Balcony on The River

Kaushik Ghosh

Notion Press

5 Muthu Kalathy Street, Triplicane,

Chennai - 600 005

First Published by Notion Press 2014

Copyright © Kaushik Ghosh 2014

All Right Reserved.

ISBN: 978-93-83416-96-7

This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to make the material error-free. However, the author and the publisher disclaim the responsibility.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction and should be read as such. All names, characters, places, incidents and events used in this book are either outcome of author’s imagination or used fictitiously. No claim is made either explicitly or implicitly regarding accuracy of any historical events that has a relation to this work of fiction. Best efforts have been made to attribute historical or theological material at the end of this back in the Acknowledgements & References section. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, locations and past events, is entirely coincidental.

Dedicated to the memories of

Sudhir (Pappu) who left us almost a year ago.

He was prepared, we were not.

Prologue

27th January, 10.15 a.m. was the date and time displayed when Andy glanced at his wrist watch. It had become partially visible once he pulled back the left sleeve of the heavy jacket quite clumsily. His fingers continued to be sheltered inside those leather hand gloves, which had become a necessity in this freezing cold. He took a poignant look at the Retreat Centre, the only visible sign of human existence as far as his eyes could gaze. The Retreat Centre resembled a colourful island, but perched on a mountain top surrounded by other lofty mountain peaks of Himalaya and almost lost in the vastness of the white shining snow all around.

The Dhauladhar range of Himalaya was absolutely snow capped at this time of the year. Andy had become familiar with the names of the mountain peaks and the mountain ranges of this part of Himalaya by now. Though it hadn’t snowed during the last few days, the high altitudes were still under snow. He had visited the European Alps but he had to admit that Himalaya looked majestic and incomparable. It had created a trance, almost hypnotized him. He couldn’t remember for how long he had kept on staring at those towering peaks with awe, with fear, with a feeling that generated doubt about his own existence though he knew there were a few brave ones who always wanted to conquer those peaks. Had he not seen them from this proximity, he would never have realised the mesmerizing effects of the mountain range Himalaya, pronounced with extreme pride and reverence by Indians, as he had observed over last one month. Himalaya – Abode of Snow, one of the co-passengers had explained to him. One of those co-passengers whom he had encountered during his more than a month of stay in India. Most of them quite eager to talk and share some information in the trains and buses, at times lost among the details they digressed into. Andy was always eager to listen to them as he kept on hoping that even a small piece of trivial input from a native, or a traveller or a talkative cab driver may equip him with a vital clue, a lead to trace whereabouts of his missing friend and colleague Nevin - Nevin McIntosh.

He tried counting the days since he had left Edinburgh to arrive in Mumbai, thirty six days to be precise. With some reluctance he had left the Scottish capital quite close to Christmas. That was 22nd Dec, 2009.

He placed his second most important companion of the trip, his dark blue rucksack on his back tightly before descending those rocky steps chiselled here and there; perhaps by human beings to suit them, Homo sapiens had always been trying to convert creations of nature to their benefit. He was required to tread down those uneven steps in this barren part of Himalaya, hardly any foliage around. Those uneven rocky steps he was supposed to walk down had traces of frost to negotiate.

He was draped almost head to toe except for his face and his long sharp nose that he was always proud of, barring those difficult times when it would become almost nothing because of biting cold. He tried covering it gingerly with his left hand glove to protect it from the icy chilly wind that carried snow particles with it. His turban, the dastar, the mandatory headgear for Sikhs had functioned as a protector all the time, the four meters of cloth shielding his head from fierce cold.

His face had been inviting curious looks during his stay in India. In fact, it was not only restricted to curious looks; his face had been inviting uncomfortable questions and a few sarcastic comments since his childhood that he had become used to now. A tall, well built up body that appeared westerner in all respect – pink skin, blond hair wherever visible from under his turban, long and sharp nose, he looked a British from every angle except for his eyes that were dark and of course, the turban on his head and the kada, the shining bracelet that made him appear distinct and different.

