‘You’re right, that doesn’t. But what about the fact that he had clearance from customs and the department of handicrafts of the Central government? For a simple, uneducated man, which is what I gather he was, those clearances are nearly impossible to get.’ Kabir was fuming. ‘And just to let you know, the company he shipped the replicas to doesn’t exist. I had my contact in Hong Kong check it out on my way here. It is a fake company.
‘So here’s how it is. Our dead friend in Chennai ships a consignment of idols to someone in Hong Kong, who in turn clears the consignment and has it reshipped to another country under a different name, rendering the chain untraceable. At the final destination—or even an interim one, who knows—the real antique is pulled out from among the replicas and sold in the black market for a huge price. No?’ Kabir looked at Madhavan. ‘What do you say, Mr Madhavan? Is this possible?’
‘You are a great storyteller, Mr Khan. Where is the evidence?’
‘Even an idiot will tell you that this was what happened. You don’t need a really high IQ to figure it out.’ He raised his voice enough to intimidate Madhavan. ‘And if you want evidence, you will get it tonight. A consignment is sailing for Hong Kong tonight from Chennai port. Shipped by Union Transport. Intercept it. Prevent it from leaving the country. The manifest lists it as garden furniture. I can guarantee that it is something else. It is likely to be a consignment similar to what our dead man had sent.’
‘If so,’ Commissioner Iyer intervened—he had been watching Kabir and Madhavan squabble all this while—‘shouldn’t we let the consignment go, and track it at the destination?’
‘Futile,’ said Kabir confidently. ‘The fact that Annaiya was murdered suggests that the smugglers know that the police is on their trail. It’s unlikely that someone will receive the shipment in Hong Kong and get it cleared from the port. Your only chance is to intercept it here.’
‘I think you are right,’ Iyer declared. Kabir smiled. ‘Madhavan, get the consignment checked, and if necessary confiscate it before the ship sails tonight. I’ll sign the search orders.’
Madhavan just nodded.
‘Before we disperse, any luck with the image I showed you yesterday?’ Kabir asked Iyer. ‘Were you able to figure out which temple the statuette was stolen from?’
The commissioner turned towards Madhavan inquiringly.
‘There are thirty-three thousand temples in Tamil Nadu alone, Mr Khan. All under the jurisdiction of the HR&CE.’ Noticing the puzzled look on Kabir’s face, Madhavan clarified, ‘The Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Board. We have sent them the image. The problem is that they don’t have a database of temple sculptures. They have started the process of building one now. As in a couple of years ago. But covering all these temples will take time. However . . .’ He paused.
‘However . . .?’ Kabir prompted.
‘The French Institute of Pondicherry has chronicled most of the temples in Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Kerala. They have a repository of over one lakh photographs of temple architecture, statues and idols.’
‘That should help. Are these in digital form or as actual photographs?’
‘These are all old photographs. Largely black-and-white. The project was carried out in the late sixties. As of now, that is the only authentic database of temples and their architecture in south India. The institute started the process of digitizing the old images in 2009, so that they could be shared and studied. We have sent them the image that you gave us to see if there is a match. But it will take time. If we are lucky, we will have an answer in a few weeks.’
‘And if there isn’t a match?’
‘Well, we have better things to do than to go about personally checking thirty-three thousand temples,’ Madhavan snapped. ‘That too for a robbery involving the sheikhs.’
21
That night, led by DIG Madhavan, a police team raided the MV Symphony, a cargo vessel, carrying, among other things, a consignment for Fabulous Furnishings HK Plc. According to the ship’s manifest, the small container was carrying garden furniture.
Later, Madhavan called Commissioner Iyer.
‘Yes, Madhavan,’ the commissioner’s groggy voice came on the line. ‘Tell me.’
‘He was right, sir.’
‘What?’
‘Kabir Khan. He was right, sir. The consignment does not have furniture. It has largely useless household goods. Items of no commercial value.’
