Ten Days

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Book Title 1

  Book Title 2

  Copyright

  Dedicate Page

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Epilogue

  Back Cover

  © Leena Nandan, 2014

  First published 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior permission of the author and the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-81-8328-389-2

  Published by

  Wisdom Tree

  4779/23, Ansari Road

  Darya Ganj, New Delhi-110 002

  Ph.: +91-11-23247966/67/68

  wisdomtreebooks@gmail.com

  Printed in India

  To Mummy

  who ignited in me, the passion for reading

  and the love for writing.

  You live forever in our hearts...

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This weaving of several exciting ideas into one cohesive whole is largely due to the encouragement of my husband, Jiwesh, who believes implicitly in me, perhaps more than I do myself. Credit for the book goes to the entire household, which has borne stoically with my pounding away at the keyboard. My elder daughter, Tanvee had gone so far as to read the first draft with every appearance of enjoyment, thus motivating me to make the plot even more devious, while the younger one, Jayati’s naughty traits have made their way into the characters.

  The book has taken me on a very stimulating journey. But it would never have been written without the active support of Juthika, who did not just read it, but also gave me her ideas helping make Ten Days what it is. I am indebted to her for that.

  I also acknowledge with sincere appreciation the invaluable help rendered by Chandra Prakash. Last but not least, I extend my sincere thanks to the publisher, Wisdom Tree, and in particular to Shobit Arya and his team, for their excellent editing and the interest that they have taken in translating a manuscript into reality.

  PROLOGUE

  New Delhi, 28 January

  It was eerie time again. The witching hour manifested its grey overtones in the squeak of a chair, the rustle of a dress. As Tina Sahni walked to her workstation, her high-heeled sandals made a staccato sound on the polished floor. She disliked the blackness of the granite and with equal intensity, the expanses of glass interspersed with chrome, that made the place look cold and sterile. As always, the air conditioning was turned far too low; she rubbed her forearms, trying to flatten the goose bumps.

  She sat down at her workstation and took a deep breath, knowing what her unease stemmed from—she was dreading the call, sinister in tone and always unexpected. It wouldn’t come for weeks together, but the randomness kept her tightly wound and on edge till sometimes she felt she would snap with the tension. Tina didn’t want the others on her shift to sense her fear, and had never spoken about it, because anxiety was weakness in this cut-throat industry. She steeled herself to always respond with the customary politeness that had been ingrained over months of training in 24x365, the call centre which prided itself on being the industry leader. But when it came to the crunch, it was difficult to remember the effusive praise showered on her as a phenomenally bright executive who mastered inflections, tones and nuances in the minimum possible time.

  Inevitably, some sixth sense would make the hair at the nape of her neck bristle when THE call came, with the whispered ‘Tina…’Such a commonplace greeting and yet the fact that the caller invariably knew who had picked up the receiver always set her teeth on edge. The voice took on different nuances every time, once menacing, then terrifyingly gentle, making her want to scream. She was becoming paranoid and everyone appeared suspect. The guard had leered at her today, she thought, and she was equally certain that the programmer had brushed against her arm, giving her an insolent once-over when she turned to remonstrate.

  Who could it be? Almost everyone—all the human resource (HR) fellows, and even the cab drivers—knew details of the shifts. Maybe there was a simple explanation, that there was a prankster in the office who had learnt her name from a colleague, and was simply tormenting her out of meanness. In all likelihood, she was fussing over nothing and the real culprit was her overactive imagination, fed by the thrillers she read and the psychology thesis she had mastered! The melancholy tune in the background was probably unintentional—the chappie could simply be fond of modern music, which always sounds mournful even if the fellow playing it is the handsome rock star type, complete with long hair and frayed jeans.

  Suddenly, the tension broke and she laughed. She had remembered just then how ridiculous Jeet—Jeeteshwar Chauhan—had looked with the microphone in his hand and a romantic expression on his face to match the romantic song he intended to sing, when the wrong karaoke music had been put on and a wailing tune had started playing instead of the expected soulful melody. She’d laughed the loudest then, and his glance had singled her out in the crowd, as though reproaching her for giving way to uncontrollable mirth. But then he should have expected it, having been a childhood friend, and always amusedly tolerant of her happy-go-lucky ways.

  There was a shrill jangle and caught up in those warm memories, she picked up the receiver and said with a lilt in her voice ‘24x365—may I help you?’

  The response was an androgynous whisper—a sigh. ‘Tina…all alone tonight?’

