As you turn to me and say...
My Love... take my breath away" – Take my breath away, Berlin
"Legend has it, or rather an old bearded man at a beach shack has it, that the great Portuguese sailor Vasco Da Gama once fell in love. So strong was his love for this woman that on learning that she was in love with another he promptly had her ring finger, adorned with the priceless ring he had presented her, chopped off and thrown into the sea in a fit of rage. Such an act would have hardly attracted attention, given his notoriety for barbaric acts, had the story ended there. But it did not.", I narrated. She already looked bored. "Should I continue?", I asked. She politely replied, "Yeah do go on. Maybe I could hear a little more." I knew she didn't want to hear a word more but alas! I am one of those vain mariners* who just can't stop themselves from telling their story to others. So I continued.
"Well, there was this parallel legend which said that Vasco had amassed a huge fortune from his exploits in the subcontinent which he had hidden somewhere near the coast of modern Goa. And the only 'treasure map' was this very ring. Obviously, there was a centuries long hunt for the lost ring. Whether it was ever found no one knows but the...". 'Koi Roko Na...Deewane Ko..' - Her mobile phone was ringing. She answered it and sure enough her supervisor wanted to know what she was up to since it had been more than an hour that she had gone for lunch. Her face grew angry and when the call ended she looked at me with the 'Sorry pal. Really gotta go now!' look. Poor old mariner!
I had met her a month ago. Lively and fun to be with, I had become addicted to her company. She already had a boyfriend. So we were to be 'just friends'. I had heard this for the umpteenth time. So I had hardly batted an eyelid. With me it was always the same. I was one of those guys who always remained 'buddies', always there for you when you are down but those you never remember when you think of love.
One day, all of a sudden she told me, "I'm going to meet Rakesh!” with a big smile on her face. I simply replied, "That's great!” Rakesh was her boyfriend and lived in Pune. She had been really missing him since they had last met nearly six months ago. So she had planned a trip to Pune and from there they would go for a short vacation to Goa. "Have you told your parents about this plan of yours?", I asked her. "Are you mad!?", she exclaimed. "Dad hates him and mom believes that he should come and visit me if at all we are to meet! I just told them I'm going for a company sponsored trek." A pause. "And don't you dare tell anyone about this!". I agreed to keep it to myself (as if I had any other option! She was the type of person who never took no for an answer). Then she asked me whether I had been to Goa and when I replied in the affirmative she immediately asked me to tell her all about the places of tourist attraction and the best spots for couples. I, of course, pleaded complete ignorance of the latter since I had gone there with two other guys and had no idea about couple hangouts. However, I did give her a lot of information about the most frequented destinations there. I promised her I would get a printout of the map of Goa and point out the locations to her. I kept my promise and we sat the following day pondering over the map.
* Reference to poem: Rhyme of The Ancient Mariner
A copy of the same map is reproduced below:
The conversation grew long and I went into interesting legends related to Goa, as well. It of course ended with the part I have related above. Several days passed and I managed to meet her again only the day before she was to leave for Pune. She seemed visibly excited and nervous. The first question she shot at me was, "What will happen if my flight gets hijacked?" I was in a rather naughty mood so I replied, "Don't give yourself airs, you aren't that important!" But she persisted, "What will my parents think if I don't come back?" The conversation was getting to be fun. I rubbed my chin with my index finger and thumb, screwed up my face and replied after a moment's thought, "Well, see. First you won't reach home and won't be able to call I presume. So your parents will get worried. They will call up office to find out if you have turned up since according to your plan you will report there on the same day you return. Your project lead will inform them that you are absent and haven't applied for leave. Eventually they will panic and report the matter to the police...". "Ok… enough." she said. She looked upset. I softened my tone and told her gently, "Why$ don't you simply give me your dad's phone number so that just in case you disappear I could let him know where you might be." "No chance. Suppose you tell on me! I'm just being stupid... nothing will happen!", she said stoutly. We talked for a while about other things and then I wished her 'Bon Voyage' and we parted. It was winter. It was foggy. I felt unusually cold as I watched her shapely tall figure disappear through the entrance of the building. Something just didn't seem right. After another moment, I shrugged and walked away.
She was expected back on the morning of Wednesday. I had no idea why but I was anxiously waiting for a message from her that she had returned safely. No message came. I tried calling her but her mobile phone was switched off. I tried reasoning with myself. Don't worry. She's probably enjoying herself. Too busy to receive a call. Or maybe she is just plain tired and sleeping at home. Everything is going to be back to normal tomorrow. I had a troubled sleep that night.
The following day my mobile phone refused to display her name for all the looking I gave it. Her phone was still switched off. Maybe she had grown tired of me. My anxiety morphed into anger. Why couldn't she just let me know if she had decided to stay there longer? I spent another night tossing and turning.
