Mousebite

by Ganesh Chaudhari

  After the two policemen left, Kumar apprised Hormaz of his findings, which were nothing. Then he got around to his opinion.

  “Sir, if you don’t mind, I would like to follow up this latest lead.” He asked Hormaz.

  “Sure. Go ahead.” Hormaz agreed. Kumar could be dogged when he chose to & was the perfect person to logically pursue if this was indeed a lead. Kumar nodded but didn’t leave the room. There was something he wanted to say.

  “Time is always of essence in these situations, Sir. Can I take this guy in to extract the information?” Kumar let it out.

  Kumar’s request set Hormaz thinking. Rattled would be a better description. Kumar wanted to take a man in & torture him if required to extract information. How can that be justified? Even when lives were at stake, could one man be made to suffer based on a suspicion? What if he is not involved? But what if he is involved?

  “No. You can interrogate him. But no extraction.” Hormaz said with an edge to his voice. Kumar nodded once more & left the room. It was hard to tell if he was hurt or had understood.

  Hormaz wanted a break in the situation. With whatever warning they had got, it would be a failure if they could not prevent the planned attack. He thought he had done the right thing by stopping Kumar from torturing a suspect. But if Kumar was to find evidence against the suspect, would he sanction “extraction”? He hoped that it didn’t come to that either. Their best chance may lie in tracking Ishtiyaq for good. Now that there were the three of them, finding the group could be easier. He felt his spine stabbed with pain again. He had been seated for more than an hour. He stood up with great effort as the pain ebbed. The room was brightly lit but the skies visible from the windows looked dark as a pit. Sleep was out of question now. He went looking for the peanut seller again.

  ***

  First it was the garage. Mushtaq had put it together after being an assistant to a garage owner. For three years, Mushtaq had gone to the other village that was 7 kilometers away. He would walk in the morning with a lunch box & return only in the night. There had been no holiday during that entire duration. He had not been offered one & he had not asked for one. He had worked hard. He had become an expert at dissembling & assembling two wheeled & four wheeled vehicles in the first year. The dissembling would have to be done earliest in the day & assembling at the end of the day. Then he started with the engine. He devoted all the time at hand to know how the heart of a vehicle worked, how to tune it & how to repair it. He always liked vehicles & given his poor academics he had decided to get into repairing & servicing them.

  In the garage, nobody bothered about his academic qualifications, all that mattered was whether he could fix a problem or service a vehicle to perfection. And he could do these things as good as anybody by the end of the second year.

  But he fell in love with the job when he started playing with the batteries. He usually had a battery shop charge the serviced vehicles’ batteries. One day as there was no pending job, he stayed back at the battery shop to witness the charging & functioning of the batteries. There was something about the way that the charging wires brought back a depleted battery to life as if a patient had been resuscitated. That struck Mushtaq. The changing of distilled water, the acid columns & the fact that a plastic encased box could carry the spark of igniting the vehicle’s lights seemed to offer him a new perspective.

  The new age LEDs that sipped only a bit from the battery & dazzled onlookers with the colored light coming from the strangest places on a vehicle captivated him. He started suggesting his clients about installing them. After some time he started installing them himself. His expertise in this battery operated style statement was a rage with young crowds. Who wouldn’t want their vehicle to glow vividly when unlocked, when riding at night or just when the disc brakes were engaged? As with the other skills of vehicle maintenance, he pursued battery science doggedly for another year.

  By the end of the third year, Mushtaq was a well known mechanic. Servicing of a vehicle is almost a religious undertaking for all vehicle owners. Everyone who loves or claims to love his vehicle must get it serviced by the best in the business. Mushtaq’s name had become synonymous with that. People would ask for him to service their vehicles. They would wait for hours if he was busy & would not mind coming back the next day if the shy boy requested them to. He was the envy of all other service garages & a sought after talent. He had set away few thousand rupees by now. He shared the idea of starting his own garage at his village with his mother one day. She was more than happy to say yes as it would mean her son staying in the village for the day & not having to walk 14 kilometers a day. He spoke to his boss the next day. The boss didn’t show if he was happy or sad to see him leave, but agreed immediately.