"Gora Sardar!" He heard it quite a few times during those thirty plus days in India. A few reacted,

"Firang Sardar!"

All of them had a mark of exclamation on their faces. He didn’t blame those Indians as people in UK had been no different. Being called Firang Sardar was much better than being referred as Taliban in UK lately.

Anandjot Singh aka Andy Singh at 6 feet 1 inch, the dark blue turban perfectly matching with the colour of his jacket and rucksack added another two-three inches to his height, gazed at the sparkling snow peaks. Standing straight in front of the small non-descript Retreat Centre he took a look at Dhauladhar, its spread almost one hundred eighty degrees. The morning sunrays had already struck those snow peaks, transforming the reddish glow to something that glittered like gold initially, and now the nature was through with its painting brush and had left the wet colours to dry. The colours had stabilised by now.

Before taking his first step on the rock-strewn path, he turned towards the Retreat Centre, an inner voice compelling him to do so, a faint hope flickering inside him that he would see him; he would see his friend Nevin, The Saint as they made fun of him at times, relating his name with what it meant actually.

He turned back to take a last look, there were a few monks draped in their dark red attire ambling across the large compound in front of the Retreat Centre. Though none of them resembled Nevin from a distance, he was sure there was one, perhaps yet to become a monk at this stage, watching him from behind a wall or a column or through one of those minuscule windows that dotted the walls of the Retreat Centre.

Andy removed his dark sunglass, primarily meant for protecting his eyes from those sharp glares, result of reflections from snow all around. He realised that he had few tears there. He tried to wipe his tears unsuccessfully with his fingers, those fingers trying to get feel of comforting leather inside the glove, refusing to listen to his instructions. Unsure of whether he should inform Nevin’s parents about the latest development, he took the first stride towards those crude steps, almost skidding on the first one covered with a thin layer of frost.

Sara Sutherland, Andy’s most important companion of this trip followed him. She had also covered her body parts with sufficient woollen clothing. Sara too turned back to see those piercing blue eyes at least once for the last time.

I can’t be mistaken in identifying those unique piercing blue eyes. I would have identified them even in darkness.

Her heart was ready to rupture, her voice was almost dead, and her mind was not ready to accept what her eyes had seen. Her pair of unfathomable eyes was ready to roll out uninterrupted flow of tears. In spite of those painful feelings, her mother’s words heard last night kept on reverberating in her mind.

Andy kept on descending followed by Sara, his eyes suddenly catching hold of something on the other mountain across the river flowing between the two mountains, absolutely unaware of the large rock that was rolling down towards him. His feet froze as a reaction to what he saw, then he took a step back to get a clear view that hid him completely from Sara’s vision. He murmured, Balcony On The River! I can’t be mistaken, totally ignorant of the fact that the rock had picked up momentum by then. Sara heard an ear-splitting human cry and loud thud emanating out of a violent crash.

A few thousand miles away, on the other side of the world in Edinburgh, Mona Sutherland, mother of Sara Sutherland was making preparations for her hastily planned trip to India. She very well knew that Nevin, her daughter’s boyfriend was no more, but she couldn’t convey the same to her daughter. It had been a long wait and she had dealt it with patience. She had allowed Sara to travel to India in search of Nevin more than a month ago. However, the wait was becoming endless and she had now decided to ensure that her daughter comes out of that false hope and the relationship which didn’t exist anymore.

Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Acknowledgements & References

One

The first act of a day, Andy always did was to turn over the date of the table calendar placed next to the tea maker where the table touched the corners formed by edges of the two walls. It was a calendar that looked different, it was not a body of just day and date, but it had a soul, it had thoughts, in fact very deep thoughts. The calendar appeared like a two dimensional tent with a window. When Andy turned over the date, it was 14 th June, 2009 – a Sunday. The thought for the day appeared through the window

"I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul

rememb’ring my good friends."