The first thing I did next morning on reaching office was to contact her project team to know if they had any information. But I was told that they had already been receiving similar calls from her parents since yesterday and they had not received any information whatsoever. I bit my lip trying to think hard. The matter was getting serious. What could I do? I didn't even have her home number. It was only that afternoon that I realized that the buzz in my head was nothing compared to the throb which replaced it.
Around 2 pm I received a call on my mobile number. A gruff voice at the other end of the line introduced himself as Colonel Singh. He asked me to come downstairs and meet him at the office reception. Singh. Her title. Damn! What now?
I rushed downstairs to find a tall well built man and a dignified woman waiting for me. The woman's eyes were swollen and reddish. Had she been crying? The Colonel greeted me coldly. I sat down on the sofa opposite them. He reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. Scrawled on it was the following message:
Moinak C, SCT, 9835674564, Vasco's Ring
My blood froze as I saw my own name. Before I could use my IQ any further the Colonel leaned forward and with a menacing look asked me, "How do you know my daughter?"
I tried hard to keep my expression straight and from betraying the fear that was welling inside me. I explained that I was just a friend and I had hardly known her for over a month. Seemingly unconvinced, the Colonel went straight to the point. They had informed the police about her disappearance. The message I had just seen had been received by him sent from her mobile phone about an hour earlier. My name was clearly mentioned and without mincing any words, I was prime suspect.
I thought hard. I plainly admitted that I knew nothing and understood nothing of the message. Even in my desperation I didn't immediately want to betray the trust she had placed in me and inform them that she was actually in Goa with her boyfriend. I finally said, "Uncle I will try to figure out what she is trying to say". "Well, you better hurry up unless you want to spend time with the police". I pursed my lips. He went on, "Look son, I think it's better for you to tell us what you know." "On the face of it, all I can say is that she must be in Goa, since Vasco's ring refers to a legend from there." Uncle looked hard into my face trying to read something which I of course knew wasn't there. "You will go there and find her. We and the police will accompany you." My jaw dropped. "I can't...", I began. Uncle cut me short and said, "Have you been through a police interrogation before?" I replied, "No".
Never laugh at people when they tell you that they suffer from insomnia. I stared up at the dark ceiling all night. I was hammering out every possible scenario in my head. The only thing common to all of them was that I was a dead man. Despite the cool wintry night I was perspiring from the tension. God! What had I done to deserve this! I was more afraid of daybreak than I had ever been in my life. I had bought tickets to Dabolim at an exorbitant rate. I had requested a hurried leave from office from my Project Lead. I had explained to my parents that I was going for a company sponsored trek. I was following exactly in her footsteps. My mother was extremely suspicious. Why hadn't I told her earlier? Just slipped my mind I had replied.
***
I met her parents at the airport. They were with 2 others evidently policemen or detectives in plainclothes. I licked my parched lips and said a hello with a strained smile. They just nodded. I sat down on the aircraft seat. What on earth was wrong with me!? Why on earth did I listen to them? I am a software engineer. This is life! Not a movie! I was so tired that once the seat belt signs were switched off I opened my dinner tray and lay my head on it. An airhostess soon came and offered the complimentary lunch. I took it. I had blown a pretty penny on all this! After about an hour into the flight I stopped ranting in my mind and opened the map of Goa I had brought with me. Vasco's ring. What did the legend say?
Vasco's ring was never found. But some of Vasco's artifacts were found buried off the coast at Vasco Da Gama. They could hardly be said to constitute a treasure, in the common sense of the term, though they were of historical importance. So all I could figure out was that her clue could only point to Vasco Da Gama. We would have to go there first from Dabolim. I tried to think of anything else I had read about the legend. There was something about the wife's ghost being spotted on the beach searching endlessly for its missing finger. But I had read about it a long time ago and couldn't recall it correctly. I needed Google and badly!
No sooner had we landed than I found myself surrounded by my elite company again. After we had picked up our bags from the conveyor belt, I informed them of my hunch. We were supposed to go straight to Panjim first and check into a hotel. But since Vasco Da Gama was closer to the airport than to Panjim I suggested we go there first. Reluctantly they agreed and we were soon on our way there in a hired cab. Uncle asked what we were supposed to do once we got there. I looked at the two plainclothes men and said, "That's your job right?" They simply nodded. Maybe they were the kind of people who never spoke. Dumb!
The two detectives had asked for about 2 hours to interrogate the people in the neighborhood as well as use some of their 'normal operating procedures', whatever that meant. They would also probably request help from the local police. I kept getting the feeling that I was being cornered that too on a wild goose chase. Meanwhile, we waited at a restaurant. I tried to strike up a conversation with Uncle. Hate for me was so strong in his tone and dread so evident from his speech that we soon fell silent. After a silence, Aunty broke down beseeching me to just end this game! I swallowed hard and tried to show that I was in dead earnest as I replied that if I knew where to find her I would do so immediately as I had no pleasure in this game.
