UPON BEING NAMED INDIA’S most wanted criminal, Fariha went to her local shop, where she bought a bottle of bleach to drink.
She stopped briefly to look at the rack of newspapers and her worst fears were confirmed. The Mumbai Mirror – a newspaper she had previously contributed articles to – had launched a hate campaign against her. Other papers carried headlines and stories pertaining to Fariha’s crimes. These included the assault of a friend from her university days; her suspected role in the murder of a Bollywood actor; and her involvement in a conspiracy to detonate a bomb in the US embassy in New Delhi shortly after 9/11.
Her double life was coming to an end. The police were closing in. Helicopters circled the night sky which was turning the colour of an infected eye.
Roll back 10 years
“Such a promising young mind”, mused Fariha’s lecturer at Bangalore University. Out loud as if Fariha was not actually there. She was in awe of Dr Agarwal, mainly due to his time studying PPE at Oxford University. Magdalen College no less, which he mentioned a lot. Staying later than usual for tutorials led to Other Things that Fariha couldn’t quite work out were his ideas or hers.
Roll back 5 years
It was such a fun time in Goa. Graduated with jobs secured, the sun shone over the Bright Young Things. Beach bonfire talks bristled with social justice revelations, that calmed only as driftwood turned to charcoal embers.
Of the ten of them it was always Fariha and Sanjiv left swatting mosquitoes. Fariha was enthralled by Sanjiv’s environmental knowledge; even more so by his commitment that led to an investigative journalism role at Greenpeace. She was less impressed when she realised that this meant the end of their passionate cerebral connection.
Roll back 2 years
Journalism fulfilled Fariha’s intellectual and artistic goals. But the money barely covered the rent, let alone the social life she needed to network. Surprisingly literati Mumbai was fuelled by a cocktail of street drugs, brown sugar being the drug de jour. Who knew? The fact was crime paid ten times more than journalism and as a commissioned agent, the guilt was never hers.
It wasn’t long until Fariha joined in and was producing the best content of her life. It all felt a world away from the world she had envisaged with Sanjiv. He never returned her messages these days anyway…
Roll back 1 year
Dr Agarwal got in touch with “an opportunity to change the course of Indian history”. Fariha knew him as a gentle Hindu so was surprised at the anti-American diatribe pouring down the phone. But she was lonely, and high, and wanted to make a difference.
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Clutching her bottle of bleach, Fariha hurried home. She poured bleach into a large wine glass and toasted her past self. The thick liquid warmed her windpipe like a hug, reminding her of the Goan sunset and the smell of Sanjiv’s sweat as he held her where the waves gently crashed.
