Nirav thought about it for a moment. ‘It will be tight, yes, but it’s possible.’
‘If we get ten valuers working round the clock, how much time do you think we will take to complete the task on hand.’
‘Judging by the looks of it . . . at least three months. And don’t forget, this is Kerala! Getting people to work round the clock will be a challenge.’
‘Even three months is a long time.’
‘The number of pieces dictates the timeline. If there are one hundred coins in a bag, we can’t assume that all of them are of the same value. We have to individually value thousands of pieces lying all over the place.’
‘Hmm.’ Vikram had a circumspect look on his face.
‘What’s on your mind?’ Nirav asked him. ‘Say it.’
‘The public reaction to the opening of the vault has been pretty hostile. You saw the protests outside the temple. I am a bit worried about the safety of the team. Though security has been beefed up, I am concerned.’
Nirav just stood there listening to him. He had no idea what Vikram was hinting at.
‘If the work on Vault A is going to take us three months, let’s not rush to open Vault B. With so much negativity surrounding it, we might as well delay opening it. Three months is enough time for people to become obsessed with something else. Let public sentiment settle down. We can do the needful after that. Right now, even the media is following this story. Hopefully, they’ll find something else to distract them soon.’
‘But won’t the court object?’
‘The Supreme Court merely told us what we have to do. It didn’t specify any timelines,’ Vikram clarified. ‘At best it has asked for a fortnightly report.’
Nirav was not convinced. ‘But if we do so, we will be seen as spineless. We are being watched very closely.’
‘There is a way out,’ Vikram said triumphantly. ‘In fact, Dharmaraja Varma recommended it . . . Something which will take the heat off us for some time, and will eventually allow us to do what we have to do, in peace.’
Nirav stared back at him blankly. He hadn’t understood a word of what Vikram Rai had just said.
‘What if we let them conduct the Devaprasnam?’ Vikram clarified.
38
CHENNAI
Kabir Khan landed in Chennai late in the afternoon. Madhavan’s car was waiting for him at the airport. He called Madhavan from the car to let him know he had arrived.
‘Great! I’ll brief you when you get here,’ Madhavan said.
It took him forty-five minutes to reach the office.
‘So what is the latest on the Nataraja statue?’ Kabir demanded the moment he entered Madhavan’s cabin. There were three other people in the room, but they excused themselves the moment he walked in.
‘After looping in the commissioner, I wrote to the National Museum in Australia, asking for details of the statue that is in their possession.’
‘Is it confirmed that it is ours?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how have we confirmed that?’
Madhavan rummaged through the pile of papers on his table and pulled out a printout. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it over to Kabir.
Kabir looked at the printout. It was a photo of the Nataraja statue that had gone missing from the Varadaraja Perumal Temple. He looked at Madhavan, wondering why he was showing him the same image.
‘This is the image of the statue that I pulled out from their site. It is the same.’
‘It could be a similar one,’ Kabir argued.
‘Yes, it could,’ agreed Madhavan. ‘But not all Nataraja statues have “Suthamalli” engraved on their base. Look closely at this image, you’ll see what I mean. That in more ways than one confirms that this is indeed the statue that was right here in Tamil Nadu.’
Kabir peered at the photograph and, sure enough, he saw ‘Suthamalli’ engraved along the base of the statue. ‘Let’s demand that they give it back!’ he said excitedly.
‘We did.’
‘And?’
‘And? And nothing,’ Madhavan answered matter-of-factly. ‘They have come back. They’re denying that it is a stolen statue. They paid five million dollars to buy it and even have the provenance.’
‘Provenance?’
‘That’s what happens when they ask people who have no knowledge of antiques to investigate such crimes,’ Madhavan said ruefully.
‘Oh shut up!’
Madhavan grinned. ‘Provenance is the record of ownership of a work of art or an antique. It is often used to authenticate the genuineness and quality of such pieces.’
‘That’s fine. The guy who sold it to them could have faked it.’
‘If you are the National Museum of Australia, being taken for a ride and paying five million dollars on the basis of fake provenance is shameful, isn’t it?’
Kabir began to see what Madhavan was getting at. He nodded mutely.
‘Then what makes you think they will accept that their provenance was fake?’ Madhavan asked.
Kabir had no answer. ‘Do we know who sold it to them?’
‘They refused to share details with us,’ Madhavan said, a touch of irritation creeping into his voice. ‘They say that we do not have any jurisdiction over the statue and that we do not have the authority to ask them any questions.’
‘Really?’ Kabir was surprised.
‘Verbatim.’ Madhavan handed Kabir a printout of the museum’s reply.
As Kabir read through the reply from the National Museum of Australia a look of anger came on his face. ‘Bastards!’
‘Their refusal pissed me off too. But they don’t know us. We need to go to them through proper diplomatic channels.’
‘Who has the time for all that?’
‘Well, there’s no other choice,’ Madhavan reminded Kabir.
Kabir didn’t respond. He was furiously pacing up and down the room, wondering what to do. There had to be a way to force the National Museum of Australia to take them seriously and respond. He racked his brain. Suddenly, a mischievous look came on his face and he pulled out his iPhone from his pocket.
