The night was unusually eerie, with an abnormally empty train. The bottles in his knapsack clinked as he held it closer to his chest. The train pulled into the station, he stepped on to the platform. He checked the digital clock in the platform it said 09:05 p.m. He jumped as his mobile phone gave out a shrill ring which echoed in the deserted platform. He pulled out the mobile phone and looked at the unknown number flashing on the screen.
He pressed a key on t
he keypad and spoke in Gujrati “Hello Ramnik Patel bolo chuun”. (This is Ramnik Patel speaking).
“Ramnik bhai, Sharma boloon chuun, kem cho?” (This is Sharma speaking, how are you) said a squeaky voice from the other side.
“Arey Sharma bhai, yes, yes I am back in Mumbai. Just stepped out of the train, I will take a rickshaw and reach home in another half an hour.”
“Okay. How was your vi
sit to Surat?”
“Arey, saarru, the business was good. Since the demand was high I made
a neat profit and what more a trader gave me two bottles of imported scotch”, said Ramnik with a laugh which showed his gutkha stained teeth.
“Su vaat che. Then what’s the plan for tonight.”
“Come over to my house we will have a couple of drinks and watch some movie on the DVD player”, said Ramnik again with a laugh as his pot belly jiggled.
“Okay I will reach there in an hour”, said Sharma and the line went dead.
Ramnik came out of
the station and saw an auto rickshaw coming towards him. He raised his hand but the auto rickshaw increased its speed and bolted past him. “Goregaon”, he shouted in anger. But the auto rickshaw disappeared around the corner. Cars a
nd buses sped by him towards their respective destinations. He heard the soft purr of another auto rickshaw and raised his hand again. The rickshaw slowed down in front of him and stopped.
Ramnik looked at the rickshaw driver. The driver’s double chin connected his head with his torso and it looked as if he didn’t have any neck. Ramnik felt a chill in his spine when he looked at the blood shot eyes.
“Goregaon”, he fi
nally managed to mutter.
The rickshaw driver nodded uninterestedly and chewed something in his mouth. Ramnik jumped into the back seat and the rickshaw groaned into motion.
Ramnik noticed that the rickshaw driver was looking at the gold chain on his neck. He tried to
hide it behind his shirt. As their eyes met Ramnik diverted his gaze. The rickshaw driver fished out a mobile from his shirt pocket pressed a few keys and put it on his ears. After a couple of seconds he disconnected the call and put the phone back in his pocket. The driver fixed his eyes on the street and drove uninterestedly.
He suddenly took a sharp right turn into a dark alley. “Why are you not taking the highway”, asked Ramnik.
“Shortcut hai”, replied the rickshaw driver gruffly.
Ramnik clutched the knapsack closer and looked around the dark alley. Fluorescent light from a tube light lit a rectangular patch across the road ahead. He heard a dog bark somewhere in the dark. Muffled sounds of a television came from the open window. The auto rickshaw swerved again this time to the left. They were now on a small bridge across an open sewer. Dirty water flowed in the sewer and a lone streetlight flickered at the
end of the bridge. Big metal pipes emerged from under the ground at the beginning of the bridge and vanished into the ground at the end of it.
As they crossed the bridge a tall man emerged from the darkness and gestured for the auto rickshaw to stop. He was dressed in spotless white half sleeved shirt and a spotless white pair of pants. Ramnik couldn’t understand whether the skin of the man was really that dark or whether it was the contrast of the color of his garments which made him look that dark. The gold wrist watch in his right h
and glistened as he waved at the rickshaw to stop. The rickshaw lurked to a stop.
The man put his head inside the rickshaw and sniffed at the driver’s face. Ramnik looked at the man’s muscular arms almost ebony black as he held the drivers backrest, the wrist watch looked expensive. Ramnik noticed that the man’s head was now turned towards him.
“What’s in that bag?” he asked, pointing at Ramnik’s knapsack.
“Why did you stop us? And who are you to ask anything?” replied Ramnik. He had always been a meek man trying to avoid confrontations but when cornered even the cow has no option but to retaliate.
