He raised the lid of the suitcase.
‘My God!’ she said, shocked, her eyes popping out. ‘So much money!’
Jeet laughed modestly.
‘H-how much … h-how much is it?’
‘One less than seventy.’
‘Than seventy crores?’
‘Huh, silly, seventy crores won’t even fit in a big sack, forget this suitcase. Lakhs, not crores. One lakh less than seventy lakhs. Sixty-nine lakhs.’
‘My God! Why are you showing it to me?’
‘You can take whatever you want.’
‘I can take whatever I want?’ she said as if not believing what she heard.
‘Yes.’
‘This is not a joke?’
‘No.’
‘I can take it all, if I wish?’
‘Yes.’
‘I might take it all as well.’
‘No problem. Why else did I bring all the money? Had I had a design in my mind, I’d have come with half, with one-fourth, or with nothing. And had said that the victor didn’t win.’
She started weeping.
‘Why so?’ Jeet Singh said, affectionately patting her back. ‘Why these tears?’
‘No man has ever given so much value to me all my life—neither before I became a sex worker, nor after that. Jeete, who said you were a counterfeit coin? You are nothing less than pure gold.’
‘I! Gold!’ he laughed a hollow laugh. ‘Pure! What are you saying? I am the scum of Chinchpokli’s gutter!’
‘Now, don’t run yourself down. You are what I said you are. Unlucky was the woman who betrayed you. Wretched was her fate that she didn’t get you.’
‘She would have been a widow by now had she not jilted me. I’m a criminal, and a criminal’s wife dies a widow.’
‘What did I tell you? Don’t talk bullshit. Arre, it’s an honour to be the wife of a person like you even for a few moments. Her luck turned against her that she betrayed you. Better you had burnt her instead of burning yourself.’
Jeet Singh started shaking his head before she was finished.
‘You can’t think ill of a person you love,’ he said.
‘Bloody idiot! You are not worthy of anyone’s sympathy.’
‘I am. That’s why I’m here.’
Mishri hugged him tightly.
Jeet Singh did not object.
She let go of him a little later.
‘Now,’ Jeet Singh said, ‘what do you say about the money?’
‘I don’t need anything,’ she said in a choked voice, ‘I don’t have any requirement now. Give it to me when I need it.’
‘I will do that, but as of now … ’
‘No!’
‘But …’
‘If you force me, I’ll think that you are compensating me for the help you got from me.’
‘Oh no! Does that ever happen between friends?’
‘Then why insist? I don’t need your money now. Give it to me when I need it. Now drop the subject.’
‘ok.’
The next witness was Mira Kishnani.
Everybody knew that her husband, Hiranand Kishnani, was an inspector in the Mumbai police posted in its headquarters. That was the reason she was getting special attention compared to the other witnesses.
The public prosecutor asked her routine questions, and she gave routine answers to them. She confirmed that she was Sushmita’s friend and had known her for long, as both of them used to work in the same firm of chartered accountants.
However, the public prosecutor was more concerned about using her statement to establish that before marriage, she had an affair with a tapori, a nobody called Jeet Singh, who was her neighbour in Chinchpokli, and was a petty locksmith.
He then left the witness for the defence.
A brooding Gunjan Shah got up with effort.
‘Your honour,’ he said, ‘it is imperative that I call the accused in the witness box before I cross-question this witness.’
‘Why it is so?’ the judge asked in an unpleasant tone.
‘Because without her additional deposition, the prosecution’s observation, that she had an affair with so-called tapori Jeet Singh, can’t be refuted.’
‘This Jeet Singh is the same person who is a co-accused with her in this case?’
‘Yes, your honour. I would have called him for his statement if he was available, but I can carry on without him, for an affair is an act involving two persons, and Sushmita, the accused, is being named as the second person.’
‘ok, permission granted.’
Sushmita came and stood in the witness box.
‘Since you are already under oath, I’ll come to the topic straight. You know the person called Jeet Singh, as he was your neighbour in Chinchpokli?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Was he a mere acquaintance, a friend, or a close friend?’
