Sultan of Delhi: Ascension

by Arnab Ray

  ‘What do you want me to do? Take a gun and start shooting people on mere suspicion while my son is dying here?’

  ‘It could only have been Arijit.’ Mohan became calm once again. ‘Did Riti come here to the hospital?’

  ‘She called. I let Mathur talk to her. He thanked her for calling and told her that she does not need to come to the hospital, and that she will be informed of any developments. I think she got the message.’

  ‘But of course.’

  ‘If you are trying to suggest my daughter is a part of this, you better have some solid evidence to back it up.’ Arjun picked up the small bottle of water next to him and finished it in a gulp. ‘I am walking a tightrope here too, don’t make me snap.’

  ‘It’s Arijit. It could be no one else. Only he would have the, pardon my language, balls to pull this off, now that he has Riti. He is finishing us off, in different ways, don’t you see?’

  Arjun stayed silent.

  ‘Things are not the same,’ Mohan said. ‘People aren’t as afraid of us as they used to be. There are a lot of things going on that you don’t know.’

  ‘Like how you and Sudheer met RP and Simmi’s father and they advised Sudheer to go behind my back to Mehta?’

  ‘If you knew why didn’t you…’

  ‘Because I wanted you two boys to learn. The whole deal is doomed, the Mehtas have already made their move from the back, and they are waiting for their rivals to go in and get their legs blown off. That’s why I have kept away.’

  ‘Well, then, why didn’t you tell Sudheer?’ Mohan spluttered. ‘He would have lost his leg too.’

  ‘You were very young then…I don’t know if you remember, but we had lost all our money.’

  ‘Of course I do, but how does that have anything to do with…’

  ‘What scared me the most then, what kept me up at nights, was the thought that I would not be able to bring my children up the way I wanted to. That I would be a poor father, a weak father, like so many, who can do nothing but let their sons and daughters go into the world as they watch from afar, unable to do anything but pray to God. There is nothing in the world worse than being a weak father, no greater failure as a human being than not having the power to protect the ones you love the most. I have tried all my life to protect all three of you, in the way I have felt was the best. I have pulled Sudheer and you from the edge many times, and I know that made you two angry, at least it did Sudheer. I did it because it made me feel powerful, as a father and as a human being. But now I have come to realize I made a mistake. I should have let you fail. All of you. Sudheer, you, Riti. Only through failure and heartbreak would you have learned, would you have known what it means to lose and what it feels like to win it back again. It was my mistake. My arrogance brought you up wrong. I have realized that now, after Riti left, and so I didn’t say anything. I let things be. Maybe I would have still pulled Sudheer out, if it looked like it was going to become a disaster, maybe that way I will never change as a father, but still I was going to wait till the very end before I pulled the parachute cord. But then…’

  ‘So let me do this, papa, let me deal with Arijit,’ Mohan pleaded. ‘If it is my mistake, so be it. Let me learn.’

  ‘No, not now. Not when one of my sons is dying and my daughter is gone. Not now.’

  ‘Don’t be worried for me. Nothing will happen. I have my men, I am not foolish that I will try to do this myself.’ Mohan held his father’s hand in his. ‘I am going to get Arijit picked up and I will question him. No violence, nothing. Just questioning. Then I will have him watched, his phones tapped, and we smoke out whoever is behind him.’

  ‘Don’t do that. I am telling you not to.’

  ‘Why? You killed his father and Sudheer bust his face. God knows, he has reason enough to want to send our family to hell.’

  ‘If he is innocent, I don’t want him to have to face whatever you are planning, not after what we have already done to him.’

  ‘And what if he is guilty?’

  ‘Then even worse. He is waiting for you to strike back and you are going to walk into his trap.’

  ‘May I come in?’ They both looked up to see Abdul Ismail standing at the door. Behind him were two of his men.

  Arjun motioned them in. Ismail closed the door and left his men outside.

  ‘When I came to know Sudheer’s gun had been fired, I was suspecting or rather praying that he had hit one of them. Well, he did.’

