Second Innings

Ananta is a pristinely located retirement community situated in Dehradun, near the foothills of the Himalayas. Spread across close to 20 acres, it is one of the most popular senior living places in North India owing to its proximity to the stunning mountain range, serene lakes and invigorating forest trails. Nestled amidst a grove of Himalayan cedar, Ananta is a home to rich and affluent senior members of society who, after several decades of hard work and sleepless nights, can afford to put their feet up and relax in the lap of luxury.

Nitish Bandhopadhyay, formerly a businessman and currently a bird watching enthusiast, was enjoying a cup of steaming tea while admiring the breathtaking view in front of him. Having spent the past five decades immersed in work, he had steadily increased his blood pressure till his doctor had concluded that he had earned enough. Nitish chuckled at the memory of his last meeting with Dr. Vikash, his friend and diabetologist. Stern, yet concerned, it was he who had suggested that Nitish unwind for a few weeks at his apartment in Ananta. Vikash would be retiring in a year’s time and before settling permanently in his lavishly furnished apartment in Ananta, he was trying to convince more people in his friends circle to ‘live their second innings in style’.

While Nitish was deliberating as to purchasing his own property on these premises, he noticed a tall, distinguished gentleman taking a seat at the next table. Nitish’s first impression of this impeccably dressed man was that he reminded him of Vikash. Not content with sitting idly and speculating, he walked over to the next table and introduced himself.

Dr. Swaminathan was rather taken aback when a short, rotund man plonked himself in the armchair opposite to his, and introduced himself as Nitish Bandhopadhyay. Dr. S had just moved in and everything about Ananta, from its fancy apartments to the well-to-do residents, had boasted of a certain snootiness that had appealed to his reticent nature. He considered the manner of the chatty man sitting opposite him to be rather brash.

However, not wishing to draw unfavourable attention, Dr. S spoke a little about himself and the successful medical practice from which he had retired a few months back. “Aha! A doctor, is it? I knew it the moment I spotted you.”, exclaimed Nitish with much the same fervour as he displayed when he spotted a yellow-crowned woodpecker. “This place is absolutely crawling with doctors.”, he said with a genial laugh, apparently under the impression that Dr. S would receive this comment well.

Nitish’s affable nature led him to believe that everyone sought his society, and those who appeared reluctant to do so, like Dr. S, just needed some time till better sense prevailed. In short, they were more to be pitied than censured. So, despite the less than favourable first impression created by him, he nudged and elbowed his way into Dr. S’ life until much to the latter’s surprise, over a span of one week, they formed an unlikely friendship.

Dr. S’ plan of keeping to himself fell through fairly quickly as Nitish introduced him to several residents and before he knew it, he was part of the Book Club, Gardening Group and Cultural Committee. His had simply wished to recuperate in solitude from what had been a physically strenuous, and mentally taxing few years. A part of him knew that this was probably the best way to avoid suspicion, by diving headlong into the various activities organized by the residents, and generally creating an aura of normalcy around him. However, all this socializing was making Dr. S uneasy, and he was taking a conscious effort to ensure that he did not invite any of his acquaintances to his house. A man has his secrets and he is entitled to keep them away from prying eyes.

Soon Dr. S discovered that nothing was going as per his master plan. Within two weeks of his arrival, the newspapers reported a story that caused him much anxiety. He spent the entire day pacing up and down his flat, trying to come up with a plan of action. The article was a small one and not prominently featured at that, but he could not make the mistake of belittling the potential impact it could have on his life. After a sleepless night and yet another stressful day, during which he had packed and unpacked all his belongings several times, he concluded that the safest option for him would be to stay put. It irked him that this article should have wrecked his peace of mind thus. In the last few years, he had dealt with far graver situations with far more resourcefulness. Maybe that was it. Years of diabolical planning had taken a toll on his responses, not to mention the ordeal he had undergone in the past few months. He fingered the fading scars along his jawline and at the base of his nose.

