Agniputr

by Vadhan

  ‘Why in the high court?’

  ‘Because, Oh Goddess of his world and seeker of the universe, my firm must’ve filed a petition of Habeas Corpus to produce me in court.’

  ‘What is that?’ Sheila asked.

  It was Raghu’s turn to be the teacher. He said, ‘A citizen’s fundamental rights safeguard him against unlawful detention by the State. Whenever a person is unlawfully restrained by the State machinery, their next best friend has a right to file a petition of Habeas Corpus before the High Court to produce the person in Court. If the Court determines that the detention was unlawful, it will set him free. A person’s personal liberty cannot be restricted except by due process of law.’

  ‘Babu, take a look at the news,’ Poti said. He was by the television and the channels were abuzz with the news of the exodus of villagers of West Godavari District, who were still pouring into Hyderabad.

  The news channel showed the High Court and Secretariat completely choked with people while strips of news scrolling at the bottom of the screen announced similar crowds in Javaaram and Eluru. Raghu’s name and that of Sheila and Poti were repeated over and over again. The camera showed tight lipped police officials rushing into the Secretariat and the High Court.

  ‘What now?’ Sheila enquired.

  ‘Well, I expect a grand rescue act...if Kiromal wants to save face. He can’t ignore a few thousand strong potential vote bank; especially since his party didn’t do well in coastal Andhra the last time.’

  The day wore on. For a while, nothing happened. Television anchors across a variety of regional channels stationed outside the High Court were covering the ever increasing crowd and even conducting flash interviews. Police sirens caught the attention of the threesome. They watched from their window as a retinue of senior police officers descended on the street below. They were forcing their way through the crowds into the police quarters.

  Presently a Mercedes Benz crawled to a halt and Kiromal alighted. He waved to the crowds magnanimously and said a few words before he walked through the path the police had cleared for him into the police quarters. He shone like a jewel in his white kurta and pants with a Nehru cap perched atop his salt and pepper hair. Photographers and reporters with cameramen followed him unabashedly as they made their way to the little apartment.

  The party of politicians and newsmen had to climb the stairs, the apartments had no elevators.

  There was a discreet knock from the advance party of senior police officials who had by then trudged up to the apartment. When Poti opened the door, they appeared breathless and worried.

  ‘Mr. Surya?’ they enquired.

  ‘Not me, that’s him in there,’ Poti said insolently.

  They trooped past the little man and surrounded Raghu and Sheila like bodyguards. Kiromal hopped up the steps from the mezzanine landing to the third floor and entered the apartment with a little flourish and a broad smile.

  ‘Aah! At last we meet,’ he said, shaking Poti’s hand vigorously. ‘I assumed you were much taller and younger.’

  ‘How is that?’ Poti asked him suspiciously.

  ‘Why everyone who knows Raghuram Surya told me.’

  ‘And what does that have to do with me?’

  Kiromal’s smile turned to puzzlement.

  ‘Err...sir, this is not Mr. Surya...’ his secretary whispered into his ear.

  ‘Oh! Never mind, never mind...nothing lost, I made another friend today,’ he said.

  ‘So you say,’ Poti grunted suspiciously.

  Ignoring Poti, Kiromal strode purposefully into the apartment. He came to a halt in the sitting room where the policemen had crowded around Raghu and his party. ‘Mr. Surya, it’s a pleasure,’ Kiromal said quietly and extended his hand. Raghu shook hands with him. He turned to Sheila, ‘There you are, I wondered where you’d gotten to. They said you were on leave. Everything fine now I hope, you’ve fully recovered.’

  ‘Yes sir, I have,’ Sheila acknowledged sheepishly.

  ‘Good, now about this unfortunate affair. I want to talk to Mr. Surya about it. May I call you Raghu?’

  ‘I am fine with how it is at present, Minister. What do you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Things,’ Govind said, his smile had not faltered an inch nor reached his eyes.

  ‘Like what?’ Raghu asked, his eyes burned into Govind’s.

  ‘I need a few moments with you Mr. Surya...alone.’

  ‘You had three days!’

