John closed his mouth which was hanging open slightly from what he had just heard. He sat beside Arjun who looked back weirdly at him, “Son, I understand that it is unimaginable what you have gone through, but I find it hard to believe how you are having these different emotions day by day. It is something that I have not seen in a person yet. It is expected to have anger, guilt, and sadness in this turmoil and people try to find the happiness within. But, I have seen you get jolly and excited some days, sarcastic some other days-”
‘So the old man does get sarcasm,’ I thought.
“-just that this could become some problem if you are not able to cope up.”
“This is me coping up, John,” I said. “You saw that I was in a really dark place after Shikha died. If I would have been in a state of reason then, I would have found out about the bank account mystery and her phone. After what happened to Aditi, witnessing it first hand, I can’t go back to that place. This is not the time to have a meaningless fight with my inner demons, they both would not want that for me. It is time to win against them, and this is my way of doing it. It is the only way that I can keep myself in control for the path ahead which is already dangerous.”
“You know I am always there to help you with guidance in this path laid by the almighty,” John replied.
“I don’t doubt it,” I nodded. “Now, this doesn’t need to go all teary-eyed, old man. Go on about your business; I got work to do myself.”
I really did. We were waiting for information from Shikha’s phone that might lead to details about her account and the unknown withdrawer posing as me. That gave me some time to look for other aspects of this investigation that had got lost in the mail. Since hitting a dead-end with Shikha, I had been thinking about other candidates falling inside the ‘follow your heart’ clue from Aditi, and one could be herself. I had time now to go through my research online as it was the week leading to the republic day and the security outside was increased ten-fold.
Aditi always had a special place in my heart, and she knew that. I couldn’t give her what she wanted from our relationship, but that didn’t make her any less of what she meant to me. Even in death, she was guiding me in my journey to find answers.
Ali.
She had left this name raising more questions, but I had nothing apart from that. I remembered scouring through the wreckage in her apartment and couldn’t find anything more than that. I couldn’t go back there of course; reason being the mere sight of the place will bring back the nightmares that I have kept at bay. Even if I am past that and I decided to visit, the police might have already cleaned the place up and may have a lookout.
‘Who was Ali and how was he related to Aditi? Did she write a piece involving him? She recently started doing only criminal pieces so he could be a criminal or related to the case she was writing about. It could have been that she was sucked in too deep into something and he could have been a key in her murder as well.’
I started going through her articles online and searching for the mention of this name. There were numerous articles to go through. Aditi had her own fair share of brushes with bad people. She had even visited out of Delhi on some occasions for her pieces. I should probably check those as well so that I don’t miss anything.
‘What did you get yourself into, Aditi?’ I muttered as I went from one conspiracy to another, all unmasked by her.
It had been about thirty minutes when I saw it. The guy had his name on the headline but not for his notoriety –
Mirzapur in debt to DSP Ali’s efforts
I pulled up all the relevant articles dated several months ago when I was still a cop. I also asked John if he had the old newspapers of those dates. He did have and was kind enough to fetch them for me. It was a fruitful search. I spread out all the articles on his cot.
Violent riots break the city apart
Aditi Mehta
Mirzapur, April 25
I remember Aditi stayed there for a few months. It had gotten very serious, and she was stuck in a national crisis. As I looked through the newspaper clippings, I saw a photo of the beautiful Ganga river bank on the shores of town Vindhyachal in Mirzapur.
~*~
The beautiful bank came into view from the eyes of the Deputy Superintendent of Police who was standing on one of the huge stairs. It was early morning, and the sun had just risen halfway on the horizon. He was wearing the police uniform laden with medals and a cap. He was fit and muscular and wore a mustache with pride. He was looking at those waters, his mind trying to find some peace in them before his crazy day starts.
An old priest came out of a small temple with something in his hand which he presented to the Inspector, “Beta, Prasad?”
He graciously accepted it. The priest smiled at him and said, “Beta, seeing you here after quite a while, is everything okay?”
“Yes, I am well. I have just been busy with work.”
“Beta, don’t tire yourself too much. There should always be room for inner peace.”
The DSP nodded and started his way back up the stairs. He had just reached his jeep when he got a call on his phone.
“Yes?”
“Sir, Mangal is causing havoc again. We got to know that he has been drunk since last night and is misbehaving with the shoppers in Mukeri.”
“Okay,” the DSP took a deep breath, “Get there now and hold him in custody. I will be there in thirty minutes.”
He got in his jeep and set off towards his destination through the streets of Vindhyachal. People were waving and calling to him as he went. Most of the people knew him as he was born and brought up here in this town. He was young to be a DSP, but there was a story behind it. To be brief, he was posted in other places when he started out his career, but some of those places were big cities. In those cities, the crime and corruption tend to get the better of those cops who challenge the authority to do the right thing.
Eventually, he got in a bad stint where he got in the way of an influential criminal leader which led to his transfer back to his hometown. The former DSP had just retired then. Seeing the history of this brave officer and knowing him since he was a kid, the Superintendent of Mirzapur made him his deputy.
