The Youngest Suspect by Peggy Mohan

Author:Peggy Mohan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

17

And so it went. The rest of the year was without incident, and the next year promised to continue in this blessed calm. Adil kept his head down and worked, learnt his new trade.

Sohail began to seek him out as his choice of camera assistant, and Adil would watch him closely as he framed his shots and caught what was special about the light. Soon he had graduated from being just a camera attendant to doing the camera work for simple shoots with news teams.

Then one day near the end of March, when the temperatures had begun to soar again, the peace was shattered by the news that a government minister had been shot and killed.

An ordinary Brahmin with a conscience.

The words floated to the top of Adil’s mind, taking him back to that night in Vijay’s living room. Adil remembered the voice of a man who had been there, at the secret meeting called the night before the riots started. A man who knew everything. Who had been ready to talk. A man who was sure that they would think a thousand times before they touched him.

The minister who had been killed had already gone on his own and deposed before the Special Investigation Team, the tribunal investigating the riots. So they would never have let him out of their sight.

Vijay, Adil thought, suddenly remembering the other man of conscience. Thank God Vijay is not here!

Adil was booked to go with a news team to Law Garden to get the story. They arrived late in the afternoon and set up. He removed the lens cap and looked into the viewfinder. In the frame was a face with eyes he knew at once. Adil’s head jerked up: he was certain he was seeing things.

‘Faiza’s brother!’ she burst out.

He stood and stared.

‘I’m sorry,’ she went on, ‘I guess you don’t remember me.’

‘Megha,’ he mumbled. ‘You’re Megha . . .’

‘Oh, right,’ she gave a rueful smile. ‘You’ve heard my name. Well, I don’t know yours.’

‘It’s Adil. Adil Ansari.’ A silence. ‘I thought you might be a journalist.’

‘I’m not! I’m a student.’

‘A student?’

‘Film and video.’

Adil nodded, remembering his first shoot on Dumas Beach.

The producer strolled by. ‘We got here early,’ he mused. ‘We have to wait.’

‘Enough time for some chai?’ Megha asked.

He shrugged.

‘Come!’ she called to Adil and headed for a chaiwala who was sitting under a tree with his kettle.

They sat down on the ground with their tiny cups of chai. She wore jeans and a short kurta. Today there was no dupatta, and her hair was pulled back into a makeshift knot.

He looked away.

She read his mind at once. ‘Oh! I usually don’t wear a dupatta, especially when it’s this hot.’

‘N-no . . .’ Adil was suddenly embarrassed. ‘It’s not that. It’s just that I was remembering that you had a peach-coloured dupatta that day.’

‘Well, I was going into a disturbed area.’

‘Why? What made you come?’

‘I wanted to see for myself.’ A pause. ‘That day I wasn’t on campus, I was at my LG’s place .

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