The man pulled his head out of the rickshaw, and put his head again inside, this time straight into Ramnik’s face. As Ramnik stared at the man’s dark eyes a drop of cold sweat trickled down his brows, and before he could say anything the man’s fleshy palm struck Ramnik’s left ear. All Ramnik heard was a loud clap and his head started to reel. All he could see in front of were colored spots and all he could hear was a dim buzz of a bee somewhere deep inside his eardrum.
The man held Ramnik by his collar and dragged him out of the rickshaw. Ramnik still reeling from the slap clutched on to his knapsack with his right hand and with his left held the rickshaw to keep himself standing. With watery eyes he saw the driver being pulled out of the rickshaw. As the driver begged for mercy with folded hands the man turned to Ramnik again.
“Do you know who I am”, he yelled. Before Ramnik could understand he stuck a laminated card into Ramnik’s face and yelled “Patil from crime branch Mumbai”.
“We are responsible for people’s lives here and you are not allowing me to do my duties. Do you know what I can do, I can put you in lockup for months and nobody would even come to look at you”, he shouted again.
Ramnik started sweating profusely and his legs started to shake. “But… but I haven’t done anything”, Ramnik managed to whisper.
“What is your name?” asked Patil as he snatched the knapsack from Ramnik’s hands, the bottles clunked in protest.
“Ramnik bhai”, said Ramnik.
“Toh tu bhai hai!” smirked Patil.
Ramnik shook his head vigorously.
“What is this? Liquor! That too so much”, said Patil pulling out both the bottles from the bag. “Do you have a permit with you to carry liquor in such large quantities”, he asked.
“But saab these are gifts from my friend”, said Ramnik.
“Acha! Where are you coming from?”
“Saab, Borivali.”
“Where did you pick him from”, asked Patil turning to the driver.
“Saab, from Borivali station.”
“And what were you doing at Borivali station at this time, does your friend stay at Borivali station”, asked Patil turning to Ramnik again.
“No saab I was returning from Surat.”
“What! You mean to say you smuggled these bottles from a dry state!” shouted Patil, almost spitting at Ramnik’s face as he dangled the bottle in the air.
Ramnik’s body was now shivering as if he was in a fit. Patil handed the bottles to the driver and looked inside the bag again. He pulled out a rectangular packet wrapped in news paper.
“And what is this?”said Patil waving the packet in the air.
He threw the empty bag on the ground and started tearing the news paper wrapping off unveiling a bundle of crisp Rs. 500 notes.
Patil rolled his head to his left, put his left hand on his hips, waved the bundle in the air and said, “what do we have here, a bundle of fake five
hundred rupee notes!”
“No these are not fake”, shouted Ramnik and tried to snatch the bundle from Patil’s hand. But Patil swung his left arm swiftly and caught Ramnik in the chest. Ramnik fell on the ground, clutching his chest and coughing.
“Both of you will have to come down to the police station. We will have to verify these notes.”
The driver threw himself on the ground and started howling and pleading. “But saab I have done nothing, I just picked him up from the station. I don’t know him. I have small kids at home to feed saab!” cried the driver and hung on to Patil’s legs. The driver looked at Ramnik, winked and gestured him to do the same.
On the cue Ramnik plunged forward and wrapped his hands around Patil’s other leg and started wailing, “Saab these notes are not fake, this is an honest man’s hard earned money. Please have mercy saab I have small kids, an old mother, a wife and a blind sister to feed at home.”
Patil’s gave one sharp kick which landed on the rickshaw driver’s stomach he gave out a loud yelp and went reeling in the dust. Another kick landed on Ramnik’s groin, he gave out a muffled cry and doubled in pain.
“Get up now both of you”, shouted Patil pulling Ramnik by his shirt collar.
Ramnik somehow managed to stand up still clutching his groin. Patil put the wad of notes in his shirt pocket.
“Saab we are poor people”, said the rickshaw driver standing up, “can’t we cut a deal and all go home”, and winked at Ramnik again.
Ramnik got the cue and cried again “Yes saab please, I am ready to pay you. Please saab I have small children, an old mother, a blind sister…”
“You dare to offer me a bribe, I am an honest cop I will die but will not take bribe.” shouted Patil cutting Ramnik short. “I will make both of you rot in jail for offering me a bribe.”
