Chapter 1 : The Boon : Kushbu to Kritika

Where will one find Khusbu ? Or Kritika ? Or Kamalika ? Or Rani Kajol Singh ? Most of the times it was just a case of her putting in an appearance and one would see her at DLF Emporio trying out a Christian Dior Slingback pump in a skimpy skirt with hair pinned up or in a floral salwar styling in an Qutub arch, against the olive-ashen light of Delhi. One did maintain a chronicle of this lady, right from the moment a Calotes Versicolour, one of her grand pa’s pet slid into her pink frock and she panicked wildly to get scattered all over into multiple forms. The poor lizard got utterly confused and died of a heart attack after failing to figure out which girl did it climb to, amongst so many identical ones. The lizard gave Khusbu the power of ubiquity in India, just like Marcel Ayme gave it to Sabine in France in 1960s.

It was poush ( Winter wanning )  in Santiniketan and the teenage Khusbus were dancing to the tune of “ Poush Elo.” The air was smelling of Nabanna ( new rice). She grew to be a woman of immense beauty of licentious libido.

Khusbu, now 26 years, a beautiful and intelligent lady, was married to Mahesh Sahni, a white collared consultant at EWC, a Big 4 firm and stayed in a chic three bedroom apartment at Park Place, Golf Course Road in Gurgaon. They were married for two years now and Khusbu was tired of not being tired. The almost identical life of everyday did not create any bigarrure . Mahesh was enslaved by the daily grind in creating Digital Transformation Strategy for his clients on his laptop, oblivious of the aromatic qualities of his wife. Khusbu watched Netflix, Amazon and then yawned at the design being made on the ceiling by the flies. It was love at first sight for Mahesh at a wedding of a distant cousin in Kolkata, followed by mobile calls and finally her consent to enjoy a life of ease at Gurgaon.

 As one said before, Khusbu could, at will, multiply herself and exist simultaneously, in both body and mind, in as many places as she pleased. Since she was married and this rare gift would only have marred her security, she had been careful not to reveal to Mahesh and hardly used it except at home, and only when she was alone. In the morning, for example, when she was doing her make-up before going to buy the daily mundane at the DLF Galleria market, she would double or triple herself in order to inspect her face and body in various attitudes, makeups and from multiple angles. Khusbu had studied to be a cosmetologist at Santiniketan.

Only once , coming home unexpectedly, had Mahesh found himself in the presence of two strictly identical wives, right down to their expressions, except for two different shades of lipstick, all looking back at him with their four dark and clear eyes, at which he was struck ashen, his jaw gaping. Khusbu came together straight away and he thought he was hallucinating. His company’s doctor conducted various tests, identified it as an disorder in his pituitary glands and prescribed some expensive remedies.

Khusbu had a fire burning in her, that was so fierce she could not put it out. It was not sex alone : that was only a part of it. It was a rage to live on the edge of life. Before marriage she flirted outrageously and had affairs indiscriminately, though Santiniketan was a small city. She gloated over the pleading looks of the boys and men who wanted to take her to bed and make love to her. She did not need them, they needed her. For her, they were litterfall. Sometimes in the lush green garden of the campus, she should pick up a fallen leaf. She spoke to it for a while, move it along the palm of her hand, stroked it and finally she took off the leafy part and left the veins exposed, a delicate green ghost reflected against her skin. She never felt the need to be on social media.

It was at an office party hosted by Nita, one of the senior partner of EWC, that Khusbu met Kamal. Kamal was six feet one, perfectly shaped with an aquiline nose, deep set eyes and a toned body. When he smiled , he revealed white , even teeth without exposing his gum. He smiled as Nita introduced him as one of the scion’s of the Thapar family. Khusbu realised she was searching for this symbol, he was an emblem to go out at night with nothing in mind, to blow to his face her hot breath while kissing him. Khusbu multiplied herself to Kritika in the washroom, put on a dark crimson lipstick and a matte blue eye shadow, as Khusbu with the silky red lipstick had to go home with Mahesh after the party.  Kritika came out and smiled sweetly at the hunk, nursing a drink.

She stood there, before him, giving him all the time necessary to take the initiative. “ My God, you are the most beautiful thing I ever saw,” he finally remarked in a deep and raspy voice.

“ I was thinking the same about you, “ Kritika replied without batting an eyelid. She now felt the power of making a bridge collapse by walking on it.

“ Let me introduce myself. I belong to the Thapar family which is a client of EWC. Though am not in the business. Am an artist actually.”

“ Interesting. Are you married ?” Krtika did not waste the opportunity to be lost in indulging in femininity.

He grinned with a dog like love, “ Are you always so direct ?”

“ No. But with you it seemed I at last got the lump of sugar I had dropped long back and which had drifted off to a hidden corner of the floor not obeying obvious geometric principles.”

“ Hey, are you a writer ? Well, I’m single.”

The answer gave her an unexpected feeling of pleasure. Just looking at him made Kritika want to possess him, to be possessed. She wanted to ritualise the play to push the envelope of ubiquity. They exchanged phone numbers that night. Khusbu always had a spare one and reminded herself to get some more spare sims and mobiles.

A few days after, as Mahesh was trying to figure the puzzle of Bermuda Triangle of an ERP project,  he was surprised by the expression on Khusbu’s face. She was watching a Netflix web series , sitting on the sofa. Her wide open eyes were shining with a soft light, her lips smiling, her face glowing with ineffable joy.

At the same moment Kamal in his studio in Vatika towers on Sohna Road was clasping the young woman and drew him to her. His kiss made something explode inside her. His lips pressed hard against hers, and she felt his tongue delving into her mouth.

In a moment he undressed and stood naked before her, hard and erect.

“ Quick, make love to me,” Kritika said, her body on fire. She didn’t love him, so she wanted to make love with an objective and critical virtuosity.

“ Turn over on your ass. Show your backside ,” he sneered. He smelled of a deranged fetish.

She stared at him. She could feel the fear creep into her.

Kamal hit her on her face and commanded, “ Turn over.” He was in a frenzy. His gaze did not evoke any curiosity about her body. He was like a mythical matador for whom killing is returning the bull to the sea and the sea to the heavens.

“ No.”

The thrashing continued till Kritika shouted, “ Stop it. I’ll scream.” It was shadows all around her, stifling.

He thumped his fist at the back of her cervix to make her turn. Then there was an unanticipated, excruciating pain as she felt a thick tube was being inserted inside her rectum. He wore her out with skin and hair and drool and moans, he drained her completely of her magnificent strength.

At Park Place, Khusbu lost consciousness and Mahesh panicked to fetch a glass of water and sprinkle over her face, contorted in pain. He called the doctor, got some tranquilizers and Khusbu went off to sleep in a stupor. Later when Mahesh slept, Khusbu was contemplating this mental belch and the painful bit of stupidity she had got herself into.

Kamal was already dressed when Kritika regained consciousness, “ How do you feel, honey ?”

“ You bastard. You are an animal.” Her voice was a ragged mutter.

He laughed heartily, “I was soft with you. I love you.” His comment was worthless, but Kritika wanted to regain her common sense, for the only understanding she had to had was how to destroy him.

If she had a weapon at that moment she would have killed him. “You’re insane ! You don’t know social decency. ” She got dressed and reunited with her character at Park Place.