‘What are you doing?’ Madhavan asked him, warily.
Kabir didn’t respond. He was furiously typing away. Once he was done, he turned towards Madhavan. ‘Here, see,’ he said, giving him his phone
On the screen was a tweet.
Indian Nataraja statue, stolen from temple in Tamil Nadu (Suthamalli) found in National Museum Australia @pmoindia please help bring it back.
‘Are you crazy?’ Madhavan yelled. He turned and walked behind his desk. ‘I don’t know you! No way! Which idiot tweets to the PMO with a complaint while in government service?’ Madhavan was both shocked and surprised. He was not sure if Kabir had done the right thing.
‘A Muslim complaining about the theft of a Hindu idol, requesting the PMO to help bring it back, is surely going to be a story that everyone will talk about. And a story that everyone is talking about will force the Indian government to act.’
‘And when the Indian government acts, it will force Australia’s hand and get them to respond!’ Madhavan smiled. ‘Damn! You really are a mad genius.’
‘But a genius nevertheless!’
Around the same time at a press conference in New Delhi, the finance minister made a significant announcement.
‘Last week, we received names of 750 Indian who hold bank accounts with the Geneva branch of HSBC. The details of the monies that have passed through the Swiss accounts of these individuals have also been received and passed on to the respective departments for investigation. We are validating the data. Notices have been sent out to a few of those named. You will see some traction on this soon.’
39
THIRUVANANTHAPURAM
Work in the vault had been on for three days now. Sixteen local government-empanelled jewellers had been called in to work with the audit team to assess the value of the jewels and catalogue the same. Life had taken a hectic turn for Vikram Rai and his team.
/> That day, as any other, lunch for the audit team had been laid out in the room adjoining the king’s chamber. Dharmaraja Varma had a lavish, artistically anointed chamber near the entrance of the temple. Next to it was a small room, which was always locked, and adjoining that was the lunchroom.
‘What do you all think of the Devaprasnam?’ Vikram Rai asked everyone as they settled down for lunch.
Rajan looked up from his plate. Kannan had brought food for him from his house. ‘Devaprasnam? Why would that thought even cross your mind?’
‘First tell me what do you think of it.’
‘It is a bad idea,’ Rajan said, looking at the other members of the team. ‘But why do you ask?’
Vikram explained: ‘The public has not taken kindly to this court-ordered audit. Protests have intensified, our families are being threatened—’
‘So?’ Rajan cut him off. ‘Are you scared? If you are scared, why don’t you ask the court to appoint someone else in your place and recuse yourself.’
Vikram Rai ignored the jibe. ‘It is not fear,’ he said. ‘I have dealt with problems far more severe than this. Have you seen the number of people on the road every morning, protesting the opening of the vaults?’
‘They are all Varma’s men. He has mobilized them to drum up support for himself.’
‘They are someone’s family,’ Vikram argued. ‘A family that loves them, prays for their safety. Yesterday there was lathi charge outside the Secretariat. Six people were hurt. If we don’t do anything about it, these protests will only intensify. In any case, valuing everything in Vault A will take about three months. Two, if we do it fast. Which means that for the next two months we will not be able to open Vault B. So why not let them do the Devaprasnam? It will satisfy the temple authorities and the public. If the Devaprasnam rejects the idea of opening the second vault, we will have two months to figure out our next course of action. If it confirms the lord’s will in opening the second vault, the protesters will have no choice but to back down.’
‘It will not be the latter. For sure. Ever,’ Rajan argued. ‘Dharmaraja Varma will manipulate the process to suit his objective.’
‘Fine. If that happens, we will agree to abide by the result of the Devaprasnam and not open the vault. Then we will report the findings to the Supreme Court. The court is bound to find all this unacceptable. It is quite possible that another team will be charged with the task of opening Vault B. I’m just buying some peace. Some time.’
‘I think it is a brilliant idea. We can go about doing what is expected of us, peacefully. And the public will also remain calm and mind its own business,’ Nirav added. Now that he had had some time to think about Vikram’s idea, it did seem logical to him.
Rajan thought about it for a while. ‘The temple has been specifically banned from organizing any special events during the period that the audit team is here. So even if they want to, they can’t.’
‘That’s why we are discussing it,’ Vikram said, looking around the table at the other members of the team. ‘If all of us agree, then we can give them permission to conduct the Devaprasnam. To find out the lord’s will.’ There was a touch of ridicule in his voice, which Rajan didn’t like. ‘But it has to be passed unanimously,’ he said as he walked back into the vault. Rajan was not listening. He was looking out for Kannan, who was nowhere to be seen. Grudgingly, Rajan followed Vikram into the vault. Five minutes later, he came out of the vault and finding Kannan, who had come back by then, handed over his lunch bag to him to take back home.
That evening, when the work for the day came to a close, the entire team walked out of the lower level of the temple, the vault area, to the ground level where Dharmaraja Varma was waiting for them. It was a daily routine. He waited till they finished the day’s work, saw them off and then went home. There was not a single day when he left them alone in the temple.
‘I need to talk to you,’ Vikram Rai told the king when he greeted them. The latter was accompanied by two of his coterie. ‘Alone.’
