19. THE CRIMSON TEAR
THE CRIMSON TEAR
Andhra Pradesh, India
They simply called her choti , a baby, a little one, motherless, unwanted by her father, but cherished by the servants.
Drasko called her little jaan, little life.
Alfred’s daughter was five years old. Drasko was fourteen. And no human soul had ever loved him like she did.
He loved her back fiercely, with all his heart.
He read her bedtime stories in Hindi and English.
He brought her picture books, carved toy elephants and tigers out of wood, and fixed little diamonds into her bangles and anklets.
He took her for walks in the wheat fields and told fantastical stories about Hindu gods.
She was his ray of sunshine, a girl with a “pure heart.” One day, Drasko thought, she would be a diamond princess, he would make sure of it.
And one day, he caught a glimpse of the opportunity that would do just that.
Uriah called him one night to his office and locked the doors. Unlike the rest of the villa that smelled of charcoal, jasmine, and rose, the office smelled of leather and books.
“The London smell,” Uriah used to say.
The candlelight was dim. The distant cries of the street walas seeped through the windows.
“I want to show you something,” Uriah said.
He pushed aside the statue of Shiva, his favorite god of destruction, which hid the door to a walk-in vault. He disappeared inside and came out with a pouch.
“Come here, my boy.”
This was the first and only time Drasko saw the Crimson Tear.
Uriah turned it in his fingers, exposing it to the lamplight.
The rarest shade of red, the color of blood, the size of a small plum, the brilliance mesmerized Drasko.
To a commoner, it would look like a regular gem. But Drasko knew the value of diamonds, the twelve base colors and many other hues, the cuts and clarity.
“This,” said Uriah, his eyes flicking cunningly between the gem and Drasko, “is the rarest diamond in the world. It is worth a fortune.”
Drasko had a business mind, so he simply asked, “Why not put it up for auction? In England or America?”
“Ah, that!” Uriah’s eyes flickered with sinister glee. “All in good time. Yes, yes. I have plans. But they have to wait. And this”—despite Drasko being taller than him already, Uriah’s bony hand gripped Drasko’s shoulder—“will be our secret. You shall not tell a single soul.”
Uriah’s eyes narrowed on Drasko.
“Surely, Alfred knows,” Drasko said.
Uriah only waved him off. “Yes, that. No matter. No one else, you understand?”
But who would Drasko tell?
Elias Bayne only came to visit twice a year. And when his best friend was gone, other foreigners didn’t like Drasko. They called him shaitaan behind his back. Because his skin took up the sun faster, his hair was the darkest shade of black, his eyes were green, and his daring smile sparkly white.
But the night Drasko learned about the Crimson Tear, he was aching to share the secret with the one person he cared for the most.
And so he did.
That very night, he went to Asha and Rupesh’s bungalow. Little jaan stayed with them that night.
Drasko picked up the little girl in his arms and asked her silly questions, amused by her clever responses.
Her little fingers usually played with the bead necklace around her neck and the little bangles around her tiny wrists.
But she creased her brows when they touched a small scar under his brow and the one on his jaw.
She was so precious in her tiny salwar kameez , the pajama-type pants and a long shirt, with her angel-soft wavy hair, her inquisitive eyes, and that smile, always that smile.
Drasko adored her. She wasn’t yet marred by others’ opinions of him, loving him for being next to her. She was too quick to forget things, little enough to be happy for no reason, dance to the songs in her head, and make friends with dogs.
And she was too little to understand what he was about to tell her. So, if he shared a secret, she would surely forget it.
He took her for a night walk to her favorite pond. A water buffalo often came there at night to drink. Pretty lotuses and water lilies glimmered in the moonlight.
Drasko picked her up in his arms and under the bright stars told her about the Crimson Tear. Told it like one of the fairy tales that she liked so much, in his best narrator’s voice.
The legend made her tiny lips part in fascination and her big eyes widen in awe.
“One day, you will be a queen,” he promised her. “You shall travel the world and to magical places. You shall have many dresses and many diamonds. The most handsome men will throw themselves at your feet. Perhaps a prince or a king who will love you and make you so very-very happy!”
“I want a knight,” she said stubbornly, only five but already in love with fairy tales.
“You shall have anything you want. Even the Crimson Tear!”
“Why does the name sound so sad? I don’t want tears.”
Drasko laughed and tapped the tip of her nose with his forefinger. “Then so be it,” he declared. “No tears for jaanu .”
“No tears for jaanu !” she shouted happily to the stars, throwing her little arms in the air, then wrapped them around Drasko’s neck.
They laughed into the starry night about the mysterious future. The future that, unbeknown to them, held so much pain.
Because one person, driven by sickly obsession, observed them from the shadows.
Uriah heard the words that were supposed to be a secret. He listened to their laughter that bore painful holes in his heart.
He was being betrayed, yet again. But this time, he would not let fate rule his life. He would take matters into his own hands and wipe the last traces of her , her spawn, off the face of the earth.
It would only be a matter of months…