Kritika called Kamal for a false truce, while Khusbu went around to demystify Kamal. Anu, a socialite fed her with lots of information over a sumptuous lunch and gave her a few leads to follow on. Kamal was only filth and misery, smelled of glasses of stale beer from every angle that Khusbu probed. His family is too rich for words but he is estranged due to his ravaging misconduct and scrapes with women and boys. He was accused of murder twice but let off due to lack of evidence. He came to Gurgaon and lives off his looks. His father gives him an allowance but does not let him enter any of the family properties. He was invited to the EWC party on a recommendation of an influential business lady from Chennai, whose sleeping partner he was, whenever she came to town.

After cautiously examining the case from all angles, Kritika called Kamal and invited him over an lunch. He arrived thirty minutes late, and Kritika realised it was a pattern with him. It was not a deliberate rudeness; it was an indifference. He was the exalted, the chose one. When he sat down Kritika said, “ I have something to tell you. It’s a business proposition.”

There was a puzzled expression on his face.” You called me here to discuss business ?” He looked at her with a forlorn expression.

“ Yes, I don’t know how much you are conning aging women and men into buying you clothes and shoes. Maybe time and again you flick some jewellery from them which keeps you going, but I’m sure its not enough. ”

His face went dark with anger, “ Are you crazy ? My family..”

“ Your family is rich. You are not. Your art doesn’t sell as you hardly toil. We are in the same leaky boat. But I know how to turn it into a cruiser.” She watched him as he ate the appetizers and curiosity got the better of his anger. He stared at her and she returned his gaze, their eyes got larger and larger , they merged into one and then the heavy aromatic restaurant air settled on them to bring on them a silence as they finished their food.

“ You’d better tell me what you have in mind.”

“ Its quite simple. Because I married out of caste, I have been disinherited out of my family fortune. Both my parents have died and the fortune is controlled by my grandfather. Now my twin sister, Kriti has it all, she is the nominee. Grandfather is 90 years old.”

“ What does it have to do with me ?”

“ If you marry Kriti, that fortune will be yours – ours.”

“ Sorry. I could never stand the idea of being tied down .” He said it in a manner, which she had anticipated, a bit compromised.

“ My sister has always been accident prone. She is just recovering from a fracture after crashing into a wall with her scooty. Think over it. Tonight you will have sex with me and we will do it my way.” She wanted to engage him in the dialectic of magnet and iron filings, attack and defence. A picture was forming in her mind and it was important to build a scenario of precarious happiness.

The pendulum changed direction that night and they were in bed, heroically naked . He was the most magnificent thing Kritika had ever seen. She nibbled at his body, slowly moving down towards his groin with tiny, teasing bites that made his penis grow stiff and hard.

At Park Place, Khusbu entered the bedroom naked and mounted on Mahesh, startling him. After failing to get him erect, Khusbu went to her closet to bring out her vibrator and enclosed herself in her bathroom.

Kamal magnified her to a constellation, he threw her against a pillow and sheet and left her crying with happiness. But he never ejaculated while multiple orgasms thronged her body and made her tremble through the entire period like a moon over water. She was trying to hold the time by scratching the bedsheet with her nails.

 Kritika thought time and again of leaving Kamal later that night  and reunite with her married character, but at midnight she was still with him and all that remained of her scruples were regrets. She tried hard to unlearn being an inspector of normative values. The following day, she only returned to herself at one in the morning and on the days that followed, later still. Each evening, Mahesh was able to admire on his wife’s face the same reflection of a joy so beautiful that it seemed quite unearthly. Tongue, tickle, ethics; our narrative of Khusbu now takes a turn. The great voices of history now stirs up Khusbu to action : revenge, Hamlet !

Chapter 2 : Rani Kajol Singh and the Plan

It is the first Sunday of February that holds the Derby at Mahalaxmi Race course in Mumbai. With Vijay Mallya a persona non-grata, in stepped the mobile giant Vivo, to sponsor it. Vivo was one of EWC’s client and Mahesh luckily got two passes to the Grandstand. Khusbu was delighted and they flew on Saturday morning to give her time to buy an appropriate dress. She got an Escada V shaped dress and a Bottega Venetta pump from the Palladium Mall and tried them in her room in ITC Grand Central. Next morning, teeming with joy and wearing a dark pink satin lipstick she kissed Mahesh and went with him to attend the Derby. She picked up a race card and scanned for the names. The name Kratos struck a chord and that horse she believed in on that day.

Khusbu caught the eyes of more than a few men that day. She looked elegant and totally in place among the celebrities and businessmen who throng the Derby. The grandstand was glittering with stars . As the horses were lined for Parade ring, Khusbu watched Kratos and then pushed Mahesh to place a bet of 1-5 odds with a bookmaker for Rs.10,000. Having got the slip in her hand, she was counting on wining enough for pulling off the next planned retribution. 

The horse himself was ebony black. Kratos took the lead from the start; pulling ahead by two lengths. According to the other punters, such a start could not dictate the race’s outcome, but already certain of triumph and carried away by her excitement, Khusbu jumped and yelled : “ Kratos ! Kratos.!” There were giggles and sniggers around her as boisterousness was unbecoming of a lady in grandstand . Sitting on her right, was a distinguished and bespectacled gentleman in a Brooks Brothers pinstriped suit. He was looking sympathetically at her from the corner of his eye, moved by her gusto. The race was going on but Kratos lagged behind before the quarter pole. At last Khusbu noticed and, realising how immodestly she had behaved , blushed in confusion. Observing this, the distinguished gentleman, lighted his cigar, stood up and shouted at the top of his lungs : “ Kratos. Kratos”  There was silence all around , from her neighbour’s whispers , Khusbu learnt that this courtly man was none other than the billionaire and the king of Udhampur, Vikram Singh. Off-course, he is Page 3.

In the meantime, Kratos had lost his head start and finally came in nowhere. Khusbu at first sighed and then gave a small , dry sob. Mahesh had left her side by then to chat with the sponsors. Vikram Singh felt a deep compassion and asked his secretary to call her to his table at ‘ Tote on Turf’.

Khusbu changed herself to Kajol after visiting the washroom and put on a violet vixen lipstick and matching eye liner. After exchanging a few words with her, Vikram Singh asked Kajol if she would like to fly to Jammu to stay at his palace at Udhampur. He is sixty years old now and a widower. He owns three horses, besides a range of heritage hotels, resorts and restaurants in India and abroad. All these were told over glasses of Don Perignon with Fish and Chips. Kajol feigned being flabbergasted at first and then took up the cue. She is a petty school teacher from Santiniketan with no worldly possessions, not even a worthy surname to boast of. Vikram Singh found this singularly fascinating and happily anticipated the effect it would produce on his sister Nita, a middle aged virgin who had devoted her life to preserving the venerable traditions of the realm’s historic family. He did not anticipate much problem from his son, who is already twice married and busy in managing the business.

