Faith and the Beloved

By Kochery C Shibu

Faith and the Beloved is a master piece from the Best-selling and Award -winning author of Men and Dreams in the Dhauladhar. A riveting saga of love, lust, betrayal, intrigue and revenge

Naithy Cherozil is a rich and successful business woman from Mumbai who marries the young and handsome model Tony D'Souza after the death of her spouse. Little does she know that the ideal sex slave of her husband is the sleeper cell of a terror outfit. Events in her life take unforeseen turns as the male Mata Hari is activated.

Prem Rollands is a 'Kalari' exponent and  a brilliant student whose world revolves around his brother Arun. Things go awry when the police kill Arun under mysterious circumstances. Prem kills the inspector in retribution and is on the run. He is on the lookout to find the dark secrets leading to Arun's death. Prem must avenge those who have plotted to kill his brother.

Eighteen year old Alice Cherozil knows more about computers and mystery games than a girl of  her age. Her life falls apart when her mother is hospitalised and in a coma. She is playing the ultimate mystery game of her life as the web of secrets surrounding two precious diamonds and her stepfather threaten to destroy her family. She overcomes the moral dilemma to kill her stepfather. Alice must outwit the underworld and stay ahead of all to save her mother's life or the guilt of her failure will haunt her forever.

As the lives of Naithy, Prem and Alice cross each other they must retain their faith and protect their beloved ones, even at the cost of their own lives.

A riveting saga of love, lust, betrayal, intrigue and revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kochery C Shibu
• Release date: Jan 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9788194782919

Kochery C Shibu

Kochery C Shibu- Bio DataKochery C Shibu, the bestselling and award-winning author of ‘Men and Dreams in the Dhauladhar’, and ‘Faith and the Beloved’, is a graduate of the prestigious National Defence Academy, Khadakwasla. He has served in the Indian Navy and commanded two warships. Post his retirement, he has executed hydro-electric projects in the Cauvery River basin in Karnataka, Beas River basin in Himachal and Teesta River basin in Sikkim. He holds a postgraduate degree in Defence Studies from Chennai University, and an MA English Literature from Pune University. Shibu has changed tack from the snow-clad mountains to the blue oceans, and has been associated with the setting up of a shipping company in India.‘Amongst the Believers’ , a suspense thriller, is his third book. A passionate and committed writer, Shibu creates a magical world of fiction built around a well-researched background.Kochery C Shibu was born in Kochi, Kangarapady and now lives in Bangalore with his wife and daughter.

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Author’s Note

This is a work of fiction. The resemblance of any character or incident to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental and unintended.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission and consent of the publisher.

Acknowledgement

I have been able to write this book with the unstinted support of my wife Mini and daughter Anjali. They have been my inspiration during my extended stay away from home while writing this book.

I am thankful to Chethana Dinesh for editing the novel. We have had umpteen discussions and reviews on all chapters of the book. Numerous reviews of the book, both in content and presentation, have been possible with Chethana’s unrelenting support.

I am thankful to Mishan Design Point Pvt Limited, Bangalore for publishing this book.

Kochery C Shibu

Bangalore

India

What Came Before

He ran hard along the railway tracks, chasing the goods train. He managed to climb on to one of the open wagons and lay down exhausted on a pile of coal. He was holding on dearly to the pot of gold as he looked at himself. There was blood all over his body and clothes. He was sobbing as he threw away the bloodied clothes and put on a fresh pair, which too turned black with coal dust in no time.

He sat there looking at the ‘janeu’, the sacred white thread, in his hands. It was blood-soaked. He muttered to himself, This was not how it was supposed to be.

He stretched out his legs and tried to sleep. The images jumped in front of his eyes.

Mangal, you are stealing our gold.

He heard the dying man speak as he collapsed bleeding.

Mangal, please open the door. The house is on fire!

He heard the women and children shriek as he was running away from the burning house.

He thought for some time and wore the blood-soaked sacred white thread and drifted off to sleep. He heard the voice of the dying man echo in his mind.

The wealth of murder will yield murder; male members of your family are cursed.