- William Shakespeare

Andy read it loudly in his deep, timber voice as if trying to get soaked in those magical words, which he believed from the core of his heart. He repeated those words and immediately knew that he had to talk to Nevin, his best friend and his colleague of four years. In fact, it was Nevin who had made him start loving the flavour of friendship, which he was almost unaware throughout his childhood and adolescence.

He pushed aside the long, heavy, soft coloured curtains and his bedroom was submerged in bright sunrays, spread from the edge of the window to the extreme corner of the room, fulfilling him with all the warmth he could have imagined on a Scottish summer morning.

Fantastic! he couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming, accompanied by a positive feeling that came with a bright morning.

Summer was at its zenith and Edinburgh was throbbing with life. It was bright, sunny and expected to be so during next few days as BBC Weather News Reporter kept on repeating previous night with the brightness reflecting from her face as well when Andy had switched off the television before falling asleep.

His apartment was on Dundaas Street. The living room overlooked the lush green Queen Street Garden from his third floor apartment. In spite of having a comparatively compact apartment to stay, he felt quite cosy in that. It had everything that he needed, space that was quite adequate for him, just what he required. Though Edinburgh was a smaller city when compared to London, he had developed a strong liking for this beautiful city over a period of time. The city had retained the flavour of bygone days. The old town and the new town were so closely juxtaposed yet the old town retained its authentic flavour and grand heritage. He had taken his own time to explore the city and when he did, he was overwhelmed by its diversity, hundreds of historical heritage edifices, each of them had their own story to tell. The city was receptive to the inheritance of culture and he couldn’t have believed it until he evidenced the Edinburgh festival. London was huge and its history and culture among the richest ones but Andy somehow couldn’t get a whiff of its aroma. Perhaps he was fighting with his soul all those years when he stayed there. He used to feel lost in the megalopolis; Edinburgh provided him the opportunity to make peace with his restless soul.

It was not long before he started enjoying the attractions of the Scottish capital – the Royal Mile dotted with numerous tiny bars, the freedom those bars brought to life through the tables and chairs placed on the side of the streets under the infinite summer sky and extended evenings. It was one of the most happening places, particularly in summer when tourists from all around the world – Russians and Polish, Indians and Japanese, Australians and Germans all would finally gather at Royal Mile after typical sightseeing, the old castle being their favourite or waiting for the guided haunted tours to begin in the alleys and basements of the old structures around.

His apartment was not very far from the happening spots of Edinburgh, be it St. Andrew Square or Princess Street. During summer, Royal Mile used to be a favourite destination for him. Nevin would be there waiting for him just across Princess Street, in front of Hotel Balmoral, the tower clock of the hotel a witness to their punctuality as far as their drinking sessions were concerned. Later Nevin’s girlfriend Sara also started joining them for the last two years.

Sara and Nevin had met in Nevin’s office cafeteria and started liking each other instantly. When Nevin introduced Andy to Sara for the first time, there was a big question mark on her face – A westerner with a turban, She must have thought. Gradually, she became friendly with Andy and the trio started enjoying each other’s company, those long debates on issues of varied interest – Manchester United’s loss to Liverpool in football or the recent Ashes cricket series, global and European economic scenario and at times their own future plans.

Once Sara was through with her initial inhibitions, she asked Andy about his origin and what made him to sport that impressive turban. She was also curious to know about Andy’s girlfriend and couldn’t hide her surprise to know that he had none.

As Andy sipped his cup of Darjeeling tea, one of the likings that he had picked from his mother, the cell phone started ringing. He was appreciating the brilliant morning sunrays of Scottish summer, flowing like molten gold.

Is it mom? he wondered.

With a tinge of apprehension he moved towards the side table where he had kept his iphone before hitting the bed previous night. His mother stayed at Newcastle and usually he would take a Friday evening service from Waverley railway station to Newcastle on alternate weekends. Though his weekends had lost their charm once Nevin moved to India a month ago on a business assignment, he had decided to stay back during that weekend, making it a languid one.

