by Amit Nangia
It was all jumbled up, like all dreams are. It had seemed to go on for hours, frame by frame, like a movie. But when I woke up sweating and groaning out loud, I realised I must not have slept for even an hour.
I sat up in bed and lit a cigarette. My pulse calmed down, but the seed of doubt had been planted.
I lay awake a while, thinking the whole plan through and looking for loopholes, if any. I made myself see how foolish it was to worry. I was just drifting off to sleep again, when a light flickered through my window. I jumped up and looked out.
Far down the lane, I got a glimpse of a bike. I couldn’t see anything else, any people in or around it. Just a black bike. I heard the main door close and the bike pulled away towards the highway with a roar.
Who could that be?
It was almost noon when I woke up. My eyes opened as slits and I became conscious of someone being in the room with me. I lay still, keeping my eyes closed, and looking out from beneath the lids.
It was Thakur. He was seated near the bed, with his smooth grey hair pushed back on his head. He was watching me, studying me, rather. There was a thoughtful, calculating look on his over-friendly face. He wanted to use me and then throw me, that’s what his expression said. But now with Silky on my side, it was difficult for him to do so.
I opened my eyes and went into the bathroom and washed. When I came out, he had that warm smile turned on; the friendliness and sympathy stuck right out at me.
“You must know what happened. Silky had a pretty big bottle of whiskey last night, and I’m not sure if she can go on the job with you. She is really knocked out; so sick and hung over, she can hardly stand up. And that kind of puts us in a fix.” He looked too calm for his plans to have been fouled up.
I did not say anything, merely stared at my feet. He shook his head sadly, “Just give her a little time and she’ll come around. She gets carried away sometimes.”
“Sure, she will.” I wondered what his next move would be.
“Well…,” he glanced at me sharply. “Since she is not ready, I suggest we don’t rush the job, huh?”
“If we’re going to pull the job today, we ought to be leaving in a few hours.”
“Not a few hours, Tiwari; less. I’d say we wait until tomorrow.” He sighed before adding, “But how do we know she’ll be straightened out by then?”
“Yeah, that too.” I wondered how Silky could have been that careless. The plan depended on our timing.
“Tiwari…” He hesitated. “What do you think?… See, I would have taken her place, gone with you myself to take care of the boy. But I’m pretty well known in this town, and if someone should see us together…”
“Yes?” I said.
I lit a cigarette and filled my cup with tea.
He waited, fidgeting, maybe half hoping and wanting me to grab the ball and carry it. And I let him go on waiting. I had to be absolutely sure. It had to be his proposition. If he wanted it, he’d have to say it.
“Well,” he said, at last, “I think you can do it just as well by yourself, as you would with Silky.”
I took a sip of tea, hesitating; pretending to think it over. I screwed up my face thoughtfully, and slowly drained the cup. He watched every single move I made; his penetrating glance tearing into my flesh and making me uneasy. He leaned back in his chair, one arm thrown over the back, trying to appear easy, hiding his anxiety, but feeling so much the other way.
Even the worst of Bollywood heroes act better than this stale chapati, chutiya sala!
A little squeezing at the right places would ooze all his real meanness out. And I wanted to do just that. Mera jadu chalega to ye popat ki tarah bolega.
“Okay,” I said, “If you think she can’t do it, then I might as well do it…”
“Wonderful! That’s wonderful!” Thakur jumped up beaming, “We’d better start getting you ready.” He seemed too eager, and that was always fishy. Dal me kuchh kala hai.
So I got to it. I shaved, extra close. When I was through, Thakur started the work with the temporary hair dye; my hair was black and the real chauffeur’s, brown. I looked pretty funny when I was halfway – the sides and back of my hair brown, and the top of it black. The cap would hide the rest anyway. After waiting an hour for the dye to dry, I put on the uniform, everything including the cap and glasses. Then, after Thakur had checked me over, I got into the black Mercedes. Thakur had changed the number plate to the same number as the Oberoi’s car. He beamed at me, almost laughing; he was happy. And I almost laughed myself.
I wondered why stupid people always figured everyone else to be stupid. Why did they always think they could outsmart the other guy? I wasn’t supposed to be bright, of course, but even an idiot could have seen through this stunt.
I was the pawn, the scapegoat, the bullet to get the gun going. I’d never meant anything to him. Every single piece fit in well now; once the job was done, they were going to set me up.
I knew everything now, but why was I going ahead with it even now? Somehow, I didn’t really think about the why of it. It just seemed like something I had to do…like I’d been set in a rut and had to follow it out to the end.
I knew nothing else. I just felt that I had to go ahead with it. I will figure my angle out. Rampyari, my lucky charm was with me. Some angle that would pull them into the job, and hold them into it.
They had planned on cashing in fast and easy: of reaping the rewards of my hard work, and it wasn’t going to be that way. Once you’re in the game with Raja, he chooses when the game ends. Shuru tum karoge, khatam Tiwari karega…har baari. They’d have to play it right to the end.
I will have to find an angle. My angle to the plan.