‘Is that what you called to tell me at 1 a.m.?’ Iyer snapped.
‘No, sir.’
‘Then?’
‘The consignment also had two hundred and fifty Shiva statues. We checked each one of them—two hundred and forty-nine were replicas. Only one was a heavy piece. Looks like an original antique, like the ones found in the Varadaraja Perumal Temple near Suthamalli village.’
‘Suthamalli?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘My family temple is in Suthamalli, sir. Until a few years ago, I used to visit that temple annually.’
Neither of them spoke for the next few seconds. The commissioner was lost in deep thought.
‘Sir?’ Madhavan finally spoke just to make sure the call hadn’t got disconnected.
‘Speak to the French Institute.’ The commissioner was still on the line. ‘Tell them that they need to prioritize finding a match for the image we sent them. Dispatch a team to the sender’s address and see if we get something there. We need to stop this plunder of our heritage.’
‘Already sent, sir. It is a residential address which has been lying locked for years. The sender used fake KYC documents.’
‘What about the CCTV footage from the shipping company’s offices and the container depot? Any clues from there?’
‘I have asked for it. But I will be surprised if anything comes out of it. These guys are too smart.’
‘Hmm. Call Kabir Khan. Ask him to come and see me tomorrow morning.’
‘Done, sir.’
22
NEW DELHI
the courtroom was packed with journalists, social influencers, a few politicians and security personnel.
Rajan sat in a corner, alone. The events at the high court playing on his mind. He had lost his best friend to an acid attack after one such hearing.
‘During the last hearing,’ Chief Justice Raj Sharma began the proceedings, ‘we had requested the Kerala government, through the chief secretary, to table their views on plaintiff S.S. Rajan vs. Dharmaraja Varma representing the Anantha Padmanabha Swamy Temple in Thiruvananthapuram.’ He extracted a letter from an envelope lying on the table and read it. ‘I wanted to know the views of the state government, which are detailed in this letter, before I give my verdict.’
There was pin-drop silence in the court. Rajan was waiting in anticipation.
‘The state clearly says in this notice that it does not want to take over management of the temple or its wealth. It believes the temple is the abode of the lord and any wealth in it belongs to Him.’
Oblivious to the turmoil in Rajan’s mind, the chief justice continued. ‘I am not surprised at this stance of the state. The temple is one of the most popular temples in Kerala and any attempts to usurp control forcibly by ousting the king might be construed as unpopular and might result in the erosion of the vote bank. The stance the state has taken, that too in the election year, while not necessarily accepted, is understandable. But it is the logic they put forward that is incomprehensible.’ And he paused. He took off his glasses and looked at the crowd in front of him.
‘If the state is to be believed, any attempts to take control will anger the lord and will invite his wrath, thereby bringing misfortune to the people of Kerala. In today’s day and age, this argument sounds very far-fetched and tantamount to taking the court for granted. However,’ said the chief justice, ‘I don’t subscribe to this point of view.’
Rajan suddenly straightened up in his chair. What had just happened?
‘Yes, I don’t subscri
be to this point of view,’ the chief justice repeated.
A sudden chatter broke out in the courtroom. The chief justice banged his gavel, asking for the crowd to be silent. ‘But we cannot ignore the wishes of the state completely. The fact that it has stated that it does not want to take charge must be taken into consideration. But the security and safety of the temple are paramount. The state says that the temple and its wealth can be taken care of by the existing administrators and the descendants of the king. Fine! But how many guards are stationed at the entrance of the temple today?’ He paused for effect, looking all around the courtroom. ‘Three constables! As of now, anyone can walk into the temple unhindered. As word of the wealth in the temple spreads, there could be attempts made to loot the temple, maybe even terror attacks. You are counting on the fear of the lord keeping out unsavoury elements! And not fear of the law! Which to my mind is being supremely foolish. Or seriously naive.’
He rummaged through the papers kept on the table before him and pulled out a sheet of paper.