The screen of the iPhone was visible now, The Saint it displayed intensely, Nevin’s face, and particularly his piercing blue eyes flashing on the screen. While purchasing the iphone, he had taken Nevin’s photograph in the store itself to make it part of his profile. He could see his face; he wanted to see Nevin badly.

The morning looked dazzling now, the moment he had thought of Nevin, he had heard him. It was not one off, it had happened in the past, perhaps that is what telepathy was all about, he thought. He picked up the cell phone without further delay and almost shouted,

Hey! Saint, what makes you call me so early in the morning?

Your morning is my mid-day dude.

And they went on talking as they always did for the last one month, at times pulling each other’s leg and at times Nevin sharing details of his life in India. He had flown to the city of Mumbai a month back, but every time he called Andy, he had something to communicate, at times interesting and at times bizarre. The country was full of unexplored and fascinating facts for Nevin.

The call ended after thirty minutes with a promise that he would email a few fantastic snapshots from India. Andy could only make a guess about those fantastic photographs - his understanding and interpretation was very poor as far as Nevin’s photographs were concerned. He recalled the occasion when Nevin had taken a snapshot of a large white bird, taking out garbage from dustbin in one of Edinburgh streets. He explained the underlying connotation of the photograph to Sara and Andy at length that triggered an intriguing debate over a few pints of Corona, their favourite beer. Nevin could come out with at least three interpretations and tried to convince them, his blue eyes shining like a diamond. On other occasions when he would observe disbelief in the eyes of Sara, his eyes would become moist with pain, transparent like a sparkling lake, they had been honestly expressive.

Unlike any other Sunday morning when he would spend hours reading The Scotsman, Sunday Herald and sipping a few cups of Darjeeling tea, he once again got into his bed. He lay there still; his eyes closed and went a few years back in his thoughts.

Two

Andy could recall the day and the date precisely , 6 th June, 2005 - his day of joining at Global Imperial Bank. It was a great summer. A lucrative package offered by the bank had made him leave his job in London and move to Edinburgh – A Network Analyst in the IT department of the bank. He had been to Edinburgh quite a few times earlier and always liked the calmness and convenience of the city. The city had an interesting mix of ancient and nascent. The old part of the city beyond Princess Street looked like a page straight out of Harry Potter movie, the old structures built with those black stones were sufficient to arouse interest in the history of mankind. The castle imparted a unique character to the city, an awesome look from Princess Street. The East and West Princess Gardens were lush green and the relaxed look at the faces of people in those gardens was contagious. It had been love at first sight with the city and particularly with its old town for him.

As it was quite usual, the first day at a new organization, unknown workplace created anxiety for Andy. He took a cab to Dundaas Street and once he had been through with joining formalities and listened to some pep talk by HR patiently, he was escorted to his seat on the second floor. When he was looking around quite gingerly to put his coat on a hanger before taking his seat, a lanky possibly six footer or an inch more stood up from his seat, next to Andy’s and extended his large hand,

Nevin McIntosh.

Andy Singh.

They introduced each other standing straight almost head to head tall, Andy taller by an inch.

Welcome to Global Imperial Bank.

Thanks.

Cheers.

Nevin helped Andy to find out the place to hang his coat and offered a Cappuccino before he could touch the keyboard of his desktop.

They went to the cafeteria and Nevin started conversing as if he knew Andy for years. Andy could sense honesty in those piercing blue eyes. Unlike many others, Nevin didn’t hesitate to ask Andy about his conspicuous navy blue turban matching with the colour of his suit. Andy revealed his background in a brief and within few minutes, he was assured that he had landed at a right place. A place without a friend could never be worth staying, he always believed.