Alice

Alice Cherozil had the story of Ubuntu in her mind as she looked at Tony in the muted bedroom light. She listened to his deep rhythmic breaths. He was in deep sleep. Alice peered carefully at the handsome, well-chiselled nude body as she held the knife in her hand. She paused for a moment as she tried to position the knife on the rib cage. Alice was naked and sitting straddled across him on the bed. She recalled the passage from the Bible, Jael placed the tent peg on the temple of the man and hammered it to the ground and killed him. She raised her hand to hammer the knife into his chest but backed off at the last moment as her mind seemed to go numb. Alice then lifted the knife and took it to his temple. She was not sure if the knife would go through the temple. She removed the knife and placed it on his chest again. Lamb of God take away the sins, Alice whispered the prayer as she paused for one last time. She took a deep breath and swung the hammer to plunge the knife deep into his chest.

The soft sound of the cleaver knife penetrating the muscles turned to a muted thud as it struck a rib and slipped. Alice was panting from fear as she held the knife straight again and tried to hammer it in with all her might. She was still panting in fear of the unknown and saying, Die, you animal Tony D’Souza, die, in her mind as a fountain of blood splashed on her face and body.

There was a groan as he woke up with a surprised look on his face. The chiselled body responded with a lightning move, pushing her away as he stood up after tumbling to the side of the bed. He stood looking disbelievingly at his chest as he squeezed the wound tight around the knife to minimise the bleeding.

You little slut, you are trying to kill Tony? he shouted as he stumbled towards the dressing mirror and yanked open the door with his hand. She stood there frozen and watched as he pressed his thumb to the small safe in the drawer. It sprung open, he pulled out a revolver and turned around.

She jumped out of bed and fell on to the French window as Tony pointed the revolver towards at her. She stood there frozen and kept staring at the gun pointed at her.

You little bitch, you too are after the diamonds, like your stupid mom. That is Tigers’ property. They are coming to collect it. How could you?

Tony stood there looking disbelievingly at the knife plunged into his chest, and the blood oozing out.

I will rip you to pieces, Tony shouted and charged towards her with his arms flung open. As he let go of his chest, a fountain of blood spurted out. He paused to squeeze the wound tight again.

Look at me, you stupid girl, Tony commanded as he pointed the revolver towards her and clutched his chest even more firmly with the other hand. He stumbled as he fired. Alice heard the bullet whiz past and strike the glass behind as it shattered. He fired again as his hand wavered, and she stood there numb as another bullet whizzed past. He had a stupid grin on his face as he ambled towards her with a massive erection. Alice looked at his blood-lit penis as it stood up like a gun about to fire.

A knife will add to the fun. I told you I can do it after three stiffs, Tony mumbled as he charged towards her. Blood spurted from his chest and splashed on her as he neared her. He paused with a look of surprise at the fountain of blood which was all over his body. Alice woke up from her stupor, ducked, and moved to the side. The revolver fell out of his hand as he tried to pin her to the French window.

The stupid cunt!

Alice heard him mutter as Tony almost collapsed and fell on to a small table near the French window. His body stood there awkwardly poised on the table and supported by the window frame.

Alice watched for a few seconds as the blood kept flowing. She noticed the revolver with the silencer lying on the ground. The curtains were drawn on the French windows. There were two holes where the bullets had passed through. She paused for a while and felt a load off her chest as she watched the well-chiselled naked body leaning against the French window, very dead, and like a Roman statue. She stood silently and listened out for noises from the outside. She was not sure if anyone had heard the gunshots and the breaking of the glass. She felt relieved by the silence all around.

Alice put on a pair of rubber kitchen gloves and two pairs of socks. She tiptoed to the cupboard that Tony had left ajar and looked carefully into the safe which was lying open. There were two small brass statues, one of a Laughing Buddha, and the other of Lord Ganesh. There were a few bundles of 100-dollar bills and 1000-rupee notes. She lifted the brass statues and was surprised by their weight and exquisite workmanship. An old rudimentary Nokia phone at the bottom of the safe caught her attention. As she lifted the phone, she noticed one half of an old 500-dollar bill. Alice looked around for the other half and realised it was only one half of a bill. She placed it back in the safe. She was familiar with the voice-only Nokia phones that were allowed in their school hostel. She powered the phone on, and a smile crossed her face as she started typing a message.

