Living Hell

by Vivaan Shah

  ‘What nonsense!’ Irshaad protested. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

  Nadeem got up from the ground in an instant and, wiping his wounds fiercely, began to pace up and down the room.

  ‘I don’t owe anyone jackshit!’ yelled Irshaad. ‘I don’t even know who the hell you’re talking about. This is all rubbish!’

  ‘Take it easy!’ ordered Inspector Nagpal. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Inspector Gaekwad. This is my case and I don’t want anyone else getting involved. If you have inquiries to make about a separate case, then it can wait till tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Maybe you’d like to have a word with DCP Kaambli,’ Inspector Gaekwad told him.

  At the mere mention of Kaambli’s name, the blood drained from Inspector Nagpal’s face. He froze, absolutely still.

  ‘I can buy out a cop like that, blindfolded, with both hands tied behind my back,’ spat Irshaad. ‘That goes for you too, Gaekwad, make no mistake. If this is your idea of a threat, just remember I’ve brought along four shooters with me who are outside in the car. All they need to do is make one phone call to my cousins and they’ll be here with officers who are Kaambli’s superiors.’

  ‘It’s not a threat,’ said Inspector Gaekwad. ‘I only mentioned Kaambli to convince you that I mean business.’

  ‘It’ll take more than a conversation to convince me about that.’

  ‘Yup, it’ll take some pretty hard and fast measures, which I’d be glad to take, provided everything’s insured and you have someone to pick up the broken pieces of whatever’s left once they hit the floor.’

  ‘They employ sweepers for that.’

  ‘Not in my line of work. In my profession, you’ve got to do your own dirty work. You don’t have fifteen flunkies that’ll jump every time you reach for the newspaper. I know you’re the kind of person who wouldn’t even go to the toilet without a republic day parade giving the urinals a heads-up.’

  ‘You haven’t got anything on me, Gaekwad, nothing that will stick in court.’

  ‘Well, I have something,’ Inspector Gaekwad winked at Nadeem, who was standing quietly in the corner.

  Questioning

  Inspector Gaekwad introduced everyone to Dr Vengsarkar, and mentioned that he was Irshaad’s counsellor.

  ‘What the hell is he doing here?’ yelled Irshaad. ‘Take him out of here this instant. I won’t stand for this.’

  Irshaad rose from his seat, visibly agitated, and made for the door, but Inspector Gaekwad stopped him.

  ‘Take it easy, Irshaad,’ said Inspector Gaekwad, under his breath. ‘Don’t shout here. This is a police station. Not your private bathroom.’

  Irshaad glowered down at him, a scowl erupting on his tightly wound face. Inspector Gaekwad asked him to be seated on the stool beneath the overhead lamp. He looked towards Nadeem, who still stood motionless in the corner. He offered Nadeem his chair, which Nadeem, of course, politely refused, but Inspector Gaekwad insisted. Nadeem sat down awkwardly, knowing fully well that he was depriving the police officer of the comfortable seat. Inspector Gaekwad took the opportunity to pace up and down—perhaps it made him think clearer.

  ‘I have a couple of questions of my own I’d like to ask you, Irshaad,’ he said. ‘If that’s okay with you, Inspector Nagpal?’

  Inspector Nagpal looked at Irshaad tensely, fidgeting his eyebrows as if in alarm. Irshaad calmly nodded at him, implying it was all right.

  ‘Sit down, Irshaad,’ sighed Inspector Gaekwad. ‘Would you like anything to drink? Tea, coffee, water, Coke, Pepsi, Sprite, 7 Up?’

  ‘Cut to the chase!’ Irshaad spat. ‘I’m getting hiccups waiting for the buildup.’

  ‘That’s cause your PA is remembering you,’ Inspector Gaekwad laughed.

  ‘He’s in jail!’ said Irshaad, not finding it quite as funny.

  ‘That’s exactly why. No doing of yours, of course. Just one of those miscellaneous accidents that tend to happen just about as often as they are seldom.’

  ‘You can’t blame anyone for them.’

  ‘You can’t do anything about them either.’

  ‘Sure you can. If you spread money in the right places, there isn’t a thing in the world you can’t do.’

  ‘Except live. There’s no price tag on that.’

  ‘Yup, but there is a warranty.’

  ‘First and foremost,’ said Inspector Gaekwad shrewdly, ignoring his remark, ‘what are you doing here, Irshaad?’

  ‘I heard my name popped up in the investigation, so I thought I’d better come down to give my statement.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’ asked Inspector Gaekwad, evidently sterner than before.

