Mumbaistan (25 page)

'Aai guh!' a voice screamed from behind. The rotund woman was staring at him in disbelief.

'Chor!' she cried again, her hands clamped on her mouth.

Samir pleaded: 'Please, behenji, don't shout. I...I am not a thief.' But the woman must have noticed the bloodstains on Samir's shirt, because she let out another scream. She dropped the buckets she was carrying and ran towards the passage. But Samir was too fast for her. He jumped across the bed and slammed the door shut. The woman froze in her tracks and sputtered incoherently.

Samir spoke to her in a calm but authoritative voice. 'Look, behenji, I just want to borrow this shirt and pant. I will give you money for it.' He fished out the still unutilized thousand-rupee note and pushed it into her palm.

The woman calmed down a little and finally found her tongue. 'It's okay...take the clothes, but please don't harm me,' she said, thrusting the money back into his hands.

'I will not harm you, I promise.' Samir said to reassure her. She nodded.

Samir looked around the room and noticed that there wasn't any other exit. There was just a bathroom door in one corner. Samir steered the woman towards the bathroom.

'What are you going to do with me?' she asked.

Samir waved her inside the bathroom. 'I just want you to wait inside while I change into these clothes'

Samir extricated Gardullah's revolver from the folds of his pajamas. He put on the trousers and unfolded the shirt. He was about the wear the shirt when his eyes fell on its embroidered label: Beekay.

◉

He had been looking for a clean shirt when he had opened Bahaar's side of the cupboard by mistake. There, he found a nicely packaged new shirt with 'Beekay' embroidered on the pocket. 'Beekay' stood for Bahaar Khanna. She used to embroider her initials on every piece of clothing. A habit she had picked up from her grandmother.

He tried on the shirt, but it didn't fit.

He called out to Bahaar and joked whether she was launching her own label, of which the shirt was a sample.

Bahaar came in and, on seeing Samir in the ill-fitting shirt, got a little upset. She had wanted to keep it a surprise, she said. Bahaar had recently spoken about wanting to do something on her own, as Sameer didn't want her to join him in his leather business. Instead, he used to always joke, she could start a family for him, with lots of children.

Bahaar now got upset and began crying. Samir pacified her, saying she could make as many shirts as she wanted. He would buy all her shirts and proudly wear her label 'Beekay' on his chest. 'But do get my measurements right, darling!' he
said, twirling her around the room.

◉

'Bhaisaab, are you still there?' The lady's voice from inside the bathroom pulled him out of his reverie. He was still holding the shirt. He ran his fingers over the label: Beekay.

'Where did you get this shirt from, behenji?' Samir called out, slipping on the shirt. 'I want to buy the same kind of shirt, it fits me so well. Where can I get it?'

'Well, you'll have to go to the Beekay showroom in Colaba.' The lady replied, her voice tinged with amusement, .

'The Beekay showroom!' Samir's pulse quickened. 'Do you have the address?' he asked, while tucking the revolver safely into the waistband of his trousers, hidden under his newly acquired 'Beekay' shirt.

'I don't know the exact address, but it is in one of the lanes behind Taj Mahal Hotel. My husband shops there regularly. I could phone and ask him, if you'll let me out.' But she was speaking to an empty room. Samir had already exited the house.

◉

After reaching the main road, Samir spotted a cab parked opposite a coffee shop.

He walked up to the cab driver who was lounging in his seat, eyeing the pretty girls who walked past.

'Colaba?' he enquired.

The driver looked up at him, bored. 'No'.

'Please, I'll pay double.'

'Arrey baba, there is too much traffic and police bandobast that side today. I want to go with a lamba bhada to Borivali.'

Samir took out Gardullah's revolver and shoved its muzzle under the cab driver's chin.

The cab driver had seen enough of Mumbai's mean streets. He sprang to position and revved up the engine.

'Saab, pehle bolne ka na, ki aap bhai hai.
Please sit. No problem, sir. I will take you there, come what may,' he said.

Samir crossed over to the passenger seat, all the while keeping the gun in full sight of the driver, but shielding it from public view with his free hand. But just as the cab was about to take off, a street eunuch appeared, clapping his hands near Samir's window. 'Mister, give some money to your sister,' he said, in a singsong manner. Samir tapped the cab driver's shoulder and told him to move on. But the eunuch leaned inside the passenger-side window. 'You give only ten rupees, sir. God will give you hundred dollars' More clapping.

