Valley of Death Page 8

  “You may remember Master that Bharoo had told Colonel Narang that he needed time for mastering that dangerous black-magic power. He finally succeeded in his invocation; it was a great error on our part, not to take his efforts seriously enough, even after his daring attack on you in the past,” Harry said in a regretful voice.

  “But you should have known,” Rudolf said in a complaining voice.

  “Yes Warlock, but that clever tantrik blinded my vision; it was as if a mental block or selective amnesia had overtaken me and I forgot all about him,” he explained.

  “Whatever,” Rudolf said interrupting him impatiently, “You tell me what youknow about him.”

  “Bharoo has mastered Moothkarni and is preparing to use it on you this night. You have got to stop him Warlock, it is imperative that you hasten to stop him before he succeeds in completing the magic ritual of invoking the power and throwing it on you. I don’t need to remind you that at present you are stripped of all your defences and supernatural powers and hence you simply cannot escape from that power. The only thing you can do is to stop Bharoo before he used the power against you,” again warned Harry.

  “I will teach that aandha Bengali (blind Bengali) a lesson he would not live to tell,” With his eyes burning with vengeance Rudolf declared, “Bharoo has earned his death, and believe me, he will die badly!”

  “You have precious little time left Warlock,” Harry reminded him.

  “Where is Bharoo doing his invocation?” asked Rudolf.

  “I…I …” Harry had something in his throat, choking his voice.

  “Don’t tell me that you don’t know that!”

  “I don’t,” he admitted embarrassingly.

  “Great! And how am I supposed to find him in this vast goddamn city; before he completes the invocation of Moothkarni?” Rudolf asked in dismay.

  “That male nurse of Narang,” Harry said remembering, “he had called a taxi stand on Panchkuian road. Maybe we can find out where Bharoo might be from there; it’s a long shot I admit, but it’s certainly worth trying, also since we have got no other leads to follow,” said Harry.

  “You are right, let’s check that out, and I promise you, Harry, once I get back my powers, I will show this blind tantrik how ruthless and evil Warlock can really be,” Rudolf said starting the engine of his Landcruiser.

  “But what about your female friend?” Harry reminded him, as Rudolf drove his station wagon on the empty roads of Connaught place.

  Rudolf dialled the number of the mobile of his female friend from his cell phone while holding the steering of his car with his right hand. When she came on the other end of the line, he rudely and bluntly told her to find a cab back home; he had to take care of some matter urgently. Harry saw how angry and red his face became when he heard apparently the insolent curses from the other end. He shouted in his phone, “Then go to hell, you Bitch; and take your goddamn fat mother, stupid sister and your no good father who live on their girls’ income with you there; go to hell, all of you; I don’t give a damn for either one of you or anyone else besides me!” shouted Rudolf.

  Harry saw him throw the mobile phone like a useless toy on the dashboard of the car. He thought it prudent not to ask any questions to Rudolf at such a time; he was beating his own records of rash and wild driving, as the Land Cruiser Prado sped its way to Panchkuian road. It was a race against time, but Rudolf did not surrender in the face of difficulties. He was ruthless in his pursuits and undertakings to the last breath.

  A few hours earlier

  Bharooshah Bengali was sitting on a stool in the taxi stand on Panchkuian road, which was his permanent place for hanging about. He was sipping a cup of hot tea, given by a boy; being a blind person with little else to do, he had found in that taxi stand a unique place for entertainment, where he could hear all sorts of interesting anecdotes and the happenings of the city and the world around.

  The drivers in that taxi stand found the unlikely pair, of Bharoo and Twinkle, a blind and a spastic man respectively, quite amusing and interesting. But they were always friendly to the duo, much to the relief and comfort of both of them. Bharoo had been told that it was 11:30 in the morning and he was waiting sitting there for his companion Twinkle to come, who was expected within an hour.