That place was the finest in the city; just about the fanciest I’d ever seen anywhere. It looked like a huge club with pools and fountains in front and long, wide walks leading up to them. Small entertainment centres sat far back from the street under the so-called secure locations of Gurgaon with hundreds of security guards. But it was all an eyewash. I figured that the correct car and the confidence would breach this security in seconds.
God have mercy on these kids born with a silver spoon. Main gareeb he thik tha.
The daycare had special play areas with entertainment centres, playgrounds and pools for the kids. The playground was just across the street ahead of me. It covered a rectangular block, and it had about everything you could name in the way of play equipment. Practically, all the kids that came here, of course, had as much or more at home. But this private park gave them something they didn’t have at home, something that ordinary kids like me took for granted – a chance to play with other children.
The grounds were enclosed by walls, with a gate on each side. Across one end was a clubhouse. I suppose that’s what you’d call it. Parents would have used it to throw theme parties for their kid’s birthday or something like that, I presume. Ameeron ke chochle. Rich people had so many ways to burn money, and so much money to burn.
I took off my sunglasses and wiped them. I looked at the car stereo clock. It was five minutes past three. If he kept to his usual schedule, the real chauffeur would be showing up between three-thirty and four. So I had to be moving, if at all I was going to move.
I need an angle. My angle to it.
I put the glasses on again and looked back at the playground. I looked just in time to see a kid, a little boy, give a girl a shove. She sat down hard on her bottom, squalling like she’d been killed. The matron shook her finger at the boy and squatted down in front of the little girl. She dusted her off and stroked her before putting her on her feet again. She straightened up and looked around for the boy. Then she sort of shrugged, and went back to the game. She had some thirty kids to look after, so she couldn’t devote her time to one of them only.
But I could. Any guy who wanted to pick one off would. So I knew where the little boy was.
He’d gone off to the clubhouse, and sneaked out of the daycare. He wasn’t the kid I wanted, but may
be he was the angle I was looking for. From the way he went about it, you could tell he’d done it plenty of times before.
I revved the car into ignition, watching the kid as he reached out. He was a bit taller and older than the Oberoi boy.
My angle!
He dug a cigarette out from the pocket of his little pants and tapped it against his wrist a few times. He dug a lighter out of the other pocket and lit it. He leaned against the building, one foot crossed over the other, puffing away like a little old man. I put the car into gear and drove past the playground to stop at the rear of the clubhouse.
I mumbled something: a hello or how are you or something like that. Or maybe I didn’t either. Because I was pretty mixed up to begin with, and the way he talked and acted, it didn’t do anything to straighten me out.
He also mistook me for the real chauffer, I guess. He hesitated with his hand on the fender. Then he nodded at me through the windshield, went to the door, and climbed in.
“How about a little ride? I want to talk to you about Aryaman.”
“I will come with you only if you buy me a pack of cigarettes,” he bargained.
I nodded. I got the car started again, this time with a jerk. He was doing exactly what I wanted him to do. How do I take it from here?
“Don’t remember me, do you?” He leaned back, propping his feet up on the dashboard. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t. I’ve been in boarding school in Dehradun for six months. I am here for a few days with Dad; I have to go back tonight. But I have seen you come here many times in this black car.”
I shook my head, looking into the rear view mirror. I saw them now, Silky and Thakur. Silky was driving Thakur’s car and they were coming up fast.
I drove across an ultramodern tricolored building that looked more like the prison of the future than a college building. I swung into the side of the building and screeched to a halt. Their car shot past us, skidded to a stop, and Thakur jumped out. He started running towards us, his hand inside his coat, probably holding a gun. Then, he got a good look at the boy, and his mouth dropped open. And he stopped as suddenly as the car had.
I got out, sauntered up to him, deliberately looking puzzled. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “What are you two doing here? I thought Silky wasn’t well?”
“I…we…” He shook his head helplessly, his eyes wavering. He’d planned on taking away the kid at gun point and setting me up for the crime. Now he didn’t know what the hell to do. Mujhe fasane chala tha gandu, jaanta nahin main uska baap hoon. “That b-boy,” he said, at last. “Damn it all, you got the wrong boy!”
“Huh!” I let out a grunt. “But he looks….”
“Well, damn it, he’s not! A blind man could see he’s not, you fool.”
“I told you. I told you I couldn’t see well with these glasses. But there’s no use in getting sore. I’ll just take him back and get the right one.”
“Just like that, huh? And what about this kid?”
“He won’t say anything. I’ll make him think it’s some kind of game.”
“Yeah, but…” Thakur hesitated. “But it’s so damned late! You’re practically going to run into the other chauffer.”
“I can make it,” I explained, “and I’m sure the kid won’t talk. He’ll be scared as hell; he slipped off from the playground to smoke, and he’ll be…”
“Okay, alright!” He made up his mind suddenly, “But get moving, will you? Just get back into it right now, and I’ll see you at the house.”
Thakur ran back to his car, pushing Silky back into the driving seat just as she was going to get out. They drove off with him at the wheel, and I went back to the Mercedes.
Just as I entered the car, the loud music from the stereo stumped my ears below the half-dyed hair. I muted it and pulled the car around in a fast U-turn. “Now, about this little ride of ours… I’ll appreciate if you don’t say anything about it.” I handed him my pack of cigarettes and smiled at him.
