by Irfan Khan
Shiv was now on a roll and he had no sense of his voice decibels as he hollered, “The least you should do is be with her at this time of grieving. She lost her son and you don’t want to take responsibility.”
This had got me absolutely mad and I wanted to shout back at the uncivilized person in front of me. I was quite angry now and shot back in controlled anger, “Are you trying to say that I am responsible for my son’s death”?
Shiv got the satisfaction of dragging me in the argument.
He retorted immediately, “That is quite clear. If you were not struggling with your business then you could have been near him when he needed you the most.”
I controlled my voice and anger “You are not talking sense. Please leave now and we can talk when I get home.”
Shiv took this as his victory and dug in his heels, “I will not leave. I don’t want to discuss this in front of Reema. She is already in great stress. When you get home, I want you to apologise to Reema and make sure you mend your relationship.”
I replied in a calm and soothing voice laced with vitriol “Shiv, I understand that you are looking after your daughter but don’t assume that I am the only person to blame for this. Your daughter is no saint either.”
Shiv lost it and screamed “How dare you talk about my daughter like that”?
Now the staff heard it for sure. They gestured to each other and stepped out of the office. Sid too stood up but walked towards my cabin. I guess he thought he should stay to help me. I gestured towards him to leave. Sid left reluctantly.
Shiv was now totally out of control “This is the limit. (He charged at me) I can break all the bones in your body. Don’t think that I am a simple man. I have connections. You are going to pay for this. You have said such horrible things about my daughter. Don’t you have any shame”?
I remained quiet and knew that he was trying to make me angry enough to make this into a physical fight so that he could look like the victim.
Now, Shiv was in the threatening mode “You better watch out, Nikhil. I am not going to forgive you. You won’t even get time to repent.”
He stormed out of the office, still muttering. This was the last straw. Something snapped inside me. This was the day before I was shot dead.
. . .
The Mourning
A Day After Death
Is it true that when you die you meet other dead people? How would you know, you have never died? I am desperately hoping that it is true. There is so much I want to say to my son. I hope he would have also floated around like a spirit and seen what happened to his parents after he died. I cried and spoke to his photo for hours. I had apologised for thousands of things. Now when I meet him, I will make him so happy and never leave him even for a minute.
I am also looking forward to seeing my parents. I spent very little time when they were alive. We lived on the farmland in the hills, had orchards and also grew vegetables. Dad continued with the century-old family tradition of agriculture. He was quite successful and earned a good amount of respect in the Sugaoni market because he was always willing to help other people. My mother was the mini farmer who had her patch of a kitchen garden. I have memories of helping her harvest tomatoes and okra.
My mom’s parents lived in Sugaoni and I often spent my weekends with them. That’s how I survived the cloud burst which killed my parents. I was only 6 years old then and did not completely comprehend the whole thing. Cloud bursts are quite common in our district and they are so sudden that no one can be prepared for it. It’s like rain but instead of water coming down like a shower it falls like an overturned tank.
My dad had created a fund for my education as if he had a premonition that he would not be around in some years. He always talked about educating me as high as possible. I became a software engineer and felt that it was not too shabby. The farmland is still there and it has been leased to a contract farmer.
Now that I am dead too, I am a bit nervous. What if, when I meet them, and they are not happy with my achievements? One plan that I have is to hug them so tight that they won’t be able to speak. I miss them both a lot. Maybe one can’t meet dead relatives until you have finished your pending work on earth. That could be the reason. I sure have some very urgent and pressing issues to be solved. For instance, who should be punished for my death?
The living room of the house has been stripped bare of the furniture. My picture has been kept against the wall at the spot where I always sat on the recliner couch. Reema has selected a smiling picture and printed the large portrait in black and white. I always felt that the photo frame in a prayer meet is kept in a way that people should focus on the deceased, lest they meander into inane conversations. The whole atmosphere is somber. Some people are weeping but as quietly as possible. The weepers are Manish, Poonam, Jyoti, Shishir of my staff, a few friends and of course, my wife and mother-in-law. Sid the fresh new recruit was missing. The body has not been handed over. The autopsy is not yet over.
The one thing that was hurting me the most (yeah, spirits can feel hurt too) is how the whole thing is like a formality. Shiv is looking upset but not sad. He is mumbling to Hemlata about how small the gathering is because Nikhil was not so popular. A few relatives (my side) are arriving. Reema is surrounded by her friends. She has been sedated and so that she remains sad but calm. Her friends remained quiet too, concentrating on her needs for water or food.
The girls from the office, Poonam and Jyoti, sat near my wife and my mother-in-law, as if ready to pacify them if they turned hysterical. The guys from the office are busy speculating. Some are being Sherlock and posing as Benedict Cumberbatch while some are deducing the situation like Crime Patrol. I wander around them fascinated with the theories that are coming up.
Manish whispered leaning towards Shishir, “There has to be a connection. Does one get murdered without a reason”?
Shishir kept his voice down “Yeah, this is not America? There they have random shootings happening all the time.”
Manish asked the million-dollar question “The question is who could it be? Who hated Nikhil that much”?