‘It was a casual acquaintance, as is established between neighbours. It’s a natural thing to happen when you live in the same neighbourhood.’
‘Beyond the acquaintance, there’s nothing else between you two?’
‘What else?’
‘Love! Infatuation! Or affair, if I use the word used by Mr Public Prosecutor?’
‘There was no such thing. If there was, it was not from my side. Jeet Singh was a good guy, very sociable and helpful, and everybody in the neighbourhood approved of him. That is why I, and my sister as well, always had a good word for him. And that was all. If there was anything else to it, it was not from my side.’
‘You have said that twice in one breath. If there was anything, then from whose side was it?’
‘Maybe from his side.’
‘Maybe?’
‘I can only guess. I couldn’t look into his heart to find out what was brewing there.’ She paused for a moment and then spoke reservedly, ‘Nevertheless I sometimes felt that he had a one-sided crush on me.’
‘In which you had no participation?’
‘How could it be a one-sided crush had I had any participation?’
‘There was no encouragement from your side?’
‘No, sir. In this matter, we were never on the same wavelength, so there was no question of my encouragement. To tell you the truth, he well understood this thing that he was not worthy of me. I had a notion that he was happy with that one-sided thing and he was well aware that it had no future.’
‘He was never explicit about his feelings for you?’
‘No, never.’
‘Never even dropped a hint?’
‘Never, sir.’
‘Anyone can have such a one-sided crush where there is no participation, no encouragement from the other side. I am well past that age, so I speak hypothetically, but if I start having romantic feelings for Katrina Kaif or Priyanka Chopra, then how can these ladies, who won’t have any inkling of my feelings, be held responsible? In your case only this could be said that you were half-heartedly or quarter-heartedly aware of the feelings of the other party, but those feelings, the sentiments, the uninvited attention was not binding upon you.’
‘Yes.’
‘This point may be noted, your honour, that the claim of the public prosecutor, that the accused had an affair with some person known as Jeet Singh, is wrong, uncharitable and unsubstantiated. It is an attempt of character assassination of the accused, and the defence vehemently opposes this.’
‘The affair part may be omitted from the records,’ the judge said.
‘Thank you, your honour. Madam, you may step down.’
Mira Kishnani took the place of Sushmita in the witness box.
‘Madam,’ Shah said, ‘my first question to you is—do you still maintain that Jeet Singh was the accused’s lover? Please answer the question keeping in mind that a party opposing this claim of yours is present in this court, who would definitely object to your saying so.’
‘But you yourself admitted it was a one-sided crush!’
‘So, the affair was one-sided?’
‘I
t must be if you say so …’
‘What do you say? Please, keep it in mind that it is you who is in the witness box, not I.’
‘I guess it was one-sided.’
‘You guess?’
‘Now, I can’t issue a guarantee, or can I?’
‘Madam, you are very beautiful. My compliments to you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said dryly.
‘Suppose a young neighbour of yours develops romantic feelings for you, but avoids expressing it before you, then what would you do? What would you say?’
‘Your honour, your honour,’ the public prosecutor shouted. ‘This is highly irregular. This is uncivil insinuation.’
‘I have only put up a hypothetical question.’
‘Even a hypothetical question cannot be made an instrument of unwarranted insinuations, of character assassination.’
‘I only wanted to illustrate a point.’
‘No! The prosecution will not have it, will not allow it. Your honour, we strongly object …’
‘ok, ok. Keep your shirt on, Mr Dixit, I’ll withdraw my question.’
‘Please do it now.’
‘Your honour, I withdraw the question to which the prosecution objected.’
‘So let it be noted,’ the judge said, ‘and you may also change the course of your questioning, Mr Shah.’
‘Yes, your honour. Of course, your honour. So, madam …’
‘Judge sahib,’ Mira said, ‘I want to say something in this matter.’
‘In what matter?’ the judge raised his eyebrows.