The DSP passed a small industrial complex, frowning at its fence line and gate. The gate bore the name ‘Alchemist Industries’ in shiny metallic letters. It was set up a few weeks back and had been operational since.
He made a turn into the street leading up to the Mukeri Bazaar. The market had just started getting busy. Some of the early risers had also reached there to shop for the fresh produce.
He came to a halt at the place where an Inspector from the Bariyaghat station and some constables had restored order and were holding Mangal. He got down from his jeep and went up to the other officers. Mangal was a medium built man but had an intimidating face with a heavy mustache and beard, uneven wavy hair and a ring pierced through the right eyebrow. He was trickling blood right now from several parts of his face including where the ring was.
“DSP sahab, will you have some tea?” a tea stall owner asked the DSP eagerly.
“Call me Ali, Kaka. I am your son’s age. Yes, I will have one, thank you,” then he turned to the Inspector, “What happened?”
“Sir, he misbehaved and started a brawl with a local shop owner, got the worse of it,” said the Inspector, pointing at a middle-aged man bleeding lightly from his lips. The DSP chuckled lightly seeing Mangal’s condition, “Take him to the station and book him, let the drink wear off. I will join shortly. Make sure the shop owner gets some medical attention.”
“I don’t need that kind of help,” the man interrupted, “You will never be able to help us truly, would you? These are small peaceful towns, but we still have goons like Mangal terrorizing us whenever they feel like because they are backed by crime lords who actually run these towns. Who says us common men are pawns, your policemen are the same, DSP Sahab!”
DSP’s lips turned into a line, “Go,” he said to the Inspe
ctor.
“You heard him,” the Inspector ordered and his men seated Mangal in their vehicle and left.
The old tea-stall owner brought the DSP’s tea, “Don’t mind him, Ali Beta. He came here just a few months back. He doesn’t know much.”
“He knows enough to show us our flaws.” Ali took a sip off the cup of tea, then continued, “You know, I am trying to work out a way to remove them, but ‘the missing people’ situation is not helping me.”
“Another one?” asked the old man.
“Just last evening,” Ali answered.
“Oh! Allah!” exclaimed the old man.
Mangal was an enforcer and debt collector of the local gang. He and his brother had the influence of local political parties and the parties of other districts. Ali was trying to dismantle it all, but it had been a slow process. They had managed to buy off their share of cops, so it was difficult for him to trust his own people.
They were dealing with a significant amount of missing person cases over the last few weeks, none of them related to one other. This was a bizarre phenomenon for a small town and had never happened before. They couldn’t find a single connection between the reported cases, or the people themselves. They were conducting thorough searches of the areas, following any possible leads but were turning up empty on all fronts.
Ali entered the Bariyaghat station later to find Mangal in lockup. He was a bit sober now, “Let me out, DSP, you know you can’t keep me inside for long.”
He grabbed Mangal’s collar through the bars and slammed his head on them, “I can still put you inside whenever I feel like because you keep giving me plenty of reasons.” Then he let go of his collar and continued after a pause, “So I see the gang enforcers have a new job description now; get drunk, harass locals and get beat up? I thought Laxman was all about discipline and doing business in a non-violent way.”
“That is because he has me for the violence. You don’t know what my brother is all about,” Mangal retorted.
“I will find that out,” Ali stood face to face with Mangal, “Soon, he will give me a reason to throw him in there with you.”
Mangal’s brother, Laxman Prasad was the leader of the local gang, but he posed himself as a businessman. Any evidence suggesting otherwise didn’t survive the trial. Whatever the SP thought of the system before, his hands somehow got tied now whenever Ali formulated any plan to nab Laxman and his associates.
He went towards the inner chambers where an Inspector was waiting for him with a file. He sat down at an empty desk, and the inspector kept the file in front of him, saying, “Person who went missing yesterday.”
“What the hell is happening, Manoj?” Ali asked concerned. “I feel that these are mere distractions; we should be after their gang.”
“Maybe they are meant to be,” Manoj replied, eyeing Mangal’s cell.
~*~
An auto rickshaw was making its way through the streets of Vindhyachal. Pushing her bob cut hair behind her ear, a girl turned on the recording on her camcorder and planted it in her purse facing a tiny hole through which it could record. She got down and made her way towards the gate which had two small lights on either side of it, lighting its entrance path. She could see two guards, who were standing inside.
The guards saw her approaching, and one of them said, “The plant is closed at this time of the evening.”
“I do not work here. I am Aditi, a journalist and I write about new scientific research breakthroughs in my articles. I happened to find out that some pioneer level research is in process and I want to gain access and write about it,” she said.
The guards looked at each other, and one of them said, “Ma’am, you are not allowed to enter the premises under any circumstances. In fact, the only people allowed in here are the ones who work here and show proper credentials.
“But- but-” Aditi grasped for some improvisation, “I have an appointment for the tour inside.”
There was a moment of silence; then the guards started laughing.
“Ma’am, there is some classified research going on behind these walls, specifically monitored by the government. I highly doubt that a journalist like you will have access to or appointment to view the same,” one of them said.