‘I discussed it with the team,’ Vikram said when they were some distance away from the rest. ‘We don’t have any objection to the Devaprasnam.’
‘Wonderful.’ The king seemed elated. ‘I will announce it tomorrow and find an auspicious date.’
‘But we will not be a party to it. We will not give it the recognition that you might want us to.’
‘What do you mean?’ The king was perplexed.
‘You go ahead with the Devaprasnam, on your own. We won’t object or create a scene about it. If it gives you and your people satisfaction, we won’t get in the way,’ he said as he walked back towards the group.
The next morning, the king called a press conference at his mansion and announced that the Devaprasnam, the three-day ceremony invoking the gods to seek their permission, would begin in four days.
40
AUSTRALIA
The tweet worked. The PMO intervened.
As a result, the National Museum of Australia found itself in the unenviable position of being asked by their government to issue a press release clarifying their position.
There has been a lot of speculation in the Indian media about the statue of Nataraja, known as the Lord of Cosmic Dance, that was installed in the National Museum of Australia eighteen months ago. The administrators of the NMA would like to confirm that all acquisitions go through a rigorous process of due diligence and only after we are satisfied that these are genuine and legally obtained pieces, does the NMA engage in discussions for acquiring the artefacts.
In the case of the Lord of Cosmic Dance, the acquisition was made through an art dealer in Singapore—CreARTor. We have been dealing with Shreyasi Sinha, the proprietor of the art agency, for fifteen years and have had no complaints thus far.
Even the provenance for the said artefact has been verified at our end and found to be genuine.
We believe it is a wonderful work of art acquired through genuine channels. However, if it is found to be otherwise, we would be happy to engage with the concerned authorities to arrive at an acceptable resolution.
‘There we go!’ whooped Madhavan when he read the press release online.
‘It doesn’t say anything,’ Kabir grumbled. ‘No acceptance of the fact that it is a stolen artefact. The only thing is that we now know that they acquired it from CreARTor in Singapore.’
‘Which means CreARTor is the guy we are looking for.’ Madhavan was thrilled at finally getting a lead to follow up on.
‘Or maybe, CreARTor was just a front. It could even mean that they are also one of those who were conned by our artefact thief.’
‘How do we find out?’
‘Shreyasi Sinha,’ declared Kabir. ‘She holds the key.’
‘Let’s get some help from Singapore Police.’
‘Hmm.’ Kabir nodded. He pulled out his phone and called a number. ‘Hi. Can I speak to Arnab Basu?’
Arnab was a very popular secretary in the ministry of external affairs. All state requests for assistance had to be routed through his office.
‘I am aware of the chaos you created, Kabir,’ Arnab said when Kabir tried to give him the background. After hearing Kabir out, he added, ‘I will speak to my counterpart there and apprise them of this request. I’ll try and get you an informal acceptance by tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, Arnab.’
Kabir was delighted with Arnab’s proactive approach and thanked him profusely before hanging up. Madhavan got into the act and forwarded all the relevant papers to Arnab. This was a breach of protocol as the request should have been routed through the commissioner’s office. However, on Kabir’s insistence, they just spoke to the commissioner once before sending the documents to Arnab Basu.
41
CHENNAI
Later that night Arnab Basu called Kabir Khan.
‘I have good news and bad news,’ he said. ‘Singapore has responded positively to your request. They are willing to help. I have sent them the details. I have also s
poken with Director Inamdar. Madhavan and you can travel to Singapore as early as tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, Arnab! You’ve been a great help. We’ll leave tomorrow itself.’
‘And now for the bad news. Shreyasi Sinha has gone into hiding. She is not at the address that the Singapore government has. Her office and home are both locked. Sinha has not been seen by anyone for the last four days. She seems to have packed her bags and left on the day the controversy broke.’
‘Damn!’
‘It’s not as bad as you think.’
‘She was our only hope, Arnab! How can you say it is not bad?’ an irritated Kabir snapped at Basu.
‘Because she is in India. I had the immigration records checked out for the last three days. A passenger by the name of Shreyasi Sinha, same passport number, has entered India. She arrived on a Singapore–Thiruvananthapuram flight.’
‘Thiruvananthapuram? Why . . .?’ Kabir wondered out loud.
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ said Basu.
‘Hmm.’ Khan didn’t know what to say. He was considering his options when Basu added, ‘In fact, if I were you, I would not pack my bags for Singapore. I would head to Thiruvananthapuram instead.’
Kabir and Madhavan landed in Thiruvananthapuram on a warm Sunday afternoon and drove straight to Hotel Lotus Pond. To their surprise the lobby was bustling with media personnel carrying microphones and cameras in their hands. When Kabir asked the receptionist, she told him that this had become a daily occurrence ever since the court-ordered audit team had checked into the hotel.
Kabir turned to Madhavan. ‘Do you think this could have something to do with our case?’
Madhavan merely shrugged in response and collected his room key from the receptionist. ‘I will freshen up and come down to the lobby.’
Kabir nodded. ‘Yeah. Me too.’
They were to meet the local police in connection with the whereabouts of Shreyasi Sinha.
In the Name of God Page 10