  ONE

  29 January

  Ruby Tripathi was elated as she walked out of 24x365 and moved towards the cab. It was midnight and the fog had not yet started descending, so the stars twinkled encouragingly from a velvety sky. Though the bitter cold had departed, the wind more than made up with its chill factor. But Ruby was impervious to the weather. Her mood was upbeat since Raghav had unexpectedly allowed her to leave with the earlier shift. It was their last day for the next fortnight, as they had been slotted for a training programme, and at the last minute, Ruby’s name had been added to the list. The office would be dull and drab with only one operational team in place, and training was bound to be fun. ‘God’s in His Heaven and all’s right with the world,’ she said to herself as she glanced at her watch. The team would be arriving any minute, so she could quickly grab a sandwich from the cafeteria, which also opened into the parking lot. It would last her till she got home.

  Something was odd. She looked around and then it struck her; the parking lot was deserted. None of the others were in sight, when they should have been ambling towards the cab, a chattering bunch, complaining good-naturedly about life, with the odd smoker puffing away clandestinely. Barely had she begun to feel slightly alarmed, when she registered the presence of someone else near her. She swung towards the smell of stale tobacco and liquor fumes, with her finger on the speed dial of her mobile, when a hand roughly pushed her into a cab and the vehicle sped away, the driver changing gears rapidly.

  She could hardly breathe, so paralysing was the fear that overcame her. The gag had a nauseating smell, she couldn’t cry for help. And everything was dark because of the blindfold. There were more than two men conversing in low voices and she tried to speak up, to plead, but her voice was li
ttle more than a croak. The cab stopped and she was pushed out. She tried to cling on to the seat, but a hand grabbed her hair and she screamed in pain, letting go. A voice whispered obscenities into her ear, while hands ripped her clothes, groping her. She resisted, till she got a backhanded slap across her face and fell on the road. Her head hit a metal projection and she became unconscious, sparing her mind the indignity of suffering the violence that was inflicted on her body.

  30 January

  The morning light streamed into the impressive building of the call centre which went by the ubiquitous name 24x365. Sunshine danced over five stories of shining steel and dazzling glass. The call centre’s activities were fairly similar to that of innumerable others that had sprung up in India as efficient centres for Business Process Outsourcing, and the main centres were the National Capital Region of India, Bengaluru, Hyderabad, and Pune. Gurgaon was the hub in the NCR, where the skyline resembled that of a foreign country, all dotted with modern architectural marvels that were like flights of fancy. There were structures shaped like pyramids and others like towering spires. That there was a stark contrast with the neighbouring shabby localities, with their grimy houses and squalid streets, did not register in the psyche of most executives. They were caught up in the hectic pace of work and enjoyed the heady excitement of their unusual lifestyles. The harsh reality that subordinate staff, especially drivers and security personnel, who worked in glamorous offices by day, went back home to grapple with the frustrations of their everyday existence, was blissfully ignored by all. But it seethed inside, like a festering wound which attracts flies and germs.

  24x365 was not in Gurgaon, but in an isolated area of Vasant Kunj, bordering the Ridge in New Delhi. It had got building permission in a freak moment when the new building bye-laws had not become operational, and the management had seized the opportunity to make a twin complex. They’d had to follow the usual practice, which meant keeping the local officials happy and accommodating them in some manner or the other. Their project had come through in record time—with the call centre on one side and its sister concern, a research facility called Future Insights, next door. But the gate of the research facility was on the other road and there were trees in the intervening space, so neither office was privy to the goings-on in the other. The call centre catered primarily to international customers. On behalf of multinationals, it hired Indians who spoke, after training of course, with an American drawl or in a clipped British accent, and patiently dealt with complaints and inquiries. (There were the usual hate calls too, from enraged American workers who wanted to know why their jobs were being usurped!)

  The call centre also handled a small number of domestic clients—credit card companies that wanted to track customer satisfaction, insurance companies enrolling new consumers, and even fashion stores targeting the gullible with deals that were ‘steals’. The call centre functioned as the customer care section and their job on behalf of the client company was to call each consumer and inquire solicitously whether the latter was satisfied with the service.

  It was a hub of activity all through the day but though the company tried to retain the cheery and chirpy feel even in the graveyard shift, the artificial lights could never quite make up for the lack of daylight. In fact in private, many of the executives admitted that it was a ghostly feeling to be working at night when the rest of the country slept blithely, especially if you were handling domestic clients who were needlessly extended the luxury of twenty-four hour service. But the suggestion of running the all-night shift only for the international customer who was in a different time zone, had met with a stony response from management, overly keen to retain the competitive edge.

  The policy of not having women in the late night shift had been discussed many a times, but the increasing number of women executives at all levels made this task difficult. Added to this was the fact that the ability to bring empathy into the conversation automatically made for bright young girls being recruited in large numbers in an industry that revolved around communication. Of course, technology was the backbone of the operations, since software and programming held the key, so there were a good number of fresh-faced youngsters too, from engineering and management institutes, keen to test out their academic knowledge and willing to put in the extra hour on the job.