He said to her, “  Well, you are not weighed by different points of view and accept readily the yes and no of everything. I like instinctive people. “

“ Sir, thought should precede action. In choosing Kratos, there was no research involved. How silly of me ! “

“ Very sweet. You are God-gifted. Happy you will be in everything that you touch and see or come in contact with. Have happiness in a fish swimming downstream, a leaf on a tree, a cloud in the sky, an image in a poem. If you like Udhampur, the mountains, the garden and my estate, I would like to propose to you for marriage. “

He thought for a minute to probe the antecedents and validate her origin, then he thought of that as a waste of time. Earlier he had been defeated time and again in thinking too much before he did anything. She no doubt is beautiful and that’s all that he wants at his age. As for making her learn the ways of the snob, he had sufficient resources to carry on the continuity of the rich tradition.  

Without waiting for the end of the last race, Raja Vikram Singh drove off with his fiancée for the Santa Cruz airfield, where his aircraft was waiting. At six o’clock they touched down in Jammu and at seven they were at the Palace. Kajol was mesmerised by the splendour and had English styled chamber maids to dress her. They got dresses in all styles, sizes, shapes and colours. Over dinner, after presenting her to Nita and briefing his son over phone, Raja Vikram Singh proposed to Kajol by presenting her with a Tiffany Yellow Diamond. Kajol promptly said ‘Yes’ and kissed Vikram Singh good night.  The public relations manager of Vikram Singh drafted a release and sent it to him for approval.

While she was getting married in Udhampur, Khusbu was having dinner opposite her husband , Mahesh at Park Place. He found her looking happier and spoke to her kindly. Touched by his compassion , she was assailed by doubts , wondering if she could marry Raja Vikram Singh without contravening laws both human and divine. Even allowing for each one of them to be an autonomous physical person, although consummated carnally a marriage remains first and foremost a union of souls. In fact these scruples were causing excessive turmoil in her and when Mahesh got engaged in foreplay with his laptop, she sighed a relief of getting time to introspect. Legislation for marriage having overlooked the case of ubiquity, Khusbu was free to do as she wished. But her conscience was taking advantage of this legalistic logic. Hence she felt obliged to consider her marriage to Raja Vikram Singh a consequence and continuation of adultery , which remains entirely unjustifiable and punishable by perdition.

The new Rani Kajol Singh was the object of well-meant curiosity, despite her sister -in-law’s attempt to expose her as a sloppy middle class school teacher. She was the cynosure of media. She flew to Mumbai to inaugurate a new Leela Ventures hotel with Saif  Ali Khan in toe, while the next day inaugurated a Polo Match Tournament at ARC, Mumbai with Deepika Padukone. Social media, print media and electronic media vied with each other for getting a byte of her and her chic photos wearing Hermes, Fendi and Jimmy Choo were splashed all over. In a few months, Kajol became elegantly sexy, With her impossible cheekbones, she had the aura of someone who knew she was a royalty. She learnt the art of social conversation and started talking more at events. At the palace, she was trained for horse riding, fencing and rowing. For shutterbugs, she gained experience quickly on the lights, the angles and the expressions. On a cruise with Raja Vikram Singh at Palm Beach, Florida; snaps of her in the skimpy Zimmermann Bikini, made Femina herald her as the second Bengali beauty after Sharmila. She got so busy that she was not left with a moment to yawn. But she never forgot Kamal.

Chapter 3 : Kritika and Kriti

Khusbu’s holiday that year was one of her best. Kritika was at once by the sea at Goa with Kamal and Khusbu was at a little resort near Nainital with Mahesh. She looked ravishing to both. She was at once rowing in Lake Naini , smiling soulfully and on a private beach on Baga , sun bathing.  Kamal, wearing nothing,  was making her aware of every pour of her body while whistling to himself that this trip didn’t cost him a penny. Riding a horse at Udhampur Palace, Kajol gave a blissful smile, as Raja Vikram Singh’s hefty allowance monthly took care of all these middle class ecstasies. She was so happy that she wandered around the Udhampur market without an escort, then she threw herself at the husband of a tourist couple strolling by, she mussed up his hair and laughed. The couple looked at her  and although the husband had the hint of a smile, his wife was much too scandalized by such behaviour.

At the start of the new year, it was time for Kritika to double herself and bring on Kriti and get a new mobile connection. They both dressed differently. Kriti dressed more youngish in her ripped jeans, leather jacket, brown boots with a Gucci red Doraemon handbag and Fiery Red lipstick , while Kritika was in her usual long coat and black trousers with Dior loafers and Velvet Matte lipstick. They were both talking  at a Vietnamese joint at Cyberhub, when Kamal entered. He was looking at the two of them, momentarily confused. This principle of indetermination beguiled both the ladies and at one point they both burst out laughing, it was all too silly. 

Kritika cleared the air, “This is my sister, Kriti.”

Kamal said, “ Enchanted”. Kritika had mentioned her sister was a twin but he did not know she was an identical twin. The dinner went off pleasantly talking about colours of winter and Kamal graciously paid off before asking for Kriti’s number.

Kritika had coached Kamal on Kriti’s favourite.

While having lunch at a Balinese joint later in the week, off Platinum Plaza, Kamal boasted to Kriti,”  I’ m the oldest of two brothers and three sisters, and we are like one. Separating from them was the  toughest thing I ever had to do. My father and my uncle begged me to stay. But I wanted to pursue art and left Mumbai for Delhi. “

Kriti innocently asked,  “ Why didn’t you stay in Mumbai and pursue art ?”

“ Painting is more than just a visual product. I paint with my whole mind. Am just not made for business. Besides, if I had stayed in Mumbai, I never would have met you.”

Kriti felt herself blushing. “ You’ve never been married ?”

“ No. I used to fall in love everyday ,” he teased,” But at the last moment I always felt there was something missing.” He leaned forward and his voice was earnest. “ Beautiful Kriti, when I get married , it will be forever. One woman is enough for me.”

Kriti felt herself redden and murmured, “ That’s lovely.”

“ And you ?” Kamal Thapar asked,” Have you ever been in love ?”

“No. Am yet to discover someone whom I can love maniacally. ”

“ How unlucky for someone,” he said,” But how lucky for…”

At that moment the waiter appeared with the desert and the words were left on his lips.

After dinner, Kamal sat in the chauffeur driven Audi 6 , he had rented for the evening. He just looked at her. The resemblance between the two sisters was startling. He visualised Kriti in bed with him, squirming in pain.

Kritika felt a hateful tenderness towards Kamal, something so contradictory, that she fumbled with it. She had to slowly raise the bar in the game. She became Kajol for a day in Mumbai to organise forged original documents of properties owned by her family at Aligarh with Kriti as the nominee and take a diamond necklace from the jewellery box of the estate. All these were handed to Kamal, asking him to hurry up.

Kriti was scheduled to come back to Delhi the next day from Aligarh. The intervals were important for perfection to set in.  A call and dinner in the revolving French restaurant at Hyatt was arranged by Kamal. After champagne was served, Kamal reached to his pocket and pulled out a jewel box. “ I got you something.”

“ Oh ! Kamal.”

“ Please open it.”

Looking at her own necklace, Kriti said, “ Its beautiful.”

That night he took her to his flat. It’s a small two bedroom with the living room turned into his studio. He remembered Kritika’s words.’ If you hurt Kriti, if she finds out what a swine you really are, you’ll never see her again. Do you understand that ? Save your sexual masochism for your whores and gays.’

