Nobody Likes An Outsider

by Fawaz Jaleel

  “Sirji, you are not some criminal of sorts, right? I mean, why are they following you?” the concerned auto driver asked.

  “No, no. I am a journalist. We are the ones whom criminals actually fear these days.” For once, Chirag spoke more than his usual quota.

  “I know a shortcut. It's a narrower road. These guys won't be able to catch up and drive through that.” The driver showed the perks of being a regular on the roads.

  “Ok, ok. Take that,” Chirag had reached a full-blown panic mode by now.

  The driver took a quick right into the ground ahead of him and raced to the lane ahead. From a distance, Chirag could see two trees at the entrance of the lane that appeared narrow. He wasn’t sure if it was small enough to block the Pajero behind them but figured it was worth a risk. The driver elevated his vehicle’s speed and paced ahead. They entered the lane but it didn’t seem narrow enough. The driver continued to pace through.

  Suddenly, he took a left and entered the auto into a smaller ground. There weren’t any roads ahead and the ground had patches of grass spread across. The auto stopped. There wasn’t anyone nearby, barring a hut at a distance.

  “What happened. Is the vehicle okay? Shit, shit, shit. Do something.” Chirag’s body started vibrating.

  “I am sorry, sir.” The auto driver stepped outside and looked around. He checked his watch. Suddenly, the Pajero raced inside the ground. Another vehicle, a Ford EcoSport also came to the location from the opposite around. Chirag appeared puzzled for a while. Being a sharp journalist, he quickly realized that the auto driver was part of the set-up. Despite complete knowledge of what he was a part of, there was a glitter of guilt on the auto driver’s face—the expression that appears on people who stab from behind without having the guts to face the prey.

  Even though he tried to run, it didn’t take a lot of time for Jeevan and the three men who alighted from the EcoSport to nab Chirag.

  He was kidnapped on Sumit’s instruction and the three men took him to the instructed location.

  ⁂⁂⁂

  After hearing the series of events, Director Verma had a couple of questions for the team.

  “So, Chirag was taken to the same location we finally rescued him from?”

  Sukumar nodded and replied, “Yes, sir.”

  “Sir, being a hardcore journalist, Chirag noticed that the auto had ‘Sakt Launda’ written on the headboard. He even noted the number,” Ila added to the answer.

  “Yeah. We have already instructed CI Raj Pratap to arrest the driver. He will be one of our cooperative accomplices,” Yohan mentioned the further plan of action.

  “Chirag doesn’t remember much of what happened at the location he was kept in,” Sukumar added.

  “That’s okay. So, what happened to Piyali then?” Verma asked.

  “The information Chirag gave killed her,” Yohan responded.

  While Chirag left before her, Piyali sat in the restaurant in a state of shock for a while. After pulling herself to think straight, she headed to the hotel she was staying in. There were no phone calls from her regular number to anyone in this period. Sumit had instructed Jeevan to be in the vicinity of Piyali’s hotel after handing over Chirag to the three men. Jeevan obeyed the orders and kept himself in the location not knowing what was going to happen. After dropping Chirag to the hideout, one of the men clicked a picture and sent it to Sumit for proof. He instructed the men to tag Piyali Sharma’s father who worked in the Barauni oil refinery. The men set off to the township to follow the instructions handed over to them.

  Meanwhile, Sumit received information that Piyali carried an iPad and it was used to operate the telegram groups for Ashraf’s party members and supporters.

  “Wait a minute. Who told Sumit about the iPad?” Verma interrupted the briefing.

  “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll get to that. All your questions will be answered,” Ila assured him.

  Sumit’s men kept updating him about the whereabouts of Piyali’s father. In fact, while Jeevan was tagging Chirag, these men were behind Piyali’s father ever since Sumit got to know that Piyali also checked into the same hotel. The businessman already knew how much the father meant to her.

  “Sir, before you ask. We’ll tell you how he knew that too,” Ila felt it was important to assure Verma again. The director smiled and gestured them to continue.