Allah’s black diamonds are forever, only the blessed can possess them. Alice sent an SMS to the first mobile number that came up, and her heart started pounding as she sent the message.

Get well darling. Will keep diamonds for you. They are after me. Alice sent a second message to her mother’s phone. Her heart was beating faster now.

Tigers’ dollar bill not OK. No deal without match. Alice sent an SMS to the next mobile number that came up. She could hear her heart beating like drums in her ears as she sent out the third message.

Your delivery boys need to improve. Alice smiled and sent the next message to the fourth number. She thought her heart would burst as she sent the message and immediately powered off the phone. She stood there leaning against the cupboard for a few minutes, gasping for breath. She gathered courage and powered on the Nokia phone again. She copied the three mobile numbers and the two landline numbers onto her mobile.

Alice felt her adrenaline pumping as she dialled the next number, which was a landline number from Mumbai, and disconnected the call after one ring. She dialled the next number, which was also a landline from Mumbai, and did the same. She powered off the phone and paused to gather her breath.

Alice carefully carried the statues and the bundles of notes and tiptoed across the room, avoiding the blood pool that was spreading on the floor. She stashed the notes and statues in her backpack.

Alice looked at her watch; the time was 3 am. She walked gingerly to the dead body. She looked around, picked up the gun from the floor, and placed it in Tony’s hand. The body was still warm as she pulled the trigger with his finger and fired three rounds into the wooden cupboards in the room. She held her breath as the bullets went out with a whoosh. She was not sure if the shattering of the glass and the bullet shots would have caught anyone’s attention. She paused and listened for any noises in the corridor outside. She did not hear anything. Alice adjusted the gun and closed the dead man’s fingers around it firmly. She opened the safe, looked at the torn 500-dollar bill, and thought for a few seconds. She closed the lid of the safe, and it locked itself automatically. She looked at the dead body leaning against the French window and approached it gingerly. She half-lifted and twisted the body and managed to position the body sitting awkwardly on the table. She pulled out a shawl from the cupboard and threw it over the body and placed a small hand towel on top of his outstretched hand. Alice paused to place the sunglasses on his face and switched on a ceiling light above. The dead body with a wry grin looked relaxed, pointing the revolver under the hand towel as if he was ready to shoot someone.

Alice went into the kitchen, moved two cooking gas cylinders on the wheeled trolley, and placed them next to the body. She spread a few bedsheets over the cylinders, pulled out the oil cans from the kitchen cupboards, and took them to the bedroom. Then she went about spreading clothes and bedsheets in the room, trailing to the other rooms in the house.

It was an hour before she was done. Alice went to the bathroom and scrubbed herself clean in the shower. Looking into the mirror, she used salt and cleaned out the remaining blood stains on her body. She took another hot shower and felt calm as she changed into her jeans and tee shirt. She wore a long, red, rayon top she had borrowed from the maid servant, with a shawl and a headscarf. She felt jubilant and camouflaged.

It was 4 am by the time she was ready. She looked around satisfactorily at her choreography. Alice had asked her friend to wait for her by 4.30 am. She went about crack-opening the cooking gas cylinders and smelled the gas leaking out. She kept her backpack by the door and had a final look at the house which was fast filling with the smell of gas. She took out the safety matchboxes and placed them under the electric iron which was balanced on two wax candles. Alice took a deep breath, adjusted the regulator to full heat, and powered on the electric iron. She fumbled with the thin, door-stopper steel wedge to slide it in position as she closed the door. She felt her heart skip a beat at the thought of the candles lighting up earlier than the planned five minutes.

Alice slung her backpack over her shoulder, tied the scarf on her head, and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. She shut the door and tiptoed to the lift and was surprised to see the lift coming up to her floor. She ran to the fire escape stairs, just about closed the doors and was tiptoeing down when she saw two burly men get out of the lift and head in the direction of her apartment. Alice saw one of them pull out a gun from behind his back as they moved in what seemed to be sure-footed steps. She sensed trouble as she ran down the stairs, all eleven floors, and was panting by the time she reached the ground floor. Just as she stepped out of the building, there was the sound of a big blast and the sound of shattering glass windows. She looked up and saw her apartment go up in flames. Almost immediately the fire alarms went off. There was shouting all around. The security guards were yelling and running as she crossed the gate, got on to the main road outside, and walked away from the gated community. There was a second, and an even more fierce blast as she walked away. She saw objects flying out from her apartment and caught a glimpse of the parts of a human body in the air.

