognizing my dismissal, I gave her one last glance watchingher turn away while trying to stash the envelope containing the photographs I’dhanded over minutes ago into her leather handbag. Behind her, the ceramic Buddha sat still withstrong incense wafting around leisurely, with his eyes closed, looking serene,at peace and rather paradoxical.
I stepped out of the Chinese restaurant, the honking ofvehicles and hankering of vendors clearly growing louder by decibels. I looked at her car ahead, my eyes stillunfocussed, as I imagined her sister growing restless waiting for her inside.
She was looking down examining her manicured nails. Checking her watch casually, she looked outof the window, our eyes met.
I was then sliding uncontrollably on an expanding avalancheof shock, as sparks of recognition flickered between us.
We stared, frozen, dumbfounded, as reality seemed to closeupon me; and we both realized we didn’t exactly need a formal introduction.
Prologue Script to short film " Fate Plays" by independent film maker Santosh MP Prologue can be viewed at http://www.maniacentertainmentonline.com/downloads.html
