by Gabriel Khan
Ajay nodded.
Sharmaji was vastly impressed. To con a conman was a difficult thing, but to do it when you’re hardly out of your teens, and in such a manner… it was bloody genius!
But there was something else Sharmaji was itching to know. ‘How did you discover what my business was?’
Ajay smiled. ‘From your shoes,’ he replied.
‘My—my shoes?’ Sharmaji said, bewildered.
‘Yes. I noticed you’d trodden in dung. And when you came into the office, it was still fresh. There’s a cattle shed near here, and on the day I took a holiday I went there in disguise and saw you, and I put two and two together.’
It was simple, once he’d described it. But then…
‘How did you know I was not a friend of Albert Pinto?’
Ajay grinned. ‘Your shoes.’
‘Oh, come on! Not the shoes again!’
‘It’s true. Look. There’s a construction site at the mouth of Mr Pinto’s lane. Anyone living on that lane would end up with a fine layer of white dust on their shoes. The boss came in like that every morning. But yours were clean, except for the dung.’
Sharmaji let out a long pent-up breath, and held up his glass of tea. ‘Ajay, you’re good. I’ve never met someone who can plan so far ahead.’
Ajay smiled again. ‘Thank you. But there are a few more things we have to do before we can really start anything.’
‘Oh?’ said Sharmaji. ‘What’s that?’
‘We have to get more people.’
Ajay had found a reason to persevere, even if this was a twisted version of his original plan. And he’d found a friend.
6
Wrong Man,
Right Girl
Bimal Agarwal was a workaholic and a highly punctual man. His employees could correct their watches against his 11 a.m. arrival in office, daily without fail. A self-made man, Bimal Agarwal was born poor and had learnt the principles of life along the way. By sheer hard work and equally vital dollops of luck, he had managed to become a millionaire. Now, he was listed among the largest importers of ball bearings in the city.
His employees greeted him enthusiastically as always when he walked in this morning, and he casually nodded in return. He sat down at his desk, and dialled a number on his intercom.
‘When is the next shipment arriving?’ he asked, pen in hand.
He nodded, and jotted down details in a notepad.
‘Okay, thanks,’ he said and put the receiver down.
He called three employees and issued instructions for proper handling and receipt of the cargo, telling them that if need be, they were to grease the palms of the customs officers. The men nodded, and went back into the storeroom.
Agarwal made some rough calculations on paper, and smiled to himself. Knowing that he was about to hit the jackpot always made him smile. He took his glasses off and dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. He then got up and went to a locker and opened it. He took some cash out of his briefcase and placed it systematically inside. He slammed the metal door shut and locked it, just as he registered three people walking into his office out of the corner of his eye.
‘Good morning, sir.’ said the Sardar, curtly. ‘I am Harpal Singh, from the Central Bureau of Investigation.’
He held up an ID in his right hand, to let Agarwal confirm this.
The old man was taken aback, and beads of sweat appeared on his bald pate. He took a few seconds to regain his composure.
‘W-what is this about?’ he asked politely.
‘We have gathered intelligence that you have been making illegal transactions and also dabble in hawala funding,’ the Sardar said.
‘I don’t understand,’ Agarwal said.
‘Black money, unaccounted cash,’ Singh said matter-of-factly. ‘Understand now?’
‘This is ridiculous!’ Agarwal yelled.
The third officer held a warrant right in front of his face. ‘We have been ordered to confiscate all your liquid assets,’ he said, twirling his moustache.
Agarwal stood his ground silently for a few seconds.
‘Sir, you have to be cooperative if you want us to be unbiased in our investigation.’
Agarwal walked towards the locker resignedly. The officers emptied all the money, amounting to five lakh rupees, into the various suitcases they had with them.
‘If you’re cleared, the money will be returned,’ Singh said as he slammed the door and made his way out.
The three of them grinned victoriously at each other and quickly got into their cars, before they rid themselves of their fake beards and moustaches. They had triumphed again, these Robin Hoods, stealing from the rich to give to the poor.
