Meanwhile, word of the visitors’ arrival had spread through the house, and close relatives of Gopi who were inside with his wife came out.
‘Thampuran,’ they said and bowed before him.
Thampuran’s wife walked ahead and hugged the woman of the house. His daughter stayed next to him, a grim expression on her face.
‘You should not have come here,’ Rajan said softly, glaring at the two of them.
The king’s daughter looked at her father, who obviously didn’t like what he was being told. Nor did he like Rajan. After all, wasn’t he the one who had precipitated the court case?
‘Well!’ began the king. Judging by the way he began, he had obviously come prepared. ‘This is all a result of going against the will of the lord. When Lord Padmanabha is angry, his rage knows no bounds. Had you not invited the ire of the lord this would not have happened.’ He then turned towards the crowd that had gathered there and said, ‘Had this man here not angered the lord, Gopi would be alive today. Everything that has occurred is the will of Padmanabha. No one can escape his fury. The temple and its riches have remained untouched for centuries. If someone tries to defile the temple, natural justice will prevail. This man here misled Gopi, and poor Gopi paid the price. He was a good man. May his soul rest in peace.’
Often, in matters of death, rationality takes a beating. The moment the king uttered these words, Gopi’s relatives turned on Rajan.
‘This is how you repaid Gopi for supporting you!’ one of them said, an angry look on his face.
‘Had you not dragged him into your battle with the king, he would be alive right now,’ another added.
‘If you had an axe to grind against Thampuran, why drag innocent Gopi into it?’
Accusations flew thick and fast, and in no time the crowd became aggressive. Someone even pushed Rajan. By the time the king left, the scene had almost turned violent.
Rajan had no choice but to leave. He returned home, ferried from Gopi’s house by Kannan. The only regret Rajan had about the day was not that the king had won round one but that he could not bid farewell to his friend on his last journey.
Three days later, the legal counsel of Dharmaraja Varma filed an appeal in the Supreme Court, challenging the verdict of the high court.
12
NEW DELHI
Mohammed Jilani walked into the head office of the Central Bureau of Investigation in Delhi at 10 a.m. sharp. A meeting had been set up for him through the ministry of external affairs with the director of the CBI, C.S. Inamdar.
‘Hey! Good morning!’ Inamdar got up from his chair the moment Jilani pushed open the door to his cabin. He had met the Dubai chief of police earlier at an Interpol conference. The men shook hands and then took seats on either side of Inamdar’s desk. A curious Inamdar waited while Jilani opened his briefcase and pulled out a file.
‘Have you heard of the Wafi Mall heist?’ Jilani asked as he handed over the file to Inamdar.
‘Who hasn’t!’ Inamdar confirmed. ‘It made headlines even in India.’ He opened the file and looked at the first page, squinting just enough to get a clearer view. ‘But what does the heist have to do with this?’
‘This was found at the site of the heist. While making their getaway, one of the robbers stumbled and fell. This fell from his bag,’ Jilani said. ‘Probably.’
Inamdar scrutinized the picture from every angle. Finally, he set the file down and leaned back in his seat, his eyes trained on the ceiling. ‘What else do you know about this?’
‘Nothing,’ Jilani admitted. ‘This fell from his bag. Whether it is the robbers’, or the jewellery store’s or belongs to the customer who died in the heist . . . we don’t know.’ He handed over a photograph of the customer who was shot to Inamdar.
‘Well, you will have to give me a little bit more than that to go on,’ Inamdar said as he came forward and rested his hands on the desk.
‘That’s all we have,’ Jilani reiterated. ‘We believe that if we can get to the bottom of this, we will know who the perpetrators were. At least we will have a good chance.’
‘How old is this?’
‘Six hundred years.’
Inamdar looked at Jilani in shock. ‘Six hundred years?’
Jilani nodded.
‘Taking a figurine outside the country, especially one that is six hundred years old, is a criminal offence.’
‘Will you be able to figure out where this came from?’ Jilani asked. ‘Maybe the origins will tell us something about what actually happened.’
Inamdar continued to stare at the printout. After about a minute he tapped the bell in front of him. Almost immediately a peon walked in, followed by his secretary.
‘Get me Dr Bose, director general of National Museums.’ The secretary nodded and turned back. ‘Now!’ barked Inamdar.
Within a minute, the phone on his table rang. His secretary was on the line. ‘Dr Bose for you, sir,’ she said and hung up.
‘Yes, Director Inamdar. How can I help you?’
‘Chief Mohammed Jilani of Dubai Police is with me. He needs some help.’
‘Sure. Tell me.’
‘I am sending you an image. There’s no time for a formal request. I just need to know any details that you might be able to pull out. This is extremely urgent!’ he said and hung up. Next, he took a picture of the image on his phone and messaged it to Dr Bose.
Dr Bose called back soon after.
‘I’m putting you on speaker, so that Chief Jilani can also hear what you are saying.’
‘Well, Chief Jilani,’ Bose began, ‘the statuette in the image you just sent is a very ancient piece. From the looks of it, it is from the Chola period. About six hundred years ago.’
‘Great, so it is from India.’
‘Yes, looks like it.’
