Her face suddenly lost its smirk when she felt the steely tip of a scalpel against her throat. Taarak had taken the elevator to the sixth floor and quietly walked over to Chhedi’s office. He had softly tiptoed up behind Radhika while Rathore was busy handcuffing Saini and Priya. Once behind her, he had grabbed Radhika by her waist with one hand while holding a scalpel to her throat with the other.
‘I shall cut this throat if you do not throw down your guns at this very instant,’ he said decisively to Radhika and Rathore.,’ replied Sir Khan said is Saini and Radhika
‘Okay, easy does it,’ urged Rathore as he took out his gun from his holster and gently dropped it to the floor. Radhika, who was still holding her gun, was paralysed with shock. She couldn’t believe that the plan to recapture Saini and Priya was being foiled yet again.
‘I said, drop it!’ commanded Taarak in her ear. This time the order seemed to register and Radhika obeyed. No one in the room was more surprised than Saini. What the hell was his driver doing? Why was he getting himself involved like this?
‘Now, uncuff her!’ yelled Taarak at Rathore, pressing the scalpel a little harder against Radhika’s neck so that a tiny droplet of blood emerged from the skin. Taarak was gesturing towards Priya.
Rathore walked over to Priya and unlocked the cuffs. Priya got up from her chair, walked over to Rathore’s discarded gun that was lying on the floor and picked it up. Pointing it at Rathore, she said ‘One move from you, and I’ll fire this gun, you hear?’
Rathore nodded numbly. The policemen who were seated in the secretary’s room watched the proceedings mutely through the open door as they acknowledged to themselves that there was very little they could do, given that weapons were directly aimed at both their bosses.
Keeping the gun pointed at Rathore, Priya shuffled over to the desk on which Chhedi’s seal lay. She picked it up and placed it in her pocket.
‘What are you doing, Priya?’ whispered Saini in panic. ‘We may be fugitives but we’re not criminals. Don’t do anything that may jeopardise your life.’
‘Oh, shut up and spare me the lecture!’ snarled Priya, her suddenly fiery eyes drilling into Saini’s. ‘I’m not your delicate doctoral student anymore, Professor Ravi Mohan Saini! I’m fed up of your persistent whining. It’s better that you accompany the police to the lockup. That’s the only place where you’ll be safe!’
Saini was stupefied. The transformation in Priya was incredible. Gone were the gentle smile and delicate dimples. Instead, her face was flushed and there was a permanent scowl in place of the laidback smile. Having placed the seal in her pocket, she turned to Saini again. ‘Now I have all four seals. Thank you for your location analysis, it will be most helpful, Professor,’ she smirked. ‘But I’m relieved that I don’t have to listen to your boring lectures anymore.’
She walked over to Radhika Singh who was still frozen in a single spot with Taarak’s scalpel at her throat.
‘You can remove the steel from her throat, my child,’ said Priya to Taarak. ‘I shall now take care of her.’
‘Yes, Mataji,’ said Taarak respectfully, letting go of Radhika.
Priya pointed the gun directly at Radhika’s head and said, ‘You are my passport out of this office. Instruct your men, who are swarming all over the place, that I am to be given unhindered passage. One single suspicious move by anyone and your brains will lie splattered on the floor.’ Radhika nodded mutely, too dazed to register this new turn of events.
‘It’s time for us to take your leave,’ said Priya, mockingly, to the others in the room. ‘Turn around,’ she instructed Radhika. As Radhika did so, Priya put her left arm around Radhika’s waist with her right hand pressing the gun to Radhika’s ribs.,’ replied Sir Khanina on the
‘You shall walk with me to the car. If I reach safely and leave, you have your life as a bonus. If I don’t, you’re dead meat,’ she whispered as she nudged Radhika forward towards the open office door.
‘Walk behind me,’ she instructed Taarak. ‘Keep a lookout that no one tries to assault me from the back.’
‘Your wish is my command, Mataji,’ said Taarak obediently, as they began walking towards the car with Radhika Singh as their captive. Vignettes of his life with Mataji coursed through Taarak’s head as he walked behind her.