  Govind started to smart under the steady Draculan gaze and the scalding replies.

  ‘Well, yes and I choose to talk to you now.’

  ‘The choice, as I see it Minister, is mine. What if I refuse?’

  ‘I advise you not to, there are more ways than one to make you talk to me.’

  ‘Like what? Let me guess...’

  ‘Are you still guessing Mr. Surya?’ Govind asked acidly.

  ‘A figure of speech.’

  ‘You are wasting my time, my time, Mr. Surya, I value it.’

  ‘Hell no, I am not. I didn’t ask you to come here and I don’t have the least inclination to be in the same room with you. So, with all due respect Minister, you are wasting your time, I agree, but more importantly, you are wasting mine.’

  Govind threw a look of pure hatred at Raghu.

  ‘My guruji,’ he said, ‘wants me to do things to you that I really don’t want to unless I can’t help it. We can settle this amicably and go our ways.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, does this guru of yours see dead people?’

  Poti smirked ghoulishly.

  Govind hissed, ‘I don’t know about him but I am seeing one right now.’

  The statement sent a shiver down Sheila’s spine and she automatically clutched Raghu’s hand.

  ‘Yeah, well, so am I, Kiromal,’ said Raghu. Count Dracula could not have been more menacing.

  Govind’s eyes flicked to Sheila and back. Critical information registered in his mind. His manner changed like a chameleon’s colour. He smiled like a doting father.

  ‘I see happy things are happening Mr. Surya. Don’t spoil it, live a happy life. I promise, I will not bother with you. All I need is your word that you will let me enter the hall. We can close the case in Vijayawada as settled, shake hands and go our ways. This business has gone on long enough.’

  ‘When promptly, the hired dog will shoot you down, Babu,’ Poti said.

  ‘You have my word,’ Govind said with utmost sincerity.

  ‘Which means there is a hired gun lurking around,’ Poti reiterated.

  A sudden commotion at the doors distracted them. Dasarath, the senior partner of the Hyderabad wing of Raghu’s law firm KB&Y was at the door with the Court Bailiff, an advocate commissioner and a retinue of lawyers and a piece of paper that he waved at anyone who dared to stop him.

  ‘I guess your game’s up Minister, that’s my man with an order of Court.’

  Govind pursed his lips and remained silent.

  ‘Raghu, let’s go,’ Dasarath said.

  Raghu and his companions made to leave when the Commissioner of Police stepped in their way.

  ‘I am sorry Mr. Surya, the order is for you, not for your companions.’

  Govind smiled.

  Raghu snatched the order from Dasarath and read it before he crushed it in frustration.

  ‘But Raghu...’ Dasarath started to say.

  Raghu waved him into silence.

  ‘You want to talk?’ Raghu asked Govind.

  ‘Yes, I want to talk.’

  Both men stepped into the bedroom. Govind closed the door softly behind them. In the living room, Sheila lowered herself into a sofa with Poti prowling around her. She felt like she had let down Raghu; it was a brilliant plan executed to perfection and yet, he had lost because of her. Tears welled inside her.

  Dasarath had by this time picked up the crumpled order of the court, smoothened it out and was peering in complete confusion at all of them.

  ‘I was only told about Raghu...if
I had...’ he began.

  ‘It’s not your fault. Don’t worry, I have complete faith in him. We’ll be out of here,’ Sheila assured him.

  An hour passed them by before the doors of the bedroom opened again. Govind Kiromal walked out triumphantly. A dazed and desolate Raghu was sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

  ‘We have entered into an understanding, Ms. Sheila, a most satisfactory understanding. Don’t worry, everything will be fine,’ Kiromal said. ‘You are all free to go. You will head back to Gudem, where Mr. Surya will pack his bags and leave the place for one month. After such time, he can come back if he chooses to. I don’t need anything else.’

  He whirled around pompously and walked out of the apartment followed by his retinue of policemen. All of a sudden the trio were alone except for Dasarath and the court officers.

  Raghu stepped out into the living room. ‘Dasarath, withdraw the Habeas Corpus petition. I cannot afford to lose time being presented in Court,’ Raghu ordered.