‘If it is from here, it must have been stolen. Any records of such a theft?’
‘It’s hard to say. The Chola dynasty spanned all of Tamil Nadu and parts of the other south Indian states as well. The statuette must be from one of the temples down there, most likely in Tamil Nadu, though it’ll be difficult for me to pinpoint a particular one. There are hundreds of them,’ he said apologetically. ‘Let me see. If I find a match, I will let you know.’
‘Thank you, Dr Bose,’ Jilani said, a tad disheartened, even as Inamdar pressed the button to cut the call.
Half an hour later, Dr Bose called Inamdar again. ‘What I suspected is sadly true. There is no official cataloguing of temple idols in Tamil Nadu. So it will be impossible to determine which temple this idol was stolen from. The only way to do this is to go from temple to temple and figure out which idol is missing. But even that is a fairly far-fetched plan for if we don’t have any record of what was there in the temple to begin with, how will we know what is missing? We will have to rely on local knowledge.’
This call was even more disappointing than the first, especially for Jilani. It told him in no uncertain terms that it would be almost impossible to figure out the origins of the statuette. He had been counting on it to decipher the secret of the Wafi heist.
Inamdar walked a desolate Jilani to his car. ‘I will depute a senior officer to help you with this. He will get in touch with you soon.’
‘Thank you.’ Jilani shook Inamdar’s hand and got into his car.
On the way to his hotel, Jilani saw a large contingent of media personnel and OB vans blocking the road. A large board to his left announced that the building was that of the Supreme Court of India.
‘These media people. They are a law unto themselves. Do whatever they want,’ the car driver complained. ‘They always descend in hordes and block traffic in this area whenever an important case comes up for hearing.’
Jilani glanced at the paper lying on the seat by his side. The headline on the front page was: Lord Padmanabha Swamy Wealth Case in Supreme Court Today.
13
The lawyer representing King Dharmaraja Varma made a fervent plea in the Supreme Court, protesting th
e high court verdict which transferred the charge of the temple and its wealth to the state. Strangely, the Kerala government too joined the petition, filing a statement in the court stating that they were comfortable with the way the Anantha Padmanabha Swamy Temple was being managed and that they did not see any need for the temple to be taken over by the state.
The court adjourned the case for a few weeks.
14
MUMBAI
At 6 p.m., Nirav locked everything up and was about to leave the store when he saw a young man walk in. He seemed to be in his late twenties. Smartly dressed, in jeans and a semi-formal shirt, he looked like he belonged to an affluent family.
The security guard at the gate stopped him. That was the default option for him. Nirav Choksi did not entertain walk-ins.
‘I’m not a customer,’ the young man was explaining to the guard when Nirav walked up to him.
‘What brings you here, young man?’
‘I came here to meet you.’
Nirav nodded. ‘Go ahead. I am listening.’ His support staff was still hanging around to ensure the guy didn’t cause any trouble.
‘Aditya,’ he said, extending his right hand.
‘Right! Aditya. Nice to mee—’ Nirav said absently. Then suddenly: ‘Oh! Aditya! It’s wonderful to see you. Divya didn’t tell me you’d be coming.’ He shook hands with him warmly. ‘Come on in!’
‘She doesn’t know. I haven’t told her.’ Aditya looked at the other people standing around.
Nirav understood his discomfort and gestured to his staff to leave ‘Come, come.’ The two of them walked up to Nirav’s office and sat down on the sofa.
‘What will you have?’ Nirav asked, wondering what the was protocol when meeting one’s daughter’s boyfriend for the first time!
‘Nothing, sir. I just came to meet you because I wanted to talk to you alone. Divya mentioned that you didn’t want to meet me unless I had spoken to my family and told them about Divya and my relationship.’
‘Aaah, yes,’ Nirav said. ‘I did say that. I wanted to make sure that you were serious about the relationship. For Divya, my endorsement is critical. And I did not want to endorse someone who had an exit option. When you are serious about a relationship, you willingly give up all exit options. You commit wholeheartedly. That’s what I’m looking for in you, or for that matter anyone who wants to be a part of her life. Informing one’s parents, to me, is just one way of demonstrating that commitment. That aside, I trust Divya’s judgment completely.’
‘Is there any other way?’
‘What do you mean?’ Nirav was intrigued. And then as he understood what Aditya wanted, he clarified. ‘You mean to say that you don’t want to tell your parents about your relationship?’
‘Not don’t. Can’t,’ Aditya spoke. Seeing Nirav’s confusion he elaborated, ‘My father left us—my mother and me—when I was six years old.’
Nirav nodded. ‘Yes. Divya did tell me about this.’
‘My mother raised me alone, as a single parent. But I never missed having a father. She has always made sure that I have everything I need. Thankfully I got a scholarship to fund my jewellery design course. I left home about eight years ago and came to Mumbai. I stayed with an aunt for a few years.’ He paused for a moment, then continued. ‘If you insist, I will tell my mother now but if I have a choice, I would rather speak to her when I am independent and have become successful enough to take care of all her needs for the rest of her life. She has her expectations and I don’t want to disappoint her.’
