Mumbaistan

by Piyush Jha

  Samir didn't think twice. His feet were hurting from the scorching sun and the effort of his walk. He slid into the passenger seat.

  Samir was uncertain how to open a conversation with the man behind the wheel.

  'Where are you going?' asked the man.

  Samir realized that he didn't really have an answer to the question. He blurted out the only reply he could muster up, 'I'm going to my wife.'

  'Where is your wife?'

  'I don't know.'

  'So you don't know where you are going?'

  'Yes,' Samir gave in. 'She must be out there somewhere...'

  The young man gave him a long look. Samir squirmed in his seat, a little uncomfortable with the direct gaze upon him. He wondered why the man was taking such a keen interest in him. The man continued to look into his eyes, as if searching for something lost in there.

  For a while, they drove in silence. Samir's gaze wandered out of the moving SUV, and for the first time, he noticed that they had veered off the highway into a small, bush-lined byroad. The road seemed to be going up a hill, and sure enough, after a few hundred yards, he saw a sign that said 'Parsik Hill Road'. But then again, the SUV swerved off this road into what seemed like a nature trail. Soon, all signs of civilization disappeared and they were on a narrow path that led into a densely forested area. Samir turned to look at the young man, who was concentrating on the track ahead. Samir leaned back against the seat and wondered where they were headed.

  Soon, the vegetation on the sides of the track became dense and dark, and the track opened into a small clearing. All of a sudden, the man braked and the SUV jerked to a halt. Without a word, he got out of the vehicle. Samir kept sitting, wondering what would happen next, till he noticed that the man was at his door. The man then opened the door and yanked Samir out of the SUV, pulling him by the collar. Samir fell on the muddy ground. Before he could react, he was dragged by the man to a clearing. The man then pointed a pistol at the shocked Samir and said, 'My name is Raghu Nadar, and I am the son of Selvaraj.'

  An uncomprehending Samir stared at Raghu's grim face.

  'Selvaraj...N. Selvaraj...you don't remember him?' Raghu's voice was raised now. Samir shook his head, his face was blank. Raghu rested the nose of the pistol on Samir's temple and tightened his grip on the weapon. Samir shivered.

  'Tell me what happened that night?' Raghu snarled.

  Samir's confusion increased. 'Which night?' he timidly asked. Raghu seemed infuriated at the question. He walked a few steps away and let out a scream of frustration. Samir started to scramble to his feet.

  'Stay down!' Raghu barked.

  Samir obeyed. Raghu again searched Samir's face. But Samir simply stared back with empty eyes.

  'You really don't remember anything, do you?' said Raghu.

  'I remember my name, and my wife's name and face. Today, 15 June, is her birthday. We live in a cottage somewhere between some tall buildings. I have a Mercedes 500E. That's all,' Samir said robotically.

  Raghu walked a little distance away from Samir. This time, Samir made no attempt to get up.

  Raghu stared at the trees in front of him. He was lost in thought over what Madhukar and the CMO had told him. So it is true, he thought. Samir, obviously, doesn't remember much.

  But Raghu did take heart at the fact that Samir remembered a few details. He wondered if more memories would come back to him. He debated whether to show the old newspaper cutting to Samir, but then decided against it. He once again mulled over Madhukar and the CMO's conversation with him. Samir wouldn't have known what the newspapers had said. And even if he was shown the newspaper report, he might just play back what was written in the report as his memory, without attempting to remember what had actually transpired that day. But Raghu wanted the whole undiluted truth. And fast.

  He pulled out his mobile and called a number as he walked a short distance away from Samir. 'I need a favour,' he spoke to the person on the other end in hushed tones.

  Samir glanced in Raghu's direction. Raghu's voice drifted towards him in snatches; it looked like he was speaking to someone. Samir's eyes swiftly scanned his surroundings. He felt confused. He couldn't see anyone around, so who was Raghu talking to? It was clear that Raghu was disturbed by Samir's lack of memory. But who was he? Why did he have a gun? Was he some sort of criminal, a gangster? Samir wondered whether he himself had been involved in some sort of criminal activity in the past. He shivered at the thought.

