Copyright © Momi Borah 2022 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or any electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior permission of the author, in case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at address given below. ISBN: 978-93-93635-28-0 Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names characters and places are product of the author’s imagination.

Published by: Beeja House

First Printing Edition 2022 Author Email: [email protected]

Acknowledgement First, I am grateful to my grandmother, the late Nimai Borah, for her unconditional love. I still recall listening to stories from her while laying on her lap in my childhood. I would also like to pay tribute to my grandfather, the late Punaram Borah, and my aunt, the late Aiti Saikia. I am indebted to my father, Sri Ratneswar Borah, and my mother, Mrs. Bhanu Borah, for their love and for all the things they have done for me since I was in my mother’s womb. Thank you to my friends — Anjana Gogoi, Tajbina Yasin, Uttam Nath, and Raktim Sharma.

PROLOGUE

M

artin Stafford, Deputy Superintendent of Police, the most skilled cop of the town, tried to hold his temper. “Pahi, do you really believe that I can assault any woman?” he asked. “It does not matter what I do believe. It’s all about shreds of evidence produced by the victims,” Pahi replied. “Pahi, what do you mean by the victims? They have implicated me in a false case. They created hindrances during the operation while my team was arresting a criminal. They are not victims at all,” said Martin, his face turned red in anger. “You will have to prove your innocence in court. You are charged under Indian Penal Code 354 for misconduct with women,” Pahi replied.

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“How many times have I told you, Pahi, I was on duty! How could you allege me for those sisters of a criminal? You have known me since childhood. You are damn feminist!” Martin shouted and he hit the water glass on the table. The water glass fell and broke into the ground making a noise. “Oh! Yes, I am,” Pahi shouted back, “I am a damn feminist and also a lawyer. I cannot compromise with my duty, my friend. I will prosecute you for misbehaving with the sisters of a criminal, for any female in this world whoever approaches me, even if it is a victimized street bitch.” “Ok then. Fine,” Martin wore his cap and walked off. Pahi leaned, supported by a hand on the table trying to calm down herself. She heard the sound of Martin’s car engine outside; he had left. Martin’s driver dropped him in the Police Officers’ colony, his Personal Security accompanied him to his apartment. Martin entered his quarter and rested himself on a sofa. He put off his cap and kept it on the center table. His cook offered him a glass of water and asked, “Sir, what will you take for dinner?” “Nothing. You may leave now,” Martin replied. The confused cook stood still for a while and left. It was always difficult for him to understand Martin’s swinging mood. Martin removed the holster from his waist. He observed the 9mm pistol for a few moments and put it in a drawer. Martin undressed and stood under the shower resting his head towards the wall. The water drops trailed over his wellsculpted body made by workout and disciplined lifestyle.

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Mirage

The cell phone rang. Martin wrapped a towel over his waist and picked the cell phone from his bed; it was his girlfriend, Tagar. Martin received the call and said ‘hello’. He heard Tagar’s voice with artificial anger. “How many times have I called you, baby?” “Why did you make calls? I have found so many missed calls,” Martin replied and laughed. “Huh! I called you. Don’t make a joke. I am waiting for you,” she replied. “Okay, dear, I am coming. Wait a few minutes,” Martin said and made a sound of kiss “Muah!”

Martin wore his favorite Blackberrys suit with a party wear black shirt. He picked up the car key and hurried to the garage. He sat in the driving seat and started his Mahindra XUV car heading to pick up Tagar. Martin was fed up with the rush in Guwahati as he was stuck in a traffic jam for so long. Martin observed the pedestrians and his surroundings casually. Martin heard the revving of the bike engine from behind his car. He observed in the rearview mirror that behind his car there was a girl on a bike holding the rider from the back tightly. The rider, a boy of probably 19-20 years similar age to his younger brother, was without a helmet. He was wearing an earring in his right ear. When the traffic signal turned green, the bike overtook Martin’s car swiftly. Martin sighed. He moved the car slowly aside the road and dialed his younger brother Samir’s phone number. But Samir didn’t receive his call. Martin called his mother’s mobile phone. 3

