Mumbaistan (4 page)

Tanvir was about to throw up when he noticed a burqa-clad woman entering the lane. He could only see her shape silhouetted against the sun-drenched outer street. But as she came closer, he realized that it was the same woman who had handed the revolver to him in Chira Bazaar. Her palm was extended towards Tanvir. As she reached him, she said, in a deep male voice, 'Give me the gun, quickly!' Tanvir noticed that her arm had dark hair curling above her wrist. Unsure, he slid further back into the dark recess. The burqa-clad 'woman' raised her veil to reveal the stone throwing computer salesman' who had given Aalamzeb's mobile number to him. The man flashed his hyena grin. 'Surprised? Don't be. We are only a few, but very effective. And now, you are one of us.'

Tanvir stood his ground by not placing the revolver into the man's hand. Instead, he spat out, 'Why were there no bullets in the revolver?'

The man stopped smiling. 'The whole exercise was only to make sure you are not a policeman. If you were, you would never have fired on another of your kind.'

Tanvir let the logic in the answer permeate into his mind. He had to admit it was an ingenious identity test.

'Our leader saw this trick in some old film. He uses it all the time. It never fails'

But this time it had failed, laughed Tanvir to himself. Thanks to ACP Hani's killer instinct. Tanvir took out the revolver from his waistband and handed it over to the man. The revolver disappeared into the folds of the burqa. The man turned to leave. Just as he was about to disappear, he said, 'Keep your mobile on, you will be contacted soon.' He gave Tanvir a thumbs-up. Tanvir was sure that he was grinning away under the veil.

Tanvir had had enough of this hide-and-seek in dark alleys. He walked out into the bright sunlight.

◉

The A-1 Air-Cooled Hair-Cutting Centre, aka 'The Saloon', lay in the middle of 6
^th
Cross Lane off Foras Road, in the heart of Mumbai's red-light district. In business for the past eighty years, it still operated in a manner that was quite anachronistic in this age of beauty parlours, hair stylists and spas. 'Air-cooled' by air-conditioners close to its own age, its rigid three-hairstyle menu appealed only to those unadventurous men that passed by it on the way to their daily sexual romps. In tandem with its age-old style of functioning, the staff took a three-hour siesta every afternoon. The third-generation owner, Mustafa Angiwala, had tried his best to make the staff give up this financially unviable habit, but to no avail. Fed up with their mutinous attitude, he had decided to let out the saloon premises to anyone who wanted a quick afternoon rendezvous, no questions asked.

It was here that ACP Hani sat wrapped in the white barber cloth, ensconced in one of the oldest 'barber chairs'. To all appearances, he was just another man waiting for his haircut, but in fact, he had been waiting for the past hour for Tanvir to show up. His patience was wearing thin.

Just when he was ready to tear off the barber cloth and leave, Tanvir entered the saloon. Without looking at him, the ACP proclaimed, 'They were too smart for us this time. But you didn't fail in your task. I'm proud of you, Tanvir, you would have made a good policeman.' As the acrid stench accompanying Tanvir burst across the closed air-conditioned room, the ACP scrunched up his nose in disgust. 'Have you been swimming in a gutter?'

Tanvir paid him no heed as he slumped down in an adjacent barber chair. 'I'm just being used as a pawn by Aalamzeb and you. It's time you let me out of this.'

ACP Hani shook his head, as if exasperated with a child's whim. 'Tanvir, you have to play out your role till the very end.'

Tanvir looked into his eyes and said, 'I'm a gangster. Not a policeman. I don't want to die in this crossfire between you and some terrorists'

'The role you are playing, my friend is the most crucial. You are...'

'I'm just the bait. And the bait always gets eaten up.'

The ACP said, with a softness not displayed earlier, 'Why did I choose you, Tanvir? Precisely because you are a gangster and could never be seen as a policeman. Even if your cover of a gym instructor was blown, it would be seen as a gangster's attempt to go straight. These Pakistanis are ruthless. They know that you are not in the police force, and they also know that you are not the honest man you claim to be. Now, they appreciate the fact that you are a killer, too.'

Tanvir didn't say anything. The ACP shook his head and took off the barber cloth. Tanvir saw that he was shirtless. But what transfixed him was a black string with a silver cylindrical taveez around the ACP's neck. The ACP saw that Tanvir had noticed his taveez. He smiled. 'Yes, bhaijaan, I, too, am a Muslim like you. We are the chosen ones, you and I.'