And so Kamal tenderly undressed Kriti and studied her nakedness. Her body was exactly the same as Kritika’s : beautiful and ripe and full. Their mouths touched and struggled in gentle warmth, biting each other with their lips, their tongue playing in corners of the mouth where a heavy air comes and goes with an old perfume. He had an overwhelming desire to kill the silence and bruise the delicate skin, to hit her, choke her, make her scream, shout and beg.

He mounted her  and she was plunged into an ecstasy that was unbearable. Khusbu smiled complacently at Mahesh while going to sleep that night. On that night, Kajol played on the chest of her sugar daddy, Raja Vikram Singh.

The next part was easy. Khusbu bribed one of her distant uncles – a perennial drunkard, to come to Delhi to meet Kamal.  She spent some money on this uncle’s dress to place him in the proper social strata. A phony lawyer was fixed and a draft nuptial agreement made.

The marriage was held in Bristol hotel . It was a small affair and Kritika, Kriti, their new uncle, the lawyer and his wife, together with Kamal and two of his friends.  Kamal took Kriti to his apartment at Vatika for the wedding night after the brief registration ceremony at the Hotel. All the friends joined them while the uncle walked to his room in the Hotel with a Blue Jonny Walker. The fun filled evening went to early morning to create illusions of happily ever- after.

The next day Kriti spent in bed with Kamal and then went off to Aligarh in late evening after a call from uncle that grandpa is sick and hospitalised. Kritika had started shuffling her cards. Kamal said, “ Hurry back. We have to go on our honeymoon.”

“ Oh , I forgot. Sissy recommended a resort in Madh Island for us. Unless it is serious, I will be back tomorrow.”

That night Kritika appeared at Kamal’s apartment. “ Did you enjoy your wedding, Kamal ?”

“ Went off without glitch. You did an inconceivable job.”

“ Yes.”

“ And now I want to fuck my sister’s husband.”

Kamal had been dreading this moment. He was strong and vigorous but Kritika dominated him and made him feel impotent.

She got him stride and began slowly moving her hips. “ Ah, that feels good. You can’t have an orgasm, can you, poor baby ? Do you know why ? Because you’re a freak. You don’t like women. You only enjoy hurting them. You’ll never hurt me, Kamal. Because you want my sister’s property. If anything ever happens to me, a friend of mine is holding a letter that will be delivered to the police.”

He did not believe her.” You’re bluffing.”

“ There’s only one way you can find out, isn’t there ?” she taunted.

And he suddenly knew she was telling the truth. Everything happened in slow motion. He remembered shoving off Kritika, widening her legs and her cries of pain. Kritika was lying on the bed, covered with blood. Her nose was smashed in, her body was covered with bruises and cigarette burns and her eyes were swollen shut. Her jaw was twisted and she was whimpering,” Stop it..stop it..stop it..” Kamal finally understood that he had to put himself on the side of the victim.

As the reality of the situation hit him, he was filled with sudden panic.

“ Doctor ! Call a doctor.” Kritika looked washed out and absent.

Panicked, Kamal called for an ambulance. He called the sister of a plastic surgeon whom he had humped once. The Doctor operates in Artemis and off he rushed in the ambulance to get her admitted.

At Park Place, Khusbu complained to Mahesh of sore throat and early symptoms of Covid and got herself to self-isolation for two weeks. Mahesh consulted a specialist and left medicines, food, water and clothes outside the guest room. In Udhampur, Kajol feigned illness after twisting her ankle in the Kathak class and the family doctor came running.

After Kritika was admitted , vitals checked , antibiotics given and bandaged, a small, thin man in a green surgical gown  leaned over her. “ My name is Mridul Bhattacharya. I’m going to operate on you.”

Before administering the anaesthetic he asked, “ Ma’am . who is responsible for this ?”

Kritika answered, “ It was an accident. I fell down the stairs. ”

“ And then a ghost came and snuffed out his cigarette on your behind ? What’s the real story ?”

“ Am afraid, I can’t discuss it. Can you put me back together again ?”

“ That’s what I do.”

Kritika looked resigned to a bland acceptance of a fate and the doctor felt she had made her body an offering to a beast.

It was almost afternoon, when after an operation of nine hours  Dr Mridul said to his assistants,” We are finished. Put her into the ICU.” Kritika was moved out of ICU after 48 hrs. Kamal came every day. After moving out of ICU, Kritika activated her numbers back – of both Kriti and herself. The first call Kriti made was to Kamal and lamented over her Grand Pa’s demise. It will take her another ten odd days to complete the Shradh and then return to Delhi. She would also inform Kritika so that she could come down for the prayer. Kamal made the usual condolences but remained mum on Kritika’s state. A wire transfer was done by Kajol’s accountant in Udhampur to Artemis to cover the hospital bills.

Doctor Mridul came to check on her twice a day. He said as gently as possible, “ You had a fractured cheekbone, the nose was broken. There was pressure on the muscles that open and closes your mouth. There were cigarette burns. Everything has been taken care of.”

“ I want to see a mirror,” Kriti whispered.

“ Be patient.”

“ How am I going to look when these bandages come off ?”

“ Exactly like before. “

The Doctor got her flowers now and then. Every few days he would remove the old bandages and put on new ones. Kriti looked forward to his visits. He was a very unprepossessing man, small and thin, with sparse hair and myopic brown eyeballs that constantly blinked in delightful innocence. He was shy in her presence and this amused her.

“ Have you ever been married ?” She asked.

“ No.” The doctor was momentarily taken aback.

“ Why not ?”

“I- I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t make a very good husband. I’m on emergency a lot. No fixed timings. ”

“ I’ll bet all the nurses are crazy about you.”

“ I’m afraid I’m not a very romantic kind of person.” He was actually blushing.

When she discussed Dr Mridul Bhattacharya with the nurses, they spoke of him as though he was some kind of God.

Two weeks after, Doctor Mridul removed the bandages. He turned her head from side to side. “ Do you feel any pain ?” he asked.

“ No.”

“ Any tightness ? Any rigidity ? ”

“ No.”

Doctor looked up at the nurse, “ Bring Kritika ma’am a mirror.”

“ Doctor, my name is Kriti. Kritika is my twin sister.”

Kriti was filled with a sudden fear. For weeks she had been longing to look at herself in a mirror. Now that the moment was here, she was terrified. When Doctor handed her the mirror, she said faintly,” I’m afraid-“ She was shuddering.

“ Look at yourself,” he said gently.

She raised the mirror slowly. It was a miracle ! There was no change at all; it was her face. She searched for the signs of scars. There were none. Her eyes filled with tears. She was filled with gratitude.

She looked up and said,” Thank you.” And reached out to give Doctor Mridul a kiss. It was meant to be a brief thank-you kiss, but she could feel his lips leaned on hers.

Chapter 4 : In Love

Kriti invited Doctor Mridul for a lunch on Sunday.

On hearing about the invitation, the doctor was dreaming. It was raining that morning. The rain on his skylight was strangely mixed with the remnants of his dream images, he had been dreaming about an absurdly sunny but cool place where Kritika was walking around nude and feeding crumbs to a group of stupid pigeons about the size of ducks.