  He began well. His home was a two entrance Vaada. These old design houses are usually single floor establishments with clay walls in villages of the Marathwada region. A spare room with an open yard near one of the entrances was converted into a garage. He got fresh tools from Aurangabad & also brought his cousin Ijaz to assist him. Both of them worked harder than before. Within the first month, most of his customers from the old garage came looking for him. Things were looking up.

  It is hard to pin it on who did it, but trouble started with the door of the garage. It was Holi. In villages, a pyre is lit on the evening of Holi. The pyre is made up of wood that is put together by a band of young boys of the village. The wood for the pyre is usually chopped from a dying tree but if the wood is stolen, it is considered auspicious. That Holi was an auspicious one. The door to Mushtaq’s garage was unhinged & taken away in the night prior to Holi as both of them had gone to Aurangabad for getting spare parts. They complained to the Police early in the morning but no investigation was started because it was Holi day. That night, a box full of the ash lay scattered in front of the garage. In the sprayed ash was one of the two hinges of the garage door, the metal name plate on it & the horseshoe that used to be a good luck charm nailed into the door.

  Ijaz was convinced that it was the son of Mushtaq’s old garage owner. But Mushtaq was not. They reported the matter to the cops the next day. The cops were nonchalant enough to downplay it as a Holi prank & obviously didn’t bother investigating further. Mushtaq continued working in the same place without a door for the time being. He would sleep in the garage at night & work there in the day. The trouble tipped over after a week.

  Mushtaq & Ijaz were returning to the garage with two batteries each. Few boys were seated at a katta. A katta is a circular, constructed bench that lines large trees in villages of Maharashtra. It is the place for killing time, sharing Beedis & gossip. Sure enough, the son of Mushtaq’s previous employer was there. Though not from Ratnapur, he had been frequenting Ratnapur after Mushtaq started his garage. The group started commenting loudly on the door incident. They commented how the cops had not bothered to find out who stole the door, how everybody knew who had done it, how Mushtaq didn’t have it in him to face the people who had done it. Ijaz was fuming but Mushtaq eyeballed him into silence. Then a wisecrack asked Mushtaq if he was interested in collecting the other hinge of the door. He said he had been keeping it “warm” for him.

  Mushtaq snapped at this. Only he, Ijaz & the cops knew that the ashes had only one hinge. He had not disclosed this even to his mother. Dropping the batteries to the ground, he ran to the katta, to beat up everyone who he thought had made the comment. The boys retaliated hard. Ijaz joined the melee too. Soon there were a lot of twisted arms, swollen ribs & dashed egos. The cops acted fast this time. Mushtaq & Ijaz were picked up in minutes to be placed at the police station. Strangely, the other group was at the station with their parents after an hour of Mushtaq & Ijaz being dragged & put in a cell. Mushtaq’s mother pleaded with the cops, with the parents of the other boys & finally had them released after 6 hours.

  When they returned home, the garage had been trashed & gutted. A motorcycle that was being serviced by Mushtaq stood burning even after all this time.

&nb
sp; Following months after that day were eventful. Obviously, nobody wanted to have their vehicles serviced by Mushtaq. Who would risk having their vehicles destroyed? All that Mushtaq & his mother had as savings was either used to repair the damaged vaada or to pay up the battery company.(The four batteries that Mushtaq & Ijaz were carrying before the fight were never found.) The owner of the gutted bike got the official price of his five year old bike from the insurance company. But he made it a point to visit Mushtaq’s mother with two of his “friends” daily till she paid him another 5000 Rupees. There was no work for Mushtaq & Ijaz. No garage owner would hire them now as the incident was well known. Every day, both of them would keep seating in the garage expecting work that never came.

  And then Kadarbhai came to the village.

  Kadarbhai was originally from Delhi but had settled in UAE. He was in the village to complete formalities of a property deal. He was going to stay in the village till the deal was done. The place where he was put up was the place he was going to buy. It was an old but solid bungalow with more than 10 rooms, a well & a large courtyard. So he sought for a house maid. Murad, the man who was going to sell the house lived nearby. He knew Mushtaq’s mother & recommended her to Kadarbhai. Soon, she was working at the house as Kadarbhai’s cook-cum-maid. Kadarbhai was a talkative person. He used to talk for hours with Mushtaq’s mother. About the village, about her family, about everything. She told him about Mushtaq on the fifth day of her job. As she sobbed at the end, Kadarbhai asked her to bring both Mushtaq & Ijaz to the house the next day. He said he would like to talk to them & help them find a job.