Shishir wistfully replied “Yaar, Nikhil was a cool dude. Nobody hated him.” Just then he had an epiphany “Wait a minute. Manish, you remember the guy from Bengaluru”?
“Kaveri Softech, Belawadi. Oh yes, Sudhir Belawadi.” Manish was suddenly excited “That guy was pretty pissed when his client and investor jumped over to our company.”
Shishir leaned over to Manish and whispered “Nikhil told me that he was roughed up in Bengaluru by Sudhir.”
Manish asked in a serious tone “Should we tell the police about this guy”? Manish did not wait for Shishir’s reply and added “And what about that fight between Nikhil and his father-in-law”?
Shishir widened his eyes and bobbed his head slowly. They both turned to look at Shiv who looked towards them instinctively. He saw the stares and scowled back at them, they quickly turned back and started chatting.
Shishir turned to Manish and asked in a regular tone as if they were having an inane conversation. “So where is Sid”?
Manish took the cue and replied loudly “He called last evening and said there is some family emergency and he has to go home.”
“His home in Salem, Tamil Nadu, right? Has he handed over his projects to anybody”?
Manish nodding his head “He has given me the details. I will access his laptop tomorrow.”
Shishir again went into the whisper mode “He gives me a weird feeling. I don’t trust him. Keep your eyes open.”
I enjoyed that gossipy crime-solving conversation. Just nobody has a clue of what transpired, my death was an enigma. But yet it was interesting how people were stringing together random pieces of information and events to concoct a scenario that was so convincing that I almost believed them. Remember, I was suddenly shot from behind not giving me a chance to turn around to see who it was.
. . .
The Bengaluru Bungle
Two Months Ago
&nb
sp; The Sudhir Belawadi drama happened so suddenly that it seemed like a scene from a film. Let me tell you how it started.
As part of our marketing effort, we look for clients online and one of our techniques was to identify a weak business web portal and then create a report of the vulnerabilities and gaps in the security. We would then share this document with the site owners and they invariably would respond. We had a good conversion ratio with this strategy. So, when my team came across ‘Matthew Wealth Management’ (MWM) portal and shot them a report. We got a quick response. We moved in for the kill and after a few Skype calls and discussions on cost, we were asked to take over the portal.
The portal was being managed by M/s Kaveri Softech of Bengaluru. As was the practice the client introduced us on email and then we had a conference call. Everything was looking good and Sudhir, the owner, invited me to Bengaluru for the final hand over. I travelled alone and met up with Sudhir. Most of the time, the company that is moving out, is bitter and the proceedings are very formal and business-like. I expected the same with this deal except that Sudhir was an overly friendly and ambitious kind of guy. He was a sharp entrepreneur and started asking me about my business over lunch.
Sudhir was a lean average height man. He had intense eyes which moved constantly. He dressed sharply as a statement. He came across as a go getter who is driven to achieve big heights. “How many seats do you have”?
That’s the way software guys assess each other, since the business model mostly was billing per seat, per hour, what this means is everyone is on the clock and at the end of day one adds up the total man-hours clocked on that day. It was easy to do mental math on turnover of that business.
I was not operating on that model, “That's not how we work. We go with project and timeline management. We allocate a lot of hours for research and development.”
Sudhir shook his head and clicked his tongue in a dismissive way “That's not very efficient.”
His followed up with more questions that were aimed at assessing my net worth and then he came out with the sucker punch.
“You should dream big.” He took a big swig of his draught beer, “Operating out of a small town means you have ‘cheap’ brains. Leverage that to create value and improve your valuation.”
I had no intention of knowing anything more from this guy. I knew the drill. He would explain what was wrong about us and how he can be the savior. He couldn’t comprehend that not everyone wants to be the next Bill Gates. At least not for the sake of being the richest man. I was ambitious but wanted to scale up slowly and enjoy the simple things of life at the same time.
This guy was losing business to me and still have the audacity to lecture me on business management.
I smiled condescendingly and replied “Sorry buddy, I am not in the valuation game. I don’t mind remaining a small guy in a small town.”
Sudhir was not in the mood to end the conversation “Fair enough. You continue doing that. I have an offer. Hear me out.” His adrenalin was pumping. In his mind he was now going to impress me with his negotiation skills “What if we do a share swap deal. Then we will become a merged entity.” This merged entity was demonstrated by joining the salt and pepper shaker on the table. “You continue looking after the operations in the north of India and I will do south.” We do a valuation of our companies and decide on the swap ratio. I will give you an additional half a million rupees as a bonus for agreeing to the deal. Sounds good”?
I smiled to myself as it dawned on me why the meeting was happening with lunch with craft beers. What Sudhir wanted to do was buy me and my company out and turn me into an employee with ESOPs (Employee Stock Options – basically, shares of the company you work).
What Sudhir had not imagined is that a small fry like me from Sugaoni also has access to the Internet and knows how to dig out information from the internet. I had done my homework and knew that his company, Kaveri Softech was funded by a VC called Adarsh Jain. Sudhir was losing one of the biggest clients, MWM. This was dangerous for him as he was running out of cash and the VC was scheduled to transfer the next tranche. When the VC discovers that Sudhir has lost the client ‘Matthew Wealth Management’ then his funding would stop. It was pretty clear that I had the upper hand.