After an agonizing 2 hours they returned. Empty handed. No one had seen a person of her description. My head throbbed again. I was once again clueless as to what we could do. Goa wasn't a small town. It was a state! They all turned to me. I looked up at them and replied with great effort, "I need some time. I need the internet. Let's go to Panjim and I'll think of the next move."
I sat at John Fernandes' Cyber Cafe. Google! That absolutely mandatory part of a software engineer's life was open before me. I searched for hours. Read some hundred different legends. I was tired. I needed rest but the 2 detectives beside me constantly reminded me of my impending doom. At length I stared deliriously at the map of Goa. A lot of the legends referred to places and their locations. There was something in the map I was missing. I finally got up, shrugged and said I needed to spend sometime alone in the hotel room pondering. The faces of the detectives darkened. I had produced nothing concrete so far. They agreed but once I had shut the door to my room I knew they were still keeping a watch outside.
I cudgeled my brains. As per Google the ring was shaped like the mouth of a fish. Scholars believed that the original burial place may have been a fishing village. However, since the original designer of the ring had bequeathed his secret to others, before Vasco had him quartered, Vasco had removed the treasure to Vasco Da Gama, where the artifacts were discovered. But there were hundreds of fishing villages along the coast in Goa! Think hard. I kept repeating to myself. I was tired, sleepy and my eyelids drooped. I brought the jug and glass and poured out a glass of water in order to focus again. I gulped the water down and spilled some on the map. I cursed under my breath! I was losing it.
I stared groggily! A loud banging sound. The door. Someone was banging on the door. I looked around dazed. I had fallen asleep with my head on the table. I adjusted my spectacles and gradually I returned to reality. I got up and opened the door. The detectives were staring at me angrily. "So?", they had spoken at last. I slowly replied, "I have an idea." They showed plainly on their faces that they knew I was trying to buy time. Still, they played along for the time being and asked me to get ready. I returned to the table. The map was still lying there. The water droplet on it had dried leaving the paper wrinkled at the spot. Then suddenly like a flash of light it hit me. God had helped me!! The circle of the water droplet together with the coastline was unmistakably a fish's head. Where would one hide treasure in a fish's head? The eye? I hazarded a guess and looked at the spot which could possibly form the 'eye'. Old Goa Church Complex. The Basilica of Bom Jesus. Wow! The coincidence was too strong. It was worth a try!
I informed my elite escort of my latest 'bright idea' and we sped off towards Old Goa in a hired cab post a very very cursory breakfast. The complex again evoked in me the same reverence that I had felt the first time I saw it. Its immediate effect on people was a respectful silence. I once again looked at the information on the white stone telling the visitors about the church. Some of the letters were missing. I was about to curse Indians and their poor maintenance of the Church when on a second look I found that someone had actually used chalk to whiten a few letters here and there. I was disgusted. How could someone possibly deface a United Nations declared heritage site like that, although the informative stone was not technically a part of the monument? I again turned away. But something again caught my attention. Why just those letters? It didn't make sense. Maybe a kid. I moved a few steps back and then the words just toppled out of my mouth before I could stop them, "Oh my God!" The detectives had heard my exclamation and immediately demanded explanation. I swallowed hard and replied, "Orion". "What?” they asked. They clearly looked as though I needed a shrink. “Her favorite constellation. She told me she always has a lucky day after she sees the constellation in the night sky. She has been here. Let's look in the church.”
We entered the church in silence. Once inside no one spoke. People sat there looking up at the bronze sculptures, some in awe others in deep reverence. I looked around. She was nowhere to be seen. We searched hard for over two hours. There were lots of tourists. Many people admitted to having seen people of her description. It was difficult. Foreign tourists were tall and beautiful as well. She would hardly stand out in this crowd. Finally, tired out, I lost hope. Something about the sculptures made me feel like sitting down and praying. I motioned to the others to leave me alone for a few moments. I went and sat down on the first bench.
I closed my eyes. Involuntarily I put my head on my palms and bent down. I ran my fingers slowly through my hair in despair. I prayed hard. I reflected on all that had happened in the past few hours. I couldn't help it. Boys don't cry but a few hot tears trickled down my fingers. I wiped them with a handkerchief. It was a small ladies handkerchief. What!? As the realization dawned on me I turned my head in one swift motion and saw her sitting smiling at me. Before I could say a word, she put a finger on my lips and said, "I love you."
***
"What if I hadn't figured out your stupid Vasco's puzzle?” I asked her angrily. I was happy. I was angry. We were sitting on the concrete platform, back in office, chatting. "Simple. I had planned on going to Goa with my friend, Trisha, in any case. Mom wouldn't agree. I knew that. I wanted her to come too. I decided that I would any way let you people in on the secret once you had tried hard enough. I was following you ever since you came. Had Trisha call up your home and mine to find out. I also needed to know if you loved me. You came all the way to Goa to find me - a damsel in supposed distress. I'm proud of you." I tilted my head to one side, hardened my expression and replied, "Like I had a choice." "You know what? I think your problem is that you are too scared to let people know how sweet you are!"
THE END
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