by Piyush Jha
Rabia's eyes were glazed. Tanvir fell on his knees next to her, took her in his arms and hugged her. Her wound was bleeding copious amounts of blood on to the ground. Tanvir cried out, 'Please don't die. I love you. Don't leave me, please!'
Rabia fainted. Tanvir hugged her tighter. Till he became aware that under her burqa she was strapped with bombs. The ACP shouted out to him, 'Tanvir, move away now. There must be a timer backup to blow her up.' Tanvir, instead, ripped apart Rabia's burqa and saw the mass of wires and bombs strapped on her. He looked for a way to remove the contraption. Luck was on his side, as he found that the bomb makers had found the easiest and fastest way to strap bombs without their telltale bumps showing outside the clothes—a corset. The whole contraption was sewn onto a wraparound corset, fastened only by a single Velcro strip on her right side. Tanvir tore at the Velcro strip and it started to peel off. As the last of the Velcro strip unfastened, the corset came loose. There was another attachment, a metal brace clipped onto her arm. Tanvir broke this brace with one hard twist. Without hesitation, Tanvir rose with the corset in his hands and flung it away towards the godown. He then grabbed Rabia and lifting her bodily, dragged her across the gap in the wire fencing into the cemetery grounds. He rolled along with Rabia, moving on the ground as fast as he could in the opposite direction. As he reached closer to the ATS men, a couple of them stepped forward to help him. The ACP, meanwhile, asked his sharpshooters to shoot at the upper windows. They let loose a volley of gunshots that shattered all the window glass and poured bullets into the godown. After a while, the ACP raised his hand as he realized there was no return fire. He shook his head in anger and slammed his fist into a tree. He then rose and spoke into his walky-talky, 'Bomb squad. Please come forward to incident point.'
◉
A state-of-the-art sound system and a small voice-recorder were lying on a wooden table inside the empty godown. Two old chairs lay by the side, atop which two powerful loudspeakers had been positioned. The ACP surmised that the recording must have been done as soon as Rabia had entered. Then the hapless woman must have been strapped with the bombs and told to walk out as soon as the door was opened. She had been through a lot. It was a surprise that she hadn't fainted due to fear of her imminent death. The infrared laser trigger beam that he had seen through his binoculars was supposed to trigger off the bomb as soon as she stepped across the wire fence. The backup timer that he had expected was not there, but a carefully -thought out trigger had been placed under Rabia's hand. Her hand had been encased in a metal brace attached to the corset. The metal hand brace was designed to lock down her hand on the trigger, should she fall to a bullet. But somehow, the trigger had not gone off. Perhaps his bullet that had hit a nerve in her arm that had immobilized her hand movement, perhaps it was the way she had fallen, or perhaps Tanvir had taken off the jacket before her hand could automatically lock down on the button. These thoughts bounced around the ACP's head as he watched the swarm of policemen and forensics department officials working on the godown.
Aalamzeb and the terrorists were long gone. In fact, they must have left a mere ten minutes after Rabia entered, after quickly carrying out the recording, strapping and positioning, thought the ACP, as he watched his men wade through the large indoor nullah that functioned as the escape route. Through what looked like an abandoned effluent pipe, the nullah wound out towards the south emptying into to a small rivulet that ran through the saltpans leading to the Sewree creek. A small fishing boat could take three, maybe four, crouched men through the rivulet without being detected by a casual observer. The rivulet led into the mangroves bordering the creek on the far eastern side of the saltpans. From there, anybody with the know-how could have trudged through the narrow walkway of the Sewree Mangrove Park, hopped into Sewree Fort and from there, melted into the night.
The ACP rubbed his chin as he was just coming to realize the degree of organization that the Pakistani terrorists had undertaken while visiting Mumbai. They were forming a bad habit of staying one step ahead of him, and he didn't like that at all.
◉
Usually, at nights, the silence in Dr Chitrekar's Lie-in Clinic assumed almost eerie proportions. Dim lights shone only in the few wards on the ground floor that were used by the ward boys and chowkidars as their quarters. The rest of the ramshackle building would be shrouded in an uncomfortable black veil.
