Chapter 12: Pyaar Aur Jung (Love and War)

1986-1988

Bharati and Chinmay fell in love the way people fall in love in war zones — not with the leisure of courtship but with the urgency of proximity, the proximity being: two people doing dangerous work in close quarters for years and the years producing the particular intimacy that shared danger created, the intimacy that was not romantic (not initially) but operational, the operational-intimacy being: I trust you with my life and the trusting is the foundation and the foundation, one day, becomes something else.

Leela saw it. Of course Leela saw it — Leela saw everything (the training, the seeing that Bharati had installed and that could not be uninstalled, the seeing that was now Leela's default state, the state that observed the world the way other people breathed: automatically, continuously, without choice). Leela saw: the way Bharati's voice changed when she spoke to Chinmay (the explaining-register softening, the softening being imperceptible to anyone who was not trained to perceive and that was, to Leela, visible as a signal fire). The way Chinmay's harmonium playing changed after Bharati returned from a trip (the playing becoming — what? Lighter? More complex? The particular musical expression of a man whose emotional state had shifted and whose shifting expressed itself through the keys). The way the two of them sat at the evening fire — closer. Not touching (Bharati did not touch; Bharati's body-language was the body-language of a woman who had spent years in professional contexts where touching was not done and whose not-touching was habitual) but closer, the closeness being the gravitational pull that proximity to another body produced and that the body acknowledged before the mind did.

Keshav saw it too. Keshav's response was: chai. Keshav made extra chai on the evenings when Bharati and Chinmay sat close, the extra-chai being Keshav's commentary, the commentary that did not require words, the commentary being: I see and I approve and the approval is expressed in the additional tumbler.

"Tu jaanti hai?" Chinmay asked Leela. 1987. At the stream. The morning — the morning that had become their morning, the morning when the camp's routines were established and the routines included: Chinmay and Leela at the stream, the harmonium between them, the teaching-and-learning that had evolved from teacher-student to equals, the equals playing together rather than one teaching the other. "Bharati-didi ke baare mein?" Do you know? About Bharati-didi?

"Sab ko pata hai," Leela said. Everyone knows.

"Raju ko bhi?" Even Raju?

"Raju sab se pehle jaanta tha." Raju knew first. And this was true — Raju, who still did not speak (Raju was thirteen now, thirteen and silent, the silence having become not a wound but a choice, the choice of a person who had decided that the world was better observed than participated in and whose observation was, like Leela's, complete), Raju had seen the closeness first because Raju saw everything from the position of silence, the silence being the particular vantage point that granted the widest view.

Chinmay smiled. The smile that was — the smile was Chinmay's face at its most honest, the face that was kind despite the scar and that was, when smiling, the face of a man who had survived and who was, in the surviving, finding the things that surviving made possible: love, music, the morning at the stream with a girl who was not his daughter but who was the closest thing, the closest-thing being the particular relationship that the network produced — not family by blood, family by choice, the choice being the thing that made the family real.

*

The war was real. The war that Bharati fought — the war was not metaphorical. The war was the particular conflict between the network and the system, the conflict that existed because the network operated outside the law and the law, eventually, noticed.

1987. The notice came in the form of: a police investigation. Not a targeted investigation — a bureaucratic investigation, the kind that the Indian police conducted when the missing-persons files accumulated and the accumulation triggered the procedural requirement that the files be reviewed and the review produced the pattern that Samaira had identified independently: children missing from violent homes, no traces, no ransoms, organized.

The police investigation was based in Nagpur — the Nagpur Crime Branch, the particular unit that handled cases that local police stations could not or would not handle. The investigation was led by an inspector named Deshpande — Inspector Suresh Deshpande, a man who was competent (the competence being the exception rather than the rule in the Indian police, the rule being: incompetence was tolerated and competence was suspicious) and who was, Bharati's intelligence reported, actually interested in solving the cases rather than closing them, the interest being the danger because the interested-competent police officer was the particular threat that the network feared.

"Deshpande serious hai," Bharati said. At the camp. The evening meeting — the meeting that the network held when threats were identified, the meeting that included: Bharati, Keshav, Chinmay, Leela, and (via messages carried by the network's couriers) the regional operatives. "Woh pattern dekh raha hai. Woh saat cases connect kar raha hai. Agar woh connect kar lega — agar woh samajh jaayega ki yeh ek organization hai — toh woh hum tak pahunchega." Deshpande is serious. He's seeing the pattern. He's connecting the seven cases. If he connects them — if he understands this is one organization — he'll reach us.