Samir pointed the revolver at the eunuch. It had the desired effect.

'No, darling, no. I am a poor girl. Please, you can go.' The eunuch scooted, swaying his hips.

Samir tapped the revolver on the cab driver's shoulder. 'Colaba,' he said.

Turning onto Cadell Road, the cab soon merged into the southbound traffic.

◉

Kundalik Kadam had just finished his latest bout of vomiting. In all, he had vomited six times in the past half an hour. His men stood around him, shuffling their feet, looking helpless. Kundalik had forbidden them from either coming to his aid or calling a doctor. It seemed that he wanted to endure as much suffering as he could.

After jumping into the Mahim Creek, he had swum underwater—if the brackish, black, liquid sewage could be called that—for almost five minutes. He was lucky that his hands had contacted with a concrete underwater pylon constructed under the train tracks that passed over the Mahim Creek. He had used the pylon for cover and raised his head above water for a quick gasp of breath. As he did so, large doses of the brackish water entered his system. Spotting Raghu at the edge of the creek, he had ducked underwater again. The foul liquid was any day preferable to Raghu's company. Using all his survival instincts, Kundalik had swum towards the Bandra side of the creek, away from Raghu's gaze. Swimming from pylon to pylon, and coming up for air occasionally, he had reached the Bandra side. He glanced back to see Raghu walking away from the creek. Kundalik had heaved himself out of the water on to marshy mangrove silt and stumbled through the tangled mangrove swamp to dry land near the pipeline. There, he had lain on the ground and vomited thrice, before he could breathe again. He had thought that he would die, but luck was on his side. A ragpicker, foraging for trash nearby, had come to his rescue. To Kundalik's surprise, the ragpicker had pulled out a high-end mobile and connected Kundalik to his deputy. He had explained that he was an expert at snatching the mobile phones of local train passengers when the train slowed down on the tracks near the pipeline.

Now, as Kundalik wiped his mouth and looked hard at the men around him, he barked, 'Madarchod, double the reward! Five lakhs for the madman, ten lakhs for the SUV man. For any sort of information.' The men quickly fished out their mobiles and got to work. Their entire network of middlemen were canvassed.

'Bhai, Rehmat Ali in Matunga has some information, but doesn't know whether to trust the source or not,' said one of them after a short conversation.

'Who is the source?' Kundalik snarled.

'A street hijra,' said the henchman. 'Rehmat says a man going to Colaba in a cab threatened this eunuch with a gun.'

'Give me the phone.' Kundalik snatched the handset.

◉

Senior Inspector Pandian was a worried man. A khabri had just called to tell him that there was a ten lakh supari out on a man in an SUV, with numbers matching Raghu Nadar's vehicle. Pandian was wondering whether he should call Raghu to inform him. Raghu knew too many of his secrets and this might be a good day for all those secrets to disappear, along with him. But Pandian realized that sooner or later, Raghu was bound to find out about the supari from one of his sources. It would be better if he was the first to inform him. In the process, he could collect a bonus for passing on the information. Pandian was not a greedy man, just needy. And he did have compassion, even if it came at a price. Last, but not the least, Raghu was from the same community as him and had been a good friend of his, mused Pandian, as he dialled Raghu's number.

Raghu, at the time, was in Dadar, near Portuguese Church, making his way towards South Mumbai, while keeping his eyes on the road in the likelihood that he might spot Samir somewhere. Pandian spoke before Raghu could even say hello.

'There is a ten lakh supari out on you.'

'Kundalik Kadam?' asked Raghu.

'Yes.'

'I'll take care of it,' said Raghu. 'Thank you. I won't forget this.' He was about to hang up when Pandian remembered something important. 'Oh, by the way, I have been monitoring the wireless since you asked me to. A lady somewhere near Shivaji Park was threatened by a man wearing a hospital patient's clothes. He was carrying a gun.'

'A lady? Why would he threaten a woman?'

'Something about a shirt from some boutique.'

'What? Hmmm...this is confusing.'

'I know. But the report said the woman was hysterical, shouting something about the Beekay showroom in Colaba.'

'Thank you,' said Raghu and cut the line.

Raghu's phone rang again. He cringed on seeing the caller ID.

'Raghu, beta,' the voice on the other side demanded, 'have I made a futile trip to Mumbai? I have just landed, but my people tell me that you refused to speak to them throughout the day. Have you changed your mind?'