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“Hello!” “Maa, where is Samir? He isn’t receiving my phone.” “He is in the reading room. Is anything important?” “Nothing, Maa. Nothing to worry about. I will call him later,” Martin said and disconnected the phone call. It had taken almost half an hour to reach Tagar’s flat on the thirteenth floor in the Hill View apartment. Tagar was struggling to zip up her Van Heusen short dress while Martin pressed the doorbell. Tagar opened the door and rushed back to the vanity mirror to zip up her dress. Martin followed her. He reached near her and zipped up Tagar’s dress gently. It couldn’t hide her well-shaped beautiful white legs on 5 inches high heel shoes. Martin bent forward putting his nose into the hair under her ear. Oh! She smelled damn sweet! Tagar felt his six feet tall physique, broad chest behind her, enough to drive a woman crazy. She felt a gush of hot breath on her neck. It seemed like he was about to hug Tagar. Tagar could not decide whether she should push him back or embrace him. Martin held her shoulder and slowly slid her hair from her neck. Oh!, No, No. Tagar jerked and closed her eyes. Martin tore up the price tag from her dress and threw it into the dustbin. “Relax! I don’t need a mock test before marriage,” Martin smirked and pressed her nose between his thumb and index finger. Tagar chuckled and punched him softly, she blushed. Tagar took a gift-wrapped box from the drawer and handed it to Martin. “Happy Birthday, baby,” Tagar wished him.

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Mirage

“Thank you, dear,” Martin cupped her cheeks and kissed her on the forehead. He unwrapped the box and he was a little bit disappointed. “I am not familiar with these expensive things. You know well, Tagar,” Martin said. “You never appreciate my gifts,” Tagar said. She always showed her love with expensive gifts, perhaps she didn’t know how to express affection in another way. “Oh! Sorry dear” Martin apologized and wore the Rolex wristwatch. It really looked elegant, he loved it. “Let’s move. We are getting late, baby,” Tagar said. They both hurried to the parking lot. Martin held the door open of the co-driving seat. Tagar showed gratitude leaning herself forward with a smile. “Thank you, DSP Sir,” she said and got into the car and sat. Martin sat on the driving seat. The seatbelt warning was heard by the speaker. “Wear your seatbelt.” Martin wore it but Tagar just ignored it. Martin frowned at her “Seatbelt”. Tagar obeyed him like a little girl. Martin drove the car heading to Hotel Radisson Blu. When they reached the hotel, the Alumni meets program of Engineering College had started. Martin introduced Tagar to his friends. A girl with a familiar face waved at Tagar from a distance and approached her. Tagar tried to recall her name. “Hey! Tagar. It’s me, Rimpi,” she said. “Do you remember me?” Rimpi was wearing a designer gown.

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“Of course, I remember you, Rimpi. You look beautiful,” Tagar said and embraced Rimpi. “Thank you. You look stunning, too,” Rimpi said. “It’s from Dubai. My husband works in Saudi Arabia,” Rimpi said about her dress. “Nice one,” Tagar smiled and said. Tagar noticed Rimpi’s changing attitude. “He is a drilling engineer,” Rimpi said. “When did you come from Australia?” “Oh! It’s almost five years,” Tagar replied. “You are still unmarried. Can’t you find a match, huh?” Rimpi said. Her civic sense was not changed. People can change attire but it is difficult to change their nature. “Arranged marriage?” Tagar asked. “Yes!” Rimpi replied. “I believe in love marriage,” Tagar said. “Please don’t mind, Tagar, if I hurt you.” “I never mind,” Tagar said. But Tagar really did mind it. They sat around a table. A waiter served them starters and coffee. “I heard, you are dating Martin,” Rimpi said, putting baby corn into her mouth. “Huh!” Tagar laughed quietly.

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Mirage

“As a good friend I just wish you happiness, Tagar, don’t take it otherwise. He belongs to a different religion. You should marry a rich one from the same religion. After marriage, do whatever you want,” Rimpi laughed. “I can’t understand, how could someone decide to stay with a person for a lifetime without emotional bonding?” “Look at me. I choose my husband, not my boyfriend like an emotional fool.” “ Now, I have a man.” “ATM card.” “I have children.” “You think they are a burden!” “A complete family. I am happy now.” “Is it?” “My hubby does not restrict me to enjoy my life.” “Does he love you?” “It does not matter. I give him freedom and I have the freedom to live my life as I wish” “Same thing, Rimpi, I have the freedom to choose my man. Other people should not impose on me their decisions for marriage. A hungry tiger never eats grasses. Sleeping with an undesired person is similar to prostitution though it is called marriage licensed by authority and society,” Tagar said. She knew everything about Rimpi’s love relationship before marriage, how she betrayed her boyfriend Ankur 7