The Doctor acted like a young school boy in love, when he met Kriti. He dropped his napkin, spilled his lemonade and knocked over a small vase of flowers decorating the table. Watching him, Kriti thought with amusement, No one would ever guess what a brilliant surgeon he is.

When the luncheon was over, Doctor Mridul asked shyly, “ Could we – could we do this again sometime ?”

She replied with a straight face. “We’d better not, Mridul. I’m afraid I might fall in love with you. And I am married. But someday I will introduce you to my twin sister.”

He blushed wildly, not knowing what to say.

Kriti patted his hand, “ I’ll never forget you.”

He knocked over the vase of flowers again.

Rajan Vikram Singh had planned a weekend with Kajol and she came over to Mudhouse Retreat on Madh Island, after a three week stay at  the Palace.  The retreat was owned by Vikram and there were no bookings taken that weekend. Kajol got inspired for the murder, in the sullivan setting and that feeling was instantly transmitted to Kritika.

The maid had got four boxes for Kajol the previous day, containing respectively : an evening gown of Ritu Kumar, a Roman  afternoon dress of Calvin Klein, a cashmere hoodie of Versace for outdoor activities and a classic Sabyasachi saree of green hue. She sent her maid away and multiplied herself into four in order to try them on. A few minutes back Raja Vikram Singh was driven to the retreat in his Bentley and after changing, he happened to look in. This gesture opened a path for Kajol , and maybe the one she took was not the only one or the best one, perhaps there were other paths that made for softer walking, but in her spirited way she had not taken those as that would have made her life a chessboard where one must be a bishop or knight. She did not reassemble herself.  

“ Oh my Kajol !” Raja Vikram Singh exclaimed cried, “You have three ravishing sisters and you never mentioned them !”

At Raja Vikram Singh’s words of three sisters, Kajol grew flustered and felt she ought to respond:

“ They have just arrived. I meant them as a surprise to you and informed them when this trip was planned. Bipasha is my twin. Taposhi and Anamika are the youngest – twins too. People say they look very much like me.”

“ What a delight ! And I thought you are all alone. This calls for a celebration. Let them visit the city during the weekend and take them to Udhampur next week with you. I will make sure the society gives them their due acknowledgement. What exciting times ! At last my life got a third dimension.”

Chapter 5 : The Murder

Kamal Thapar was getting impatient. “ The grandpa is dead. The uncle has written everything to Kriti. I am the nominee. What the hell are we waiting for ?”

Kritika with her velvet lipstick, sat on the couch, her long legs curled up under her, watching him as he paced. “ Only an agreement drawn up by a lawyer in which you will further nominate me.”

“ But we will marry, right ? And then you will have equal rights.”

“ What if you suffer from amnesia after the accident with Kriti ?”

“ Then you will put me to jail for murdering her . I know that.”

“ What if you don’t leave any evidences ?”

“ I want to get this thing over with, Kritika.”

He is losing his nerve. Kritika thought. He was like a deadly coiled serpent. Dangerous. She had made a mistake with him once by goading him too far, and it had almost cost her life She would not make that gaffe again.

“ I agree with you. I think its time. ”

He stopped pacing. He was like a menacing nimbus cloud without frontiers.  “ When ?”

“ Next week. My uncle will arrange the two of you to stay at MudHouse retreat at Madh Island. The staff will be off and it will only be the two of you. A romantic getaway ! That’s the general idea. ”

“ There’s no such thing as a general idea. Give me the details.”

Kriti’s cell rang. Kritika picked it. Its Doctor Mridul Bhattacharya

“ Hello. I hope I’m not disturbing you, Kriti. “

He has started calling her two to three times a week. At first this clumsy doctor had tickled her, but lately he had become a nuisance.

“ Can’t talk to you now,” Kritika was curt,” Have to leave.”

“ Oh “, His voice was apologetic. “ Then I wont keep you. I have two tickets for the play : Murder on the Orient Express this weekend at IHC. I know you love theatre..”

“ Sorry, have to go out of town this weekend.”

“ I see.” She could hear the disappointment in his voice. “ By the way, Sonu Nigam is performing in middle of the month. I can get front row seats.”

“ I’ve seen them all,” Kritika said succinctly.” Sorry, Have to run.” She cut the call. It was time to get dressed. She was meeting Karthik Singh, a young actor of Bollywood, popular in web-series. He was five years younger than she , and was like an insatiable stallion. She looked forward to an exciting evening at Mumbai tonight as Kajol will change to Kritika.

It was Friday at 10:25 am, when an Uber pulled up in front of the departure terminal of Delhi Airport Terminal 2.  Kritika, in a Violet Matte Lipstick, got out and gave the driver a Rs.2000 note.

“ Ma’am, I can’t change this. Don’t you have something smaller or Paytm me ?”

“ No time, boss. Keep it,” she said to the startled driver. The flight was for 11:05 am. She half-walked and half-ran to the Indigo counter and said breathlessly,” I am sorry , a bit late. Only hand luggage. Can you issue me a boarding pass  Forgot to telecheckin.”

“ Ma’am, you just missed this by ten minutes. But there is another one in two hours for Mumbai and I can get you a seat on that.”

“ I have a meeting. Isn’t there anything that you can do ?”

“ No, ma’am. Not on this one. Doors are closed already.”

On the same Friday at 4 pm, Kamal Thapar was re-examining Kritika’s plan over and over while being driven to Madh Island. There was not a single flaw in it. There will be a motor launch waiting for him at the Fort Jetty.  Little did he know that Kajol had tied up to the last detail when she was last here . The motor launch was of MudHouse Retreat and towed at the Fort that night. It was supposed to bring fish early morning from the Versova-Madh ferry. Kamal has to take it to the steps of the resort and make sure he is not seen. It was a no-moon night. Then he will take Kriti for a spin.

He remembered Kritika’s words, “When you’re out at the sea, do whatever turns you on – just ensure there is no trace of blood. Dump the body overboard and get into the launch. Remember Kriti can’t swim. You’ll take the launch back to Fort Jetty and return it. Then take an auto to the Oshiwara police station and from there a cab to Malad station to catch the local train. Stay overnight near the station and take the Rajdhani to Delhi. In fact drop off at Kota and return to Delhi by road.  They will never find her body. It will get washed to the sea.”

He found the motor boat at Fort Jetty, waiting for him. There was a teenage boy who gave him the key to the ignition. He then cut the ignition and docked it near the steps. Kriti was talking to someone on her cell. There was no staff at the resort as it was their weekend off. The retreat was closed to customers for maintenance. Kajol had ensured that. Sufficient food and drinks were anyway stocked as part of their Honeymoon tryst.

“ I have to go now, Kritika. See you next week in Delhi.” Kriti, in her tinted pink lipstick cut the phone and hugged Kamal. “ You are early.”

“ Hope you flight was nice. Did you see anyone over here ?”

“ Yes. I took the 1 pm one from Delhi. The driver of the car which picked me from Mumbai airport gave me the key. He gave me his number if we need anything. All, thanks to uncleji and his contacts. Not a soul in sight here. You know, I got Subway sandwiches for you from the airport.”

He traced a finger lightly across the nipples straining against her silk top. “ Why don’t we go for a drive on the sea ? There’s a sprightly wind.”