  Ismail had a piece of paper with him, which he kept on the table in front of Arjun and Mohan.

  ‘A small government clinic nearby. A man checks in last night with a bullet wound from a .22. He has another man with him. He has a gun. So the doctor does not file a police report. But he does file it in their records.’

  ‘How do we know this is his real name?’ Mohan asked.

  Ismail smiled. ‘Oh, it’s his real name, all right. We have already located the shooters. All your men need is for you,’ he said, and he looked at Arjun, ‘to tell them what to do with these two.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  Ismail took a chit of paper out from his blue shirt and kept it on the table.

  ‘Here’s the address. They are cousins. Small-time crooks.’

  Arjun looked at it for a second. ‘Pick them up.’

  ‘They are staying with his family, hiding inside their home. It is going to be difficult for your people to bring them out without… you know…some unpleasantness.’

  ‘Get in touch with Sandeep. Not Ramesh, keep him out of this. Tell Sandeep to have men dressed up as police go and knock on the door.’ Arjun thought for a moment. ‘If they come quiet, fine. If they try to run, catch them from the back. Make sure at least one of them is alive. Then take them to a safe house, and this is very important, do not do anything till I come.’

  Ismail looked surprised. He stayed silent for a moment and then stroked his beard contemplatively. ‘Leave the questioning to Sandeep. You stay here.’

  ‘No,’ Arjun said. ‘I need to go myself. It’s time I got my hands dirty again.’

  It was late at night, close to three, when the doctors came out of the operating room. Arjun had the best team in the country working on Sudheer, two doctors had flown in from London, and there were three more coming the next morning from the US.

  Dr O’Brian gave the news. ‘It’s a miracle he is alive. Your son has the luck of the Irish, I say.’

  The truck had not hit Sudheer’s side of the car. The driver had been skilled enough to swerve and hit the tail of the car, sending it rolling down the side of road. Then Sudheer’s layers of fat had cushioned his organs from the bullets and withstood most of the damage, and while there was still massive internal bleeding and multiple fractures on his clavicle and limbs, none of his major organs had been ruptured. He was not out of danger yet, Dr O’Brian said, because the internal bleeding had not stopped entirely, but in the next forty-eight hours, things would probably get better if he remained stable.

  ‘If it is okay, may I see him?’ Arjun asked.

  ‘In an hour or two, maybe. But only five minutes. And only you. Let’s not get the family back here. I don’t want his room to become a convention.’

  They let Arjun in after three hours. The first sight of Sudheer, lying there on the bed in blue and white and with all sorts of tubes and machines connected to his body, made Arjun tear up, and he stopped and held the wall for support.

  This is how Nayantara must have felt when she saw Arijit. This is revenge. The universe’s revenge.

  Then he entered, small, silent steps and sat near his bed. Sudheer’s eyes were closed and he breathed heavily, and Arjun looked intently at the displays and the dials, almost as if he could will them to make his son better.

  ‘Papa, is that you?’

  Arjun reached out and held Sudheer by his forearm. That was the only place there was not bandage or needle.

  ‘Yes, it’s me. You are going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.’r />
  ‘If anything happens to me, promise to look after my son.’ ‘We don’t know if it’s a son and stop talking nonsense.’

  ‘On the subject of nonsense, seems like my fat protected me. Heard the doctors talking about that.’

  ‘That’s what they say.’

  ‘You always told me to stop eating laddoos. If I had listened to you, I would be dead now.’

  ‘I promise that from now on I will feed you laddoos myself. Now try not to talk, will you?’

  ‘I am sorry I screwed up. I am a failure.’ One of the instruments gave two blips and then a small red light came on.

  ‘No, you are not. You are my son.’

  A doctor and a nurse came in. Arjun knew he had to leave. He was going to stand up, when Sudheer said, ‘Look after Mohan. He needs a lot of looking after.’

  ‘You have looked after him all these years. Get better and look after him yourself.’

  ‘You remember that cat that died, that ayah’s son had that cat, remember?’

  The doctor silently mouthed the words, ‘You should leave, please.’