“Saab, please forgive me saab, I will not say that again”, cried Ramnik and threw himself again at Patil’s feet. Patil pulled him up again.
“Okay, okay we will see to that”, he said.
Patil went to the auto rickshaw and sat in the back seat. Ramnik looked at him wide eyed not knowing what was to come next. Patil took out a white handkerchief from his pant pocket and spread it on the seat beside him. He then raised his shirt and pulled out a revolver which was stuck in his pants and kept it beside the handkerchief. Ramnik stared at the white piece of cloth and then at the shiny black revolver on the brown leather seat.
“Both of you, empty whatever you have on this handkerchief.” said Patil.
Hesitantly the rickshaw driver pulled out a few notes and coins from all his pockets and put it on the handkerchief.
“The wrist watch and the mobile too”, said Patil, pointing his fleshy finger at the rickshaw driver’s wrist. The driver unstrapped the wrist watch, pulled out a mobile from his shirt pocket and kept it on the cloth. The rickshaw driver went ahead and sat on the driver’s seat.
“Tujhchya aila! Should I send you an invitation card”, swore Patil crushing his teeth at Ramnik. Ramnik with shaking hand took out his wallet, his wrist watch and mobile and put it on the handkerchief.
“Is that a gold chain in your neck”, asked Patil moving his fingers slowly on the butt of revolver.
Ramnik looked at the driver timidly for a second and said wiping tears from his eyes, “Saab my dead father gave this to me when he was dying. Please don’t take it from me. This is his last gift to me.”
“Are you taking it off or should I send you off to meet your dead father”, said Patil his fingers still feeling the butt of the pistol.
Ramnik looked at the pistol for a moment and then looked at the driver with pleading eyes. The driver jerked his head towards Patil. Ramnik wiped his brow with the back of his hand and slowly pulled out the gold chain over his neck.
“Now take both the bottles, empty them in the drain there, and break the bottles”, said Patil pointing at the bottles lying on the ground and then waving his hand towards the drain behind the rickshaw.
Ramnik picked up both the bottle and went to the drain. With a click he broke the cap of one of the bottles and started pouring the liquor as it trickled slowly through the closed spout of the bottle. He looked up at the sky saying a silent prayer hoping that after he had threw all the alcohol Patil would let him go safely to his home. The night sky was dark hardly any stars were visible.
The bottle was almost empty now so he threw the empty bottle on the side of the drain. It broke with a loud crashing noise which pierced the silent night. Hearing the noise dogs started to bark in a distance. Ramnik turned around and looked at the back of the rickshaw, it was still there. He opened the cap of the second bottle and tilted it, the liquor began to fall in the drain with a pattering sound.
Ramnik heard a spurting sound coming from behind. It sounded as if someone was trying to start a motor. And suddenly the motor started, with a loud purring noise. Ramnik turned around and saw the rickshaw gaining motion slowly. Before Ramnik could realize anything the rickshaw swerved and crossed him. Ramnik saw Patil and the rickshaw driver smiling at him from the moving rickshaw. Ramnik gave out a loud cry and ran after the rickshaw which was now racing in the direction from where it had come.
Ramnik ran shrieking like a madman after the speeding rickshaw as far as his legs would carry his potbellied body. In a minute Ramnik ran out of steam and almost avoided tripping and falling. He fell on his knees panting like a dog. The half empty bottle of liquor was still in his hand. A car whizzed by and then a taxi. He was sweating, he was thirsty and his clothes were dusty. He took a swig from the bottle.
“Arrrggghhh…” he cried as his throat burned.
Still kneeling on the ground and panting, he looked in the direction the rickshaw had taken off and cursed under his breath. He took another gulp from the bottle. This time the liquor didn’t hurt much. He wiped his mouth with back of his hand and tried to pull himself up. But gravity seemed to pull his body down.