Her heart started pounding as she saw a lean young man who was walking away in the opposite direction on the main road. He had briefly stopped walking and was staring at her. Alice looked away and saw her friend Aarushi’s car at a distance; she ran to it and hopped inside.

Alice, what is that explosion we heard? Aarushi asked.

There is a fire in some house in our building. I got out in time, would have got stuck otherwise.

Alice looked at her friend Aarushi as she spoke and took off the long top and the shawl she had borrowed from the maid.

Chill, girl, Alice said, patting Aarushi on her shoulder as the car rolled off. There was an uneasy silence in the car as they drove. At the airport toll booth, they slowed down and waited in the snarling queue to pay the toll. Alice walked out of the car and threw the shawl and the red top packed in a bag on to the back of a minivan that was passing by.

Alice looked away from the toll booth executive as Aarushi paid the money. She saw a police van parked in the vicinity of the toll booth and held her breath. She felt her feet go numb with fear as she kept looking at the police vehicle. She kept wiggling her toes, held her breath, and started counting. She felt relieved as they left the toll booth. There was a heavy silence in the car as they drove. Alice opened the windows to let the nippy air in. They reached the airport, parked their car, and entered the airport.

Just wait a second, Alice whispered to Aarushi and scouted around in the parking area until she found a car that was pulling out in a hurry. She powered the Nokia phone on, set it to vibrate mode and slid it in the back seat of the car.

Alice was holding her breath and counting as the security guard looked at the ticket, gave her a hard stare, and then allowed her to pass. Alice pulled Aarushi along, joined the queue to check in their luggage, and rushed to the security counter. The security counter was crowded. Alice felt the pangs of fear in her stomach each time the security staff looked at the passengers. Was there any trace of blood on her hands? She was not sure. She let out a sigh of relief as they crossed the security counter. She was worried they would rummage through her belongings and find the numerous driving licenses and Aadhar cards that she was carrying. She breathed a sigh of relief when they crossed the security check.

Alice had her flight ticket from Bangalore to Mumbai, and her friend, Aarushi, had her ticket from Bangalore to Chennai. Alice was anxious and perplexed, awaiting a call from the security on her luggage at any moment. They exchanged their flight tickets after they cleared the security and sat in silence in the waiting area. Aarushi's flight was announced first. There was silence hanging in the air as they looked each other deep into the eyes and parted with a hug.

Alice landed at Chennai airport by 9 am and waited at the airport for an hour. She scanned the security staff and watched the news snippets on the television screens. There was no report of the fire in her house yet. She went to the mall near the airport and found her way to an exclusive travel luggage showroom on the third floor. She bought a steel suitcase and a laptop backpack and paid for them in cash. She arranged her belongings in the steel suitcase, and then bought a few packets of biscuits, some savoury food items and water, and stuffed them into her new backpack. She discarded her old backpack in one of the dustbins, took a taxi to a hair care salon in the city and had her head shaved off. The salon staff gave her a look of disapproval.

Just for fun, Alice told them.

Alice put on the wig that she was carrying before she walked out. She boarded a train to Kolkata in the afternoon dressed in a saffron robe over her jeans. She locked her new steel suitcase using the eye hook at the bottom of the seat. She was travelling with a Bengali family with two small kids. The mother of the kids looked at her disapprovingly when her husband glanced at her once or twice. Alice moved to the side berth that the family offered her. She was happy to be away from the banter and the Bengali savouries doing the rounds. She slept her way all through to Kolkata.

She bought the newspapers the next day morning and was relieved to see that there was no mention of the blast in the front pages. There was a snippet in one of the inside pages, making a mention of the incident. At Kolkata, she changed trains to Siliguri. She changed into her all-saffron dress and clean-shaven head in the train and sat through the journey, holding prayer beads in her hand. She travelled by road to Sikkim through many a road slides and roadblocks that came with the onset of monsoons.