  Raghu finished his conversation and walked back towards Samir. The pistol was now tucked away in his pocket. 'C'mon, Uncle Sam. We have to go,' he said.

  Samir felt uneasy all of a sudden; thoughts swirled in his head. 'That name...' he muttered under his breath. He tried reaching into the recesses of his mind, but shook his head when he drew a blank. Raghu shrugged and led Samir silently back to the SUV. He made Samir sit on the passenger's seat and then began the journey back down the dirt track.

  ◉

  The sun started to beat down on Samir as he walked along a long empty stretch of Palm Beach Road, Navi Mumbai. He wondered where and what was in store for him ahead.

  He had been dropped off along the six-lane road by a grim-faced Raghu. While Raghu had ignored him throughout their return journey downhill, Samir had observed Raghu with unabashed fascination as he spent the better part of the ride speaking on a mini-cordless instrument through a small device attached to his ear.

  Samir felt sheepish about his naivety. He now understood the secret of Raghu's conversation with himself in the woods. He had been amazed at the device and was itching to try it himself, but feared the wrath of the grim man with a gun. Raghu had been intently trying to explain to someone that he had not changed his mind and was a man of his word. Through the discussion, Samir had gathered that Raghu was a political figure of some importance, and he was supposed to be meeting a big leader that day for a life-altering event. The people he was speaking to on the 'phone' wanted him to drop everything and join them, wherever they were. But Raghu had insisted he was very busy 'with some personal matter' and that he would be at the meeting as soon as he was done.

  They had driven down Parsik Hill Road and had turned on to Palm Beach Road. Samir had been fascinated by the surroundings as they had driven past giant buildings and shiny colossal structures with huge multi-coloured signboards attached to them.

  As the vehicular and human population thinned, Samir had turned his attention to the mangroves that lined the road on the other side.

  Suddenly, Raghu had braked to a halt on a deserted patch of the road and told Samir to get off. A confused Samir had obeyed without argument. As he had stood by the SUV waiting for further instructions, the door had closed and Raghu had driven off, kicking up a small storm of dust, still engrossed in his chat on the amazing telephonic device.

  For a while, Samir had stood rooted to the spot, wondering whether Raghu would be back, but after a while, he had given up hope and started walking in the direction that Raghu's vehicle had gone.

  Samir's throat was dry. He looked around for something to quench his thirst with. Unfortunately, there seemed to be nothing. He stopped at one of the cement benches on the pavement and caught his breath. He wondered whether he would find his way to a shop and whether the shopkeeper would be kind enough to give him some water.

  He was jolted out of his thoughts when a sleek silver-grey van drew up beside him. The door opened; there were two men sitting at the back. One of them, the stouter of the two, extended a plastic water bottle towards him. 'You look thirsty, bhai. Have some.'

  Without any hesitation, Samir grabbed the bottle and drank in large gulps. He finished over two-thirds of the bottle before he stopped to catch his breath. The man who had given him water smiled. 'You seem to be low on energy, would you like some biscuits?'

  Samir nodded without thinking. The man rummaged through his bag. The other man patted the space next to his seat. 'Please come and sit here. It's more comfortable.' Samir got into the van and sat
down. The cushioned seat was, indeed, comfortable. The first man gave him some biscuits. 'Where are you going, bhaisaab?' he asked.

  Samir was about to tell him everything, but checked himself. He stuffed some biscuits in his mouth to avoid further conversation. People were acting in strange ways around him! The man genially offered, 'We are going up to Chembur, we can drop you there.' Samir nodded. The man shut the door, and the van's driver started the engine. As they drove down the road, the two men started chatting with each other, leaving Samir in peace as he devoured the rest of the biscuits.

  Speeding down Palm Beach Road, they didn't notice the white SUV parked behind a Road Building Authority shed.

  In the SUV, Raghu Nadar dialled a number and read out the number of the silver grey van to the person at the other end.