  Twinkle, whose real name was Tahir Sheikh, lived with his old and loving mother Ruhee Sheikh in a nursery in Dhaula Kuan area; every morning he came down to Panchkuian road to be with his master Bharoo and in the night he went back to his mother. He was picked up by a taxi from the stand, which had gone on that route in the morning and was dropped at the nursery in the night by a similar arrangement; the generous drivers did not mind giving him a free ride whenever anyone of them was going on that way. It was thus that Bharoo was expecting Twinkle to come within an hour by the courtesy of the free ride from a driver who had gone that way.

  It was an interesting story, of how Twinkle had got his name; whenever his mother used to recite him the famous nursery rhyme, Twinkle, twinkle little star, in his childhood, he used to clap with pleasure. This made his mother nickname him as Twinkle; he had grown up to be a man of 35 years, but the name had stuck up with him ever since the bygone days. He and Bharoo were inseparable from the time they had first met and after her initial reluctance, Twinkle’s mother had accepted that friendship and companionship of her son and Bharoo, which gave her a feeling of security.

  Enjoying a hot cup of tea in that small room of the taxi stand, Bharoo’s attention shifted from the noises outside to the telephone call from Colonel Narang 3-4 days earlier. He had received a telephone call at the small confectionary shop in an alley next to the Panchkuian road. It was in an attic above that shop, where Bharoo lived and slept in the night; whenever he was not out on a black magic invocation – a mission as he liked to call it – he was either found at the taxi stand, or in his attic.

  Colonel Narang had pressed Bharoo for results in that telephonic conversation; he had reminded Bharoo of his promise, to master the power needed to annihilate Warlock. When Bharoo had asked for the sudden urgency the Colonel was showing, the old chess-playing strategist had told Bharoo that Rudolf had threatened a friend of his, who had been spying on him. He had so much frightened that woman for her safety and more so for her only child that she had not only withdrawn herself from the case but had also pleaded, begged before Colonel to save her and her son from the wrath of the Rudolf.

  The colonel had also told Bharoo that it was only a matter of time before Rudolf targeted them. It was therefore imperative that Bharoo struck while there was still time and opportunity; Narang had urged him to get his act together and make that lethal strike as soon as possible and without any loss of time.

  Bharoo had in response asked the Colonel for two more days, since he was in the last stages of mastering the power of Moothkarni. The master strategist had agreed and asked Bharoo to come to his flat himself or send a familiar taxi driver of his to pick up 10,000 rupees, with which he would be able to cover the expenses of the materials needed for the invocation. But the final stages had proved to be more troublesome than Bharoo had anticipated; still, he managed to complete the invocation of the black-magic power.

  The colonel had very strategically chosen the date of the final and lethal strike, the night preceding the crucial hearing of the Schönherr case when he was to testify in the court. He had told Bharoo that Rudolf and his ghost assistant would be too preoccupied with the legal trial to realize in time about Bharoo’s preparations for the final attack. Of course, none of them had any idea about Harry’s fancy and unique arrangement with a ghost about forewarning.

  It was the touch of a plump and sweaty hand on his shoulder, which brought back Bharoo in the present and made him realize that Twinkle had come. He held that hand into his and asked, “How are you Twinkle?”

  “Fine,” was the brief answer he received.

  “Where is Hanumant?”

  “I am here, Bharoo,” a driver said entering the room, which served a
s the office of that taxi stand. “I have a message for you; Twinkle’s mother said that she will be going out of town and that you should keep him with you for the night.”

  “Thank you Hanumant; you went through a lot of trouble,” Bharoo said.

  “Not at all, I had to drop a passenger at Gole market, whom I had picked up at Greater Kailash, and it took hardly five minutes to stop at Dhaula Kuan and pick up your friend. I have got a passenger waiting in my taxi, I have got to go, I will see you two later,” the driver said and went out of the office.

  “Twinkle,” Bharoo said to his friend and assistant, “let’s got to my room, we will talk there”.

  His spastic assistant nodded his head slowly and took Bharoo by the arm and guided him to the attic above the confectionary shop in the alley, adjacent to Panchkuian road. It was a small and unkempt place with a folding bed, an old trunk filled with clothes; next to a wall was the idol of mother goddess Kali – the patron deity of tantriks. There was also the framed photograph of Holy Kaba and a powerful protection spell written in Urdu that BharooShah’s or Bahauddaulah’s Sufi teacher Mian Mir Qutub had given him. Twinkle helped his blind master to sit on the bed and he himself sat on the floor at to his feet. Bharoo gripped his wand with a strange alphabet shaped metal on its top tightly in his hand and bowed towards the idol of Kali.