But tonight, a bright light shone on the second floor. This housed the room that Rabia was being treated in. She had been wheeled into the room and put on a makeshift operating table in front of a reluctant surgeon, who had been pulled out of his mistress's cosy bed. Fearing the disclosure of his peccadillo to all and sundry, he had agreed to operate on Rabia's bullet wound. Rabia had lost a lot of blood, but luckily, her blood type was the universal recipient AB+, and sufficient bottles could be obtained from the government-run JJ Hospital through semi-official channels. The bullet had passed though the thick fabric of the corset and lodged in the fleshiest part of the right deltoid. The cheating surgeon was adept at his work, and dislodged the bullet with a few quick strokes of his scalpel. He removed the bullet with his forceps and shivered at the sight as he dropped it in the garbage. After that, he went through the standard procedures of swabbing, stitching and bandaging. His work done, he smiled in relief at the ward boy assisting him, and scampered out of the ward. On the way out he bumped into Tanvir and said, 'Your wife will be all right. In about an hour or so she'll be up. The wound will heal soon. Just make sure she gets proper rest and care.' Before a relieved Tanvir could thank him, he had exited the premises, fearing that his good work might be required for others too.
Tanvir tiptoed into the wardroom to spy on the sleeping Rabia. She had a hint of a smile on her peaceful face. She did not look at all like someone who had been through hell and back. Tanvir drew up a chair and sat next to her. All of a sudden, the day's proceedings hit his body with full force. A wave of fatigue gripped him. In a flash, Tanvir had fallen asleep, snoring softly next to the slowly recovering Rabia.
◉
Tanvir opened his eyes a crack. Rabia was staring at him with a blank look. He opened his eyes further. Rabia didn't shift her gaze. Tanvir sprang towards her. Her eyes flickered an acknowledgement as he went closer, but he stopped short as he saw a flash of anger in them. He didn't know whether to be happy at her having regained consciousness or to be sad at the hardness of her expression.
'My life is over.' She spat out the words. The anger in her voice was palpable.
Tanvir's voice was soft. 'Don't say that, Rabia. Allah granted you life. You are going to be fine.'
Rabia looked away at the dust-caked window, as if trying to spot any sign of normal life outside on the street. Tanvir continued, 'You tried your best, but Aalamzeb escaped. Now our work is over. We can go away. As far away as you want.'
Rabia screamed, 'You don't understand. Get away from me before you cause more harm. I don't want you in my life anymore.'
Tanvir reeled in shock. He tried to speak, but couldn't find any words.. He stood at the foot of Rabia's bed, shifting from one foot to another, unsure of what to do next.
ACP Hani's entry broke the pall of awkward silence that had fallen over the room. Unmindful of the swirling tension, the ACP ignored Tanvir's presence and strode towards Rabia's bed. 'I'm sorry that I shot you.' The accompanying nonchalant shrug indicated that he wasn't really sorry. 'It was something I had to do to save the others...and in the process, save you.'
Rabia didn't speak, but her eyes conveyed that she didn't really care for what the ACP was saying. The ACP, too, realized that he was not making much headway, so in his usual manner he abruptly changed tack. 'What happened to the camera?'
The memory of the chip-camera encased in the nazar bead came flooding back to Rabia's mind. But regarding its present location, her mind drew a blank.
Tanvir enquired, 'What camera?'
'The one we put around her neck to record the goings on in the godown. We have been looking
for it all over, but it has disappeared.' said the ACP, his terse tone revealing that he was on edge.
Rabia replied, 'I don't remember. Aalamzeb must have found it when he was strapping the bombs on me. I was in a daze then.'
The ACP quizzed, 'How many men were there with Aalamzeb?'
Rabia gave a muddled answer, 'Two...or...three... Their faces were covered... It's hard to remember...'
Without hesitation, the ACP reached out and pressed hard on her bandaged wound. 'Try to remember clearly!' he said in a flat tone.
Rabia screamed. Tanvir sprang at the ACP, but Hani had anticipated his move. He pulled out his automatic pistol and asked Tanvir to stand back.
'I have failed!' ACP Hani shouted at Tanvir. 'Aalamzeb and his cronies are free to carry out their deadly mission.'
Rabia continued to cry in pain. Tanvir stood back with a murderous expression on his face. The ACP continued his tirade, 'Now Rabia is my only source to get any information on Aalamzeb. I will get it out of her, using force if I have to.'