  ◉

  The van cruised along Palm Beach Road, unaware of a black Scorpio creeping up from behind. Before the van driver could react, the Scorpio had sped forward and overtaken him. The Scorpio came to an abrupt halt, bang in the middle of the deserted stretch of road, blocking the van's path. Caught off-guard, the van driver braked hard, transferring almost all his weight on to the small metallic brake lever at his feet. The van skidded almost 360 degrees before finally coming to a stop, facing the Scorpio. The passengers in the van were unharmed, save for their thudding heartbeats.

  As if on cue, all four doors of the Scorpio swung open together. Approximately seven to eight men sprang out from within, and in a flash, surrounded the van. All the men had some sort of weapon in their hands, ranging from AK-47s to automatic pistols to revolvers. The men grabbed every door handle of the van and tried to force the doors open. When they discovered that the doors were locked they began shouting, 'Kholo!' Some of them broke into expletives, 'Behenchod!' 'Maadarchod!'

  Samir Khanna had been a mute spectator to this turn of events. His heartbeat had somewhat stabilized, but he was still in a state of shock. The two men sitting with him in the van were cowering. All the sophisticated sheen had disappeared from their manner, replaced by a naked fear for their lives.

  One of the men outside shouted, 'If you don't open the door, we will shoot through the windows'

  Inside the van, the driver, who had been crouching under his seat, slowly tried to open his door. The fat man who had offered Samir the water and biscuits finally made a move from his frozen spot. He grabbed the driver's hair and pulled him, with surprising strength, on to the backseat. Seeing this, the other man punched the driver in the face. The driver fell unconscious.

  'We were just on our way to make some deliveries...' said the fat man.

  'We know. Don't worry, come out, there will be no encounter,' shouted the man outside.

  The two men exchanged looks. Samir swallowed hard as he listened to the bizarre discussion that followed.

  'What is the guarantee that you will not kill us?' said the fat man.

  'Look, if we wanted to kill you, we would have shot through the glass, we just want the maal,' said the man outside in a softer voice.

  The fat man was not ready to give up yet. He lifted the backseat and extracted a small automatic machine-gun from the cavity beneath. Without any warning, he placed the muzzle against a stunned Samir's temple. 'I have a hostage with me. If you don't let us go, I will kill him,' he snarled.

  The armed men outside peered through the van's tinted windows, to make sure whether the fat man was telling the truth. Seeing Samir being held at gunpoint inside, they lowered their weapons. Emboldened, the fat man shouted,' Allow us to drive away, or I will shoot this man. I will count up to three. One... Two...'

  A shot rang out. Samir lost consciousness.

  ◉

  A roaring fire was engulfing the signboard that proclaimed, 'Fortune Leather Factory'. The men surrounding the signboard were whooping with rabid joy, behaving as if they had brought a mighty devil to his knees. The flaming kerosene-soaked bamboo-and-cloth torches that they held in their hands now demanded more victims. Sensing each other's murderous thoughts, the men turned as one and entered the portals of the factory, seeking their next prey.

  Samir ran into the factory behind the mob, shouting, screaming, begging for mercy. As he entered the main door, he heard screams louder than his, coming from deep within the workshop section. These screams were not of the mob, but of a scared group of men huddled together. Men fearing for their lives. Men staring at the face of death.

  Samir dashed in the direction of the screams but tripped and stumbled. Something had obstructed his path and he landed with a thud on the factory floor. The wind was knocked out of him. His mind swam through a murky blackness that threatened to envelop him. He lay there on the ground, trying to focus on a torchlight floating towards him. As he tried to gather his wits, something hit him on the back of his head, and the room swayed before him. But before he lost total consciousness, he felt a mildly perfumed cloth being shoved into his mouth. 'Handkerchief' was the last word that his semi-conscious mind threw up from within the black haze that now totally engulfed him.