‘In the matter of the affair. About whether there was an affair or not.’
‘ok, go ahead.’
‘This goes back to a time when Sushmita and Jeet Singh had a bond stronger than the affair. Sushmita’s elder sister Asmita, a mother of three children, was dying of cancer, and she needed ten lakh rupees for treatment in Germany within three months. It was Sushmita herself who told me—I still remember that day, it was Monday, 22 December—that Jeet Singh had taken on the responsibility of providing the required money. In return, the accused had declared that she would worship him for life, if Asmita’s life was saved due to Jeet Singh. What is this if not love?’
‘Did she worship him for life?’ asked Shah.
‘No, the situation for it did not arise. Her sister died before her stipulated time and the accused too became the … live-in partner of the deceased. The point to be noted here is that Jeet Singh succeeded in arranging the desired amount of money by the last day of the stipulated timeframe, and though it was not needed anymore, he still delivered the money at her new abode in Tulsi Chambers. Thereafter he delivered another sum of thirty lakh rupees. What does all this mean? Why were such sums delivered?’
‘Since you are so smart, so knowledgeable, you enlighten us. Say that the accused demanded those sums. She had the requirement that was fulfilled by—I repeat for your benefit—the lover!’
She kept quiet.
‘Such details are meaningless, and irrelevant to the present case. Nor do these things prove the existence of an affair. An affair is a matter of the heart—a matter of two hearts—and not that of physical objects. You are not an astrologer to know why Jeet Singh did—that is if he did—what he did! He himself will shed light on this issue when he is available. If the payment of those sums has any bearing on the issue, whether the marriage happened or not, then say so. If it has a bearing on the murder, then say so. Otherwise whatever you said is meaningless, irrelevant and immaterial. Now go ahead and make such a claim.’
‘I ca-can’t.’
‘Then stop dropping such hints as smear the character of the accused. What sort of a friend are you who is hell-bent on defaming the accused? No right-thinking person turns against anybody in this manner. This is nothing but a betrayal.’
Mira started nodding, then immediately checked herself.
The public prosecutor made a mind to objection, but let it go and kept quiet.
‘Now, madam permitting, I’ll return to my line of questioning.’
Mira nodded, as if doing him a favour.
‘Where do you live?’
She gave an address in Sewri.
‘You are familiar with Colaba?’
‘Just casually.’
‘You must be familiar. After all you visited Tulsi Chambers frequently to meet your friend!’
‘Whatever I know about Colaba is because of this reason only. That’s why I said “casually”.’
‘Do you know about Colaba’s Arya Samaj temple?’
‘I don’t know exactly where it is. I passed by it once when the taxi driver lost his way.’
‘You have never been inside?’
‘No.’
‘Did you ever confront the Kashmiri pundit of that temple?’
‘No, never.’
‘The accused says her marriage took place in that temple!’
‘What she says is incorrect.’
‘How do you know? As per your own admission, you never went to that temple?’
‘She forwards my name as a witness of the marriage. I never was such a witness, then why do I not know?’
‘Do you understand the meaning of perjury?’
‘Yes, I do. I am the wife of a police officer.’
‘Then you must also know that perjury is a punishable offence?’
‘Yes, I do. But why are you telling me all this? If you think that my statement is false, then say it loud and clear.’
‘Are you by any chance arguing with me, cross-questioning me? Are you doing my job? Are you prompting me?’
She kept quiet.
During the period of her silence, Navlani appeared at the courtroom’s entrance. He nodded just once when Shah made eye contact with him.
Shah also gave him a contented nod in response. Then he turned towards his witness again.
‘So, you said that you are not familiar with the Kashmiri pundit of Colaba’s Arya Samaj temple. It’s quite likely, as you also said that you never set foot in that temple. Now, my question is … excuse me, I see a familiar face in the audience.’ Shah turned his back towards the witness and looked at the audience seats, ‘You, sir, please, stand up.’