  ‘But Raghu…’

  ‘Please tell me if that is possible. The court officers are here. They can report that I was released.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ said Dasarath.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Raghu. ‘We have to leave,’ he said to Poti and Sheila. ‘I’ll brief you on the way. We don’t have much time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sheila asked.

  There was no answer. Raghuram was already gone.

  They took the stairs two at a time. An Audi A6, courtesy, Aditya Prasad Surya, was waiting for them. Before they got into the car, Raghu spoke to the people who, at his behest, had laid siege to the apartment since dawn. He spoke to their elders in low tones, thanking them for their love and for heeding his call. He also asked a favour of them.

  In the car, he briefed Sheila and Poti. ‘Govind Kiromal was so sure he had me in his grasp that he believed every word I told him. He kept telling me to let him into the memorial hall and I kept giving one excuse after another. Of course I realised that unless I concede to his request, there was no way I could get you two out of that apartment.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Sheila.

  Raghu shook his head to tell her she did not need to apologise for anything. ‘Kiromal said he had more than one way to make me concede to his demands. I have more than one way of not giving in.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Poti asked.

  ‘He threatened me very subtly, he said he’d kill the both of you, wipe out my law firm, kill all my ex-girlfriends, whatever. I talked to him about buried treasures in the memorial hall, bones of my ancestors, and sentiment of villagers, the Surya legacy and even my imaginary gastric problems until finally I ran out of excuses and conceded to his conditions.’

  ‘Why did you concede to his conditions? Do you know what would happen if he entered the hall? Do you think he’ll let you go just like that?’

  Raghu took Sheila’s hand in his, ‘Last night you were brilliant. We realise now that the Agniputr is the process of creating the universe itself. We know that we have to reenact that process. We know more or less what the syllable is supposed to do. With Kiromal on our back and caged inside the apartment, how far do you think we could have gone about finding it? Secondly, this is the right moment to strike a deal. There is massive public support for us, a High Court Order and a court official to bear witness to our confinement. If I had left you both behind, Kiromal would have used you to get me to concede to whatever he wanted. I would not have the leverage I have right now. Thirdly, I have a plan to stop Kiromal, but we have to move fast.’

  Poti said, ‘What are we going to do?’

  Raghu said, ‘You go to Vijayawada while Sheila and I head to Rajasthan.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do in Vijayawada?’

  Raghu told him.

  ‘Why are we going to Rajasthan?’ Sheila asked.

  ‘There are two ways to find out about the syllable. One is to go into detailed research. That could take a day, weeks, or even months and, something tells me, we don’t have that much time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Raghu said, ‘I was with Kiromal for well over an hour. The man was in a tearing hurry. From whatever I could make out, he has to do whatever he intends to within a couple of days or so.’

  ‘So, if the research would take time and we don’t have it, how else can you find out what the word is?’ Sheila asked.

  ‘There is a faster route. I figured it out while Kiromal was busy threatening my life and liberty in that room. If Ramaya Shastri knew what the syllable was, he would have told it to Karan Kiromal, Govind’s uncle.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Ramaya gave my father the wrong syllable at the instance of Karan Kiromal knowing it to be wrong. His reward was the Governorship. The law of probabilities is that he knew the right syllable and shared it with Karan Kiromal. Granted, it’s just a hunch. If my hunch is right, Karan Kiromal will know the real syllable and maybe I can get it out of him. If we work fast enough, we can be back in Gudem armed with the syllable well in time to stop the Minister.’

  ‘What if you’re wrong?’

  ‘Well, we’ll become Kiromal’s slaves.’

  ‘And how do you propose to get the syllable from Karan Kiromal?’ Sheila asked.

  ‘I have a broad plan. I need to call the office. We need to get some heavy duty research done quickly. There usually is a weakness in every armour. Govind Kiromal just used up the one weakness I had. Now, let’s find out what his weakness is.’

  CHAPTER 38

  POTI flew from Hyderabad to Vijayawada. From there, he drove down to Eluru where he called upon the Panchayat Chief, Chelapathi Raju with a copy of the order of the court in Vijayawada. It was close to eight in the night. The Chief in turn rode on his Enfield motorcycle to Javaaram while Poti raced down to Gudem. He intended to give Govind Kiromal a fitting welcome.