  ‘What cat?’ Arjun asked, showing a bit of irritation.

  ‘That’s why you sent me to boarding school, remember? Because I killed that cat.’

  ‘You need to stop talking now. All this can wait.’

  ‘I didn’t kill that cat, papa. Mohan did. I took the blame because you would be mad at him. You were always so mad at all of us then.’ The effort of speaking turned his cheeks pale but Sudheer went on, ‘That’s why I said, look after him, in case I don’t make it. He needs care.’

  ‘Why did Mohan kill that cat?’

  ‘He just said he didn’t like its meow.’

  Rishi sat upstairs in his Maharani Bagh duplex, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. There was a day–night game with Australia this evening, the bets were coming in every minute, and he was in his bedroom, door locked, windows locked, the entrance to the verandah locked, with a number of phones, sheets of papers with bets, a glass of whisky, a muted television with the cricket match on, a half-finished box of biryani and a shiny Glock, fully loaded.

  The intercom buzzed and he pressed the button.

  ‘Is she here?’

  Over the years, Rishi realized that his tastes had undergone a change. He now preferred single malt over beer, Hollywood over Hindi movies, and older women, in their mid-thirties, to the waif-like twenty-somethings that flitted about in the parties he frequented. There was just more to hold on to with older women, but with young girls, as he liked to say, it was like making love to soda, a bit of fizz and pop, but then ultimately just water and air. This one today would be special – the beautiful wife of a small-time bookie who owed him money, a mother of two – and he could not wait to slip off his briefs and greet her in the nude when she walked through the door for the first time. He always liked to give the ladies that surprise.

  ‘No, it’s a gentleman. He said you would be expecting him,’ said Madhavan from downstairs.

  ‘Can he hear you?’

  ‘No, sir, I have kept him outside the door.’

  ‘Search him thoroughly.’

  ‘I already have.’

  ‘Do it again.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Once you have done that, bring him up.’

  In two minutes, there was a knock on the door. Rishi strode up, opened it, and then quickly went back and sat on the bed, his hand comfortably close to the Glock.

  Mohan walked in, dressed in a black suit, a white shirt and a pale blue tie. He looked once around the room and then sat down on the couch next to the television set.

  ‘Want to search some more?’ he asked, without a trace of irritation in his voice. ‘The only thing left was to pull my foreskin down to see if I had a gun there.’

  ‘Yeah, what to do. These are tough times. People getting shot on the highway.’

  ‘What about that then?’

  ‘I don’t know what to say. We fucked up.’

  ‘No, we didn’t fuck up. You did.’ Mohan lost his cool for just a moment and then he was back to his cold self. ‘I told you to get someone good to do the job.’

  Rishi took the glass of whisky and took a sip. ‘Look, it’s not as if I can put an ad in the paper for this sort of stuff. I just got who I felt was the best. Those two came recommended.’

  ‘Oh, so that was the best?’ Mohan raised an eyebrow. ‘There is an elephant and an ant in a car. They are told to kill the elephant. They kill the ant.’

  ‘What can they do if your brother decides to drive and the driver sits in the back?’

  ‘Maybe take a look before firing. I don’t know, does that sound particularly difficult?’

  ‘Fuck it, man. Mistakes happen. They tried their best.’ Rishi threw his hands up in frustration. ‘What can I do if your brother wears layers of lard like it’s a fucking bulletproof vest? The number of bullets they got in would have stopped an elephant in heat.’

  ‘Why didn’t you get Chuha to do the job? I paid enough I suppose. Why did you get shooters on the cheap and pocket the difference?’

  ‘Look here.’ Rishi pointed his finger menacingly at Mohan. ‘I am not a cook that you can slap me around for putting too much salt in your paneer. You know who my papa is, one snap of his fingers and you little pricks will be walking around in Tihar with your hands on your bums. This isn’t the ’80s any more, okay? Your papa counts for nothing in the city. Nothing. Can’t even manage his own family, daughter goes and sleeps with the son of an enemy. Yes, we have all heard that. So take your attitude elsewhere, you little shit-stain.’ He looked at the ceiling. ‘Fuck me for having even taken this on. That too as a favour.’