  The company had started off with a bang, but there was a lot of competition and everyone was on edge. Ruby’s horrific gangrape last night had jolted the management out of their habitual complacence and not a moment too soon. For too long they’d ignored complaints of stalking, the most recent being a week ago, when two women had been followed on their way home by a group of drunk men, till the cab driver had the sense to stop in front of a police station. Then there had been a bad incident of molestation in their own backyard, when a security guard attacked a woman employee. It had promptly been hushed up.

  Now management had swung into overdrive. Workmen were busily installing security cameras everywhere, even on the boundary walls. Local police had been downright nasty about the company’s culpability, and with much difficulty had been persuaded not to indict the company for negligence. There being no option but a complete security overhaul, the bosses had reluctantly decided to combine the overhaul with a long overdue training. Several schedules would have been interrupted, so it was decided that only one team would be deployed, which would handle their latest client, and occupy only one floor. The other teams were looking forward to the break from routine work in the form of the training.

  Raghav Bedi stood quietly near the coffee dispenser, watching as members of the sole operational team streamed in and made their way to their respective workstations. He recognised all of them by name and ability, as he had mentored the current batch. 24x365 was a medium-sized company and the culture was informal. People were constantly walking in or going out to the cheerful tone of, ‘Hi! How’s life?’ and even happier, ‘Bye! I’m off for the day.’ The team was an eclectic mix and interested him greatly. He focused his attention on Vijay Rawat—a brilliant techie, who was only too aware of his skills.

  Vijay was affable to his colleagues, but the veneer of good manners slipped every now and then and the arrogance showed through. He was a natty dresser and the girls found him amusing to be with. Only the fact that he was very friendly with Aakash Kumar Singh, the archetypal computer geek, went against him. Aakash prided himself on making any keyboard dance to his fingertips and the two constantly updated each other on ghost-writing programmes and other such uber cyber skills. But Aakash was otherwise taciturn by disposition and made it very clear that he didn’t much care for the sparkling repartee that was the hallmark of the group. Tony—short for Tejinder Kumar—was the third male in the team and very different from the other two. He was casual in his approach both to work and play and his witticisms, though generally appreciated, often bordered on innuendo.

  Rita Mishra and Deepti Lavania were laughing as they filled their coffee mugs. Rita was in a pastel, almost colourless blue suit which reflected her shy, self-effacing personality. Deepti, in a smart grey and pink ensemble, was a study in contrast. Deepti looked attractive until you noticed that her eyes were set too close together and her face, in repose, looked positively sullen. Rita had been at her workstation till Deepti dragged her off for coffee. Smart and confident, Deepti had just reached office and instead of checking her tasks for the day, had first proceeded to check out her makeup. Now both she and Rita were catching up—gossiping about the others, most likely. It always annoyed Raghav to see how lightly they took their work, though perhaps he was being a mite unfair to Rita, who generally worked sincerely. Rita sensed his eyes upon her and turned towards him but he hastily looked away, glad for once to be distracted by Shelly.

  Shelly Singh, the office—and almost official—vamp, strolled over smiling, but she was looking for Vijay and her eyes constantly darted around to spot him. Shelly had a gorgeous figure—she was a stunner, in fact, and always wore charm bracelets that jangled.


  As expected, her red outfit was quite out of place as office attire, but then she just had to be the object of all the males’ undivided attention. Though capable of much better output, she never exerted herself and of late, had been focusing solely on re-jigging her schedules to match with Vijay’s. While Raghav was no strict hostel warden, this blatant manipulation always annoyed him, more so because Tina never tried to avoid the additional responsibilities that Shelly selfishly thrust on her. Which reminded him—where was Tina? It was unlike her to be late.

  Just then Tina hurried up, in time for the morning meeting. The company’s working style was informal, but it laid emphasis on coordination. Raghav perched on the edge of the table and, ignoring the seductive smile Shelly sent his way, gestured to Tina to begin. Tina was his colleague and didn’t report to him, strictly speaking, but the insurance company they had taken on as the latest client was big, and management wanted them both to handle the account till the relationship stabilised.

  ‘Hey Tina, we’re all waiting for you,’ he finally said, expecting Tina to respond with her usual dimpled smile and a crisp opening statement.

  She looked grave and replied, ‘Ruby has gained consciousness but can’t identify her attackers.’

  ‘Rapists, you mean,’ said Tony with a sly smile, making her flush self-consciously.

  ‘As I was saying, she is conscious now, so we should go meet her—maybe carry a bunch of flowers and…’

  ‘Trying to score more brownie points?’ cut in Vijay. ‘You can go ahead with your Florence Nightingale act, but we’re here to do our jobs. Anyway, this is a police matter and we can’t do anything.’

  Raghav decided to pitch in. ‘No, Tina’s right,’ he said diplomatically. ‘I’ve taken note and will fix up a visit from all of us—at least the girls,’ he added hastily, as Vijay made to interrupt him.