Tanvir looked at the ACP with a disgusted expression. 'ACP saab, I had respect for you, but now you seem as crazy as the terrorists'
The ACP didn't say anything because by now, Rabia had lapsed into unconsciousness.
Tanvir shook his head in disappointment. 'You and I have destroyed this woman's life.'
The ACP turned away from Tanvir as he holstered his gun. 'Don't stand around giving philosophical lectures, Mr Gangster. If you really want to save what is left of Rabia's life, you better help me find Aalamzeb and the other Pakistanis'
Tanvir strode out of the room. From the corridor outside, his voice floated back towards the ACP, 'I'll be back soon.'
◉
Tanvir crept between a line of European gravestones in a remote corner of the Sewree Christian Cemetery, a torch in hand. He had been tramping about Excel Godown, where the search was on for the nazar bead camera, for the past hour. It was now just about midnight and the ATS men were losing their patience. They had shooed Tanvir away after initially allowing him to be a part of the search.
Like a drowning man clutching at straws, Tanvir was still searching the cemetery, in the faint hope that he might find the camera there. A slight movement behind a gravestone caught his eye. A thin figure detached itself from the shadows and ran in the opposite direction. Without thinking, Tanvir leapt after him. He ran behind the figure, cursing and swearing as his still-booted feet slipped on loose masonry. The figure seemed to know its way around and weaved its way expertly through the unkempt undergrowth between the graves.
The cemetery land opened up into a flat patch with a bald, grassless surface. The figure in front of Tanvir suddenly emitted a sharp cry and fell flat on the ground. Tanvir pounced headlong on to the writhing figure. He shone his torch into the face of his captive, only to realize that he was a young boy, no more than thirteen or fourteen years old.
'Ow!' cried the boy, clutching his ankle that seemed to have twisted.
'Who are you? Why are you here?' shouted Tanvir.
The boy now burst into tears. Tanvir thought that it was because of the pain, but then realized that he was trembling with fear. 'Please, bhai. Don't tell anyone about me. My father will lose his job. He'll be thrown in jail!' he pleaded.
Tanvir helped the boy up. 'Who is your father?' The boy was silent. Tanvir now repeated the question, this time with a threat attached, 'The police will beat it out of you in five minutes. Come on, tell me who your father is?'
The boy blubbered, 'My father is the sentry employed at the godown. Tonight, he came home shaken. The police let him go only after he promised not to tell anyone else what happened here, but he told my mother. I overheard him and I was very curious. I couldn't stop myself. I know this place well. Sometimes, my little brother and I come and play here when my father is on duty. I told them at home that I was going to study at my friend's house and I came here to see what was happening.'
Tanvir nodded in understanding. He then bent down and examined the boy's foot. It was swelling at the ankle. 'Come on, let me take you home'. The boy shivered, perhaps fearing the beating his father would give him. 'Look, you need to put some cold water on that. Don't worry, I'll tell him I saw you fall into a pothole on the road.' The boy smiled at him in gratitude.
'Where do you live?' asked Tanvir.
'We live in the Sewree Koliwada.' Tanvir gave the boy a supporting shoulder and helped him hobble through a gap in the fencing on to a small mud path that led away from the cemetery
◉
Ganpat Suryavanshi was full of gratitude. Tanvir had wanted to leave right after depositing Ganpat's son home, but the sentry and his wife would have none of it. He had dragged the reluctant Tanvir inside and plied him with a hot glass of chai and some khari biscuits. Tanvir had initially relented because Ganpat had said that the gods would be angry if they let a good Samaritan go away without offering him anything, but now he was really thankful, as the first bite of sustenance was doing its bit in rejuvenating his fatigued faculties. He realized that he had not eaten anything since the morning. Without warning, the shock of the events of the day again reared its head inside him. But this time, Tanvir fought it. Ganpat Suryavanshi had been looking at him, curious, for the past few minutes and now, there was a flash of recognition in his eyes. 'You!' he said. 'You are the man who saved the woman in the burqa.'
Tanvir nodded with his mouth full.
Ganpat Suryavanshi seemed scared now. 'Please, why are you here? I have not done anything. I told everything to the police.'