Ajay beamed. He asked his partners, Joginder, Iqbal and Sharmaji, to meet him later; he had to rush to Regal Cinema at Colaba for a show of Top Gun. Priya would be waiting for him.
It had been several years since he had begun courting Priya. But he had never seen her so stuck on one request for so long.
He hadn’t been able to pay much attention to the movie that everyone was raving about. Tom Cruise, the new Hollywood superstar, was taking the world by storm. He looked so handsome that Ajay finally conceded he had seen a star who was better looking than him.
They were walking near the Gateway of India with popcorn in their hands.
‘What’s the matter, Ajay?’ Priya asked, looking at his frowning face. ‘Didn’t like the movie?’
‘Loved it. What about you? Did you like the movie, or just Tom Cruise?’ he said, with a wink.
‘Just Tom Cruise,’ she giggled. ‘But what’s the matter? you’ve been rather morose all evening.’
‘It’s nothing, Priya.’
She nodded and looked away. He knew that she knew something was wrong. It had been like this since their college days. Ever since they had graduated from Chetna College in 1979, they had been besotted with each other, these past seven years.
‘Okay,’ he mumbled. ‘I was just wondering what it would be like to be rich. You know? Tom Cruise-rich. As rich as, maybe even, your father.’
‘You’ve never met my father,’ she muttered. ‘How do you know he’s rich?’
‘Because of the way you carry yourself. Such poise, such elegance. Not to mention the jewellery.’
‘Listen, Ajay,’ she said, looking at him wide-eyed. ‘I like you for who you are. Such thoughts change a man. Just work hard and the world will be at your feet.’
He looked at her and smiled. They continued to walk in the direction of her house.
Ajay’s thoughts drifted in another direction: for as long as there have been people making money, there have been people waiting to take it from them, he mused. History is rife with swindlers and brazen impostors who have used the trust of other to propel them to fame and riches. He himself was one such con-artist.
Well, he wasn’t one yet. He was more of a low-level conman for now. He’d soon be one of the biggest con-artists in history though, he thought. And there was no harm in taking money away from crooks, he rationalized.
‘When are you coming to see dad?’ Finally, it was out.
Ajay realized there was no point in stalling any further.
‘Tomorrow?’
Priya could not believe it. ‘Oh, really? Please come in the morning then, before he leaves for office.’
Arriving at the posh locality of D’ Monte Park in Bandra next morning, Ajay waited for fifteen minutes on the porch of Priya’s building. The plan was to meet her dad and then to whisk her away for a romantic day together.
Priya stepped out just then, and he grinned at her. She didn’t reciprocate his enthusiasm, smiling feebly as she approached him.
‘Daddy wants to meet you. He’s coming down.’
‘Sooner or later he has to meet his son-in-law to be.’ Ajay smiled at her.
And then Ajay saw her father. He froze. The same bald pate on a grim face. Only yesterday the man had been Ajay’s victim. Thankfully, Ajay had been in disguise as a sarda
r, covered up in a turban and with a full beard to boot.
It was Bimal Agarwal. of all the Agarwals in India, it had to be this one who had decided to be Priya’s father. Damn.
Bimal Agarwal walked straight towards the couple.
‘Daddy, this is Ajay,’ Priya said brightly.
The man nodded. Ajay managed to muster up a smile. The old man didn’t seem impressed.
‘So what do you do, Ajay?’
Ajay didn’t say anything. He wasn’t in any shape to think straight. Bimal Agarwal repeated his question.
‘Um-uh, nothing, sir. Looking for a job,’ was all Ajay could say.
‘Well, better get one. It’s difficult to sustain oneself in today’s world,’ was Agarwal’s fatherly advice. ‘Anyway, I do have work. Unlike the two of you, still behaving like carefree teenagers.’
He walked away from the young couple. Ajay disliked the man already. He felt a perverse pleasure in knowing that he, a ‘carefree teenager’, had robbed this man of his earnings. At the same time, he felt a sudden wave of guilt. He had just robbed from the love of his life. Well, indirectly.