  Around 5:45 p.m., Sumit used the telegram app on his phone to send videos of Piyali’s father taken at regular intervals. Piyali quickly replied asking who it was. In a while, Sumit sent photos of Chirag tied and unconscious in a room. By now, Piyali was already panicking. She dialed the number multiple times but got no response. In just a few minutes, she received a video call from another telegram number. This time it was Sumit’s men who used their rear camera to show Piyali’s father getting out of his car and moving to a shop on the highway. She was shown her father picking up a cigarette and enjoying a peaceful smoke. The men who handled the camera kept saying “this man will be finished soon” and “he is going to die” in their local language and dialect. By now, Piyali was already in tears. One of the men holding the camera brought a gun in front of it, adding to Piyali’s woes. This went on for a while even as the helpless PA cried her heart out from the other side of the phone. She could see her father relaxed and enjoying his smoke not knowing the ordeal his daughter was going through. The call got cut.

  Quickly, Sumit called her from the telegram account he was using. He didn’t show his face but pointed the camera to Chirag who was lying unconscious at one corner of the room. This time, Sumit spoke directly to Piyali.

  “See, I don’t have a choice for you. We are anyway going to kill this guy, your investigative journalist friend,” Sumit made his point.

  “Who are you? What do you want? Leave them alone,” Piyali cried referring to Chirag and her father.

  “See. You cannot save Chirag. But I can give you a chance to save your father,” Sumit said sternly.

  “Yes. Please. I will do anything as you say,” Piyali pleaded desperately.

  “Just kill yourself,” Sumit said it so casually that Piyali couldn’t process it for a while. He was neither stern nor angry and he said it as if it was a very normal thing to ask for.

  “What do you mean?” she asked in a state of shock.

  “It’s the ultimate sacrifice a daughter can do for her father. You have five minutes. Find something, a blade or a knife or even that Swiss knife in your handbag would do,” Sumit’s words instilled a chilling sensation inside Piyali. She shivered as his words were as cold as his intentions. She wondered how he knew that she carried a swiss knife.

  “Sir, please,” she tried.

  “Four minutes and 17 seconds left. After that, one of my men in the hotel would ensure you are dead and we’ll kill your father too. See, I don't want to kill people who have no relation to the whole thing Chirag told you about. Be a good daughter and just do it. Oh, how bad of me: 3 minutes 58 seconds left.”

  “Why are you doing this? I won’t tell anyone,” she tried to reason.

  “See, the only choices you have are: you and your father or only your father. It’s Chirag’s fault. He shouldn’t have told you,” Sumit replied.

  “He didn't tell me anything. Even now, I don’t know who you are,” she thought it was worth a try.

  “Piyali, don’t underestimate my intelligence. See, now it has made me angry. So, I am cutting 60 seconds from your father’s lifeline. He has 1 minute and 37 seconds to live.” Not for once did Sumit lose his cool.

  “No, no. Please. I'll do it. I will do it,” she said as she lost all her hope. It was the lack of aggression in his voice that made the situation more dangerous for her. She quickly took out the knife from her bag and with trembling hands prepared to sacrifice her life for her father.

  “Piyali. Sweetheart. Turn on the camera while you do it. It's just an insurance to protect your father’s life.” Sumit’s voice didn’t have a drop of compassion.

  Controllin
g her tears, crying softly, and thinking of her father’s elated face, Piyali turned on the camera without any hesitation as if she were in a trance.

  “Okay. Sorry to spoil your mood ... 36 seconds left,” Sumit reminded the broken Piyali.

  There, without a word, without even fighting for her own life, she decided to let go of herself for the man who loved his daughter. She didn’t even want her father to know that his daughter gave away her life because even that thought would hurt the man. Every daughter would want the best for her father and in Piyali’s case, this was the best she could give him unfortunately.

  While blood dripped from her veins, tears started drying up as she slowly passed on from the world not knowing if the society around her would ever know the reason behind her death.

  After confirming her death, Sumit alerted Jeevan to be ready and instructed him to pick up the iPad once he received the news of her death via the transceiver. From a local phone booth, Sumit called the hotel and asked them to connect to Piyali’s room. When there was no answer, the hotel staff tried to knock and eventually broke open the door and found her dead.