  Once Kadarbhai met both of them, things changed. Both Mushtaq & Ijaz would leave home by 5 in the morning & spend the entire day at the bungalow. Mushtaq’s mother would not see them during the day barring her visit to the bungalow. Mushtaq told her that Kadarbhai was going to find both of them jobs & was training them for it. She was not convinced about the kind of job but the solace that Mushtaq & Ijaz were occupied again was enough for now. She thought it as a good beginning.

  Weeks passed by. Mushtaq & Ijaz were spending most of their time with Kadarbhai. They would travel with him too. Then one day, Kadarbhai called Mushtaq’s mother & asked her if she would allow him to take her children to the Middle East. The job would be similar to the garage work that both of them were good at with additional skills that he had been training them at. She was happy but not overwhelmed. She asked about how both of them could go abroad given their limited education. Kadarbhai explained that this was a skill based job & almost the entire team that they would work with was Indian. They would never have to interact with the natives. She also brought up the matter of the police cases registered against them. How would they get passports? Kadarbhai was prepared for that too. He had spoken to an advocate who was ready to file the proper affidavits for clearing the way of passports. The salary that he promised was good. He was going to pay them a stipend while they were training. But the clincher came next. He told her that both the boys were keen to go with him, but wanted him to ask her for the final permission.

  As she saw it, Mushtaq had no future in Ratnapur. Ijaz was no different. Going away would be the best thing for both of them. Her consent had been instantaneous. Along with Mushtaq & Ijaz in an embrace, she cried for the better part of an hour that night.

  The passport procedure took two weeks after that. She found it unusual that Kadarbhai was put up in the village for almost two months, but he explained it as a waiting period for a deal. He kept taking Mushtaq & Ijaz away at times for work. Last week, Mushtaq had told her that the passports were due arriving anytime now & that they may have to leave in a fortnight.

  And then he had left yesterday. She had not been able to get him on his mobile, Ijaz too was unreachable. She didn’t have Kadarbhai’s number & the one that Kadarbhai‘s friend in the village had was not reachable. She had waited for a day before deciding to get police help.

  I have not interrupted her till this moment. She has been talking for over an hour. The only breaks have been the sips of tea that I offered her. She draws a deep breath to pull herself together.

  “You said Mushtaq could be involved in a murder. Tell me about it.” She looks me in the eye.

  I can see Shinde squirm in a corner believing that we owe her no explanation. But that is exactly what I am going to do. We cops have two responsibilities. One of them is the responsibility to apprehend the criminals. The second one is trickier. It involves stopping a probable crime from happening or continuing. The tricky part is to convince the criminal’s kin of helping the cops. It might happen quickly, but those who decide to help the cops (and the criminal in a moral way) are most likely to suffer emotionally. It is especially hard for mothers. Many of them never believe the cops. They think their son is being framed. Many believe that the cops are the ones who are framing their sons. So either way, cops need to work hard at being convincing. But this could be Mushtaq’s only chance.

  So I tell her about Achhu. I tell her about the lodge owner’s statement identifying Mushtaq having met Achhu. I tell her about the video footage that may be showing Mushtaq, Ijaz & Kadarbhai. I tell her about the vehicle which could have been stolen by the trio. I tell her about the manner of Achhu’s death & I tell her about Sumit being missing for days. I explain to her that they never went away for a passport related issue. Given Mushtaq’s & Ijaz’s police record, the passport formalities can’t go through unless an affidavit filed with the local court is submitted to the police station. Nothing has been submitted here.

  When I finish, she pauses may be for a moment.

  “If Mushtaq or Ijaz are guilty you can do whatever you want with them. I won’t have anything to do with them.” She says in a stern voice.

  “But you have to find them for me. If they are not guilty, if they can be stopped, they are all I have.”

