CHAPTER 11   Two blissful years sped by. There was nothing now, to mar the happiness of Julie and Aga. Even Mother Khaleeli had given up the fight. But Aga had reckoned without the vengeful accountant. Rumor had it that he was into a business of some sort. “All with stolen money,” grumbled Aga. It was dark, when they started for home. Aga was going home at some speed when two large boulders loomed up in his way. “Watch out,” Julie yelled. Aga stepped with all his might, on the brakes, and brought the car to a grinding halt. “This must be the work of some mischievous children,” he thought. “I’ll have to move the stones out of the way lest others have an accident.” He stepped out and was in the process of removing the boulders, when like a flash a man appeared from the shadows. He had a club in his hand, which he brought down with force, on the unsuspecting Aga. Julie screamed as loud as she could. The man having finished with Aga, pulled her out and showered her with several blows. Hours later, a passing motorist, called for an ambulance to take them to hospital. Julie blinked and opened her drowsy eyes, taking in the white walls and the silence around her. “Where am I?” she moaned. Salma dropped the book she was reading, and went to her bedside. “Julie, I’m so glad you’re better.” “Where am I?” “You’re in hospital. Not much damage though. Just bruises here and there. They’ve kept you here for observation.” “Were we attacked by robbers?” she asked. “By hired goons of our old accountant,” Salma replied. “They have all been arrested.” “How is Aga? Is he all right? “ Salma bit her lip nervously. She knew the question would come sooner or later. What was she to say? Tell the truth and risk the girl going back into shock, or give her false hopes? “I think you ought not to talk so much. Try and go back to sleep.” “You’re hiding something from me.” Julie tried to sit up. “He’s very ill, I can see. I’m going to him. Tell me where he is,” she cried. “Julie, be sensible. You can’t go back to him. He isn’t here.” Julie had thrown off her coverlet, and was searching for her slippers. She shook off Salma’s restraining arm. “Where is he then? Tell me,” she demanded. Salma looked uncomfortably down at her feet. “Is he dead?” Julie asked in a panic. She held Salma by the shoulders, and shook her firmly. “Tell me, is my Aga dead?” For one who had just risen from a hospital bed, she had incredible strength. “Yes,” replied Salma, and her voice was almost a whisper. If Salma had expected an outburst of tears, there was none. A stony silence pervaded the room. The silence frightened Salma. She pressed the buzzer, and a nurse appeared and took in the situation. She was back with an injection syringe in her hand. To Julie it brought temporary oblivion. Julie stayed in Teheran, only as long as was necessary. There was no purpose in her living there anymore. Besides, she didn’t want to live on the charity of the Khaleelis. Time and again after Aga’s death, she had heard his mother say, “She brought bad luck to this house. She has killed my son.” When Julie announced that she would be going back to Bombay, Aga’s mother was very pleased. “I’ll be glad to see that last of her,” she said. It was Salma who couldn’t bear the thought of losing her friend. “Don’t go, Julie,” she pleaded. But no amount of persuasion could make Julie change her mind. She accepted just enough for her airfare home and at Salma’s insistence, agreed to take the clothes and jewelry she had received, during the two years of her marriage. Salma was keen on settling her with a monthly allowance, but Julie wouldn’t hear of it. She looked around for the last time, at the suite that had been her home. “I have known much happiness here,” she thought, “Oh if these walls could only speak!” The tears that refused to flow for so long, came down in a torrent. Salma had stepped in silently. Her eyes were red with weeping. “I’ll miss you a lot, Julie. I may not have enjoyed being Mrs. Khaleeli, but I’ve enjoyed our friendship so much. Coming to think of it, it was I who brought bad luck to this house. First Amin and then Aga. The old lady thinks so too, but she’s scared to say anything to me. So she pinned the blame on you.” Having arrived in India, Julie went back to live with her aunt. She shut herself indoors for the first few days, but it soon became apparent, that she couldn’t live off her aunt who subsisted on a meager pension. “I’ll have to start teaching again,” she thought. The following day, she went off to her school in high spirits. But she soon realised that two years was a long time. Gone were the old familiar faces. The elderly nun, who now occupied the Mother Superior’s chair, was brusque to the point of rudeness. “Yes,” she said, “We are very much in need of a teacher, but you’ll have to produce your certificates.” “I worked here just two years ago,” Julie pleaded, “You will surely have my file in the office.” “I’d rather you called again with your certificates,” insisted the nun. Julie walked away, disappointed. “Certificates,” she thought, “Now what have I done with them? I destroyed most of my papers. But wait, I didn’t tear my certificates. I gave them to Ju Daniels.” But she hadn’t the slightest inkling where Ju lived. “I’ll have to try the Catholic Club. Ju used to go there.” That evening, she made her way to the Club. She inquired about the girl from many people. “You mean the nice little teacher? She’s here every Saturday.” “Teacher?” she almost screamed. “She’s done it. She’s done what I hoped she hadn’t.” “Yes, that must be the girl,” she said aloud. “Does anyone know where she lives?” But no one knew. So Julie had to wait till Saturday. Of course she could contact her Alma Mater at Goa and probably get duplicate copies of her certificates. But she had left school many years ago, and the school had probably changed hands altogether. It would take years to secure fresh certificates. Ju was her best bet. So, keeping her fingers crossed for good luck, Julie visited the Club on Saturday. Ju was there, looking elegant in an evening dress. “Ju.” She almost ran to her. Was it consternation that showed on Ju’s face? “Hello!” she said, and for one who had been a dear friend, the greeting was decidedly cold. “Nice to see you back. Staying for long?” News that Julie had lost her husband, had spread through the Club, and it was with apprehension, that Ju waited for an answer. “For good. I’m a widow. I’m going back to work. That’s what I wanted to see you about. You remember that bundle of certificates I left with you? I want them back.” “Certificates? But didn’t you tear them up? I was there, helping you pack.” “Ju, I distinctly remember giving the certificates to you. I even jokingly suggested that you could use them.” Ju winced. No, she would fight to the bitter end. She had slogged to get this far, and no one was going to do her out of her newly acquired status. “You’re mistaken Julie. I don’t have your certificates. Now if you don’t mind, I must rush off.” Before Julie could think of anything further to say, she had gone. Julie waited for a few minutes to collect her thoughts. Then she hurried after her. Ju had reached quite a distance by the time she got to the road. Julie cursed herself for wearing such a narrow skirt that impeded movement. She walked as fast as she could. A city bus went past and halted a few furlongs away. Ju grabbed the chance to disappear. For a while, Julie watched in dismay, then she retraced her steps homewards. The next day, Julie was out on an errand for her aunt. As luck would have it, she met an old priest she had known in the past. She casually asked him if he knew of Ju Daniels whereabouts. “Yes,” said the priest, “I happened to visit an old parishioner in Penny Street the other day, and I saw Ju entering the building next door. She sure seems to have moved up in life. Try the last building on the left.”                                To be continued….