Rays of the setting sun lit up the drawing room, casting an orangish glow on the boxes packed with his belongings. His head felt heavy with lack of sleep, but he set about unpacking once again. When the doorbell rang few hours later, he felt as though someone struck his head with a hammer. Unsurprisingly, it was Nitish, holding a bottle in his hand and wearing his genial smile.

“Good evening! You look a right mess, doctor!”, greeted Nitish, pushing his way in before Dr. S could protest. “Your house is in quite a state too. Hasn’t it been at least a fortnight since you moved in? Still unpacking, eh?” On being told that it wasn’t a good time, Nitish waved his hand dismissively. “We haven’t seen you in nearly two days. It’s a small and aging community, doctor. People get worried. Moreover, nobody has passed away within a month of their coming here, so people are naturally curious.” Dr. S groaned. He did not want this unnecessary curiosity on his whereabouts, and he certainly did not want Nitish to make himself comfortable on the couch.

“Aren’t you a gracious host? Get a couple of glasses out, doctor. I have brought a little something that will cure you of that splitting headache you seem to be suffering from. Have you ever tasted soor? It is meant for the winters, but looks like you could do with a glass or two now.”, said Nitish with his trademark chuckle. He leaned over the side of the couch and fished out a pair of whiskey glasses from a partially unpacked box. Dr. S gave in and accepted a glass. The warmth of the drink, his heavy, throbbing head, and Nitish’s monologue on the aches and ailments of Ananta’s residents had a soporific effect on him. He dozed off.

Nitish, after assuring himself that his companion’s snores were genuine, got to work. He entered the bedroom and gave it a quick scan. Pocketing few tablets from a bottle of pills, he moved around quietly, making a mental note of whatever he saw. His gaze fell on a newspaper which had been folded back several times to highlight one particular article.

"In a covert operation conducted by The Intelligence Bureau in the early hours of Tuesday, a reputed plastic surgeon (name withheld) has been arrested from his premises in Beasant Nagar, Chennai, on grounds of malpractice and illegal profiteering. Our sources are yet to confirm the exact nature of the crime, but reports suggest that this would be the first of many arrests."

Nitish smiled grimly. The media had finally got wind of things, and in their quintessential manner alerted the target. Security forces had to be deployed immediately and were stationed outside Ananta. Despite the inconvenience caused, it was comforting to know that this article had been the cause of Dr. S’ distress. After several months of constant surveillance, Nitish’s team had gathered enough evidence to conclude that Dr. S was the mastermind behind a large organ trafficking case in connection to which several arrests had already been made and withheld from the media. Dr. S, an alias for Dr. Vir Sharma, had evaded an arrest by changing his identity, address and appearance. However, over the past few months, Nitish’s team had built a strong case to effect an arrest and Nitish’s short stay at Ananta was no coincidence. He was an undercover agent with his own private practice, engaged by The Intelligence Bureau to assist them with surveillance. Nitish Bandhopadhyay was an alias for Shashi Basu, a name that was prominent in the inner circles of The Bureau.

In the past few hours, The Bureau had succeeded in extracting names and documents from the plastic surgeon who had worked upon transforming Dr. Sharma’s appearance. A senior officer bearing an arrest warrant for Dr. Sharma was expected shortly.

Shashi heard running footsteps and looked towards the bedroom door expectantly. Dr. Sharma, looking the worse for wear, entered the room with a gun in his hand. “You might just as well point a water gun at me. I took the liberty of emptying the barrel. The game is up Dr. Sharma!”, said Shashi, looking amused.

***

1 month later…

Vikash and Shashi were relaxing on the latter’s terrace flat, enjoying the cool evening breeze and a bottle of Soor. “I should have smelt a rat when you took up my offer of staying at Ananta. You somehow managed to turn that serene nook into a backdrop for the climax of your assignment. I thought you had retired from business!”, said Vikash. “I had, but The Bureau had other plans for me. It was an assignment I couldn’t resist. But now I have retired, for sure.”, said Shashi with a chuckle. “Don’t scoff at me Vikash. Ananta has grown on me. I have decided to take your advice and move to that serene nook as you call it, even though the place is absolutely crawling with doctors.”