The Death of a Princess (Part 2)

Mohammed Al-Fayed was anxious as it seemed he had knowledge about the imminent accident. Whereas, someone mysteriously called the Balmoral Estate of the Queen about Diana and how she won’t be of a problem! Read on as the mystery unfolds…(Please read the first one if you haven’t.)

2 months ago, Mohammed Al-Fayed was tipped of about an imminent possible attack on Dodi and her l’amour Princess Diana. Fayed ignored it as mere rumor. But then Paul, who was also the driver, came up to him with specific intelligence on the planned murder of the Princess. Since then, Mohammed appointed Paul on a suicide mission. Though Mohammed was not too fond of Diana, he had asked Paul to protect her and his son with utmost care. But he had failed in the mission. Dodi was dead…and so was Diana.

The Queen groggily got up to see the news in the Balmoral Mansion. Charles was already awake-he looked stoic, even it was the mother of his children who was battling for the last few moments. Charles was anyway waiting impatiently for time to pass so that he could marry Camilla Parker Bowles, the woman towards whom he had always had a soft corner. Diana had reported in an interview, “My husband is contriving to kill me!” He was worried that the world would suspect him, but at the same time he was sure that by being overtly-concerned and emotional about the whole “incident” of Diana dying, he can take the entire media glare in his stride; as the proud father grieving at the loss of his ex-wife-for the sake of his sons.

“Where are the kids, Charles? I don’t think they should know about their mother from the TV. You should tell them.”-said HRH, The Queen of England, Elizabeth II.

“Yes, that would be correct Mummy. It will be difficult for them to understand, but I will be there with them. I think I should get Diana’s body here. If we are not careful, the world will suspect us of murdering her!”

The Queen said through her gritted teeth, ”Why on earth will they think that? She was a Royal. She continues to be the mother of the future King of England and will continue to be the mother even in her death. You thinking so, disgusts me! Do what you have to!”

Charles went to the kids’ room to tell them about their mother. He intended to fly the first thing in the morning, but he was sure that the night would not be so kind to him.

Somewhere from the alley ways in Paris, an anonymous caller, dialed the same number, “No one will suspect you. I had drugged the driver. It was as natural as it could be. Just transfer the remnant of my payment to my Swiss account.”

“Yes, it all shall be done. And you don’t need to call here again. I have paid you a hefty price for the task.”

“Well, it was a cruel a task, after all. Wasn’t it, Your Majesty?”

The monarch hung up, and hushed a tear. Some things you have to do, even against your will, she thought.

No One Killed the Princess! (Part 1)

Lady Diana, “The People’s Princess”, was loved by one and all. She died in a fatal car crash. Or did she? Read on…

“More Champagne, Madame?” asked the Maitre’d himself. Of course, these were the 2 most important guests at Paris’s most expensive and exuberant hotel- the Ritz.

“Oui, Si’il vous plait!”-said Diana, in her graceful French. She always thought of herself being French- she adored them; their style, the haute-couture, their sophistication. And very much so, she was just like them.

“Cheers!”, said Dodi Fayed, the scion of the Ritz. It was a reason to celebrate after all. He had found love in the most delicately beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And he was happy that she too was enamored by him-passionately in love with him.

In his eyes, Diana could see herself-at peace, calm and serene. This was quite a contrast to what she had become after the abysmal divorce and the consequent events that followed. From binge-eating, to bulimia, to severe manic-depression- she had seen it all. What had she done to deserve all this? A fairy-tale wedding with a Prince and a Princess had come crumbling down after a few months of blissful marriage. However, she had held her head up high-faced each day with unwavering courage and dignity.

But it was not about all that today. It was about a life that she was going to share with Dodi. With “Dodo”(she would lovingly call him) she had envisioned a future of peace and calm. But little did she know that lady luck, just like the Royalty, never favored her.

Somewhere, in Paris, Mohammed Al- Fayed, was frantically trying to reach out to his son and his beau. He had made a mistake, a grave one. He called the hotel and asked the Manager to hold Di and Dodi in until he arrived. He wanted to talk to his son before it was too late-the clock kept ticking at its usual pace, but to him it seemed as if it were moving at a lightning speed. He called his chauffeur to take him to the Ritz. Outside the window of his Limo, he saw a young man with his little kid in the hand, strolling on the pavement of Champs Elysees. In that he saw a vivid image of him and his son, a long time ago. A tear rolled down and window rolled up! He composed himself and was determined to rectify what was about to happen.

Somewhere inside the Balmoral castle, a phone rang.

“She won’t be a problem anymore!” said the caller.

