There was one fault of Mitra's that shaped up her extended suffering of guilt: it was staying silent and bottling everything up.
She feared that speaking up about her experiences might remind the people surrounding her of her blunders. She was scared that if anyone found out how she had abandoned Lekha in her last moments, she would be judged, belittled, critiqued and deserted.
Even as she attended therapy sessions to address her trauma, she never revealed to her therapist what was exactly tormenting her. Consequently, she never got treated for the root cause of her trauma. It kept snowballing in her mind.
Vishal wrote to her almost every week. He never spoke of Lekha or anyone related to the murder case in any of his letters. They were mostly filled with the kind of humour and anecdotes Mitra loved. They became her only respite and though she responded back, her replies were short notes and devoid of her real thoughts.
Vishal knew the words in Mitra's letters weren't her sincerity. Her voice in their short phone calls was so demure that he could guess the downward trajectory of Mitra's mental recovery. Still, he was happy to have her in his daily life in some way.
In regular intervals Mitra would tacitly enquire if the real culprits were caught. The negative answer from Vishal depleted her energy. Exam seasons, holidays, crammed study sessions, all came and went by. The letters saw a reduction in the number of words written, yet the flow didn't stop.
#
3 years later
Late July 2009
Ronadurgm town
The town didn't seem to have changed at all. Everything was the same, the sereneness, the nosy neighbours, the dark lanes, the lark like people who retired early in the evenings, and the memories of every place Mitra had ever been to. She had decided to visit her grandparents after a long struggle with her own attempts of avoiding confrontation with her real fears.
The year after Mitra had left the town, things seemed to fall slowly into place when the tenth grade ended at school. Mitra did considerably well in her central board exams and her parents decided it was time she went back to normal social life, including getting back to school for eleventh and twelfth grades.
Mitra complied solely to let them finally have some peace of mind. They had been sheltering her and pandering to her reticent moods to make her feel normal, something that Mitra was silently grateful for. However, it didn't seem fair to her that they should suffer so long, trying to ease her. So, she returned for her eleventh grade to school.
Her school life was the same as always: she was an outcast without any close friends, preferring to keep herself buried in her books and immersed in their teachers' words. She missed having Vishal with her to share her thoughts and engage in his funny antics that made her laugh often. Longing for an unknown freedom, she drilled through her daily life.
Later, when Mitra's parents suggested visiting her grandparents before she joined college for her bachelors in engineering, there were two factors that influenced her decision. The first and foremost was her fervent wish to see her best friend again. The second was an impulsive plot to catch the culprits of Lekha's murder herself.
Folly knows no bounds; and Mitra, in her naïve, closed and biased mind, pictured the police system to be ineffective and assumed that if she stepped out herself, she could readily nab the monsters herself.
Vishal had heard from Mitra over a phone call regarding her travel plans, something that had sent him to cloud nine. It was a little less than three years since they had parted, yet the bond and longing were so real and strong for him.
Mitra arrived at her grandparents' house late in the afternoon and after exchanging wishes and updates on well-being while maintaining a faint smile on her lips, Mitra declared she wanted to step out to meet Vishal. Alone.
The immediate response of her whole family was a wholesome 'no'. It was absolutely dangerous.
Mitra smiled, a grin so wide and bright that her parents wondered if she was really getting back to her old cheerful self now that she was back in the place that had changed her. All they had ever wanted was to see her come out of her shell. If letting her go out to meet her best friend was a start to her reconciliation with her past, then they would support it.
The place of meeting was their school according to Mitra, and she assured her parents she would walk through more populated streets. It was still early evening and there was enough light outside to warranty a safe passage. Vishal would anyways try and meet her along the way itself, to avoid having to wait for her. Though a bit sceptical, her parents melted at her sunny disposition and let her step out.
Mitra, however, had no plans to adhere to her words. She took the same shaded route she had walked along on that fateful night of the crime and walked till the lake. All along the way she glanced around, studying everything passing by her, trying to notice anything close to suspicious, like a cop scanning for suspects after being tipped off about a crime.
She reached the lake without any interferences. It all looked the same, the small lane leading to the lake, the unkempt banks of the vast waterbody, the dense tree cover on the other side of the lake, the lack of people wandering about that place.
Mitra stood for a moment appreciating the beauty of the evening sunlight reflecting softly across the slowly rippling water, the shades of the trees nearby soothing with a cool breeze.
There was no defined thought in her head as Mitra turned towards the tree cover, searching for the faint trail leading to the cove. It was still there, though much obscure than the last time she visited, as if no one was treading it often.
Rustling through the dangling branches and leaves, she walked to the cove, cautious, glancing all around her in paranoia. As she neared the cove, she pulled out a shiny knife from her handbag. She had snitched it from the kitchen before leaving her house more as a preparatory measure than for protection.
As the trail narrowed further and led the treader to the cove, the sounds of the ripples and breeze whizzing around surrounded Mitra. The shrubbery was in a blooming season with the monsoons passing through and the aroma of the flowers was pleasing. Mitra tried to gloss over it to no avail.
The cove was as beautiful as it ever was. Or maybe even more, given that three years had passed, and it was in the right season for sightseeing. Mitra took it all in with nostalgia washing over her. She had missed this place as much as she had feared it.
In all of her nightmares the cove always managed to materialize and every time it stimulated her to wake herself up with a terrifying force. It was ironical that a place of such beauty could scare her so much with dark memories.