  ⁂⁂⁂

  “How could he be so cold?” Sukumar felt very affected even after having heard it for the second time. Ila put her hand on his shoulder and comforted him. Even Verma, the father of two daughters, couldn’t stand the thought of this sacrifice from any of his daughters.

  “Fucking asshole. How did he know so much about Piyali? Of course, it has to be from that same bastard who hid Chirag. Of course, he had known Piyali for a while now, right?” Verma connected a few dots.

  “Bring him in Sukumar. The mastermind behind the death of Ashraf Zain,” Yohan said it out loud

  Chapter 17

  Pride Maketh a Man Fall (Part 2 -Ashraf Zain’s Murder)

  While Yohan waited in the room and conversed with Director Verma, Ila and Sukumar brought the first accused in the Ashraf Zain murder case to the room. He was handcuffed and escorted but the accused held his head high as he walked to the chair. Verma still couldn’t believe the turn of events that led to the arrest of this mastermind and, most importantly, the motive behind the death of the young and aspirational Ashraf Zain.

  “So, maulvi Imtiaz Sheikh saheb, do you want to tell our director why you planned and executed the death of your protege?” Yohan shot his question straight at the man seated in front of him.

  The old man, who had always appeared calm in their previous interactions, maintained the same stature. He didn’t appear tense and there wasn't a speck of guilt on his face.

  “Mr. Imtiaz, I am still shocked after learning that you hid Chirag in your trust’s hideout and conspired with Sumit to murder Ashraf.” Verma expressed his shock.

  “Oh, sir. He was the mastermind and let's be honest—he played everyone including Sumit,” Ila said, not mincing her words.

  “Yes. I heard. But why, Imtiaz. Why your own son-in-law?” Verma probed.

  “Oh, sir. That was just one of his moves. Parveen was never engaged to Ashraf. Chirag confirmed that. In fact, it was one of the reasons we suspected foul play,” Sukumar appraised his director.

  “Yes. In fact, when we first met Parveen, I asked her to say something distinct about Ashraf. I still remember her telling me he was a media shy person,” Yohan said, building on the start given by Sukumar.

  “So, we asked Priyanshu the same question when we met him. He said that for all of Ashraf’s good nature, he was clear about one thing—that whatever he does should be covered by the media. In fact, he himself started a newspaper to, of course, expose the irregularities in the society but also give mileage to his political party,” Sukumar added.

  “Yes, and despite all this, there was absolutely no coverage of Ashraf’s so-called marriage or engagement or whatever story he and his daughter cooked up. I mean … there was news on Ashraf opening a Facebook group for youngsters for heaven's sake but nothing about this marriage,” Ila joined the data lowdown.

  “Have you arrested the daughter, Yohan?” Verma asked.

  “Yes, sir. We have. She had knowledge about the crime but chose to hide it so she will be booked under the conspiracy to murder, IPC section 120 A at the very least,” Yohan replied.

  On hearing this, the maulvi finally uttered his first words in the room. Now, he had a sense of displeasure in his eyes. “Why her? She did what any daughter would do. What any…”

  “Complete that sentence, sir,” Ila quickly responded.

  “Never mind. Tell me guys. Why was Ashraf Zain murdered?” Verma wanted answers.

  “So, the actual conflict started when Ashraf met Imtiaz Sheikh regarding his candidature for the head of the Islamiya Peace Trust,” Yohan started explaining.

  Eight months ago, there was a talk of the maulvi stepping down from his responsibility as the head of the trust. They were actively looking for a replacement and this news leaked within the circles. On hearing this, Ashraf went to the trust’s headquarters to meet Imtiaz. The teacher saheb expressed his interest in the position and sought his mentor’s blessings and support for his candidature. In fact, maulvi even said that he was excited about the possibility and promised complete support to Ashraf. The meeting ended with Imtiaz assuring the deceased politician that he will take it up with the board members.