Coffee, lunch, tea….their friendship got strengthened every day. They sat next to each other, cracked jokes, and at times discussed serious technical issues. They worked together on priority one incidents as if the world would cease to exist if they were not resolved within SLA. Nevin would often make fun of their boss Mr. Campbell and Andy would enjoy every bit of it. A lively human being Nevin is, – Andy understood in a short time. Andy didn’t realise when the winter arrived in Edinburgh and when it was time for another summer, he had completed one year in the bank.

It was not only the office walls that witnessed their growing friendship, but they would often go to Starbucks or further to Last Drop Tavern at Grassmarket and spent hours over a Cappuccino or Corona. Grassmarket’s dramatic and absorbing history, well preserved paved streets, its medieval architecture, and a view of Edinburgh Castle was unparalleled. Located in the shadow of the castle, it was the main market for cattle from 15th to 19th century. It was really difficult to imagine that Grassmarket used to be a place where convicts were hanged in the past. Nevin would often pick up this topic and they would debate for hours on its history and the debate would extend to - whether a convict should be hanged or not, whether a place that was used for public execution should be converted in a fun area – dotted with bars, restaurants and that strip dance bar at the adjoining road. The discussions that often used to get transformed into strong debates became more colourful when Sara started joining them. It was one of those days when Nevin had asked Andy,

Do you know why the prosecution orders say – hang until death?

Andy was taken unaware. An interesting story had come out from Nevin.

It goes back to early 18th century. Maggie Dickson, a fishwife from Musselburgh was hanged in the Grassmarket for murdering her own baby.

How weird and sad! Sara couldn’t resist.

Nevin continued, After the hanging, her supposedly dead body was taken back to her native place in a coffin. However, something strange happened. On the way back, her dead body became alive, rather she awoke. Under Scottish law those days, she had served her punishment. Only later the words until death was added to the sentence of hanging to avoid such a situation again.

Quite interesting! I never knew, Andy had exclaimed. What happened to her? Was she executed again?

No, it was seen as divine intervention. She was allowed to go free after that. The legend is she was referred to as Half-Hangit Maggie thereafter, Nevin had paused to watch the reactions. He smiled and said,

Just read that, name of that pub on your left.

Andy and Sara had turned left to see the pub named after Maggie.

Sara brought kick in their cup of coffee and tranquillity in their bottle of beer. She would pump their spirit whenever they felt exhausted after a bad week, full of priority one and two incidents or failed IT infrastructure changes. She would calm them down if they were about to fly and move far away from the hard realities of life. Her innocent face had that friendly smile all the time. If faces described the character, she had one – sparkling and graceful like a crystal that reflected those rays capable of piercing the most frozen hearts. Her dangling ear rings would dance with a rhythm that perfectly matched her dancing eyeballs as she spoke with her everlasting exuberance. As she laughed, her eyes laughed too, her cheeks would depress to make the dimple visible, which Nevin had once referred as reflection of the waves that got created in his heart every time Sara smiled.

One, two, three, four years just flew like birds with wings. When fifth summer was about to arrive, most unexpectedly Nevin made a decision – to move to India for an assignment lasting a year with a possibility that it could further extend by another six months. It was more than a surprise for Andy. Later, he came to know that even Sara had been taken aback by this unforeseen decision. Andy had tried to convince Nevin not to take up that role, but he didn’t listen. He had his arguments and unquestioned logic, at times difficult to ignore. Andy was sure that Sara had also tried to convince Nevin, but he seemed obsessed with the idea of relocating to India.

A few months after Nevin moved to India…..

Though it was a weekend morning, yet Andy had got up early. It was dark outside, an early hour of winter. Wide spread snowfall had occurred previous day and it was freezing temperature outside, in fact, a few notches below the zero mark. It was definitely a weekend to sleep tight but he couldn’t. He had hardly slept during the night.

He had tried to keep his mind unoccupied by gulping few shots of Dalwhinnie, but it hadn’t been of much help. He had a very strange feeling throughout the night as if someone was there in the room but he couldn’t see him, he could just feel him. Was it Dalwhinnie that was showing its effect or he had hallucinations, he was unsure.