The other guard added, “Even if you did have the appointment, there isn’t a chance that it would be scheduled at seven in the evening.”
They laughed again, saying, “Just clear off from here, ma’am and don’t waste our time.”
Aditi drew an envelope from her purse and waved it at them, “Here, I have got it. Please let me in now,” she screamed over their laughing.
“Okay,” said one of the guards, “Slide it across that slot there, we will check, and if all seems valid, we will let you in.”
“No,” she said firmly, “Just open the gate and I will show it to you.”
“Oh! Nice try. Yeah, we can’t open the gate and let you show us your fake invite,” they laughed again. Aditi kicked the gate which made them stop, she screamed, “Criminals, swine, open the bloody gate right now!” she started shaking the gate vigorously, the chains and padlock on it started clinking.
The guards got alarmed and shouted, “Ma’am, this is not the way, you are being a nuisance. We will call authorities.”
“Yes, ma’am, this is only a request at this point. Please leave the premises.”
Their arguments got cut short with a short blast of a police jeep siren, and a man rushed towards the scene.
Manoj grabbed Aditi’s hand and started pulling her away, shouting, “Ma’am, calm down,” but to no avail.
She kept screaming as long as she could muster, drowning the guards’ voices directed at Manoj to take her away, “This is not over. I will find out about the dirty secrets that you are keeping inside. I will get the proper authorities to even break down that gate if I have to-”
She fell silent as she was seated inside the jeep in handcuffs tied to the railing inside it. The officer pulling her was a tall and strong man, and she couldn’t oppose his strength. Her first day here and she had earned a free ride to the police station.
~*~
Mangal came out of the station and beamed at his brother, “I knew you would get me out brother, it was just a matter of time.”
As he stepped in front of his brother, Laxman grabbed hold of his collar and slammed him to the side of his car, “You need to get a leash on yourself, brother. This is the last time I cover for your messes. I am handling very sensitive work on the business front, and any mess you get yourself in will lead back directly to me. I don’t know how you would survive if I go down,” Mangal's shocked face returned to normal as Laxman left his collar.
“Come on, we have to go meet some people,” Laxman ordered.
“Who?”
“I will tell you on the way.”
~*~
Manoj’s jeep stopped at the Vindhyachal police station. “Come on,” he said.
“What? You have no right to arrest me. I didn’t do anything. This is outrageous. I need a lawyer. Why did you have to call your DSP on the way?”
Ignoring her words, Manoj dragged her inside the station into Ali's cabin. The girl broke free and started shouting at Ali who was sitting inside, “Look, DSP sir, I am being manhandled by your officer. Please take some disciplinary action against him.”
Ali sighed, “Will you please calm down, ma’am?” The girl fell silent, “I am the DSP of Mirzapur, Mohammad Ali and he is Manoj, inspector in charge of this station.”
Aditi sat down quietly. “Now tell me, who are you and why were you harassing the guards and vandalizing the industry property,” he enquired.
Aditi raised her eyebrows. “I don’t need to explain anything. I have not done anything wrong. I had proper authorization to enter the plant premises,” she barked.
Manoj replied, throwing something on the desk in front of Ali, “She means that she had a fake envelope to pass as an authorization letter.”
Her mouth fell op
en, but before she could say anything, Ali said, “You are Aditi Mehta, right? Yes, yes, I recall your face now. I have read a bunch of your articles, exposing criminals, running corruption stings and a whole bunch of other dirt that you love getting yourself into. You have helped the Delhi police put a lot of bad people inside the four walls of a cell. The count increases if you take into account the number of times that they had to save you from some sudden death in your operations as a lone wolf.”
Aditi gulped, hearing the naked truth of her life. She would indeed have been dead in a ditch somewhere if Arjun hadn’t been there at the right time.
Ali continued, “So, if I may ask the girl having such an impressive resume, why would she come so far away from her world, and try to snoop in a harmless plant?”
Aditi’s expression turned grim, “Why do you think I should trust you? For all I know, this is a small town, and you could be in bed with that organization to save its interests. This could all be a setup to throw me off the trail.”
“Sir?” Manoj hesitated.
Ali nodded, then said, “Yeah, escort her to her cell.”
“NO!” She screamed as Manoj started taking her to the cells at the back. Ali said, “Look, ma’am, we are as good as this town could get, and we have some criminals on our list to arrest as well. So, if you do not trust us, then it is fine. But, without anything else, we just know that you were trying to break into a secured facility. You were caught and hence, will be charged.”
As Manoj opened the cell door, Aditi jerked her hand to make him let go and shouted, “Okay! Okay! I will tell you.”
Aditi sat there in front of them and took a sip from the glass of water that they had brought for her. She started recalling the events of the past week and narrated two phone calls from her reporter friend in Mirzapur, Suresh Tripathi.
A week ago...
She was working on an article when she got a call from him.
“Okay, guess what, I am on the verge of uncovering something that will even make your hair curl,” Suresh said excitedly.
Death and Dishonor Page 15