Forget Me Not, Stranger Read online

  NOVONEEL CHAKRABORTY

  FORGET ME NOT, STRANGER

  RANDOM HOUSE INDIA

  Contents

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Follow Random House

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Novoneel Chakraborty is the bestselling author of six romance thrillers. Forget Me Not, Stranger is his seventh novel and the third in the immensely popular Stranger trilogy. He works in the Indian films and television industry, penning popular television shows like Million Dollar Girl, Twist Wala Love, and Secret Diaries for Channel V. He lives in Mumbai.

  You can reach him at:

  Email: [email protected]

  Facebook: officialnbc

  Twitter: @novoxeno

  Instagram: @novoneelchakraborty

  He runs a blog—NovoSphere—on life and its lessons at: www.nbconline.blogspot.com

  By the same author

  A Thing beyond Forever

  That Kiss in the Rain

  How About a Sin Tonight?

  Ex

  Stranger Trilogy

  Marry Me, Stranger

  All Yours, Stranger

  For . . .

  The two souls I can’t name.

  One happens to be the most prized experience of my life.

  The other, the most significant event.

  Three things can’t be long hidden:

  the sun, the moon and the truth

  The Buddha

  Prologue

  She was lost in the dark, dense forest. It was worse since she wasn’t alone. Someone was following her, and had been for quite some time.

  Her eyes were used to the darkness by now. She kept running, unsure of the direction. She had not seen the face of the person she was running from but she had an eerie feeling she would be cornered the moment she stopped. And so she ran, even though her legs were about to give way. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, and turned to look. Some dead leaves crackled in the distance and fear woke up in her guts once again.

  Rivanah Bannerjee started running again. She checked her phone for the umpteenth time but there was still no network. She quickly checked the messages she had sent Danny. None of them had been delivered yet. She couldn’t even shout for help because, for one, there was nobody in the forest and, two, it would only alert her follower and help track her down all the more easily. Just as she was about to collapse from exhaustion, Rivanah noticed a light in the distance. From where she was standing, Rivanah couldn’t say what the source of the light was. But a light in the middle of the forest gave her hope. She took a deep breath and ran towards it with gusto. As she approached the light, she saw that it was inside what looked like an abandoned house. A huge banyan tree had spread its branches all over the wooden house—like a curse hanging above it.

  When she reached the house, she peeped in through the window. Her breathing slowly regained a normal pace. There were four lanterns, one at each corner of the room, giving it a hauntingly erotic ambience. The room was barely furnished otherwise.

  Right in the middle of the room was a naked man on his knees with his back to her. Around the man’s neck were wrapped two shapely female legs. The man’s mouth was right between the girl’s legs. The girl suddenly popped her head up—her eyes were rolled back in ecstasy. As Rivanah got a good look of the girl’s face, her heart stopped. She was staring at her own image! The Rivanah who was clutching the man’s hair with both hands suddenly looked directly at the Rivanah peeping in through the window.

  ‘Hello, Hiya!’ the Rivanah inside the house said to the one outside. The man paused for a moment but didn’t turn. He slowly held her throat with both hands and said aloud, ‘Death is the ultimate orgasm, Mini.’ He tightened his grip on her throat. Rivanah started to lose her senses. She could feel the pressure of the man’s hands choking her windpipe. She tried to break free but couldn’t. There was nobody who could help her except for her own ‘image’ standing by the window, helpless. The Rivanah at the window felt her feet turn to ice. She desperately wanted to escape. She felt her breath becoming shorter as if the man was pressing her throat instead of the girl’s inside. An acute survival instinct finally gave her the energy to move. Rivanah went around the house looking for the main door. When she found it, she couldn’t push it open. She banged hard, kicked it a few times but it wouldn’t budge. The Rivanah inside the house was choking. The kicks on the door were relentless now and grew more intense. Finally the door crashed open and Rivanah ran towards the man who was holding the naked Rivanah by her throat. Before she could reach him, the man turned around to face her.