‘Don’t pay any heed. He’s been in a bad mood since yesterday. Apparently, the CBI confiscated five lakh rupees for some investigation. He’s been crabby ever since.’
Later that evening, though, Mr Bimal Agarwal’s mood lightened. One of the officers – not the Sardar – paid him a visit to return the ‘confiscated’ money. He smiled as he heard that he had been cleared by the CBI. And so, things settled and Ajay grew comfortable dating Priya. The weeks turned to months and the months became a year. Ajay was in a much better financial position now. But Priya was always apprehensive of losing him.
Today, Ajay had brought her to Sanjay Gandhi National Park. They walked through the woods, like all the other couples making a slow promenade through the greenery.
But it seemed Priya had something on her mind, and when she was sure there was nobody else around, she brought it up. ‘Ajay, you’re never around.’ They were sitting on a small bench beside a pond.
Ajay’s arm was around Priya, her head resting on his shoulder.
‘I know, sweetie. There’s just too much work, you know.’
‘But, you’ve never told me. What do you do, exactly?’
She could feel him stiffen. ‘Priya, don’t ask me,’ he said woodenly. ‘I promise you that my work will never hurt anyone who shouldn’t be hurt. That’s all.’
She sighed. ‘You have so many secrets, Ajay. I love you, but sometimes I feel I hardly know you. That’s not the way I want to live my life, tiptoeing around your secrets.’
‘You know you don’t have to, Priya. Tell you what,’ he said, turning to her and taking her small hand in his. ‘I’ll tell you everything. Everything you want to know. But not now. Give me a little more time, and you’ll know all my secrets. Promise.’
He meant every word, and he knew she believed him. But he saw sadness lurking in her eyes.
‘What is it?’ he asked, concerned for the first time.
She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing.’
Ajay lifted her chin gently with one hand. Her skin was white in the moonlight, pale as winter, and her eyes were large and brimming. ‘Priya, this is me you’re talking to. You know I’ll know when you’re not telling me something. What is it?’
She turned away, her hand still in his. ‘This can’t go on forever, Ajay.’
There was more, he knew it. He stayed silent, waiting.
In a low voice, she said, ‘Papa has found a boy.’
Ajay relaxed. ‘That’s it?’ he laughed. ‘Don’t you worry about that. These things take time, and you never know what will happen meanwhile.’
Priya dropped the bomb. ‘He’s fixed the date for the engagement.’
She looked up at him, and saw him staring into space, his face expressionless.
‘Did you hear what I said, Ajay? I’m going to be engaged in three months!’ she said incredulously.
‘I heard you, darling, I heard. Three months?’ He smiled. ‘That’s a long time.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Ajay, it isn’t. You won’t even know when it’s gone by.’
He turned to face her. ‘I just have one question. Do you like the fellow?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Like? How dare you ask me that? How can you even think—’
‘No, no, don’t get me wrong,’ he said soothingly. ‘What I meant was, have you seen him? Do you know him?’
She shook her head, her arms folded across her chest, the picture of hurt indignation.
‘Good. Then you have nothing to worry about.’ He drew her closer to him. ‘Listen to me. You won’t marry him. I know that. But will you marry me?’
She gasped, even angrier. ‘Really? So that’s how you’re going to propose to me? Wow, you’re a romantic!’ She looked as if she was on the verge of flouncing off.
He shook his head. ‘No, I’m not proposing. Believe me, when I propose, you’ll know it. I’m only asking you. Would you marry me?’
‘Not right now, I wouldn’t!’
‘Come on, Priya. Set your anger aside for just a minute. Would you?’
She softened. ‘Of course I would, you idiot.’
He smiled. ‘Then here’s my promise. You won’t marry him. Nobody will take you from me.’
She looked worried. ‘Ajay, you didn’t hear what I said. I don’t know what you do, where you go—’
‘I’ll tell you everything, Priya,’ he interrupted her. ‘Everything. But not now. There are a few more things I’ve got to do. And there is one big job I have to finish. I wish I could tell you all about it now, but I can’t. I’m asking you to trust me.’