He drank some more from the bottle. He shook his head vigorously. Everything around him was starting to tumble. Cars, motorbikes and taxis zipped by him in slow motion. He gathered all his strength and pulled himself up. His knees shook, and the ground seemed to be moving. With both his hands spread wide in the air he tried to balance himself. In a few seconds he succeeded.
“Brrrrrr…” he shook his head again.
He waved at a vehicle coming in his direction the car didn’t even bother to slow down. His gaze followed the car’s dancing tail lamp.
“Son of a bastard”, he muttered.
He was shaking with rage, at the same time he felt helpless at such cruel turn of events. He knew he couldn’t do anything. He thought of going to the police station to lodge an FIR. He looked around and then smelled his own breath. His breath reeked of alcohol. He knew if he went to the police station in this condition to lodge an FIR against a man who claimed to be an honest cop he will have to spend the rest of the night in jail.
He raised the bottle to his lips again pushed his head back and drank the bitter liquor for some time.
“Arrrggghhh…” he hissed again, as the almost empty bottle came down from his lips and dangled in his hand.
Ramnik looked in both the directions. He saw an auto rickshaw coming his way. He tried raising his hand to wave but his whole body was revolting under the effect of alcohol. By the time he raised his hand the rickshaw had rushed past him. He looked at the bottle and decided to walk home.
He walked for sometime which seemed like hours to him. He felt his body reacting to his instructions in slow motion. Everything around him swayed. The red tail lamps of the vehicles passing by him revolved in circles before disappearing in the dark.
He raised the bottle to his lips but only a few drops fell. He shook the bottle over his lips anticipating more liquor to come out but nothing happened.
“Son of a bastard!” he cursed the bottle which he had raised in the air. The street light twinkled in his eyes through the empty bottle. With his full might he swung his whole body and let the bottle go.
The bottle flew in air, rotating like a grenade fired from a launcher. Ramnik’s bleary eyes followed the projectile which seemed to be flying in slow motion like every other thing around him. The bottle landed on the windshield of an auto rickshaw. The wind shield cracked and the bottle burst in to a thousand shards of glass.
The rickshaw instead of slowing down started speeding but it kept moving towards its left, it swerved a bit, tipped and then fell on its left side the engine died down with a loud groan. Ramnik watched the whole event unfolding petrified. Suddenly the streets were empty and everything was silent. He could hear the dogs barking again in a distance.
Someone’s faint moan jerked Ramnik to life again. He knew the moaning was coming from the rickshaw. Suddenly he found himself sober. He was still swaying but his senses had returned. Slowly he began moving towards the overturned vehicle, went around it and peeped inside. He was unable to say whether it was his own stink or it was the rickshaw that was stinking of alcohol.
He saw the driver was unconscious and his face was bloodied. The man in the passenger seat was groaning and slowly moving his head. The man seemed to be semi conscious. Ramnik’s eyes fell on a white cloth tied in a small bundle lying near the man’s legs. He looked at the man’s face, his head was tilted on one side, his nose was bleeding and his eyes were half closed. With his fleshy right hand he held the iron rod of the rickshaw above him, the gold watch in his wrist glistened in the dark.
Ramnik looked around the streets were still empty, a couple of cars had passed by without bothering to stop. Ramnik stooped inside the rickshaw and picked up the cloth bundle. He was about to get out when he noticed another bundle at the man’s feet. He picked up the bundle it was a wad of crisp five hundred rupee notes. As he pocketed both the things a car stopped behind him.
“What happened?” asked a voice, as Ramnik turned around. Two men jumped off the vehicle.
“Call an ambulance”, said one of the men. Another motorbike stopped. Some more people ran from the other side of the road towards Ramnik. Ramnik watched them in bewilderment. Men started to pull the victims out of the rickshaw. Ramnik slowly started to melt in the shadows.
“Are you okay”, someone asked him. He mumbled something and slipped out of the chaos. He started to walk away from the crowd as fast as his wobbling legs would carry him. A rickshaw slowed down beside him.
Ramnik looked inside the vacant rickshaw, “Goregaon”, he said. The rickshaw driver nodded.
Away from the mess now he felt a bit confident and asked “what happened back there?”
“Bewade log saab”, (drunkards sir) said the rickshaw driver and sped off.