  She opened her eyes wide. All she could see was a whitewashed ceiling with a static white fan. She saw Danny lying by her side, his face turned away from her. For a moment Rivanah thought she was still in her nightmare. She forcibly turned Danny’s face towards her. She relaxed.

  ‘What happened?’ Danny asked in a sleepy voice.

  ‘Nothing,’ Rivanah said, feeling guilty for having disturbed his sleep. It was a nightmare, after all—a super-weird one all right, but a nightmare nevertheless.

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ she said. Danny obediently closed his eyes.

  A quick look at her phone told her it was 10.45 in the night. Rivanah was about to get up to fetch some water when she heard a bell ring a couple of times. She ambled to the window and noticed an ice-cream wallah within the building premises. A family of four was buying ice creams from him. The sight made her miss her college days when Ekansh, her ex-boyfriend, would come over to her place at midnight and together they would have ice creams from a particular joint run by Ekansh’s friend. Though the thought of Ekansh made her feel sour, a sudden urge to have ice cream possessed her. One look at Danny and his open mouth and soft snores told her he wouldn’t come along. She picked up her wallet and quietly slipped out of the flat.

  She bought herself a bar of khatta-meetha-aam-flavoured ice cream. After finishing one, she bought another to take back to her flat. By then the family of four had gone. Taking the money from Rivanah, the ice-cream wallah too turned to make an exit from the building premises.

  As Rivanah walked towards her building entrance, there was a loud splash. Somebody had thrown a bucketful of water on her from above. Drenched from head to toe, she angrily looked up to reprimand the culprit but saw no one.

  ‘Asshole!’ she screamed out. There was a strange smell emanating from her clothes. She sniffed—and stopped dead in her tracks. What she had mistaken for water was, in fact, kerosene! Rivanah looked up again. Something like an arrow was travelling fast towards her. A flaming arrow.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she gasped, knowing well it wasn’t a dream any more. The smell of the kerosene was real. The fire was real. She was real. Her fear was real. Rivanah had only a few seconds to move before the fiery missile touched her and burnt her to the ground. But her feet seemed to have frozen with fear. Just like in the nightmare. As the fireball neared her, her mind had already started a countdown—5—4—3—2 . . .


  1

  ‘Hey, you should call Aunty back. She has already called thrice,’ Ishita said once Rivanah came out of the shower.

  ‘I don’t know why Mumma keeps worrying even though I’m in Kolkata, my hometown,’ Rivanah said, picking up her phone. Rivanah was feeling sick ever since she had come back to Ishita’s PG from Hiya’s house in Agarpara. She could feel fear flutter in her guts. Will the stranger really kill her? Was he a stalker cum serial killer?

  Ishita had been coaxing Rivanah to eat something but she didn’t feel like it. Rivanah tried to sleep but feared that when she opened her eyes, she would see the stranger standing right in front of her, waiting to kill her. Just like he must have compelled Hiya Chowdhury to kill herself, she thought. Ishita had asked her to take a long, warm shower in order to relax. It sounded like a good idea. And now that she was done with the shower, Rivanah was indeed better.

  ‘Hello, Mumma, what happened?’ She finally called her mother back.

  ‘Mini, come home. Now!’ Her mother sounded petrified.

  Rivanah’s heart skipped a beat. Something terrible must have happened.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mumma?’ Rivanah sounded equally terrified.

  There was no response for a moment and then her mother said calmly, ‘Nothing. I’m just feeling lonely. Come home now, Mini!’

  This was strange. Suddenly her mother sounded as if everything was all right. ‘You scared me, Mumma. Anyway, I’m coming home. And I’m bringing Ishita along.’

  ‘No, not now,’ Mrs Bannerjee shot back instantly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We have to go out for lunch to your baba’s colleague’s place.’

  ‘Today?’

  ‘Yes, today. In fact, in a few hours. So come home immediately.’

  ‘Okay, Mumma. I’m coming.’ Why did her mother sound so . . . unlike herself?