"Toh?" Keshav asked. The single word. The word that was Keshav's — the word that said: what is the response? The military mind requesting the operational directive.

"Toh — hum dhyaan rakhte hain. Deshpande ko follow karte hain. Uski investigation ko track karte hain. Agar woh kareeb aaye — hum badal jaate hain." So — we stay careful. We follow Deshpande. We track his investigation. If he gets close — we change.

"Badal jaana matlab?" Change meaning?

"Safe houses badalna. Routes badalna. Communication badalna. Sab kuch badalna." Change safe houses. Change routes. Change communication. Change everything.

The changing. The changing that was the network's survival technology — the technology that Bharati had developed from the necessity of operating outside the law, the necessity being: if you are a criminal organization (and the network was, by the law's definition, a criminal organization — the kidnapping being the crime, the crime being the law's classification regardless of the motive), then you must be able to change, to move, to become invisible when the visibility was dangerous.

Leela's role in the change was: Deshpande. Bharati assigned Leela to follow Inspector Deshpande. The assignment that was — the assignment was the first time Leela was assigned to follow not a victim but an investigator, the following being the inverse of Leela's usual work: instead of watching the dangerous-household to identify the danger, Leela was watching the dangerous-investigator to identify the threat.

Leela went to Nagpur. For the first time since the night of the knock. Nine years since Lata Jadhav had been carried out of Sitapur Gali in a Matador van. Nine years since the gali, the tulsi plant, the dal-bhat, the Chetak's parking angle. Nine years.

Nagpur was — Nagpur was the same and different. The same: the heat. The heat that was Nagpur's identity, the heat that August provided with the particular generosity of a city that sat at India's geographic centre and that experienced, therefore, the maximum of every season. The same: the galis. The narrow galis, the thin-walled houses, the televisions audible through walls. The same: the smell. Nagpur's smell was specific — the particular combination of oranges (Nagpur was the Orange City, the oranges being the industry and the industry's smell being the city's baseline) and dust and the particular central-Indian air that was drier than Mumbai's air and hotter than Pune's air and that carried, in August, the exhausted monsoon heat.

Different: Leela. Leela walking through Nagpur was not Lata walking through Nagpur. Leela was twenty-one. Leela was — Leela was invisible. The invisibility that was the operative's skill applied to the operative's hometown, the skill that said: walk as if you belong, walk as if you have always been here, the walking being the cover and the cover being: a young woman in a salwar kameez, unremarkable, unnoticed, the un-noticing being the city's gift to the operative.

She did not go to Sitapur Gali. The not-going was — the not-going was the discipline. The discipline that said: Sitapur Gali is the past, the past is the danger, the danger is: being recognized. Mrs. Kulkarni at number 14 would recognize her (Mrs. Kulkarni recognized everyone; Mrs. Kulkarni was the gali's facial-recognition system, the system that was more reliable than any computer and that was powered by chai and gossip). The recognition would produce: questions. The questions would produce: answers or lies. Both were dangerous.

So Leela did not go to Sitapur Gali. Leela went to the Nagpur Crime Branch headquarters. The headquarters that was on Civil Lines, the administrative area where the British had placed the government buildings and where the government buildings remained, the remaining being the particular Indian inheritance of colonial infrastructure: the buildings designed for rulers and now occupied by administrators, the occupation being the continuity that nobody questioned.

Leela watched Deshpande. Three weeks. The watching that was — the watching was professional. Deshpande's routine: arrive at the office at 9 AM (the punctuality being the competence-signal, the signal that said: this man takes the work seriously), meetings until noon, field visits in the afternoon (the field visits being: Deshpande going to the families of the missing children, the families that the police had ignored and that Deshpande was not ignoring, the not-ignoring being the competence that was the danger), evening at the office until 7 PM (the paperwork, the case-building, the particular bureaucratic requirement that Indian police investigations entailed: the files, the reports, the chain of evidence that the courts required and that the police usually fabricated and that Deshpande actually compiled).

Leela reported. To Bharati. The report: "Deshpande kareeb aa raha hai. Woh saat cases ko ek file mein laa raha hai. Woh pattern samajh gaya hai — organized extraction. Woh ek term use kar raha hai: 'network.' Woh jaanta hai ki yeh ek network hai." Deshpande is getting close. He's combining the seven cases into one file. He understands the pattern — organized extraction. He's using a term: 'network.' He knows it's a network.