Tanvir raised an eyebrow. 'We have to pay a high price for being a Muslim in this country.'

ACP Hani shook his head. 'No, my friend. You are paying the price for being a gangster who missed the nishana, and got caught by us. I'm paying the price for being in love with my job. And together, we are going to get these Pakistani terrorists who have invaded our country.'

Tanvir now looked at the ACP with beseeching eyes. 'ACP saab, I don't want to die.'

The ACP laughed. 'Are you afraid to die...the fearless Tanvir who attempted to kill three gangsters from rival gangs?'

Tanvir shook his head, mumbling to himself, 'You're crazy...we both will die.' The ACP got up and opened the saloon door. He gestured to Tanvir to step out.

◉

Tanvir stood lounging outside the Sultan-e-Hind Restaurant. Next to him stood a man who, by his attire, could be identified as an orthodox Muslim cleric. In fact, he was a retired clerk from the Public Works Department who had been summoned by the ATS to help out in the critical job at hand—performing a fake nikah between Tanvir and Rabia.

ACP Hani had ordered Tanvir to go to the Sultan-e-Hind and carry out his promise of marrying Rabia. This ploy would force Aalamzeb's hand and make him come out in the open. The ACP had assured Tanvir that the entire area had been sanitized since the morning, and no one had spotted any rooftop shooters taking position. This meant that Aalamzeb and his men would come by road. The road was crawling with ATS personnel, who would swing into action as soon as Aalamzeb or any of his men were spotted.

Tanvir had summoned up all his resolve and managed to muster a casual air, although inside, he felt ready to collapse with the tension. The fake qazi stood next to him, muttering something under his breath that seemed, to Tanvir, a spell to ward off evil spirits. 'Welcome to my world,' he thought, leaning against a street pole.

Across the street, Rabia stared at Tanvir. She was a little taken aback by his nonchalant attitude and questioned her own sanity. A part of her wanted to run away. But the part that wanted to run into the arms of the man she loved eventually won over. She began to cross the busy road at the traffic signal.

Across the road, Tanvir spotted her. His face broke into the open-faced smile that Rabia found so endearing. He raised his hand and signalled to her to come towards him. He pointed towards the qazi and smiled even more broadly. Rabia gave him a half-smile and stepped onto the zebra crossing as the signal turned red.

All of a sudden, two nondescript Ambassador cars pulled out from the traffic in unison on both sides of the road. One stopped in front of Rabia and the other one in front of Tanvir. Their doors were flung open; strong hands emerged and both Tanvir and Rabia were pulled into the respective cars. The signal turned green and before anyone could respond, the cars sped away in opposite directions.

On the rooftop across Sultan-e-Hind, ACP Hani screamed into his walkie-talkie, 'Hold your positions! Don't fire. They are policemen!'

◉

'I work for ACP Hani of the ATS!' screamed Tanvir. Before he could say anything further, a hard open-palm slap hit his bare body. He had been subjected to these slaps nonstop for the last fifteen minutes. They stung hard as they made contact, and yet, hardly left a mark. A few dozen of these at the right spots on the body caused immense pain to the recipients internal organs, so much so that he would collapse in agony. Yet, to the casual observer, there would not even be a scratch on him. The police used these specially designed slaps on criminals so that they could not, in the future, have an opportunity to yell 'Police brutality!'

Tanvir was not alien to blows and knocks. Throughout his criminal career, he had received quite a few. But this was different. This was a virtual barrage. Just when he felt that he would pass out from the pain, a police officer, who appeared to be senior to the others, entered the small backroom of the Robert Circle lockup where this 'interrogation' was being conducted. He motioned to the other policemen to stop. Turning to the policeman standing next to him, he asked, 'How did we capture this gandu?'

'Parab Saheb, we received an anonymous tip-off by some woman who called the control room.'

Parab walked up to Tanvir, whose hands were tied to a rope that hung from the ceiling.

'Sir, please call ACP Hani and ask him about me!' pleaded Tanvir through his pain.

Without warning, Parab spat on Tanvir's face. 'You harami! I'm from the Crime Branch. If I have not heard of this ACP Hani, he doesn't exist.'

'He exists. Please believe me.' Tanvir swallowed as he launched into his story. 'From the way he operates, I think ACP Hani is from a top-secret section of the ATS. He contacted me six months back. He told me that after 26/11, a few more Pakistanis had entered Mumbai. A man called Aalamzeb was suspected to be their leader. The ATS had come to know that a big blast was being planned.'