While Arjuna was with his father, the Pandavas decided to travel the length and breadth of the country. They bathed in holy rivers, visited ancient pilgrimage sites, meditated with rishis and discussed philosophy with sages. It was a time of learning and introspection. As their grand tour came to an end, Bhima summoned his son Ghatotkacha. His son arrived along with several Rakshasa friends and they helped the Pandavas scale the Himalayan heights where Arjuna awaited them. After a joyous reunion, Arjuna showed them the miraculous weapons that had been bestowed upon him. As overed them, the earth and the heavens began to shake. Arjuna realised that he was blessed with remarkably potent arms and that he could not afford to treat them casually.
‘I don’t mean to pry, Mataji, but I have always wondered, how did you become so strong?’ asked Taarak after one of their training sessions had ended. They had been following the daily routine for over five years and Taarak had evolved into a fine specimen of strength, wisdom and humility. Priya smiled at the boy. Stretching out her arm, she tenderly touched his cheek and said, ‘If it were anyone else asking, I would have killed him immediately for prying into my personal life, but I have grown fond of you, my child, so listen.’
‘Many years ago when I was still a little girl, my mother died of cancer. My father was all I had left in this world. My father—Sanjay Ratnani—had yet to become India’s highest-paid criminal lawyer. He had to work exceedingly hard and would often leave early in the mornings and return late at night, coping with hundreds of petty cases,’ said Priya. ‘We lived in a small
one-bedroom apartment within a Mumbai chawl. We were not wealthy enough for me to be sent to boarding school and hence my father would leave me with our neighbour, a kind lady called Sarla Auntie.’
Priya paused. ‘Sarla Auntie became a substitute for my mother. She would cook breakfast for me, walk me to school, help me with my homework and tuck me into bed at night. I would be fast asleep when my father returned from work and he would carry me into our apartment, thanking Sarla Auntie profusely for taking care of me.’ Taarak was listening with rapt attention.
Priya continued, ‘Sarla Auntie was a devout Krishna bhakt and she would, without fail, perform her daily prayers to Lord Krishna every morning. I loved her prayers, because they would end with sweets—the prasadam—that she would affectionately place in my mouth. I did not know that Sarla Auntie was unable to have children of her own. She had been married to an abusive drunkard of a husband via an alliance arranged by her poor parents. He had beaten her so viciously on the first night that her womb had been rendered incapable of bearing life. She had run to the local police station to lodge a complaint but the officer on duty, an obnoxiou,’ replied Sir Khanpris Saini and Radhikas man called Garg, had told her that these things happened from time to time in all marriages, and refused to file an FIR! Even though her own life was wretched, Sarla would shower affection on me. I was probably the only thing that was still capable of inspiring love in her dark and morbid world.’
Priya took a gulp of water from a glass before proceeding. Obviously, remembering this part of her life was difficult. ‘One day, when my father was still at work and Sarla Auntie was in the kitchen warming up my dinner, her husband staggered in, pissed out of his mind. He stared at me lecherously and lunged at me, trying to grab hold of my breasts. I fell down and he fell on top of me. He started unzipping his trousers so that he could rape me, when Sarla Auntie came running in and desperately struggled to pull him off me. He got up and swung his right arm viciously, catching her on her lower lip, which immediately began to bleed. He swung her around, and twisted her arm behind her back until I thought it would snap, while his other hand grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. I
could see that Sarla Auntie was helpless and that the monster would kill her if he had his way. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife that was lying on the counter—the one with which Sarla Auntie had been chopping onions for the evening meal. I held it tightly in my hand, ran behind Sarla Auntie’s evil husband and plunged the knife as deep as I could in his back. He screamed in agony. Unknowingly, I had penetrated his lung and hemothorax. I watched as he fell to the ground, blood gurgling from his mouth.’