Tanvir drank the last of the chai and wiped the khari crumbs away from his mouth, 'Don't worry, bhai, I know that you were not involved with them. I was just on my way back from there. The police and I were searching for something.' He got up to leave. Nodding at Ganpat's wife, he said, 'Thank you for your hospitality.'
A relieved Ganpat smiled. 'I'm just a small man. It was too much for me. But you are brave. I wish I could help. What are the police looking for now?'
Tanvir was in a hurry now and didn't really want to engage in a conversation. He walked towards the door, 'Oh, nothing really. Just a small marble-like glass bead. Anyway, take care of your boy. Salaam!' He exited before Ganpat could say anything further.
The night was cool outside. Tanvir started to wind his way out of the narrow maze-like gullies, in the direction from where he had brought the young boy home. As he came out from the Koliwada onto the main road, he heard a voice behind him. 'Wait!' He turned to see Ganpat Suryavanshi rushing down the winding path at a distance. A little irritated, Tanvir hung back, waiting for Ganpat to catch up with him. He wondered what the sentry wanted. Ganpat reached him, huffing and puffing away.
'What is it now?' Tanvir's impatience was now at its height as he waited for Ganpat to catch his breath. Ganpat opened his hand and extended it towards Tanvir. In his hand lay the evil eye pendant shining in the meagre streetlight. Tanvir's eyes lit up with excitement.
Ganpat panted, 'As I was leaving the godown tonight, I saw this lying at the corner of the gate post. I thought it was just a kid's marble, and so I picked it up and brought it home for my younger son to play with.'
Tanvir grabbed the bead and held it up. It didn't seem have a scratch on it. He guessed it must have come loose and rolled away towards the gate when he had torn open Rabia's burqa. Tanvir's happiness knew no bounds as he hugged the still-panting Ganpat.
◉
'Allied Computer Peripherals' proclaimed the signboard hung over the shut steel shutters of one of the wall-to-wall shops lined up on Lamington Road's wholesale electronics market.
The shop in question was owned and run by one Sarabjit Singh Sondhi, who was never likely to be lauded for his expertise as a homegrown Indian computer whiz, but was going to make a fortune through the cyber business, nevertheless. Through cyber crime, to be more specific.
Sarabjit and his small team of computer geniuses specialized in credit card fraud. He used his computer peripherals business to
launder the money that he nibbled away from the credit cards of high net worth citizens. Sarabjit was also an iconoclast in other ways, in that he was married to Zulekha Siddiqui, his college sweetheart from Khalsa College. Not many people knew that Sarabjit and Zulekha's inter-caste marriage had been made possible only because Sarabjit had, in school, been friends with one Tanvir Khanzada. An upcoming young gangster, Tanvir had made sure that no hothead from either community challenged the two lovers as they bound themselves to each other in holy matrimony.
Now, as Tanvir rapped his fist on the steel shutters of the shop, he heard a familiar voice from inside, shouting, 'Fuck off, you bevda!'
'Your father is a bevda, and you are a chutiya,' retorted Tanvir, smiling. In a flash, the shutter was half-raised. The smell of stale food laced with rum floated out to Tanvir's nostrils. A grinning bearded and turbaned head popped out from under the shutter 'Oho, Eid ka chand, come in...come in.' Tanvir slid under the shutter into the dimly-lit shop. Sarabjit's grin widened as he gave Tanvir a warm hug. 'Sorry yaar, there's a drunkard who lands up here every time we're working nights. He keeps knocking and knocking, asking for a sip of our booze.'
Tanvir looked around the small shop. At a small workstation, two other Sikhs were sitting, working away on their laptops. A mass of jumbled cables, hard disks, USBs and connecters lay around them, intermingled with paper plates of half-eaten chicken tangdis and plastic glasses of half-sipped rum and Cokes. 'Tanvir, you remember my two kid brothers' He turned to the engrossed Sikhs, 'Oye bhenchodon, pay your respects to Tanvir bhai.' The two Sikhs momentarily looked up at Tanvir and flashed him warm smiles, bobbing their heads in respect. 'Please forgive them, Tanvir, they are busy unloading some dollars from a fat Amriki tourist whose credit card we got today.'