Beep. A mobile phone in the courtroom beeped. The judge looked up angrily. Mobile phones were banned in the courtroom. Beep. Another cell phone. Everyone looked around to see whose phones these were. As more phones began to ring people realized the sounds were coming from the press corner. The guilty journalists hurriedly put their phones on silent.
One journalist, from NDTV, quickly checked the messages on his phone. There were two, both from his boss.
‘How much longer? Get to Race Course NOW! PMO won’t wait.’
And:
‘Serial blasts in Mumbai.’
23
MUMBAI
The first blast rocked Zaveri Bazaar around lunchtime. Moments later, a second bomb exploded in a taxi near Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. The third explosion took place in a Mumbai local that was passing through Matunga Railway Station. Initial reports put the number of the deceased at six.
Divya and Aditya were at a mall in Central Mumbai when the bombs went off. Within a matter of minutes the entire mobile network of the city had collapsed. She tried reaching Nirav, but was unable to. Panicked, she dragged Aditya out of the mall. ‘Come on, let’s go!’ she said. ‘We need to check on Dad.’ Fear was written all over her face.
By the time they got out of the mall and on to the main Tulsi Pipe Road towards South Mumbai, the roads were jammed. Police checkposts had been set up every 200 metres, and the roadblocks had thrown the entire traffic system out of gear. As their car inched forward, a near-hysterical Divya continued to try Nirav’s number. Suddenly her phone rang.
‘It’s Dad!’ she exclaimed. ‘Daaad!’ she yelled when Nirav’s voice was heard on the car Bluetooth. ‘We were so worried.’
‘I have been trying to reach you for a while now, Divya. But I couldn’t get through. I knew you would panic so I even SMS’d you a few times.’
‘I didn’t get any, Dad. But I am so relieved you are safe.’ Divya had calmed down somewhat and her breathing had settled. ‘Is everyone safe, Dad?’ she asked.
‘Akhil Uncle has been hit.’
‘What?’ Divya was shocked. Akhil Shah had occupied the office next door to Nirav’s for over four decades, from the time they had first met. ‘How bad is it?’
‘He was right next to the scooter when the bomb went off. I was just a few feet behind him. I saw his body blow up . . .’ Nirav’s voice faltered. Divya could sense the anguish in his voice. It was as if he was about to break down.
‘I’m so sorry, Dad,’ Divya consoled him.
‘Thank you, beta. I . . . I’ll see you at home.’
As soon as the call disconnected, Aditya extended his left arm and hugged her. Divya just turned towards him, buried her face in his shirt and started sobbing. Wordlessly, Aditya tightened his grip and simply held her.
The car in front had moved a few inches. Immediately, the car behind them started honking. Biting back a retort, Aditya pressed on the accelerator and crawled forward.
By the end of the day, the blasts had claimed the lives of seven people and injured countless others. That night, as Divya lay in bed, she marvelled at the way Aditya had kept his composure in the near-panic situation. The events of the afternoon had brought her a lot closer to him. She wanted to spend her life in the arms of the man who had held her firmly, comforted her and allowed her to grieve, who had been there for her.
24
NEW DELHI
The chief justice looked up again, ‘I am tempted to ask the court receiver to book everyone whose mobiles are not turned off for contempt of court.’ There was a momentary bustle in the courtroom following the judge’s announcement as everyone hurriedly turned off their phones.
‘Based on the information presented before the court in the matter of S.S. Rajan vs. Dharmaraja Varma representing the Anantha Padmanabha Swamy Temple, the court hereby orders that adequate security cover be provided to the Anantha Padmanabha Swamy Temple to prevent any untoward incident. The CRPF must provide manpower and take charge of temple security. An area of five hundred metres around the temple will be out of bounds for vehicular traffic except for people living in that area, or for people with specific permissions. The preliminary exploration around the temple complex for finding subterranean structures will continue as is, but with additional security from the CRPF. The area over the temple will be a no fly zone. The state government will have to make sure that the temple, its legacy and its wealth are adequately protected.