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when she had engaged with a well-established engineer. But Tagar didn’t reveal it. “Why are you so serious? Did you sleep with him?” “Fuck!” Tagar’s tolerance had reached a saturation level. Her boiling head badly needed a quenching. “Excuse me,” Tagar said and left Rimpi. Meeting with a school friend after a long time somehow became distasteful for Tagar. Her lovely face was misshaped with bitterness. Tagar approached the bar and sat on a barstool. “Shooter please,” Tagar ordered the bartender. “Which one, Ma’am?” “Tequila!” The bartender prepared a shot and forwarded it to Tagar. She gulped and said, “One more shot, please.” Martin took a drink from a waiter’s tray and looked over the crowd for his classmates. Martin heard the sound of high heels approaching him from behind. He turned and encountered Rimpi. He took a moment to recognize her with heavy make-up on her face. Her sleeveless long gown opened up to thigh in the front side. “Hey! You look stunning.” “Thank you, Martin.” “You look handsome!”

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Mirage

“What a compliment! Why didn’t you tell me before marrying that bald man?” they both laughed. “You are with your husband?” “Yeah!” “How is life going on?” “Husband stays abroad. Children are busy with their school activities.” “Now, he is with you?” “When he is here, he keeps himself busy in late-night parties with friends. Look at him, it seems like he does not need me. I am very lonely, Martin,” Rimpi took Martin’s hand between her palms. “You may be wrong, Rimpi,” “I am suffocating here. Can you drop me home?” Rimpi said with her whisky voice. Martin kept his glass on a table and freed his hand from Rimpi’s tight grip. “Sorry! Rimpi. Someone is with me.” “You are wasting your time. She is not going to marry a boy who belongs to a different religion. You are the most eligible bachelor, girls are crazy for you. You should enjoy your life,” Rimpi stepped so closer to Martin that he could smell her expensive perfume. Rimpi caressed Martin’s shoulder over his blazer with her manicured slim fingers.

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“Enjoy the party, Rimpi. Please, excuse me,” Martin pushed her back gently. She tried to say something, but Martin ignored her and walked off. Martin noticed Tagar at minibar gulping shot by shot. He started heading towards her when a senior alumnus stood over his way and said, “Are you Martin? I heard a lot about you.” “Yes,” Martin replied, “you are?” “I am Mr. Mili,” the man replied. Martin forwarded his hand for a handshake. “I knew your father,” Mr. Mili said, holding Martin’s hand. “From which organization you are?” Martin asked. Martin eyed Tagar over his shoulder. Oh! My God. She is taking shot by shot. “I am a Production Manager at ONGC,” Mr. Mili replied. “Meet my daughter.” “Nice Product,” Martin murmured. “What!” “Nice to meet you,” Martin said. “Please excuse me.” He walked off. Tagar was sitting on a bar stool. Martin held her hand tightly and he forced her to walk out from the party hall. “Enough, Tagar. What’s wrong with you? Let’s go!” Martin said and pulled her outside. Tagar obeyed him.

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Mirage

“When did you start this new habit?” Martin asked. “Tonight!” “Did you say something to Rimpi about us?” “Did she ask you about our relationship? Oh! I will kill that bitch.” “Shh…. Calm down” “Aah!” Tagar pressed her forehead with both hands. Martin held her shoulder. She vomited on Martin. “Oh! Shit,” Martin said and helped her to sit on a sofa in the hotel lobby. “May I help you?” a waiter approached them and asked. Martin took a water glass from the waiter’s tray and held it in front of Tagar. Tagar could not look upward, she just wanted to enter underground. “Wait here.” He went to the washroom and cleaned his blazer. He came back quickly and took her to the parking lot. “Can you walk?” Tagar shook her head to show disagreement. Martin sighed and held her up in his arms. Tagar held his shoulder tightly with her right hand and hung her shoes on other hand. “Get me down,” Tagar said when they reached the parking lot. She almost ran towards the car and got into the car. “I don’t belong here. Everybody is wearing a fake personality.

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