‘Of course I trust you, Ajay! But won’t you tell me something at least?’
‘Priya, you’re the most intelligent woman I know,’ said Ajay, leaning back. ‘Take a guess.’
She looked at him carefully. In a wary voice, she said, ‘I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s legal.’
Ajay smiled again. ‘It isn’t.’
She sighed again. ‘I thought so. I think you’re some kind of fancy thief. You’re not stupid enough to be into petty thieving, and you actually have principles and ethics, so you can’t be a murderer.’
Ajay watched her, smiling. ‘Go on.’
‘I also think you have some sort of strategy, and that you have a larger purpose in mind. I don’t know what that is,’ she finished.
Ajay nodded. ‘You know, in college there were so many girls who had so much. But not one of them had brains like you.’
Her eyes danced mischievously. ‘Girls? What, you’re a chauvinist now?’
Ajay suddenly grew serious. ‘Priya, I won’t tell you anything yet. Not now. But like I told you before, I never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt. You know me, you know my principles, what I believe, what I stand for. You know I would never do anything to hurt the innocent.’
He watched her think. It was the longest thirty seconds of his life. Then she nodded.
‘Yes, I do know you.’
‘That’s why I’m asking you to trust me. There are a few more things I have to wrap up, and then I’ll be with you. Always. And wherever I go, you’ll come with me.’
She chuckled. ‘Boy, you’re really corny, you know that?’
The danger had passed. Ajay realized that he had been holding his breath, and he let it go now in a whoosh of relief.
‘Yeah, yeah, I guess so.’
She pressed against him again. ‘So what do we do?’
His mind had started racing again. ‘Do? We do nothing. Just keep doing whatever the hell your father says. But wait for me. I’ll come for you before you get engaged.’
‘Mmm. I wish Papa could see what I see in you,’ she said wistfully. ‘Then we wouldn’t have these stupid complications.’
‘Me too, Priya. But I’ll win him over someday.’
‘Win him over,’ said Priya, surprised. ‘How exactly?’
‘I
don’t know yet. But I’ll think of something.’
She was silent for a while, and he sensed her next question even as she spoke. ‘Ajay, just tell me this. Your work. Why do you do it?’
‘Why indeed,’ he said playfully. ‘I can’t do anything else. my mind is always thinking, planning. And you’re my muse.’
She looked up at him, soft, gentle and trusting, and he thought his heart would explode with love.
‘You know,’ she said softly, her slender fingers playing with his collar. ‘You really can be very corny!’
Ajay smiled.
7
Cops and Cons
‘So they suspended you?’
‘Of course they did, sir. Wouldn’t you have?’
Ranveer, Rahul and I were sitting in a restaurant next to the CBI office. It was a place all our officers frequented, we could speak freely there. A lot of power was concentrated in this room – they said more deals and tip-offs passed through here than in the building next door.
It was of course predictable, the way they had kicked Ranveer and his team out, suspending them after the raid at the minister’s house. And it had happened the very next day.
‘You see, sir,’ Ranveer told us, sipping his tea, ‘when I realized what had happened, I immediately contacted my superior. The next day, Shanti and I were summoned to Minister Gupta’s bungalow.’
‘Was your additional commissioner there?’ I asked.
‘Yes, sir. How did you know?’ Ranveer asked, impressed by my omniscience.
I gestured for him to carry on. Some things you can’t explain, you learnt through experience, and then hope all that experience will get you somewhere.
‘Well, Minister Gupta refused to lodge an FIR.’
‘Obviously. If he lodges an FIR, he has to disclose exactly what was stolen. He does that, he has to go back to Bihar to his cattle.’
‘That’s exactly what he said! We tried to explain to him that the police wouldn’t be able to do anything if he did not lodge an FIR, but there was no way we could convince him. And he wouldn’t rest until Shanti and I were suspended, in front of him.’ Ranveer stopped, and I could see him battling with his humiliation.