  ◉

  A seagull soared in the air, making its way across the blue cloudless sky. Samir was lying flat on his back, staring at the open sky above, slowly regaining his senses. He rolled on his side and saw that he was lying on soft ground, surrounded by dense green mangroves. With some effort, he heaved himself off the ground and looked around. He found himself in a man-made clearing inside a mangrove swamp. The ground beneath him had been filled with mud to give it a semi-hardened texture. As he turned his head to one side of the clearing, he saw the men who had attacked the van standing at a distance around a heap on the ground. With a shock, Samir realized that they were staring at the bullet-ridden dead bodies of the two men in the van. An involuntary cry escaped his lips. The men standing around the dead bodies looked in his direction. A swarthy, heavyset man in a fawn shirt and black trousers walked up to Samir, who tried to keep his initial shock at bay by falling silent. The man's face was impassive, but his voice had a hint of concern. 'You are lucky that I am a sharpshooter, otherwise, he would have killed you.'

  Samir reacted in the only manner that a confused man would. 'Who are you? What is happening? Why did you kill those people...?'

  The man put up his hand, silencing Samir. 'We are policemen. The two men you were with are—were—wanted hardcore killers and drug smugglers. We got a tip-off about their movements and trailed their van. Luckily, we were also told that they had picked you up from Palm Beach Road.'

  'What nonsense! Drug smugglers? Those two nice men?' Samir scoffed, shaking his head.

  The self-proclaimed policeman standing in front of Samir gave a small smile, while the others tittered from a distance. 'Both of them had many pending murder cases against them.'

  Samir now stood up, shaking. 'But if they were the men that you say they were, why would they offer me a lift?'

  The policeman shrugged his shoulders, 'I don't know why, my informer just told me that he spotted them when they opened their van door and asked you to sit inside.'

  The policeman now placed his hand on Samir's shoulder and pointed towards a small path that led out of the clearing. He gestured to Samir to follow him as he walked up the path. After casting a last glance towards the dead men, Samir followed the policeman. He walked about a few hundred steps, and to his surprise, found himself back on Palm Beach Road. The policeman now led him to the same van parked by the side of the road. Samir noticed a single bullet-hole in the window where he had sat.

  'I shot the man who had his pistol on you,' the policeman said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

  'And how did you kill the other man?' Samir wondered aloud.

  The policeman shot him a sharp look. 'The other man jumped out and tried to escape into the mangroves. While running, he shot at us. My men returned fire in self-defence. They are obviously better shooters than him...otherwise...'

  'You shot him in cold blood, didn't you?' Samir cut him short.

  The policeman's voice rose a decibel.
'What's your problem, bhai? I saved your life.'

  'By taking the law into your hands,' Samir shot back.

  The policeman's face darkened in anger. 'Don't teach me about law and order. Look...' He slid open the van's side door and showed Samir the blood-soaked interiors. He tugged at one of the seats, raising the seat to reveal packets of white, powdery substance neatly arranged in the cavity below. 'Mr Law-abiding Citizen, there is enough cocaine here to last Mumbai's drug users for months'

  Samir fell silent. The policeman let the seat drop into place. 'What do you do to criminals like these? Catch them and put them in jail? But they'll be out in no time. Spreading their poison on the streets again.' Samir just shook his head, not knowing what to say.

  'What do you want to do now? Can we drop you somewhere?' The policeman sounded tired.

  Samir shook his head. 'You are a killer, even though you claim to be a policeman. I can't even dream of going anywhere with you.'

  'Behenchod, you are lucky that Raghu Nadar was the one who called, otherwise...' the policeman hissed.

  Samir was stunned. 'Raghu... Did you say Raghu Nadar?'

  The policeman realized that he had said more than he should have. He pointed up the path. 'Just keep walking away from here, and don't talk about this to anyone. Go now.' The policeman walked back into the mangroves. Samir stood looking at his receding back for a few minutes before venturing on to Palm Beach Road once again.

  ◉

  'Thank you, Inspector. I owe you one,' said Raghu into the phone.

  'He seems to be a man of principles,' said the inspector.

  Raghu's face tightened. 'Unfortunately, he doesn't realize that the age of principles is long gone. Thank you, once again.' He cut the call and steered his SUV back on to Palm Beach Road.

  Samir had been walking for about fifteen minutes and sweat had begun to stream down his forehead when Raghu's white SUV drove up alongside him. 'Where are you headed to now, Mr Khanna?' Raghu smiled from the driver's seat.