  “Twinkle,” he said, “we have to strike on Warlock tonight. It may turn out to be a very dangerous venture, but we have got to finish him. I have ordered all the necessary materials and ingredients for the invocation, they will arrive soon. I think that your place at Dhaula Kuan will be the ideal setting for this invocation; since your mother is going out of town, we can work undisturbed and uninterrupted in that desolate place.” Twinkle nodded in agreement; which was useless, for his master could not see it anyway, nor had Twinkle really understood the full meaning of what Bharoo had said but it did not matter much. “You bring my trunk here Twinkle; there is something in it which I will need to use tonight,” Bharoo said.

  Twinkle stood up slowly from the floor and brought the old and heavy trunk with complete ease and placed it before the bed. On Bharoo’s direction Twinkle opened the trunk; he removed the clothes of everyday use and placed them on the bed. He took out and handed over Bharoo the items of his desire as per his directions: dagger, amulet, necklaces of beads and bones and a human-skull – tied and covered in black satin cloth. Bharoo carefully and very respectfully placed it beside himself on the bed and asked Twinkle to put the clothes back in the trunk and to put it back from where he had picked it up.

  Bharoo spent the next hour in deep meditation with his magic wand, dagger, a metal amulet and the skull placed before the idol of Kali. Twinkle sat on the floor at the opposite end of the room with complete disenchantment in the tantrik’s meditations. A man came at the door, Twinkle got up and after paying him the money, took the materials and ingredients the man had brought, according to the instructions of Bharoo.

  As per the Sorcerer’s earlier instructions, Twinkle placed the two large black polythene bags filled with unknown ingredients besides him. One special thing that amused Twinkle was a live cock; which had its legs tied together and was lying helplessly on the floor, making all sorts of noises once in a while. Twinkle watched it for a long time until his eyes began to get heavy and he slipped into a deep sleep.

  It was the shaking of his shoulder, which woke up Twinkle; it was dark by then and Bharoo was kneeling beside him. The blind tantrik was wearing a new pair of green and black clothes; complete with a green scarf on his head and innumerable necklaces of beads and a few animal bones around his neck. He took his magic wand with an idol wrapped in red cloth in his one hand and the human-skull wrapped in a black satin cloth in his other. He asked his assistant to pick up the other things. Twinkle picked up the two polythene bags, the live cock and the jute bag, which Bharoo had put beside him and followed the tantrik.

  He put a small lock at the door of the attic and handed over the key to Bharoo who put it in one of the innumerable pockets of his large cloak. Both of them quietly walked on the pavement running along the road in the dark evening and reached the taxi stand. The duo got into a taxi and Bharoo instructed the familiar driver to take them to the nursery in Dhaula Kuan where Twinkle lived with his mother.

  On the way, none of them dropped a single syllable to disturb the sorcerer. The duo got out of the taxi outside the vast nursery, which was plunged into complete darkness. After the taxi was gone, both of them walked towards the small iron gate of the nursery; Twinkle opened it and followed Bharoo inside. They passed a small makeshift cottage where Twinkle lived with his mother and proceeded on the muddy path that led further into that vast nursery with lots of trees and filled with all sorts of flowers, samplings, flower pots of various shapes and sizes, mounds of mud and heaps of manures.

  Bharoo chose a huge Banyan tree as the right place for the invocation and black magic rituals; on his instructions Twinkle put down the things he was carrying and used a broom and his bare hands to clear the wild grass, fallen dry leaves and stray branches of the tree. Bharoo took out the idol of Kali from the well wrapped up the red cloth and placed it respectfully under the tree. On his directions, Twinkle found an iron saucer from the jute bag with many small pieces of wood; Bharoo made a small fire in that iron saucer, in front of the idol and began with his strange and incomprehensible hymns and chants.