  After a month of not hearing back, Ashraf once again went to meet the maulvi. This time, the two of them sat inside maulvi’s or the head of trust’s office. With his head slightly held low, the maulvi told him that the board had several restrictions on Ashraf's candidature. The latter was shocked on hearing this as he considered himself a solid front-runner for the chair. There weren’t any talks of other prominent people in the community contesting either. What shocked Ashraf was how he wasn’t even considered as a favorite if not the actual head. When questioned, the maulvi said that the board felt Ashraf’s active political career might lead to him ignoring this responsibility. Ashraf argued that he didn’t intend to contest any elections until 2025 and had already made it clear to the people of Bihar that he wanted to be judged and elected based on his work in these years running up to the elections. In fact, the board was extremely supportive of Ashraf’s entry into politics and supported him for his free coaching initiatives too. Trouble started when the maulvi started citing multiple reasons to Ashraf alleging that he wasn’t a cleric or religiously educated enough to take up the position. In response to this, Ashraf cited previous examples of non-clerics and politically active people who held the office.

  “Imtiaz saheb, why don’t you just take a look at that board outside. It has the list of all people who headed the trust including yourself. There are politicians and non-clerics. Then why not me?” Ashraf couldn’t make sense of the reasons being thrown at him.

  “In the past, it may have happened. But the board wants dedicated people. In fact, why don’t you go and look at the names on the board yourself. Not everyone has been very successful,” the maulvi responded. But his head remained lower as if he didn’t want to look into Ashraf’s eyes while saying this.

  Ashraf felt as if a dagger was thrust inside him from behind. He couldn’t comprehend the difference in the body language of the maulvi and his words. The man who enthusiastically agreed to support his candidature a month ago was now speaking as if these words were his own. When Ashraf asked to set up a meeting with the board, the maulvi refused. Ashraf wasn’t a person who raised his voice or picked up a fight. But at this moment, the turn of events switched on a different side of him. He picked up the phone and dialed one of the board members, in front of the maulvi.

  Despite the maulvi gesturing to him to cut the call and discuss with him instead, Ashraf proceeded to ask questions to the member about his candidature. The individual on the end also refused to give clear answers and said that the matter was discussed internally and they conveyed their reservations to the maulvi who also supported it. The phone call just added to Ashraf’s pre-existing angst in the matter.

  “There is something y
ou people are hiding from me. At the very least, you can be honest to me, maulvi saheb.” Ashraf had tears in his eyes. He had hoped to use the position to positively impact more lives. For one, he wanted to make the organization religious-agnostic while helping people. He also aspired to expand the help and activities done by the organization for everyone irrespective of their religion.

  “I have told you the reasons, Ashraf. I have had enough. I do not want to discuss this any further,” the maulvi said in a tone that clearly indicated Ashraf to leave the room and the matter.

  With a heavy heart and the emotion surrounding a crushed dream, Ashraf slowly walked out. There were many words that were left unsaid but he chose to leave the trust immediately. As he walked to the entrance where his car was parked, he glanced at the board with the name of the previous chairmen.

  It was the same board that Yohan had glanced through on the day he came to the trust. The names read: Younus Pathan (2001–2006), Suleiman Mughal (2006–2011), Parvez Khan (2011–2016) Imtiaz Sheikh (2016–till date). Ashraf kept staring at the board in a feeling mixed with angst, despair, and helplessness. He visualized his name written below Imtiaz Sheikh and even with the tears, a smile appeared on his face. He could feel it being rubbed away—both his name and his hopes. He kept staring at it till that moment.

  Suddenly, something hit him. He and the maulvi were right when they said earlier that the board had all the answers. The thought never hit him until he closely observed the board. The names flashed before his eyes: Younus Pathan, Suleiman Mughal, Parvez Khan, Imtiaz Sheikh.

  He looked at the names of the predecessors of these people: Shahbaz Alam, Tanvir Mufti, etc. They all had one thing in common. The picture seemed clear to Ashraf now. He wiped his tears and stormed to the maulvi’s office. This time, his despair had turned into full-blown angst. He was ready to confront the maulvi. He opened the door with power and slammed it behind him. Imtiaz Sheikh was taken aback with the noise and turned around to see Ashraf stand in front of him yet again.