“That’s romantic. But the sandwiches will  …”

He cupped his hand over her breast. “ Dinner can wait. I can’t.”

“ All right I will go and change. Won’t take me long.”

He also rummaged through his trolley and got dressed in a pair of dark grey tracks, a pull over tee and rubber boots. He heard her voice, “ I’m ready, Kamal.”

He turned. She stood in the doorway, dressed in a sweater, a pair of black slacks and canvas shoes. Her long jet black hair was tied back with a little pink ribbon. My God, she’s beautiful. It seemed almost a shame to waste that beauty. There wasn’t a star in the sky, the geraniums outside had a harsh smell, looked vulgar but beautiful.

“ Lets go,” Kamal told her.

She noticed the motor launch, secured to the anchor. “Are we going in that ?”

“ There is a little island at the tip of the peninsula which I always wanted to explore. We won’t get onto the land. Just take a roundabout and come back. May be an hour or so.”

He cast off the lines and powered slowly out of the slip. As they cleared the breakwater, they were met with a stiff breeze and the boat started wavering unsteadily.

“ It’s wild and lovely,” she called out.

He scanned the horizon after ten minutes to make certain no other vessels were close by. He waited for another five minutes. The water below was deep and calm now. There were only faint lights from afar. He put the launch on automatic pilot and walked over to the steel railing. It was quite dark and the last vestiges of dusk have disappeared.

“ Kriti, come over and have a look at this,”

She made her way over to him and looked down at the cold, dark water racing below them.

“ Come to me,” his voice was a harsh command. His vengeance oozing out.

She moved into his arms , and he kissed her hard on the lips. His arms closed around her, hugging her, and he felt her body relax. He flexed his muscles and began to lift her in the air towards the railing. He was dreaming of his life of poetry, endowed with all the luxuries, after this one is wiped off.

She was fighting him suddenly. “ Kamal ! I will lose my balance ! ”

He lifted her higher, and he felt her try to pull away, but he was too strong for her. She was almost on top of the railing now, her feet kicking wildly , and he braced himself to shove her over the side. Her face reflected a bland acceptance of a fate. At that instant he felt a sudden iron-hot pain in his chest.  He opened his mouth to shout and blood came gushing out. He dropped his arms and looked down at his chest in disbelief. He looked up , and she was standing there with a bloody knife in her hand, smiling at him and blinking.

Kamal’s last thought was “ Kritika..” The soliloquy was silenced and so was the endless vice.

They would never find the body. It had been swept out to sea with the tide. Poor Kamal. Kritika had rented another motor boat from Fort Jetty but kept it hidden in an undergrowth nearby. Now after the act she cleaned the deck and steered this to her rented motor boat , then towed the one of Kamal and returned both. She then unified with Kajol who was spending the night on her Nepean Sea Road bungalow and came back to Gurgaon after a week. Kriti’s character fell out of favour and was disintegrated. Only Kriti’s cell phone was preserved.

It was a perfect crime. There was a diabolical separation of form and content. The jetty was deserted and both the launches were accounted for.  As for the driver who picked up Kriti, his number was not required anymore. Kritika anyway missed her flight. Police will get some leads like Kamal’s air-ticket, the Uber which took him and the teenage guy will identify him; but with no body, it will be put as a mysterious disappearance.

Since he was from the Thapar family, it did come out in newspapers.

Chapter 6 : The Three Sisters

At the estate the four of them, led by Kajol held a musical performance of Poush Elo, Poush Elo.

Raja Vikram Singh commented, “ This is music translated to emotion. Only Bengalis can do it. Most of the music now is emotion which pretends to pass on as music.”

The three sisters were warmly welcomed into Mumbai and Udhampur society and toasted everywhere they went. Bipasha married a Bollywood producer who wanted to cast her in his next movie, Taposhi married a famous music director of Mumbai whom she accompanied on his world tours and Anamika married an anthropologist specialising in the Bajau tribe of Borneo, who can hold their breath for 13 minutes.

All the sisters, including Khusbu and Kritika, could visualise life in a unity, they can see it all at the same time, the feelings are all coordinates in the same unity. Let one say in their life so far, the unity was the vortex of a whirlwind. Only problem was they stretched it a bit too much. The lesson of Kamal was conveniently forgotten.

The media was gaga on this similarity of sisters and covered all their events. Their fan following grew, though they were still not on social media. One evening over dinner, Mahesh said , “ Have you seen the photos of Rani Kajol Singh and her three sisters ? Its amazing how they look like you, except that your eyes are lighter, your face a little longer and your mouth smaller, your nose shorter and your chin less pronounced. By the way, my boss is getting married and the reception will be at Marriott on coming Saturday.”

Khusbu , had a slight anxiety creep into her while thinking of what to wear on Saturday. Most of her dresses were either uncomfortable or unaesthetic. Similarly, Rani Kajol Singh sitting at a bridge table facing Siddharth Mallya; Bipasha  lounging in her arm chair on the sets of Radhe 2,  Taposhi showing the press around the new recording studio at Ghatkopar; Anamika  lying beneath her mosquito net in a Borneo village, all were equally absorbed in weighing up this question of what to wear.

All sent their preferences to each other and Khusbu accumulated all of that, then strung up the choices in an empty space at various corners, on hangar, on clips. The floor of the space, was tiled with flat stones and with great difficulty she came to understand the exact spot where she ought to stop so that the perfect dress would come to its proper focus. Next day she went to buy it.

Chapter 7 : The Doctor

Mridul Bhattacharya had always known he was not brilliant. In school he had to work very hard in order to achieve passing grades. He was neither a sportsperson nor a guitarist, and he was socially clumsy. He was as close as one could come to being a non-entity. No one was more surprised than his own friends, when he got admitted to medical school. When he specialised to become a surgeon, neither his parents nor his teachers expected him to become a competent one. But he surprised them all. He was like some exquisite sculptor working his magic with living flesh. In a short time, his reputation spread. In spite of his success, he was never been able to overcome the trauma of his childhood. Inside, he was still the boy who bored everyone, the one whom the girls laughed at. He had one more ability – his eye for detail.

Doctor saw the newspaper that day, with an inset of Kamal’s photo and recalled how Kritika had been admitted to Artemis. He had met Kamal later, post the surgery. There was a confusion about her name and later on it was changed to Kriti Thapar, wife of Kamal Thapar. The bills were cleared by wire transfer from Mumbai. He went through the hospital records that day. Then he recalled his lunch with her and her casual comment about her twin sister. He had also seen the photos of Rani Kajol Singh and her famous sisters on media. There was an oddity in this and the Doctor was not able to place his finger on it. There was a disorder in this.

When he finally reached Kriti, Mridul’s hands were slippery with sweat. She answered her mobile on the first ring , “ Karthik ?”

“ No, This is Mridul Bhattacharya.”

“ Oh. Hello. Sorry I didn’t see the name before answering.”

He heard the change in voice. “ How have you been ?”

“ Fine.”

“ I -I’d like to see you.”

“ If you read the papers you know my husband is missing. Am not in a condition.”

He wiped his free hand on his trouser. “ That’s what I want to see you about. I have some information you should know about.”

“ What kind of information ?”

“ I would prefer not to discuss it on phone.”

“ OK. When ?”

“ Now. If its convenient.”