"Woh hamare tak kaise pahunchega?" Bharati asked. How will he reach us?

"Hospital records. KEM. Sunita-didi ke records agar Deshpande ko mil gaye —" Hospital records. KEM. If Deshpande gets Sunita's records —

"Sunita ko warn karo." Warn Sunita.

The warning went. Sunita destroyed the personal notebook. The notebook that Samaira had seen — the notebook that was the evidence and that was now ash, the ash being the network's response to the threat, the response that was: destroy the connection before the connection is traced.

*

The war continued. The war that was not the violence-war (the violence was the thing the network fought against, the violence being the enemy). The war was the survival-war, the war of a criminal organization (by law's definition) against the law that defined it as criminal, the law that could not distinguish between the kidnapping-for-harm and the kidnapping-for-rescue, the law that was blind to motive and that saw only act, the act being: children taken from their homes, the act being: crime.

Leela returned to Satpura. Three weeks in Nagpur had produced the intelligence that Bharati needed. The intelligence that said: change everything. And the changing began.

Safe houses relocated. Routes altered. Communication protocols changed (the network switched from physical messages to a coded system that Chinmay had designed — the coded system using Hindi film-song lyrics as code, the code being: "Lag Jaa Gale" meant "extraction confirmed," "Dum Maro Dum" meant "abort," the particular encryption that was unbreakable because the encryption key was cultural knowledge and the cultural knowledge was so widely distributed that no one would suspect it was encryption).

The network survived. Deshpande's investigation continued — the investigation that was competent and serious and that was, ultimately, unsuccessful, the unsuccessfulness being the result of the network's changing and the changing being the survival and the survival being: the network continued to operate, the children continued to be extracted, the extractions continued to save lives.

Bharati and Chinmay married. Not legally — the marriage being the network's marriage, the marriage that was witnessed by Keshav and Leela and Raju and the children who were currently in the network's care, the marriage that was performed at the Satpura camp by the stream, the stream being the altar and the forest being the temple and the harmonium being the wedding music.

Chinmay played. Of course Chinmay played — the harmonium that was his voice, the harmonium that said what Chinmay's words could not say (the words being insufficient for the saying, the saying being: I love you and the love is the thing that the war cannot destroy and the not-destroying is the victory). He played "Tujhe Dekha Toh Yeh Jaana Sanam" — the song that would become famous when the film released years later but that Chinmay had already composed his own version of, the version being the particular adaptation that musicians made when they heard a melody and made it their own.

Leela watched. From the edge of the clearing. The watching that was — the watching was not the operative's watching (the watching that saw patterns and threats and evidence). The watching was the girl's watching. The twenty-one-year-old who had been twelve when she arrived and who was now watching two people she loved marry each other in a forest and whose watching was the seeing that was not professional but personal, the personal seeing that said: this is family. This is my family. The family that was made, not born. The family that was chosen, not inherited. The family that was — despite everything, despite the war and the law and the danger and the darkness — the family that was real.

Raju attended. Raju, who did not speak, who had not spoken in nine years, Raju stood beside Keshav at the wedding and Raju — Leela saw it, Leela who saw everything saw it — Raju moved his lips. Not speaking. Not quite. The lip-movement that was the shadow of speech, the shadow that said: the words are there, the words are inside, the words are approaching the surface. The surface that was not breached, not today. But approaching.

Keshav made chai. The wedding chai. The chai that was — Keshav's chai was always strong and sweet and wood-fire smoky. The wedding chai was the same chai. The sameness being the point: the marriage did not change the chai. The marriage did not change the camp. The marriage changed only the sleeping arrangement (Bharati and Chinmay now in the same space, the space that had been Bharati's alone) and the particular atmospheric quality of the camp, the quality being: warmer. Not temperature-warmer. The warmth of two people who had acknowledged the thing they had been building for years and whose acknowledgment made the thing visible and the visible made the camp warmer.

Leela drank the wedding chai. By the stream. In the evening. The evening that was — the evening was beautiful. The Satpura evening that was always beautiful but that was, tonight, more-beautiful, the more-beautiful being the particular quality that celebrations gave to ordinary places, the celebrations saying: this place is not just a camp, this place is a home, and tonight the home is celebrating.

She made Vandana's pohe in her mind. The evening mental pohe — the technique that persisted, the technique that would persist, the technique that was not the darkness-survival anymore but the connection-maintenance, the connection that said: Aai, today Bharati-didi got married. You would have liked Chinmay. He plays harmonium. He is kind. The kindness is real.