  By three in the morning, Gudem was ablaze with light. It was fast filling up with people. They were terrified of being close to the unknown danger in the memorial hall, yet they were there. Every tractor, truck and car had its engine running and headlights turned on, beaming into the darkness. Valaneni was at the wheel of one of the vehicles.

  ADITYA Prasad’s house was big. It started at the bottom of a hill and went right to the top. An entire hill. It had more than a dozen elevators, a few escalators and walkalators too. It was all marble and gold. Even the water taps. Four rich grown-ups and five rich children along with a battalion of domestic help lived in the house. It had two guests. Raghuram and Sheila. Raghu was busy on his phone.

  ‘KB&Y Associates, how may I help you?’

  ‘You could put Kiran or Johann on the line,’ Raghu said. The line went quiet for a moment. When it came back, the voice was a conspiratorial half whisper.

  ‘Mr. Surya, is that you?’

  ‘Yes Julia, it’s me. How have you been?’

  ‘Oh...my God! How have you been, sir? You are all over the news; I am seeing your picture right now on the screen...are you fine?’

  Raghu laughed merrily, ‘Yeah, I am fine...thank you.’

  ‘One moment sir, I’ll just connect you...good to hear your voice sir. Hope to see you soon.’

  ‘Same here, Julia.’

  Kiran took the call in his cabin. After a few moments of joshing around, Raghu instructed his number one assistant on what he needed. Kiran promised to get on the job and get back to him as soon as he could. The call took a full two hours.

  They spent the evening with Aditya and his wife. A few drinks and a home cooked meal concluded the revelry. By one in the morning, Raghu got a text message from Kiran to check his mail. He logged on to his e-mail account and downloaded the information his team had gathered for him. He spent the remainder of the night reading it. Sheila was asleep.

  By five in the morning, while the vigil in Gudem was in full swing, Raghu had booked his flight tickets to Jaipur online. He made one more phone call before the couple headed
for the airport. By seven in the morning Sheila and he were on a plane. The scientist couldn’t get anything out of Raghu during the flight because he was fast asleep. She pushed her arm into his and rested her head on his shoulder, content with the moment.

  The Amber fort in Jaipur was ethereal in the December haze, like a castle in Neverland. Its ramparts, termed the mini wall of China, ran up and down many hills to protect Amer, the name for the old city of Jaipur. The car carrying Raghu and Sheila whizzed past the fortress and into the new city. The lake palace, which was on the way to their hotel, was like a lonely princess waiting for her long lost prince. The taxi rolled into the Taj Jaipur in a short while. The couple checked in. Shortly thereafter Raghu left after instructing Sheila to stay put in the hotel until she heard from him.

  A little over two hours later Sheila’s mobile phone rang. She checked the display which said, ‘Sunshine’, after all Surya meant Sun and Raghuram, the mythical king of Ayodhya of the Ramayan lore was a Suryavamshi, from the dynasty of the Sun. She smiled, thinking what Raghu would say to that. She answered the phone.

  ‘Get out of the hotel and cross the street. There’s an autorickshaw there, the last four digits of the licence number are 8736. Head towards it. Be quick, Sci-fi,’ Raghu instructed her.

  In five minutes Sheila had brushed her hair, smoothened her red and white salwar suit the best she could and stepped lightly on to the road. She crossed the street to reach the autorickshaw.

  She peered into the vehicle and stepped back immediately, stunned. There was a saffron clad sadhu inside the auto. She checked the number again. It was 8736. She was scouring the road for Raghu when a hand clasped her in a grip of iron. The extremely tall sadhu was standing by her. She nearly fainted with fear.

  ‘Get into the autorickshaw, Sci-fi,’ the sadhu whispered. Sheila let out a little scream of recognition. Raghu had ash all over his face, a very realistic beard, moustache and wore a crimson ‘tilak’ that ran from the tip of his nose to his hairline. He even had locks of dirty hair falling to his shoulders from under a stained turban.