Kritika knew Mridul had a whiff about Kamal and her past trauma. He surely had made some digging.

When they met at DLF Galleria in CCD, Mridul took out an envelope which had a photo and handed it to Kritka. She wore the same lipstick Kriti had worn during the last lunch with him.

She looked at it, puzzled, “ Well ?”

“ It’s a picture of you.”

“ I can see that,” she said curtly.

“ It was taken after the operation.”

He then handed her another photo. Again of herself . Now in full make up. This was Kriti.

He then softly said, “ Kritita forgot to change the bracelet of BC Sen when she met me as Kriti at the hospital. Actually you don’t have a twin.”

He sat opposite her , on the edge of his couch, and he could not keep staring at her. Kriti bewitched him.

Kritika regained her composure quickly and said, “ As for the bracelet I lent it to my sister. I don’t know what you are thinking but whatever it is, you are wasting my time.”

“ I believe the injuries to your body was done by Kamal and his disappearance is an act of revenge. But rightly so.”

Kritika felt the first stab of fear. This stupid, dreary little man in front of her had no idea what really happened, but he knew enough to start the police asking questions.

“ What is it you want ? Money ?”

“ No, Mrs Singh.”

Momentarily flustered she said, “ What did you say ? Mrs. Singh ?”

Dr. Bhattacharya looked down at the floor, red with embarrassment. “ I -I like you so much. I would hate it if anything bad happened to you.”

She forced a smile.” I haven’t done anything wrong. I would really appreciate it very much if you would forget about this.”

“ My research says that all these are not different persons but one. I don’t know the real you and am not interested also. There is a small protein called ubiquitin, its amino acid sequence is identical in all creatures. Popularly named as botulism – a disease caused by clastridium bacteria from creatures like reptiles – if infected mildly can cause different structures of this sequence of amino acid , empowering one to multiply. My presumption is that you were infected once by a member of the paraphyletic group.”

“ So ?”

“ There is only one thing which can prevent me to report to the police ?”

He saw the alarm that appeared in her eyes.

“ What ?”

His voice was very gentle.” A husband can’t be forced to testify against his wife. But am not nudging you against your wish. Believe me, I love you. Ever since I set my eyes on you, I feel the pain of you in my skin, in my throat, every time I breathe it’s as if an emptiness came into my chest. It may be a cliché , but why not ? ”

“ On one condition. The name will be Kamalika. You have to get IDs in that name.” She was smart enough to understand that the doctor needs a mirror of reconciliation with her form.

The wedding took place two days after at a magistrate’s office. Two of the nurses were witnesses. The mere idea of being married to Mridul Bhattacharya made Kamalika’s skin crawl, but she had no choice.

After a month, Kamalika said, “ I want a mutual divorce, Mridul.”

Mridul blinked at his wife in surprise. “ Why on earth would you want it ?”

“ Oh, come one Mridul. You didn’t really think I was going to stay married to you, did you ? You know I never slept with you. I go to bed with an actor almost every other day.”

“ But you’re still my wife, Kamalika. If you want anything that money can buy just let me know.”

“ I told you what I want, an end to this charade.”

He shook his head regretfully.” I’m afraid I can’t give you that.”

“ Then I’m going to file for divorce.”

“ I don’t think that would be advisable. The police haven’t found out who killed your brother-in law and husband, all and the same. The identity of Mr. Singh’s wife is also questionable. I know your power to multiply yourself, but if you divorce me…”

“ You’re talking as if I killed Kamal..”

“ You did, Kamalika. It’s the only reason you would have married me. I am the only disorder in your life and you compromised to bury me.”

She looked at him, filled with loathing. She wanted to pluck his eyes out, those sharp eyes – so that he can look without seeing his patients.

“ Lets go to Mauritius on our honeymoon, Kamalika,” Mridul’s statement took her by surprise. He had the cheek to say it !

“ I won’t go,” Kamalika told him flatly. The idea of a honeymoon with him was disgusting, despicable.

“ It will look strange if we don’t have a honeymoon,” he said shyly,” And we don’t want people asking a lot of awkward questions ? Be rest assured, am not on social media too. ”

Kamalika’s honeymoon turned out much better than she had anticipated. Because of Mridul’s  sensitive skin, he was afraid to go out in the sun, so Kamalika went down to the beach alone every day. She was never alone for long. She was surrounded by ardent lifeguards, hunks, tycoons and playboys. It was like feasting at a delectable potpourri, and Kamalika chose a different dish every day. She enjoyed the sexual escapades twice as much because she knew her husband was upstairs in their suite waiting for her. She did everything she could think of to insult him, anger him, to turn him against her so that he would let her go, but his love was unshakable. The idea of Mridul making love to her sickened Kamalika, and she was grateful that he had a weak libido.

A week after they returned from honeymoon to their new Motibagh residence, Mridul said, “ I’m afraid I have to go back to work, dear. I have a lot of operation scheduled. Will you be all right during the day, without me ?”

Kamalika barely managed a straight face.” I’ll try.”

Mridul was up and out early morning, long before Kamalika awakened, and when she came down from her bedroom, the maid was ready with coffee and breakfast. He opened a generous bank account in her name and with large credit limits on the add-on credit cards.  She spent his money recklessly. As long as she was enjoying herself, Mridul was happy. Kamalika changed to Kritika and spent almost every afternoon with Karthik. Karthik worked very little and hardly went to Mumbai.

“ I just can’t take any part,” he complained to Kritika.” It would hurt my image.”

“ I understand darling.”

“ Do you ? What the fuck do you know about entertainment business ? Your have a silver spoon up your ass.”

And Kritika will buy him an extra-nice Burberry jacket on Kamalika’s credit card. Mridul never questioned her about her where – abouts. Kritika lay in bed watching Karthik walk out of the bathroom naked. She suspected that he had other bed-mates, but she was afraid to ask, afraid to say anything that might upset him. Now, as he reached the bed, he ran his finger along her skin, just below the eyes and said, “Hey Baby, you’re getting a few wrinkles. They’re cute.”

Each word was a stab, a reminder of the age difference between them. They made love again, but for the first time Kritika’s mind was elsewhere. That night Khusbu, Kajol, Kamalika, Bipasha, Taposhi, Anamika and Kritika inspected their faces without make-up in front of their brightly lighted mirrors.

The smallest bit of objectivity brought out the absurdity in their gregarious lives.

Chapter 8 : The Betrayal by Lust

One night, afraid to leave  Karthik alone with his anxieties, Kritika stayed with her lover in his Safdarjung flat and did not unite herself with Kamalika at MotiBagh . The next morning she woke up beside him with a fresh and happy smile.

“ I just had a dream,” she said, “ We are running a small grocery store in Gurgaon, near the metro pillar of Bikaner. We just had one customer, a kid who bought some chocolates. I was serving at the counter. You were packing the stuff. In the evening after pulling the shutters, you were writing in a small notepad. You were telling me, ‘ For our business to run we need one more customer.’. I was about to reply but then I couldn’t as I was waking up.”

“ In short,” said Karthik,” when all’s said and done, your ambition is to make a grocer out of me ?”

“ Not at all. I was telling you my dream.”

“ That’s exactly what I said. Your dream of making me a petty grocer in a lungi.”