‘As for the temple vaults—the four vaults that are currently open will be sealed with immediate effect. A special audit of the temple and its properties shall be conducted as early as possible. The court hereby appoints Vikram Rai, former comptroller and auditor general of India, to head the audit. He will be at liberty to request the services or assistance of any other person or persons for the completion of this task. Starting eight weeks from now, and every fortnight thereafter, the committee will give a report to the court on the progress of the exercise and also the efficacy of the steps taken to protect the temple, its resources and its people.
‘Furthermore, no property of the temple shall be transferred or disposed of in any manner whatsoever until the audit is complete.’
The moment he heard this, Rajan stood up and started clapping. He had finally got what he wanted. Mission accomplished.
25
CHENNAI
Kabir Khan walked into Commissioner Iyer’s office—this time no one tried to stop him.
‘You were right,’ the commissioner said the moment he saw Kabir. The animosity was gone, replaced by a newfound respect and admiration for Kabir’s ability to see things from a different perspective. ‘Have a seat.’
Kabir raised his eyebrows. ‘It would be nice if you would elaborate,’ he said as he sat down, a touch irritated. He had wanted to be a part of the raid on the container the night before, but he had not been allowed to join the team.
‘The consignment had a Shiva statue,’ Iyer began. ‘You know Lord Shiva, right?’ The sarcasm was clearly a force of habit.
‘Just so that you dump your sarcasm and don’t do this a third time, let me tell you. My mother is a Hindu; father a practising Muslim,’ he said. ‘As for me? I am an atheist. I believe in the power of human beings and science. Not God, irrespective of the name you call him by or the manner in which you worship him. Now can we move on?’
An embarrassed Iyer hurriedly changed track. ‘The Shiva statue is apparently from the Varadaraja Perumal Temple near Suthamalli, a village sixty kilometres south of Trichy. No one knows how it reached the container.’
‘Are you sure it is from Suthamalli?’ Kabir struggled to pronounce the name of the village.
‘Madhavan is.’
‘And how is he so sure?’
‘It is his family temple. He used to visit that temple often until a few years ago.’
‘Are we going to Suthamalli?’ Kabir asked. He seemed restless, itching to do something, anything. ‘Am I going to Suthamalli wi
th someone?’
‘Yes.’ Iyer nodded. ‘We better.’ He pointed to a few papers on his table. ‘Madhavan will be coming shortly. I want you to go with him. Let’s figure out what happened in Suthamalli.’
‘And . . .’ Kabir paused and looked at him. ‘And whether there are more Suthamallis out there . . .’
‘I know. However, I do not want to create panic. We don’t want to make a song and dance about it. Keep the investigation under wraps until we have something concrete.’
Kabir nodded and got up from his chair. Just then the front door opened and Madhavan walked in.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
26
‘When was the last time you saw the statue in the temple?’ Kabir Khan asked Madhavan as they got into the car. Suthamalli was over 300 kilometres away and the drive would take them a while.
‘A few years ago. Five, maybe,’ Madhavan responded.
‘And you haven’t been there ever since?’
‘Looks like you don’t know the background.’ Madhavan looked out of the window for a moment, then turned back to Kabir. ‘The temple is over eight hundred years old, dedicated to Shiva, the Destroyer. The villagers look after the temple these days. About ten years ago, the local priest packed his bags and left for Chennai. In pursuit of a more glamorous lifestyle. Once he left, the daily prayers became intermittent. Eventually they stopped.’
‘Just because the local priest left?’
‘No,’ Madhavan said. ‘The prayers became intermittent, as I said. But his leaving was not why they stopped.’
‘Then?’
‘The villagers had a tradition of bringing an idol of Goddess Kali to the temple once every three years to celebrate the harvest. The last time I visited the temple with my family was for this ceremony.’
‘That was five years ago?’
Madhavan nodded. ‘Maybe six.’
‘Okay.’
In the Name of God Page 6