  ‘You talked to the shooter yourself, right?’

  ‘Yeah, so what?’ Rishi frowned.

  ‘My father knows who the shooters are.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So? He was going to have his men bring them in and then they would have beaten your name out of them. It’s only your good luck that I was there when Ismail brought the names in. Otherwise my father’s men would have been knocking on your door right now.’

  ‘So you got the shooters killed. Big deal. Even if they had identified me, who cares? I am protected. No one can touch me.’ A call was coming in on one of his phones and Rishi disconnected it without picking it up. ‘It would be different for you though, if your father came to know who put the hit on his son. I am guessing there would be an uncomfortable family dinner after that.’ He stood up and walked up to the bar to pour himself another peg. ‘So stop making it out as if you did me a favour. You saved your own ass.’

  ‘You think my father counts for nothing?’

  ‘Sudheer is my good friend for years now. He is a stupid fat fuck but he is a good friend. And I like you too. You get laid a lot, and I have heard that you are hung like a horse, which means God likes you too. But that doesn’t mean I can’t tell you the truth. That’s what everyone says, and I am sorry if it comes across as blunt. Your dad is finished.’

  ‘Do you know why I wanted Sudheer to die?’

  ‘You want to move up in the inheritance ladder?’

  ‘No, it’s because he thinks like you. He thinks my father counts for nothing. Sometimes even I do, but then I am smart enough to realize I am wrong.’

  Rishi gave a sarcastic grunt.

  ‘My brother was going to go behind his back to the Mehtas. Thought that would get him in the good books of his wife and father-in-law.’

  ‘Good for him. He should have.’

  ‘What he didn’t know was that papa knew. He is always a step ahead.’

  ‘Now I don’t get you. Why do you want to kill your brother again?’

  ‘Because Sudheer wanted to rebel against papa, he wanted to be the bad boy. He had, as the Americans like to say, daddy issues. And the way he was going on, papa would have lost his patience and cut us off, sooner or later, just as he did with Riti. And even if papa had done nothing, we would have destroyed ourselves, be
cause doing what papa does not do himself is doing something that’s not right.’

  ‘You are his sons. Everyone loves their sons. He wouldn’t have cut you off for a few bad business decisions. Daughters, different things.’

  ‘Sons or daughters, whatever they may be, papa does not tolerate fools. Because, as he says, fools get themselves and others killed. Sudheer is a fool. That’s why he had to go. Otherwise he would have gotten me killed. And now thanks to you, I have lost the opportunity and I can’t take another shot because papa will start suspecting me, if he hasn’t already.’

  ‘Give me a break. Your father isn’t God.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so afraid of him if he was.’

  ‘Then?’

  ‘I am afraid he is the devil.’

  ‘And what are you then? The son-of-the-devil?’

  The intercom buzzed again. Rishi pressed it.

  ‘Sir, the lady is here.’

  ‘Search her but don’t get too frisky, okay? I would not want you to come before I do.’ Cutting off the intercom, he looked at Mohan and shook his head in the direction of the door. ‘Now if you will excuse me, I have to let off some steam.’

  Mohan adjusted his jacket and tie and walked towards the exit. ‘I like the sound of that.’ A small smile darted across his face. ‘The son-of-the-devil.’

  Rishi gave a contemptuous wave of his hand as the door closed behind Mohan. As it clicked shut, he eagerly worked his boxers off and waited for his guest, already rock hard. In a minute, there was a soft knock, he leapt to open the door, telling himself to catch her expression when she first laid eyes on his gym-toned body.

  But instead of a lady in a sari and a sleeveless blouse, which is what he had imagined she would be wearing, the round tube of a silencer was aimed at his face. Before he could move or get a word out, Rishi’s body flew back, and hit the ground with a dull dead thud.

  ‘Rishi ji, if only you had given me the job, motay would have been dead,’ Chuha said, looking at the blood splatter on the wall and on the TV with a sad smile face on his face, ‘and you would have been alive.’