A clean-shaven man of around fifty, wearing a white turban, white dhoti and kurta, and a tilak on his forehead stood up.
‘He,’ Shah declared, ‘is the Kashmiri pundit …’
‘It’s a lie!’ Mira shouted instantly, ‘He is not the pundit who solemnized the …’
She shut up abruptly, biting her lips.
‘Finish your sentence, madam,’ Shah said, ‘say that he is not the pundit who solemnized the marriage of Sushmita and the deceased, so that …’
‘This is all grandstanding!’ the public prosecutor said angrily. ‘Theatricals! Having no meaning!’
‘What’s that that has no meaning? What’s wrong in it? I said he’s a Kashmiri pundit. What does he look like to you? A Kashmiri maulvi? A Kashmiri padre? A Kashmiri granthi?’
‘If he is the Kashmiri pundit of the Arya Samaj temple of Colaba …’
‘Who said that? I only said that he is a Kashmiri pundit. What’s wrong in it? You go ahead and claim he’s not Kashmiri or not pundit? Say that he’s not Kashmiri but a Himachali pundit or Punjabi pundit or Gujarati pundit? Say that he’s not a Kashmiri pundit but a Kashmiri Muslim, Kashmiri Sikh, or Kashmiri Christian? I never said that he was the Kashmiri pundit of Colaba’s Arya Samaj temple. But see the reaction of the title “Kashmiri pundit ” on the witness! The witness immediately protested that he is not the Kashmiri pundit who solemnized the marriage.’
‘The witness didn’t say that much.’
‘But what little she said means the same. Go ahead and find me some other meaning for her words.’
The public prosecutor was speechless.
‘The sudden, psychological outburst of the witness clearly means that in her statement, that she gave just moments back, she lied that she had never seen the face of the pundit of Cola
ba’s Arya Samaj temple. She says she never met face-to-face with that pundit, then how come she says he’s not the pundit who conducted the marriage?’
‘I reiterate, the witness never finished what she intended to say. Her statement was not complete.’
‘Whatever she said is enough to convey the sense of her sentence had she completed it. She said “He is not the pundit who solemnized the …” Now, you ask your witness to complete the sentence. Complete it in any way she finds fit. I challenge your witness to complete the sentence in the manner that the meaning of the result is different from the meaning the incomplete sentence conveys. Come on, I dare you and your witness.’
Silence prevailed in the court.
‘That is why it is said,’ roared a triumphant Shah, ‘that a lie never has a leg to stand on and truth alone triumphs. Your honour, I submit that this witness is a liar. If one witness is lying about the marriage, then you can draw your own conclusion that the other witnesses too couldn’t be speaking the truth.’
Suddenly, a sincere-looking, bald-headed old man got up from the last row in the gallery.
‘Your honour,’ he said, ‘my name is Devki Nandan Tiwari. I was the manager of the Lamington Road store of the late Pursumal Changulani during his lifetime. On Sethji’s order, I became a witness to his marriage which took place last year on Wednesday, 22 October at the Arya Samaj Temple, Colaba in the presence of the bride’s friend, Mira Kishnani, who is currently present in the witness box, and a photographer named Santosh Vajpai. I humbly request the court to kindly register my sworn statement regarding the marriage.’
The statement was yet to be recorded, but the prosecution’s case collapsed that very moment. Mira Kishnani’s face turned as white as chalk. The same was the case with the members of the Changulani family. The public prosecutor Bhuvnesh Dixit collapsed into his chair as if his legs had become incapable of carrying his weight. Inspector Chandrakant Devtale too was in no better state.
Epilogue
Late in the night, the atmosphere at Advocate Gunjan Shah’s office was jubilant and elated. Other than him, pd Shekhar Navlani, journalist Pankaj Jhalani, Sushmita and Jeet Singh were present there.
‘I’m glad,’ Shah said, ‘that justice was delivered, truth finally emerged triumphant in the court, and I was also an instrument to that.’
The Colaba Conspiracy Page 37