Finally, he decided to come out of his bed and prepare a cup of tea. He changed the date as he always did every morning, 12th December – Saturday. The window of the tent shaped calendar had revealed a new thought,

"There is not enough darkness in the entire world to put

out the light of even one small candle."

- Robery Alden

He read it twice, thrice to get soaked in it. It appeared so simple a statement, yet it wasn’t too easy to visualize its abstract. He realised that he too had a candle burning inside him, surrounded by the pitch darkness that had encompassed his heart. He glanced at the clock perched on the wall, 6.05 – It would be another two hours before some brightness would appear on the horizon. He poured another cup of tea and let himself fall on the sofa.

After Nevin’s departure to India, it was for the second time that he had met Nevin’s parents previous evening. First time he had met them more than two months ago when Nevin didn’t return to his work place in Mumbai from his trip to discover India. When he didn’t call anyone for more than a week, his parents, Sara and Andy, all became anxious. They tried calling Nevin numerous times but his cell phone was switched off all the time, very unusual of him. Nevin had taken two weeks off to travel within India. He appeared keen and highly excited to visit all the places in India. His phone calls and emails were gradually becoming more and more India centric and somewhat philosophical. Andy tried to recollect and realised that there was some change in Nevin, though he couldn’t conclude what it was exactly.

Finally, Mumbai office formally declared him missing. A complaint was already lodged with the local police station. British High Commission was officially informed as well. Two months had elapsed since his parents were communicated by corporate office of the bank in Edinburgh. A ray of hope kept them waiting for positive news to arrive from India. It had been a few weeks of despair by now. Seemed, no news was not at all good news.

Since bank had put all its resources in India to get a proper investigation done and embassy had put its weight behind too, Mumbai Police got into action. However, what they had come up after a month of Nevin’s disappearance was unbelievable. Andy never believed those investigations that painted Nevin as one having connection with drug mafia who in turn were linked to a terrorist group. Dealing in drug was a way for them to generate fund for terrorist activities. The cops concluded that Nevin went into some conflict with the drug mafia, either he annoyed them by trying to part his ways with them or he was part of a deal that went wrong. The findings of Indian cops took everyone by surprise at Edinburgh office of the bank. It lowered spirits of Sara and Nevin’s parents to such a level that a recovery from there appeared almost impossible.

Once those announcements were made, most of the people started distancing themselves from any discussion around Nevin. A drug trafficker was not of any interest to one and everyone wanted to be safe and clean. There was hardly any update forthcoming from cops. There was no trace of Nevin for more than couple of months now.

Though Andy had spoken to Nevin’s father, the senior McIntosh after Nevin went missing; he met him only after bank formally communicated Nevin’s disappearance. In fact, it was a phone call from Mr. Andrew McIntosh expressing his keenness to meet Andy that took him there. Andy went to meet him the same evening. They lived in Perth, a small peaceful city – approximately fifty miles from Edinburgh. It was ideally suited for retired senior citizens. However, in case of Nevin’s parents, they had their roots in a nearby country side and they were resident of Perth for a long. It took an hour for him to reach there. It was not the first time that he was going to meet Nevin’s parents in Perth. During last four years, he had been to Perth quite a few times; one of them was especially memorable during Easter holidays.

Mr. Andrew McIntosh had been a person with mild manners. Possibly in his late sixties, he appeared to be a perfect gentleman, trying his best to pass rest of his life peacefully in their small and quiet cottage. The cottage had a neatly done tiny front garden consisting of plants and colourful flowers and a kitchen garden at the rear.

Mr McIntosh spent most of his time taking care of the plants and the flowers in the garden. Andy had no interest in those plants and flowers. Hence, he never tried to know about them though initially the old couple seemed eager to share their knowledge with him about their garden and its inhabitants during his visit when he had accompanied Nevin.

However, the environment was in complete contrast when he met them second time after