By evening, Alice reached the yoga institute in Namchi town. The last leg of the journey had been a climb up into the mystical hills of Namchi in the foothills of the Himalayas. ‘Mayakalp’, the board screamed at her as she entered the reception area. She had booked a two-week package with a private room. She registered as Aarushi Jain, paid in cash, and moved to her room.

Alice took out the statues of the Laughing Buddha and Lord Ganesh out of her bag and displayed them in her room as she went about settling down. She walked to the dining hall and had dinner all by herself. The next day, she had an appointment with the in-house doctor who explained to her the daily schedule. She was to attend the morning yoga session, followed by breakfast, and then by one or the other sessions of Panchakarma therapy followed with by various types of steaming and mud baths. Afternoon was rest time, and there was the first round of meditation for one hour at 4 pm, followed by a yoga session. Dinner was at 6.30 pm, and there was a second round of meditation after dinner for an hour.

Alice kept to herself and immersed herself in the routine. The televisions had no news about the explosions in her home nor was it there in the headlines of newspapers. It was on the seventh day at Mayakalp that the newspapers covered the incident in the front pages. Bangalore explosions take a twist was the headline that went on to explain that there was a terror angle to the blast. Two underworld ‘supari’ assassins were killed in the house along with Tony D’Souza. There were three guns recovered. Alice, the daughter of Naithy Cherozil, was missing and believed to be kidnapped by the terrorists. Naithy, the wife of the deceased and the owner of the ad agency Design Pantheon, was in the hospital, still in a coma.

Alice kept staring at the newspaper and reading the article over and over. Tears started rolling down her cheeks as memories came flooding, and she knew she had to call her mother.

Prem

Arun Kumar was born in a little village on the outskirts of Kishanganj, a small-town bordering Bihar and Bengal. His grandfather had migrated from the foothills of the Himalayas. His family history was shrouded in folklore and mystery. His grandfather had lost his family in the Khairabad riots of 1932 when he ran away from the marauding crowd. He managed to escape with the family gold to a village named Guara Gaon on the outskirts of Kishanganj, and there he settled down. The family came to be known as the Mangal Gautam family.

His grandfather was a violent man and was known for getting into fights on almost a daily basis with one and all in the small town. He married a local girl, and they had a son named Ghangoo. It was in 1946 that the pre-partition Hindu-Muslim riots hit the nation with widespread rioting and violence everywhere. Ghangoo was seven years old when his father was killed in the riots that ravaged the nation, and he was one of the victims in Kishanganj.

Ghangoo went to the local school for his primary education and started assisting his mother in running the small ‘kirana’ store that his father had set up in Kishanganj town. He married young and had a son. It was in 1957 that he lost his wife and son to another Hindu-Muslim riot that rocked Kishanganj town. Ghangoo was heart-broken and went silent for decades. He was seen in every temple, mosque and gurudwara in Kishanganj praying for his wife and son.

In 1987, he saved a Muslim girl from another Hindu-Muslim riot in Kishanganj and hid her in his house. He married her the next month. He was forty-seven, and the girl was eighteen. He earned the wrath of the Hindu community for having married a Muslim girl, and they refused to accept her as a Gautam. The Muslim community was angry with the girl for marrying an old Hindu man and leaving the community.

Ghangoo was unnerved and went on with his life. He sold his ‘kirana’ store in the town, bought agricultural land in the village and restricted their life mostly to the village. They were blessed with a son the very next year, whom they named Arun Kumar. In 1997, they were blessed with a second son, whom they called Prem Kumar.

Arun and Prem grew up listening to the stories of their family life in Khairabad from their grandmother. She used to regale them with the tales of their forefathers who had the best palanquins ever, and they could carry them on their shoulders in any terrain. The royalty travelling in them would never feel the difference in terrain. Their palanquins were special and had a golden bow in the front. Both the children went to the local school in the village, and Arun was a brilliant mind in the village school. He went on to attend high school in the town and was the first one from the village to go to St. Mary’s College in Kishanganj.

The Hindu-Muslim riots in 2007 killed Ghangoo and his wife who were visiting the Kishanganj town. The children were shattered, but their grandmother was