I faked a look of admiration hoping he would feel that I am convinced “This does sound good Sudhir. I feel honored that you find me worthy of association. I would like to think about it. Also, I will have to bounce it off my team. Can I take a few days over this? Anyway, thanks for a great lunch.” We shook hands and the meeting ended.
I had no intention of meeting Sudhir again and go through the embarrassment of him trying to convince me. Next day I checked out of the hotel, took a tourist cab and went shopping for Reema and then headed for the airport. Sudhir had called in the morning and I told him that I needed more time in fact days to decide. A little before afternoon I got a call from Mr. Adarsh Jain. (Sudhir’s investor) Now that was a surprise. Adarsh must be an aggressive investor with a smart team, since they tracked me down. He convinced me to meet over coffee before I went to the airport.
The meeting was brief and simple. Adarsh wanted to invest in my company as an angel investor with a commitment of 1 crore subject to certain performance milestones. To be honest this was an opportunity that I was waiting for and all this while working towards it. Now that it was staring me in the face, I was not sure. My ethics got the better of me. When I got the client away from Kaveri it was a pure business deal but if their investor also comes on board then it becomes unethical. Adarsh gave me a few days to work it out and invited himself to Sugaoni and take a look at my setup.
On my way back to the airport I had a lot of time to think. The temptation was very big. Adarsh Jain was a very smart investor and his association with me would be valuable. I realized that I was convincing myself about the deal and just then Sudhir called. He was waiting for me on the highway, a few kilometers before the airport. He wanted to hand over some hard drives which he had forgotten.
I spotted Sudhir waiting on the side of the highway next to his car. I stepped out of my car and walked up to him. Sudhir had no drives in his hands. He wanted to meet me for another reason. Two rough-looking guys pulled up on a motorcycle behind me. Sudhir looked angry and caught me by the collar and started abusing me. The ruffians came from behind and held my arms as Sudhir kept abusing and punching my face. He was upset about my meeting with Adarsh Jain. The beating stopped when a police van arrived. Sudhir spoke to them in his local Kannada language. The police van went away and I went back to my car and left. I knew that I would never come back to Bengaluru.
. . .
Sugaoni Police
Two Days After Death
The Sugaoni police station is located at the main circle of the town. It was housed in a small British era villa. When it was created, the town hardly needed it and so it was a tiny congested place. Though the town has grown, the crime rate hasn’t, so there was no need to make the police station any bigger. All post mortems were performed at Chamba Medical College which was 100 km away.
Inspector Madhav usually came to the police station by 9 a.m. His quarters were nearby and he always took a brisk walk to work. He liked doing this because it gives him a chance to go through the busy part of town and the cop in him is easily able to assess the atmosphere. He could always sense that something was amiss. He would have short chats with shopkeepers and taxi drivers, that would give him a lot of hints. He would then mind-map a myriad of possible scenarios from those bits. His tall body frame worked to his advantage as a cop. He was not5 as ruthless as most cops but it helped to portray that image. He was living alone in Sugaoni as his wife stayed back in Patna, Bihar. She stayed back as his parents did not want to move to Himachal and his children were still completing their education.
Like most people, Madhav too boots up his computer the moment he reaches his desk. Then he glances at the reports lying on his desk. Today he has a most urgent matter, Nikhil Kumar’s po
st mortem report is due today and he is pretty inquisitive about it. For him, the case is a puzzle that needs to be solved. Madhav is aware of the morbidity of his enthusiasm. He has two reasons, one, since it's his duty and the victim’s family would want to know the truth and two, the killer needs to be caught. Beyond that, Madhav sees an opportunity to break the monotony of daily routine where nothing interesting ever happens.
Madhav’s posting in Sugaoni is unofficially known as a ‘punishment’ posting. Back in Patna, he failed to solve a double murder case for over a year. They shunted him out. Back home he suffered from a serious sinus and migraine combination that used to aggravate with stress. It seemed to have vanished in clean air of Sugaoni.
His deputy, Sub Inspector Jagan Singh joins him in the cabin. This is part of the morning routine. Jagan was a local and stayed a few kilometers away from Sugaoni. He was efficient and alert at his job. Every morning when Madhav arrived, Jagan would wait for a few minutes then go to the cabin to discuss the day’s agenda. Madhav greets him with the usual ‘Good Morning’ and asks him to contact the forensic guys. Jagan gets on his mobile and calls the Chamba Medical College. They inform him that they have mailed the report and a hard copy is being dispatched by post. Jagan gestures to Madhav's computer as he thanks them. Madhav quickly turns to his computer monitor to access the report.
While the slow internet struggles to open the mail, Madhav starts discussing the case.
“I am very curious about the nail and twine found on the tree. It does not fit in the scheme of things.” Madhav has picked up the pictures from the scene of crime and studying them.
Jagan would always present a contrary view, simply to debate all aspects of the crime “Maybe it has nothing to do with the murder. Maybe somebody used it to hang something.”
Madhav remarks “The string is not very strong which would mean that whatever hanged on it, must not be heavy.”