In Paris, Diana and Dodi tried to escape the paparazzi mania by making a quick back door exit. The manager tried to stop Dodi, but he was in no mood to discuss anything with his father. The strain that he had been feeling from his family, especially, his father, was too much to handle at the moment. Moreover, he wanted Diana to have one evening of peace, at least, that much he owed to the Lady he loved.

Mohammed reached the hotel but missed the couple by a few seconds. Paul, whom he had trusted with a lot of things, was dying of cancer. He had given him a huge amount to protect his family after he was gone. Mohammed was a generous man, but he feared Paul’s loyalty today. He sat in his office, held his hand in his hands and waited, hoping for nothing to happen.

The rented Mercedes S280, registration number "688 LTV 75” was immediately occupied by the 2. Sitting inside was Trevor, head of security for the Fayed family and driving the car was Paul. Even though feeling a little light headed, Paul stepped on the gas. The car sped through the brightly lit streets of Paris. In an attempt to escape the paparazzi, Paul detoured and decided to go through the Place de l’Alma underpass.  Diana held Dodi’s hand and smiled elegantly. And then the world around her spiraled out of control! It was 31^st August, 1997-the night Diana died.

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Lost Innocence

“Mumma, I want to go the far off boarding school”, said the light-eyed, fair-skinned boy of 13. The mother wondered why a kid would make such an unconventional demand.

“Did anyone say anything to you, Naman?”-asked the woman, who had lost her husband a year ago. She was staying with her widowed mother-in-law and a younger brother-in-law, and strained every nerve and fiber so that her son got along with the other 2 in household and never missed his father.

“No, I just want to go! I am tired of staying in this gloomy house where you and daadi lament about my dead father,” said the boy scornfully.

All he got in reply was a slap. Naman did not speak with his mother for a whole week, until it was time to go. Her mother wept inconsolably, less for her son’s departure but more for his devious behavior. Naman had always been an obedient boy, rooted and well-behaved, who “loved his mother more than salt”, as he would say. What had gone wrong with her precious, little son?

“Uncle will drop you to your new school. I have packed all that you need. Be good! You won’t be treated like a prince there, you know! I am glad that your father is no more…” and she burst into a sob.

Naman wanted to hug her and tell her everything. He hated not being able to console her; he hated for being the cause of her sorrow. But for a boy of his age, he was so mature that no one could imagine. He withheld within him a secret so dark, that had it been out, it would have destroyed the lives of the mother-son duo. So, with eyes welled up with tears, he left.

He didn’t mutter a single world to his Uncle, neither did he look him into the eye.

“You will be back home for Diwali, you know? We will have a lot of fun together. I will buy you crackers, clothes and everything that you won’t little namoo!”- said the Uncle, as he left Naman with the Principal. The boy tried to smile back at him, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes. He left with the matron towards his room.

4 years passed by. He became quitter and quitter. Naman would go to his house as infrequently as possible. 67% was all he managed to score in his H.S.C. School was over and it was time to go back home where now lived his mother and his uncle. Grandma had succumbed to old age. Naman thought of being an electrician as that would enable him and his mother to live peacefully, and independently.

“The marriage is not something that I am entirely thrilled about. But your Uncle is a nice man. He has always taken care of us, stood by us! See, namoo, it’s for our good only. You will get a father that you didn’t have for so long.” Naman stormed out listening to his mother.

The next day’s newspaper had “Nephew killed Uncle, who was going to be step-father.” His mother cried till her eyes dried up. Since Naman was still a minor, and since they managed to prove in the court that the murder occurred in a state of mental insanity and was not preconceived, he was released after 2 years of house arrest.

For about 2 months his mother didn’t ask him, but then she gave up-“Why?”, she asked, her voice wavering, choked up with emotion.

“He did bad things to me since I was as little as I could remember. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell dad, but I was scared. It worsened after papa died. The wounds that I would tell you I got from playing outside, he inflicted them on me. He abused me, abused my soul. So I went to boarding school, away from the mother whom I loved so much.”

 “Last month when I came for Diwali, it was going to be a usual one- the one which was dark for me; the one where I refrained from looking into the mirror. But I mustered the courage and I beat him up. Told him to stay the f*** away from you and me, that I would work as an apprentice, and that we would live far away from him.”

Before he could finish, his mother hugged him dearly. She was so sorry for all that happened; for her son’s lost innocence! In between her sobs she managed to say to the apple of her eye, “I love you, more than salt, son!”

PS: Children are innocence personified. They play, goof around, and get all the attention. Please ensure that the attention these tiny bundles of are getting is pure and unalloyed! If otherwise, be ready to kick some ass! Molestation is equivalent to MURDER. Don’t kill innocence.