Nirav looked at Aditya thoughtfully. It was as if he was judging him. Reading his character through his face. Eventually Aditya squirmed under Nirav’s scrutiny and moved a bit.
‘You know Aditya, Divya is my only daughter. I have to make sure that she makes the right decisions in life.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘I have to be certain that she’s not fallen for someone inappropriate, Sometimes when boys know that the girl’s father is rich . . . well, you know what all they do. I just wanted to make sure that you are not one of them. The fact that you did not take money from your mother for this jewellery design course is praiseworthy, as is the fact that you have no idea what I do or how big my business is.’
Aditya smiled. ‘Except that you operate out of this pigeon hole, even though you can afford a much bigger office in any of the diamond bourses around the globe.’
Nirav laughed. He liked Aditya. ‘You’re right! I could have moved. Bourses around the globe, I am not too sure. But certainly to the BKC Diamond Bourse. But you know what Aditya, the people who launched that bourse could not take much of Zaveri Bazaar with them. If they wanted us to move they should have kept our interests in mind too. Which they didn’t. There are a lot of small-time traders, who won’t be able to afford a space in the BKC Diamond Bourse. Too much money for something which is not significantly better than what they have here in Zaveri Bazar. That’s why none of us have moved there. And in any case this is a comfortable and lucky office for me. Three generations of my family have operated out of this office. It’s a legacy I have inherited and don’t want to give up. And for generations our family has protected the small traders here. We will continue to do that.’
‘I am sorry,’ Aditya apologized. He realized that he had touched a raw nerve. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘It’s all right. Divya keeps nagging me about this as well. In any case, what were we talking about?’ He looked upwards, at the ceiling. ‘Aah yes. I have convinced myself that you are the right choice for Divya.’
Aditya just smiled. ‘Then why insist on the parents bit?’
A cornered Nirav just shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe . . . I was testing your resolve, your commitment to your own goals.’
‘To your daughter you mean,’ Aditya said.
Nirav laughed again. That’s when Aditya understood. Nirav had made his choice. He had given his blessings to the relationship. He had just been waiting to see if he would fight for Divya. Today’s visit had sealed it for him.
By the end of that conversation, Nirav was so confortable with Aditya that he offered him an apprenticeship with him, an offer that Aditya politely turned down.
He had other aspirations.
15
CHENNAI
Bhaskar Iyer, commissioner of police, Chennai, was in his office when K.S. Murgavel, the head of the CBI for the southern region, walked in, accompanied by a stranger. Though it was not uncommon for the CBI and the local police to be at loggerheads, Murgavel enjoyed a cordial relationship with the police commissioner
‘When I got a call this morning saying that you wanted to meet, I was a bit concerned,’ the commissioner admitted as he shook Murgavel’s hand. He looked inquiringly at the clean-shaven man who had accompanied Murgavel.
Murgavel didn’t need much prodding. ‘Meet Kabir Khan, additional director, CBI.’
Iyer was surprised—and a little miffed. According to protocol if an additional director with the CBI was to come calling, the commissioner had to be informed in advance. However, he tamped down his anger, albeit momentarily, and held out his right hand.
‘Hello!’ The visitor shook his hand and smiled. ‘Kabir Khan, additional director, heritage and environment crimes.’
Often we like or dislike people not for who they are, but for the circumstances under which we first meet them. The breach of protocol had not only angered Iyer but also given him an instant dislike for Kabir Khan. ‘And what brings the CBI to my doorstep?’ he asked curtly.
‘We need your help.’
His tone dripping with sarcasm, Iyer asked, ‘Help? Since when does the CBI need the assistance of the local police?’
‘Well,’ Kabir Khan replied, ignoring the sarcasm, ‘Director Inamdar has been approached by the commander-in-chief of Dubai Police. They have recovered a small idol of Ganesha, six inches tall, at the Wafi Mall heist. They believe the idol is a clue to the identity of whoever was behind the heist. When we checke
d, we found that it was a bronze idol, most likely from the Chola era. Hence we wanted your assistance in figuring out which temple it belongs to.’ And he placed the image on the table. ‘This is the idol.’
‘Aah. Mr Khan, you must know—’ the commissioner started and then abruptly stopped. ‘How will you know? You don’t worship idols, do you?’
Kabir Khan was infuriated. He had had no hand in his appointment as the head of heritage and environment crimes. He knew it was a transit posting. He had been the head of cyber crime earlier, a role in which he had served effectively for two and a half years until he was transferred out of the unit for taking on a powerful politician and getting on the wrong side of him. At the time, this was the only unit which was available. He had accepted the posting under the explicit understanding that he would be reassigned at the first available opportunity.
‘And what is it that you think I am not likely to know, Commissioner?’ he asked, refusing to let the slight pass unanswered.
‘Idols like these are found all over the temples in south India. How can we tell which temple this one belongs to?’
‘You can’t. Had there existed a detailed catalogue of all the idols in all the temples in Tamil Nadu, you could have told me what I want to know. Rather, I would have figured it out myself.’ Kabir leaned forward, his hands on the table between them. ‘Sadly, there isn’t any such catalogue in existence.’
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