Priya wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she resumed. ‘Sarla Auntie was too shocked to move. She couldn’t believe that I had just murdered her tormentor. She ran over to me and hugged me tightly. She then took the knife from my hands, cleaned the blood and fingerprints with her saree and grasped the knife firmly in her own hand so that her fingerprints would replace mine. She made me change out of my blood-stained dress into a clean one and made me wash my hands and face thoroughly. She then burnt the dress that I had been wearing in the steel dustbin in the kitchen. She told me to go to my own flat and wait there quietly for my father to return. She instructed me to maintain that I had not been with her that evening. I was reluctant to leave Sarla Auntie in the state that she was in, but she was unwilling to tolerate any argument from me. She asked me to keep Krishna in my heart permanently. She said that the world was an evil place and that her solace in life had been Krishna and I. She made me promise that I would worship Krishna each day. She then pushed me out of her flat, commanding me to run to my father’s place.’
Taarak reached out his hand and held Priya’s hand in his own. He was desperate to hug and comfort this vulnerable woman who had protected him like a mother when he most needed refuge. Priya continued, ‘That night my father returned home a little after eleven at night. As was his usual custom, he first dropped in at Sarla Auntie’s to pick me up. When he reached there he saw that Sarla Auntie and her husband were both lying dead on the floor, the husband due to a stab wound in his back and Sarla Auntie with a self-inflicted wound to her stomach—with the knife still in her hand. He immediately ran home—desperately worried for me—and found me hiding under the bed in the dark. He gently lifted me up, cuddled me in his arms and then picked up the phone to call the police.
The police arrived and inspected the premises. The investigating officer, Sub-Inspector Sunil Garg, harassed my father, asking hundreds of questions about my whereabouts that evening. It was almost as though he had pre-decided,’ replied Sir Khan f
One day, the breeze wafted some deliciously fragrant flowers into Draupadi’s lap. She requested Bhima to fetch her some more of the same kind. Bhima set out, determined to find the flowers that Draupadi so wanted. He was like a man possessed with the desire to please her, and had no concern for the trees or animals he injured on his way. He finally reached a dense grove, but a sleeping monkey blocked his way. ‘Get out of my way, old monkey,’ said Bhima angrily. The monkey said that he was too old to move and that Bhima should move his tail to one side and proceed. Bhima, in spite of his superhuman strength, was unable to get the tail to budge. It was then that Bhima knew that the monkey was none other than the immortal Hanuman—his brother through their common father, the wind god, Vayu. Bhima eventually understood that I had asked Hanuman to teach a lesson in humility to Bhima. Bhima prostrated himself before Hanuman, begging his forgiveness. After being blessed lovingly by
Hanuman, Bhima resumed his search for Draupadi’s flowers.
‘What happened when you told your father that you had killed Sarla Auntie’s husband?’ asked Taarak, now holding both of Priya’s hands in his own.
‘He began to cry. He held me in his arms and said that he would make sure that I was never put in such a situation ever again. He blamed himself and his work schedule for putting me in harm’s way. The next day he went to meet Sir Khan and accepted a brief to fight a criminal case on his behalf,’ said Priya.
‘Who was Sir Khan?’ asked Taarak.
‘Sir Khan was the chief of a major Indian crime syndicate, no English knight,’ replied Priya. ‘He had earlier been a deputy of the notorious Dada Rahim and adopted the grand title of Sir Khan to denote his elevated status within Dada Rahim’s organisation. Sir Khan had started his career as a minor pickpocket and had graduated to smuggling, betting and counterfeiting. Eventually, there was a much-publicised split between Dada Rahim and Sir Khan, when Sir Khan broke away from the gang and started his own outfit. Sir Khan went on to become a multimillionaire, setting up many legitimate businesses—including real estate development outfits, hotels, and movie production companies—in parallel with his flourishing illicit ones. The feud with Dada Rahim, however, continued, and both men sold each other out to corrupt policemen from time to time. Sir Khan had heard of my father’s growing prowess in the courtroom and had sent word that he would like my father to represent him in all his pending criminal litigation, but my father had refused. He did not want to build his career by fighting on behalf of mafia bosses. That night, however, he decided that he needed to provide for my safety and security first. More importantly, he needed the help of someone who would get the police—including Garg—off our backs. He thus took the unprecedented step of representing Sir Khan.’