  He put the opposite end of his magic wand on the ground and using it, made a circle around the tree under which he had placed the idol of Kali. Then Bharoo got back to his seat before the fire; on his directions, Twinkle took out the things they had brought with them and placed them before him – Liquor, meat, perfume, sweet-meat, urad (a pulse), loang (clove), looban (creosote/benzoin), Kapur (camphor), incense sticks, live cock and a large human bone, to name a few. Bharoo opened two polythene bags containing unknown ingredients; he poured in separate earthen pots. He picked up a handful from those earthen pots and chanting mysterious words continually, threw them in the fire. He kept on doing the same process for a long time to invoke the supernatural powers. The flames were suddenly leaping higher and higher with each new addition of the handful of ingredients; Twinkle sat hypnotized before the fire, seeing it all with wide-open eyes.

  An outside observer would have seen two men sitting below a Banyan tree in a darkened night sat two men; visibly with only fire and the idol of Kali in front of them, but with many sinister, strange and supernatural powers lurking in the veil of darkness that enveloped that desolate place. The loud chants of the blind sorcerer echoed in the empty space all around, as his face was radiant in the yellow and red flames of fire before him. It was a strange sight; in the middle of nowhere, in that wilderness plunged into darkness a fire was burning with two ghosts like figures sitting in front of it.

  Bharoo opened the black satin cloth with a human skull inside; then the magician raised his hand with the dagger and with one violent blow he chopped off the neck of the terrified cock, which gave out a last wild cry before it fell silent forever. The blood started oozing out; the tantrik put the fresh blood of the dead cock on the idol of Kali and then on the human skull. He put some of the blood on his forehead too, and then on the forehead of Twinkle in the shape of a vertical line from the bridge of the nose to the hairline above the forehead as a raktim-tilak”.

  The tantrik was shaking his head continuously with his chanting growing louder and louder. He placed the skull in a mud-haandi (earthen pot), along with a Deepak that he had lit, incense sticks and a knife. As his mantras continued the haandi started to revolve around its invisible axis and a whistling sound came out of it, along with an inhuman and robot-like voice, viz. Blood, blood! Rudolf’s blood! He was meditating deeply on invoking his Moothkarni power, once he had that power at his command, he could throw it at Rudolf. He was on the verge of completing the invocation or recall of the black power, against which his enemy had no defence.

  Rudolf stopped his station wagon before th
e taxi stand on Panchkuian road and inquired about tantrik Bharoo Shah Bengali. He was told by the group of drivers present there that Bharoo could be found in his attic above a confectionary shop in a nearby alley. Rudolf did not wait to hear anymore, he rushed his Land cruiser to that alley and climbed up the stairs that led to the attic; he found a closed door thumbing its nose at him. He returned back to his car in an ugly mood. He banged the door of the car behind him and sat down on the seat with his hands on his cheeks. “Harry; I have lost it!”

  “Don’t give up so easily Warlock,” said Harry, “the battle is far from lost.”

  “I might as well accept defeat Harry,” Rudolf said looking at the brilliantly lighted Panchkuian road through the windscreen of his car. “I can fight a mighty enemy, but not an invisible enemy. I don’t know where the hell is that blind tantrik invoking his evil power; how can I then possibly stop him in time? And what makes the coming defeat even more unbearable is that it will be at the hands of an unworthy opponent. That bloody Bharoo is simply no match for the evilest Warlock like me!” Rudolf declared.

  “You can go back to the taxi-stand and try to find out about the whereabouts of Bharoo. Maybe someone can suggest some other place where that tantrik could be at this time.”

  “Will it work?” Rudolf asked suspiciously.

  “I agree it’s a long shot, but it is at least better to try than to sit here and wait like a dead duck for Bharoo’s attack,” he said.

  Heeding Harry’s advice, his master drove back his car to the taxi stand and approached the group of drivers present there. “Listen here fellows,” Rudolf said with a renewed urgency in his voice, “I have not found Bharoo in that attic; could anyone of you tell me where I can find him?” He implored. “It’s an emergency, believe me, I have simply got to find where Bharoo is at this time,” again he beseeched.