It was the leader of the ruling party.

'No, sir, not at all. Your trip is going to be absolutely successful. I am sorry; today, I have been stuck with personal matters. But don't worry; I will be there to greet you at Azad Maidan, and accept your generous offer. Trust me.' Raghu rambled on with his apologies.

'Is there some illegal activity that you are involved in? Because you know...' The tension in the ruling party chiefs voice did not ease.

'No, no, please trust me. There is nothing that is going to tarnish your or your party's image, sir.'

'Acchi baat hai, Raghu beta.
I have envisioned a great future for you. For me, this is personal. I hope you will not let me down.' The party chief sounded appeased.

'Of course. You have my word, sir.'

For a few minutes after the line was cut, Raghu sat motionless in his SUV.

Then he parked the SUV and walked towards a shop selling khadi kurta-pajamas.

◉

Azad Maidan in South Mumbai is known for the numerous cricket pitches that dot it. On Sundays, many of the city's youth play cricket here. But, not many of those playing cricket know that the maidan was named 'Azad' because during the struggle for India's independence, leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi used to address huge crowds there.

Today, the maidan was bedecked in the ruling party's regalia. Party flags and banners adorned every nook and corner. A massive stage had been erected in the southern corner. The various satraps of the party were bringing in truckloads of people from their respective constituencies. The crowd was sporadically raising slogans and chants, celebrating the impending arrival of the party chief. It was the chief's first visit after the party had somehow cobbled together the margin that had brought them to power. The air was full of optimism brought about by the shift in the party's vision. The local leaders from Mumbai commandeered the microphone at this time, inciting enthusiasm in the gathered party workers, while waiting for the chief to arrive. The police presence was massive, but scattered, leaving most of the maidan under the security of the party's own 'security wing'.

Samir's cab was stuck in the early evening traffic close by, at the Dhobi Talao junction. The line of honking cars had not moved an inch for the past ten minutes. Samir cursed under his breath, wishing for the nth time that he had not taken this route. The cab had been made to wait on Marine Drive to allow passage to the motorcade of the ruling party chief. Not wanting to waste time, Samir had pushed the cab driver to take a shortcut. The cab driver, in fear for his life, had swung the cab left, over the Marine Drive flyover, past the Marine Lines station towards Kalbadevi. The going had been good till they turned towards Metro Cinema and realized that the bulk of the vehicles creating the traffic jam that evening were crammed within the square kilometre surrounding Azad Maidan. It didn't help that the early evening rush hour had coincided with the timing of the ruling party rally.

After another ten minutes, Samir couldn't take it anymore. Revolver in hand, he tapped the hapless cab driver's shoulder. 'How can I get to Colaba within the next half an hour?'

Despite his fear, the driver chose to give Samir the most honest and practical suggestion that he could. 'It would be better if you walked up to Flora Fountain and took another cab. In this jam, you will reach faster that way.'

Samir weighed the option in his mind.

'Thanks for the ride. Here, take this,' said Samir, thrusting the thousand-rupee note in the driver's hand. Samir hopped out of the cab. 'Take the short cut across the maidan and exit through the gate at the southwest corner, bhai,' called out cab driver, ecstatic at the large tip.

Samir, noting the genuineness in the cab driver's voice, waved his thanks and joined a group of party workers, raising slogans.

But, as soon as Samir entered the maidan, he realized what a mistake it was. The sea of humanity sprawling in front of him was daunting. The taxi driver, despite his best intentions, had given him wrong instructions. He turned to leave. At that very moment, the party leader whom everybody had been waiting for appeared on the stage, along with his entourage. The sea of humanity rose as one, and pressed forward towards the stage, like an unruly wave. Samir was pushed forward, even as he tried to push against the wave. Exasperated, he let himself be pushed along till the shoving stopped. Once the speeches started, Samir cut across to the left and headed to the southern end of the maidan. But he discovered to his dismay that the southwestern gate had been barricaded due to security reasons. However, there was a small entrance at the backstage area that led from the maidan to the street behind. He was left with no other option but to risk it exiting the maidan through the backstage area, even if the presence of policemen was daunting. He noticed that many people carrying garlands for the party leader were going through security and entering the backstage area. He spotted a group of old men advancing with oversized garlands in their hands. Samir walked up to a particularly frail old man and helped him hold up the heavy garland he was laden under. The old man gave Samir him a grateful smile and together, they passed through the police cordon into the backstage area.