Priya looked at Taarak with affection and said, ‘My father’s career went into overdrive after he began representing Sir Khan. His income soared too. Within a few days of accepting Sir Khan’s brief, we moved into a wonderful apartment in the western suburbs, offered on instalments by Sir Khan to my father. We had domestic help and I was admitted at St Stephen’s College in New Delhi. a on the Kaliyuga into a new private girl’s school. In school, our yoga teacher was someone who had trained under the Hindu Rashtra Sevika Samiti. She had spent most of her life attending shakhas, in which activities like physical fitness, yoga, and meditation would be given prime importance. She paid special attention to me and I soon began to look upon her as my spiritual guide. Under her personal supervision I became proficient in Sanskrit, Hindu scriptures, yoga, meditation and martial arts. I had not forgotten Sarla Auntie’s dying words—to worship Krishna each day—and I continued the practice. The result was that I became strong, self-reliant and fervently devoted to preserving the dignity of Hinduism and the Vedic way of life.’
‘So why did you become a history teacher, then?’ asked Taarak.
‘When I completed school, I decided that I wanted to study history so that I could gain a vital understanding
of our heritage,’ said Priya. ‘My father was a little disappointed because he had been hoping that I would study law, but that didn’t interest me as much as history did. I enrolled in St Xavier’s College from where I obtained my BA and then proceeded to King’s College, London, for an MA in history. While I was there, I came across documents that made my blood boil. It involved the efforts of European historians to prove that Krishna was a figment of Hindu imagination based upon the Jesus Christ story.’
‘In what way did they do that?’ asked Taarak.
‘A discovery was made in Mora village—around seven miles west of Mathura—in 1882. On the terrace of a very old well, a large stone slab of inscriptions was discovered. Around twenty years later, a researcher—Dr J. P. Vogel—had the Mora Well slab taken away to the Mathura Museum. He then tried to tamper with the slab and translations so that he would be able to show Hinduism in bad light. Reading about this incident brought home to me the fact that history is simply a version of events that can be easily influenced by the political, cultural and religious leanings of those who write it. I wanted to use my education to set this right. I wanted the historical authenticity of Krishna to be firmly established. Krishna should not be taught as mythology, but as history!’
‘And that’s why you became a teacher?’ asked Taarak.
‘Upon returning to India, I felt that I wanted to teach children history more than anything else in the world,’ said Priya. ‘This was a subject, which could mould their way of thinking and instil a sense of pride in their heritage. That’s when I
took up the job at your school. When your caning incident with Mr Kapoor happened, I could have been fired for interfering, but the school was worried that my father would prosecute them for allowing corporal punishment to happen within their portals. They had no alternative but to let me stay. And that’s why you had me with you in school—and outside it!’
‘Would you also like me to study history?’ asked Taarak.
‘No. I have arranged for you to get the best legal training. You shall be the lawyer that my father never had in me. But always remember your purpose in life. It is to establish the supremacy of Vishnu. Everything else in secondary,’ she said.
‘Is that why you have chosen to pursue a doctorate now?’ asked Taarak.
Priya smiled. ‘I’m not doing it for the degree, Taarak,’ she replied. ‘I have specially chosen to study under Professor Ravi Mohan Saini. He i,’ replied Sir Khan battle sais someone who knows much more about the historical Krishna than I do. He will help me reach my destination quicker.’
The thirteenth year arrived. It was the year in which my cousins had to remain undetected. They disguised themselves and took up employment with King Virata of Matsya. Yudhistira became a Brahman—Kanka; Bhima became a cook—Ballava; Arjuna chose to lose his manhood and became a female dance teacher—Brihanalla; Nakula became a horse groomer—Damagranthi; Sahadeva became a veterinarian—Tantipala, and Draupadi became a beautician—Sairandhri. All six of them worked diligently and succeeded in pleasing their new master, King Virata and his wife Queen Sudeshna. The royal couple noticed that their new staff members were excellent workers but slightly different from the norm. They were much more confident and cultured than ordinary servants. Time flew by without incident, until the queen’s brother, Kichaka, took a fancy to Draupadi.
The Krishna Key Page 7