So violent was his indignation that Karthik sprang out of bed yelling that  he was betrayed. It was not enough that new producers were not casting him as he was not found suitable for the characters, but the woman whom he loved was making a mockery of his talent. Marching around the flat naked, Karthik was screeching hoarsely , his voice full of pain, and several times gestured as if tearing his heart out and scattering it between his producers, his directors and Kritika. Stricken, a trembling Kritika was discovering the depths of suffering an actor can reach and recognising her own unworthiness.

When he came home , Mahesh found his wife distraught. She had even forgotten to reunite herself and when he went to the kitchen, he saw her there as four distinct individuals , all busy at different chores , though their expressions were equally clouded with misery. He was extremely vexed and called his doctor immediately.

One day, Rani Kajol Singh exclaimed to herself, ” I have five husbands and I have only one lover. The lover who raped me, I got rid off. But this current lover gave me more joy in six months than I have had in a year from all my spouses together. Even though he is unworthy of my love and full of eccentricities.”

 It hadn’t rained this year and Kajol went out to look up to the sky and pray to have it rain here, so that at long last she can smell the earth and living plants, to ease her out from her mental anxiety, to pity Karthik and fall in love with others.

These reflections could not be long in bearing fruit. The worst of it was that Rani Kajol Singh was not alone in having them, rather  the poison made its way simultaneously, according to the laws of ubiquity that governed them, into the minds of her sisters. The bohemia of body and soul of all the sisters opened its true doors wide for them to venture out.

One evening, Rani Kajol Singh  went to a concert at NCPA. The programme included a jazz version of Moonlight Sonata. The charm of Beethoven and his wild music worked upon her mind to such effect that she fell in love with the drummer, who, in two weeks time, was flying to Hong Kong. Two weeks later, she was rushing to Kai Tak Airport, plucking up the musician upon his arrival and becoming his lover.

Soon the lustful ubiquist was gripped by a frenzy of lust and had lovers all over the globe. Their numbers increased exponentially. In the space of three months, she had spread eight hundred and fifty copies of herself around the world. Six months on again, the total was approaching the regions of twenty one thousand, a sizeable number. They almost changed the face of the world. The lovers came under the influence of the same woman and without knowing it, developed a kind of similarity in their ways of desiring, feeling and appreciating. Moreover, shaped by her advice and by the same wish to please her, they grew to resemble each other in their bearing, their stride, the kind of shoes they wore and the colours of their shirts, even in their facial expressions. Thus it was that the geometry teacher grew to look like a Portuguese pirate and the Professor of Mathematics, despite his beard, like the Chinese doctor.

Khusbu had developed the habit of humming the childhood song : Poush Elo, Poush Elo, Metechi sokole… This melody floated on the lips of her innumerable lovers, and those of their friends and acquaintances, and became an international leitmotif.  Dawood’s gangsters were singing it when they raided the Standard Chartered bank in Colaba, as were the pirates of Somalia as they kidnapped the Swedish Billionaire’s son with the gold nuggets, and likewise the politicians as they redrafted their constitutions. In the end , it seemed that Khusbu’s silhouette, her profile, the shape of her eyes, the turn of her legs must soon impose new ideals of feminine beauty.

Perhaps her forty nine thousand lovers were only a product of that one hopeless passion. The passions were proportional to their destinies.

That night when Mridul came home, Kamalika said, “ Mridul, I want you to remove these wrinkles.”

He blinked, “ What wrinkles ?”

She pointed to the area around the eyes.” These.”

“ Those are laugh lines, darling. I love them.”

“ I don’t. I hate them !” she yelled.

“ Believe me, Kamalika they are not.”

“ For God’s sake, just get rid of them. That is what you do for a living, isn’t it ?”

“ Yes, but..all right,” he said placatingly,” if it will make you happy dear.”

“ When ?”

“ In four weeks. My schedule is full now..”

“ I’m not one of your goddamned patients,” Kamalika snapped,” I’m your wife. I want you to do it now – tomorrow.”

“ The clinic is closed on Sundays. Also in Artemis, the OT is closed tomorrow.”

“ Then open it !” Oh, he was so stupid.

“ Come into the other room for a moment.” He took her to her dressing table and put on all the lights. Then he lighted his torch.

She sat in a chair, while he carefully examined her face. In an instant he was transformed from a bumbling little weakling to a brilliant Asclepius , and Kamalika could sense the transformation. This operation seemed unnecessary to Mridul, but he was wrong. It was vital. He turned off the light, “ No problem. I’ll do it in the morning at my private clinic in Maharani Bagh.”

The following morning, two of them went into the clinic. “ I usually have a nurse to assist me,” Mridul told her, “But with something as minor as this, it won’t be necessary.”

“ You might as well do something with this while you are at it,” Kamalika tugged a bit at the skin of her throat.

“ If you wish dear. I’ll give you something to put you to sleep so you won’t feel any discomfort.”

He then filled a hypodermic syringe and deftly gave her an injection. She was doing this for Karthik. She thought of his rock hard body and the look in his eyes when he was hungry for her. She then drifted off to sleep.

She woke up in a bed in the back room of the clinic. Mridul was seated in a chair next to the bed.

“ How did it go ?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“ Beautifully,” Mridul smiled.

Kamalika nodded , and was asleep again.

Mridul was there when she woke up later. “ We’ll leave the bandages on for a few days. I will keep you here and you will be properly cared for.” He had already put two nurses on duty.

He checked her each day , examined her face, nodded,” Perfect.”

“ When can I look ?”

“ It should be healed by the weekend.”

She asked for her mobile and once the nurse gave it to her, she called Karthik.

“ Hey baby, where the hell are you ?” he asked. “I’m horny.”

“ I’m still tied up in Hyderabad with my husband’s medical convention. Will be back by weekend.”

“ You would better be.”

“ Have you missed me ?”

“ Like crazy.”

Kamalika heard whispering in the background. “ Is there someone with you ?”

“ Yeah. We are having a little orgy,” Karthik loved to make jokes. The line went dead.

Kamalika waited for Saturday and on that day Mridul walked in around noon.

“ Where the hell have you been ?”

“ I’m sorry. A surgery took longer than expected.”

“ I don’t give a damn about that. Take these bandages off. I want to see.”

“ Very well.”

Kamalika sat up and was still, as he deftly cut the bandages away from her face. He stood back to study her , and she saw the satisfaction in his eyes.” Perfect.”

“ Give me a mirror.”

He hurried out of the room and returned a moment later with a hand mirror. With a proud smile he presented it to her.

Kamalika raised the mirror slowly and looked at her reflection.

And screamed.

“ You belong to me now and I will always love you,” Mridul was exulted.

That very evening, Kamalika committed suicide by strangling herself. The very second that Kamalika was dying , her sixty seven thousand and something sisters were likewise breathing their last, smiling contentedly and raising their hands to their necks. Mahesh came back a bit late that night and gasped to see Khusbu lying on the sofa, not breathing.

Behind a stone, the lizard crawled out.

Now Khusbu lived absurdly, she thought that amorous indulgence was the way to live in a different way. She drove into one’s self with such force so that the leap would send her in the arms of someone else whom she could temporarily love. But that love lasts only as long a woman lasts.