  ‘What happened?’ Ishita asked, entering the room with two cups of green tea. She gave one to Rivanah.

  ‘No, thanks. I need to go now. Have a luncheon to attend,’ Rivanah said, combing her hair in front of a full-length mirror in the room.

  ‘With Ekansh?’

  Rivanah shot her a glance and sighed, ‘Baba’s colleague.’

  ‘Okay, I get it,’ Ishita said, sipping her green tea. Rivanah shrugged.

  ‘Your mother wants to introduce you to another of your arranged-marriage guys.’

  Rivanah rolled her eyes realizing Ishita was right. How could she have missed that?

  ‘Wish me luck,’ Rivanah said, and left.

  A few hours later, Rivanah’s father met her and her mother outside the Esplanade metro station, and they drove in his Alto to Kalikapur. Rivanah didn’t say much during the journey. It was obvious in the way her mother had asked her to ‘dress properly’ while she herself wore her latest buy—a Baluchari sari. They could try but Rivanah had no intention of getting married just yet. She was sure her parents hadn’t told her the real reason for the luncheon fearing she wouldn’t go with them.

  The Bannerjee family were received warmly by Manick Dutta on their arrival.

  ‘So nice to see you, Mr Bannerjee,’ he said, hugging Rivanah’s father. Rivanah thought it was odd that he referred to her father by his surname. Generally all his colleagues addressed him by his first name.

  ‘It’s been a while since I met your family,’ Mr Dutta added.

  Been a while? When did he meet Mumma and me? Rivanah wondered. He must be confusing us with someone else, she thought. Soon all of them settled on a spacious L-shaped couch. It was a posh and neatly kept flat.

  ‘My wife and son will be here soon. They have gone to the AC market. As you already know, Rishabh is here only for a week, and his mother prefers shopping with him.’

  So his name is Rishabh—the man my parents want me to spend the rest of my life with. She noticed a couple of family photos in frames on either side of the huge LED television. Mr Dutta’s son looked much older than she was. If that is really his son in the photograph, she thought and casually glanced at Mr Dutta. He was smiling at her.

  ‘How are you doing, Mini?’

  Calling me by my nickname when we are meeting for the first time? This is a first, thought Rivanah.

  ‘I’m good, uncle. How are you?’ Rivanah said, maintaining a warm smile.

  ‘I’m good too. How long will you be in Kolkata?’

  ‘A few more days.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  A servant came in with a tray carrying three glasses of water. The Bannerjees took a glass each and sipped on the water idly, waiting for Mr Dutta’s wife and son to return. In the meantime, Mr Dutta shot a volley of questions at Rivanah. It was evident from the nature of the questions that he wanted to judge her as a person.

  ‘When do you go to office?’

  ‘What do you do on weekends?’

  ‘How many friends do you have?’

  ‘Do you have more male friends than females?’

  Questions that were none of his business and yet she had to answer them because that was why she had been brought there: to answer whatever the boy’s family asked. As time passed, Rivanah became increasingly bored and, as a result, started yawning more and more, to a point when it became embarrassing.

  ‘Do you want to sleep for a bit, Mini?’ Mr Dutta asked.

  Rivanah glanced at her parents once and then at Mr Dutta.

  ‘No, uncle, it is just that I haven’t slept well for the last few days, with all the travelling.’

  ‘Totally understandable. Youngsters these days have a mad schedule indeed,’ Mr Dutta sympathized.

  ‘Why don’t you take a short nap? You’ll look fresh by the time Mr Dutta’s family gets back,’ Mr Bannerjee chipped in.

  Look fresh in front of Mr Dutta’s son, that’s the whole point, Rivanah thought.

  ‘We will wake you up the moment Rishabh and his mother arrive.’

  Rivanah gestured to her mother to come along for a second. ‘Bhola, show madam the bedroom,’ Mr Dutta said aloud.

  The servant immediately appeared from the kitchen and escorted both Rivanah and Mrs Bannerjee to the master bedroom.