  32

  Moonlit

  Kumar parked across the street from the scrap dealer’s home. He didn’t get out of the car immediately after killing the engine. It was a small apartment with the ground floor being a row of shuttered shops & the first floor with residential flats. The scrap shop was the second shutter on the right. A streetlight was shining on the shutter that was painted in green on white. The name read “Barkat Bhangaar Dukaan”. The shutter looked synonymous to the scrap that it held inside. It was rusty & Kumar could make out the uneven, dented shape of the shutter from across the street. He gave it another five minutes, watching the apartment all the while. He checked the pistol in his holster. After confirming that it was ready to be used, he put on his blazer & started for the apartment.

  He had formulated his course of action as soon as Hormaz had asked him not to extract information out of the scrap dealer. Time was of essence & if he were to keep up his side of his deal, the scrap dealer had to talk. Though the cops in the room didn’t think much of it, he was convinced that it was the lead he was looking for. Once the scrap dealer sang, Kumar would be the first person to know about Ishtiyaq’s plans. It would be lot easier to track him down with that knowledge. He tiptoed onto the stairs & entered the narrow, dimly lit passage that led to the scrap dealer’s flat.

  He was out again in less than 10 minutes. It had been as shocking as he wanted. And as the scrap dealer’s family was out, it had gone smooth as silk. Kumar had kicked open the door to the flat. Even before the hinges of the door stopped complaining, he had found the person of interest sleeping in front of the TV in the hall. Throwing his torchlight on, he had confirmed the man to be the scrap dealer. Dressed in just a pyjama, he was a thin man & it had worked against him. Kumar didn’t allow him to move. He had grabbed the man at the elbow & dragged him out of the house. As he gained alertness, Kumar had pushed the man down the stairs. His voice had been caught in his throat as he rolled down like a sack. Kumar ran down the steps & pulled the man up again. As the man moaned, Kumar had dragged him across the empty street & into the car. He flung the man in the backseat & cuffed his hands before clo
sing the door on him. He stood by the open door on the driver side to remove the plastic cover from the red VIP beacon on the top of his car. That would rule out interference by anybody. He started the car & made sure that the beacon was functioning. Then he drove away without paying heed to the moans of pain from the backseat.

  ***

  Anees’s phone rang. He was no longer used to receiving calls at this hour. But being sleepless made him feel better about receiving the call. Sunil’s number was flashing across the caller id on his mobile phone.

  “Kawwa chidiya ko pakadke le jaa raha hai. Kya karu?” The crow is taking away the sparrow, what should I do? It meant that Kumar who was referred to as Kawwa in Anees’s circles was taking away the scrap dealer. After Anees’s call to Hormaz, he was certain that the NIA would take the scrap dealer in custody but Anees had to be sure.

  “Kya woh akela hai?” Is he alone?

  “Haa.” Yes. It sounded strange. First, a senior officer need not have come to pick up a suspect. Second, a senior officer would never come alone if the suspect had to be picked up.

  “Uska peecha karo.” Follow him. Anees commanded. Anees believed in thrashing out strange things till matters were sorted out. Even if it meant watching his watcher.

  ***

  There is little doubt about Mushtaq’s involvement now. Ulhas & Bhavna are at Ratnapur after scrubbing the Fortuner for evidence. The steering wheel and the dashboard of the Fortuner had been wiped clean of any fingerprints. But Bhavna managed to lift one from back of the rearview mirror & another from the dull plastic panel in the door frame. The efficiency of the Ratnapur police was a great help. They had the fingerprints of Mushtaq in their records. Bhavna used her office laptop to upload all the prints to the Mumbai police server & two were identical. Mushtaq’s fingerprint at the station was a 94% match with the print found on the door panel. The one on the back of the rear view mirror is from Ijaz. No fingerprint of Kadarbhai though. It is time to move back to Mumbai. But before I leave, I need to check this house where Kadarbhai was staying. I need to find what Mushtaq & Ijaz were being trained for. Somehow, I don’t think that you can train two young boys for a labour intensive job in a foreign country inside closed walls. Especially if the job involves repairing automobiles.