“I won’t,” he promised, “and don’t you say anything either. Just give me a minute to duck into the clubhouse. Then you can pick Aryaman.” He hadn’t heard Thakur, benefits of a fancy car with a good music system.
I turned at the corner of the playground and parked at the side of the clubhouse. He opened the door reluctantly, but didn’t get out immediately. He sat, hesitating, half-in and half-out. What if he had actually heard Thakur’s plan and made some sense of it? Then, he turned slowly around and stared thoughtfully into my face.
He slid out of the car, looked back in for a second and disappeared.
I moved the car inside the gate with confidence and the guards saluted the Mercedes. That is all they did. It was three-thirty, and the real chauffeur could arrive anytime. But I had to go through with this job calmly, without any hurry. It was now or never.
The moment the Mercedes reached the daycare park, the matron saw the car and looked at me. “You’re early today, aren’t you?”
I didn’t say anything; just touched my fingers to my cap. She gave her head a little toss, and looked around at the children. “Aryaman, Aryaman Oberoi,” she called. “Oh, here you are! Run, your chauffeur is here.”
He moved out of the group, the pale, weak-looking kid. He looked at me uncertainly, and then he looked at her.
I stepped out and opened the gate for him and literally shoved him into the car. The boy whimpered a little when I grabbed him. He must have noticed that I was not the man he drove with every day. I was afraid he might gather the nerve to scream, so I taped his mouth and hands quickly, on the pretext of settling him inside the car with his bag, ensuring no one saw me.
I quickly slipped into the front seat. “Driver!” It was the matron. I froze. Oh fuck! What did she see?
I paused, looked at her, but kept the engine running. She was almost twenty feet away.
“Aryaman has had a pretty tiring day. Please tell his mother that he should stay home and rest tomorrow.”
I waved my hand. My glasses were steaming over. I drove out of the gates and the guards saluted me again through the black tinted glasses.
I accelerated on the road and looked into the rear mirror before making the turn towards Silky’s place. A black Mercedes pulled in at the gate, and a chauffeur hopped out. The man I had been a few moments ago.
Thakur and Silky were at the main door. Just standing there, white-faced and kind of dazed-looking, almost motionless. Inside the house, I could hear the television shrieking the news of the kidnaping. So it was out now. I took my time walking up to the television and could sense them walking right in after me.
Like all media reports these days, it was a confused account. The facts of the kidnaping were more or less there, but the story was all garbled. They had no description of me, nothing beside the fact that I was wearing a driver’s uniform and a black Mercedes with the same number as that of the Oberois. The same video clipping of the Mercedes entering and leaving the gate was being shown repeatedly.
I laughed at the guards saluting me twice for the job I did. Wah Tiwari, kya baazi tuney maari!
Both the matron and the chauffeur were being questioned. All available police had been ordered to the area. The entire neighbourhood had been blocked off, a search of every apartment in the vicinity was underway, and all servants – particularly uniformed chauffeurs of these rich families – were being intensively grilled. The news of the wrong kid being picked up and then surrounded by a man and a woman midway was also released. Bingo! I had got them into the job, both Silky and Thakur.
The boy’s parents were worried. The minister had demanded an all-out action; the police commissioner promised that no stone would be left unturned.
They say that in all the VIP cases. Those fools!
The news had just broken, but everyone was ready with a statement. They were so ready with their predictions, promises and demands, you might have thought they’d been expecting something like this.
I went back to the car, and lifted a sleeping Aryaman o
ut gently. He was sound asleep, exhausted with the excitement and strain. I was practically knocked out myself, but naturally, everything had hit him a bit harder.
I walked up the stairs and Silky and Thakur moved out of the doorway. I’d have knocked them out of it if they hadn’t moved. I brushed past them, carried the boy into the spare bedroom, and laid him down on the bed. I took off his shoes, partly unbuttoned his shirt and removed the tapes. Then, I went back into the living room, pulling the door gently shut behind me.
Silky and Thakur had gained some footing by now, perhaps taking my silence as my lack of common sense. Not again. How could they be so dumb! They were relaxed enough, at least, to wobble back into the living room and fix themselves a drink each. I got myself one and sat down. Silky looked at me out of the corner of her eye, and then turned to look at me, her lips trembling as she tried to smile. I stared back at her, expressionless. She dropped her eyes and the smile vanished.
I turned to Thakur and went through the same drill with him: staring through him, forcing the smile back into his face, making him look away. Both of them sat looking at the floor, almost holding their breaths, sort of poised on the edge of their chairs. I would have loved to see them fall of their chairs if I shouted a ‘BOO!’ Just the way I wanted them to feel.
I leaned back and sipped my drink, slowly, watching the news channel play the same video over and over again. They had nothing more than that, yet. I got up for another drink.
“Well, what’s the matter? I didn’t surprise you, did I?” I broke the eerie silence, even though the news channel had been blaring some repetitive shit all through.
Silky shot her head up. Her breath went out in a deep, quivery sigh. “Surprise us!” she said agitated. “Surprise us! Oh, Tiwari, how…why in the world did you do that?”