  ‘Isn’t it odd to sleep like this at someone else’s place?’ Rivanah said, keeping her voice in check.

  ‘And what was it that you were doing sitting there? Yawning away like anything.’ Her mother sounded cross.

  ‘I’m sorry but I couldn’t help it. I’m feeling very sleepy.’

  ‘Then just sleep. I will wake you up when his son and wife come,’ she said and walked out of the room. Rivanah sighed with yet another wide-mouthed yawn. She sat down on the bed. A moment later she lay down closing her eyes, telling herself she will not sleep. But she dozed off as soon as her head hit the pillow. When Rivanah woke up, she wondered why the interior of the room was so familiar. And then it hit her—she was lying in her own bedroom.

  2

  ‘Mumma!’ Rivanah screamed as she sat upright with a jolt. Her mother came running, looking worried.

  ‘What happened, Mini?’ she asked.

  ‘How did I come to my room? And did Mr Dutta’s son and wife ever come?’

  ‘What are you talking about, Mini?’ her mother asked, looking aghast. ‘You came back from your friend’s place, had lunch and slept like a log.’

  ‘Like a log? How many hours has it been?’ Rivanah got off her bed and picked up her mobile phone from her study table.

  ‘It is 9.30 p.m.!’ she said aloud.

  ‘I thought you were tired so I didn’t wake you up,’ her mother said and then, turning back, added, ‘Come along now. Dinner is almost ready.’

  ‘Mumma, tell me you are kidding.’ Rivanah stopped her mother.

  ‘Kidding about what, Mini?’

  ‘You, Baba and I had gone to Mr Dutta’s place for lunch today, right? I was feeling sleepy, so I went to his bedroom to sleep. What happened after that?’

  Her mother’s worried look was back.

  ‘What are you talking about, Mini? Are y
ou all right?’ Rivanah looked hassled as she left her mother in the room and rushed to her father downstairs. He was sitting at the dining table waiting for dinner to be served. He was holding a copy of Tagore’s Gitanjali. He dog-eared the page he was reading and looked up to see his daughter standing right in front of him.

  ‘Tell your mother I’m very hungry,’ he said.

  ‘Baba, didn’t we go to Mr Dutta’s house today for lunch?’

  Mr Bannerjee looked at her for a moment. Then, removing his specs, he said, ‘We were supposed to but he had some work, so we didn’t go. Why, what happened?’

  Rivanah’s jaws dropped.

  ‘I don’t know what she is talking about,’ Mrs Bannerjee joined them.

  ‘What is she saying?’ Mr Bannerjee looked at his wife.

  ‘That we went to Mr Dutta’s place and she felt sleepy and . . .’

  ‘Did you have a nightmare, Mini?’ Mr Bannerjee asked Rivanah, cutting his wife short.

  Rivanah, for a trice, seemed lost. Then she nodded. Was it all a dream? Her coming home, going to Esplanade metro station with her mother and then being picked up by her father, going to Mr Dutta’s house, him saying his wife and son are out. Rivanah immediately called Ishita.

  The number you have called is not reachable right now.

  She checked her call log and found a call from her mother during the day.

  ‘See, you called me in the morning,’ she said, showing the phone to her mother.

  ‘Of course, I did. I called and asked you to come over because we had to go to Mr Dutta’s house. But the meeting was cancelled by the time you came home. Then you slept until you woke up a few minutes back,’ her mother said, with a surety even Rivanah couldn’t question.

  A frustrated Rivanah sat with a thud in the chair right opposite her father.

  ‘You should eat properly,’ her mother said and moved towards the kitchen to serve them dinner. Rivanah didn’t notice Mr and Mrs Bannerjee exchanging a furtive glance.

  ‘This is what is wrong with your generation,’ Mr Bannerjee started, ‘You think money is everything and compromise on your health in the process. All this forgetfulness happens when you eat junk all day. These American food joints are spoiling our kids and their future, I tell you.’