The policemen in the room stood shocked. Tanvir continued, 'ACP Hani told me that these people were Pakistanis hiding amongst Muslims in Mumbai. Therefore, he needed an unknown Muslim, who would never be suspected and who could get to Aalamzeb's through a Kamathipura prostitute called Rabia, his mistress. I was instructed to visit Rabia as a client and then fake love for her. Since during earlier operations using regular policemen, their identity would get revealed and Aalamzeb would disappear, the need of the hour was to be discreet and operate using local people. That's why my help was important.'

Parab chided him now,
'Haan zarur\
A man with three attempted murders on his name would be the perfect choice to save this crazy city'.

Tanvir controlled his anger at the police officer's pompous attitude. 'ACP Hani asked for my help in averting the carnage planned by these terrorists, and that was the reason I decided to be a part of his operation.'

Parab was still full of bluff and bluster. 'Achcha, so, how come we poor Crime Branch officers don't know anything about this so-called operation, whilst a third-rate chutiya like you does?'

Without hesitation, Tanvir spat out, 'I told you already, ACP Hani wanted to avoid details of the operation getting leaked out to stupid maadarchods like you, who don't know of anything beyond hafta vasooli.'

This time, the blow with a leather-booted foot was aimed straight at Tanvir's testicles. There was no attempt whatsoever to hide the marks. Tanvir doubled over in excruciating pain. Parab sneered, 'There will be no jail for you, lundfakir, just a straight "encounter" killing.'

Tanvir didn't hear the last part as he fainted due to the pain.

In an adjoining room, Rabia had been forced to stand and watch the proceeding through a one-way mirror panel.

She broke down in a flood of tears as she heard the story.

◉

It was not often that a senior officer like Parab visited the Robert Circle lockup in person, so the entire staff was in attendance. Parab sat like a feudal lord astride a desk in the office room. The mood in the room was upbeat, and the fawning inspectors and constables who had gathered were sharing a rare jocularity. Vada paos, along with chai, had been devoured, and the duty constable had just delivered his latest punchline in a string of bawdy jokes. But the laughter reverberating off the walls was cut short at the sight of the grim-faced ACP Hani striding into the main office area.

The ACP, still dressed in his municipal jamadar uniform, was accompanied by a group of plain clothes policemen, dressed in an assortment of street civvies. The laughing policemen of Robert Circle took one look at this motley group, and their mood switched from lax to alert. A policeman knows when he was in the company of the elite of his ilk. The ACP strode up to Parab and asked, 'So, are you the one who ordered the operation...sir?'

Parab was still recovering from the sudden shift in mood in the room. 'Who are you?' he asked in turn, confused.

Without replying, ACP Hani handed him two typed sheets of official papers, bearing the signature and seal of the Mumbai commissioner of police.

'I hope Tanvir Khanzada and Rabia Bano have not been harmed?' hissed the ACP through his teeth.

Parab, who was reading the official papers, now stood up, defiant. 'Just because you have letters from the CP, it doesn't make you something special. I will hand over the prisoners after their proper interrogation.'

The ACP stepped closer to him and whispered, 'I don't want to insult you in front of your juniors, so please, hand over both of them to me right now, and let me be on my way.'

Instead of complying, Parab chose to start grandstanding. 'You think you can march in here and order me around... Who the fuck do you think you are?'

The ACP said, 'My name is Hani. I am with the ATS. I am on a mission, and I have orders to do whatever it takes to achieve my mission. What my mission is, it's not important for you to know, but please understand that it is to ensure the safety of lakhs of people.'

'So you are the man who ordered that bhadva criminal to shoot at my constable?' said Parab, his face contorted with jealousy and hatred.

ACP Hani replied in a measured tone, 'I didn't order him. It was a necessity for a larger purpose.'

'So for a "larger purpose" you are ready to sacrifice a fellow policeman's life?' Parab was in no mood to let up.

The ACP sighed, 'The constable was never under threat. I figured that it was just an initiation strategy, similar to one used by the FLN revolutionaries in Algeria in the late 1950s. In those days, it was the ultimate act of courage, the act of shooting a policeman pointblank on the streets. The gun was not loaded, but the shooter believed it was. If the shooter refused to pull the trigger, it was believed that he was with the police, and he was executed. If he did pull the trigger, he was inducted. The men that we are dealing with are highly knowledgeable in various techniques and well trained.'