  ‘You’re not the only one with tippers out on the street, Gaekwad. If you could have nailed me, you would have done so ages ago, with or without providing protection to your informers. If I wanted to cut this lizard’s tail off, what makes you think I wouldn’t have done it by now?’

  ‘You’re not stupid.’

  ‘And neither is he. He knows how to play his cards right. Isn’t that right, Nadeem?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ said Nadeem. ‘All I know is that you’ve had two guys tailing me ever since I got out of the clink.’

  ‘I didn’t have anyone tailing you. I’ve got better things to be concerned about than a two-bit stool pigeon.’

  Nadeem first looked at Warren and then at Inspector Gaekwad. ‘You mean to say,’ he said, ‘that those two men who came by to pay me a visit were not sent by you?’

  ‘If they were sent by me, you wouldn’t have made it out of the building in one piece.’

  ‘Does the name Rohini Makhija mean anything to you?’ asked Inspector Gaekwad, suddenly changing the subject.

  ‘Rinki?’ asked Irshaad, bursting into a visible smile. ‘Of course I know her.’

  ‘Who the heck is Rinki?’ asked Nadeem.

  ‘Never mind,’ continued Inspector Gaekwad. ‘What was your relationship with her?’

  ‘We had been going steady for a couple of years.’

  ‘Was she your item?’

  ‘Oh, she was much more than that, inspector. As a matter of fact, I was at one point engaged to be married to her.’

  ‘What broke off the arrangement?’

  ‘She found out about my background.’

  ‘Have you had any contact with Rohini since?’

  ‘She stopped picking up my calls. I got word some time later that she had married some guy. So I got in touch with him and had a little man-to-man talk. I thought maybe he was the guy who had filled her head with second-hand information about me, but he didn’t look the type. He had met her at Inorbit Mall, through a mutual friend who was a broker, and was helping her find a flat. I guess he gave her the impression that he was some kind of real estate tycoon and had flats all over the place. He told her that he was the chief financial adviser at HSBC. But when I met him, it turned out he was broke and in dire straits. He had embezzled certain sums of money from the workplace in order to sustain his wife’s monthly expenditure, which was way beyond their means. After a year and a half of living with him, she eventually found out that he was actually a mere prudential funds clerk and threatened to leave him. Now I found all of this pretty funny at first, but on second thought, I didn’t find the guy’s plight funny. He was in a shambles and needed my help. So, I gave him a loan.’

  ‘How much?’ smirked Inspector Gaekwad.

  ‘One peti [lakh] with 25 per cent interest,’ said Irshaad.

  ‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’

  ‘We transferred the money to his account in four monthly instalments. I got a call one day from Rinki, when she found out where the money was coming from. She said she would pay it back to me with interest. I told her it was okay and that she didn’t have to worry about it. I tried sweet-talking her, even asking her out to see if she wanted to catch a movie or go out for dinner. But she just had her mind on the money. She was only
interested in talking shop. Finally, I told her that she didn’t have to worry about the loan, after all, it was Makhija’s headache not hers. It was his responsibility to pay back the loan whenever he could afford to. Next thing I heard, she withdrew the cash and left him.’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ hollered Nadeem, leaping out of the chair. ‘That’s a filthy lie! She’d never do a thing like that. I know her. She saved my life.’

  Inspector Nagpal told Inspector Gaekwad to calm Nadeem down and that he would not stand for aggressive behaviour in his police station. This was his jurisdiction and not Byculla. He was doing Inspector Gaekwad a favour by letting him sit in on this investigation in the first place, even though by now he had figured out that Inspector Gaekwad had an agenda as far as Irshaad was concerned.

  ‘At least, that was Makhija’s side of the story,’ said Irshaad. ‘I don’t know whether she actually milked him or not. But that was the sob story he used on me the last time I caught him trying to dodge my phone calls. He started crying on the phone, telling me he was ruined, that everything was going to hell for him in a handbag. I couldn’t be much of a consolation to him, so I decided to extend my sympathy a little bit and told him he had another month to cough up the dough. If not, then, first his flat and then maybe even his car. I found out who his landlord was and got in touch with him. Man by the name of Feroz Machhiwaala, claims to know my uncles. Bit of a smart alec, if you know what I mean, was a bit overfamiliar. Anyway, he told me that Makhija’s lease was coming to an end and that he had a month’s notice period in which to vacate. He mentioned that he had some lucrative offers coming in, thanks to a tenant of his who also happened to be a part-time broker.’

  Irshaad looked at Nadeem, who sat down on the chair, pondering hopelessly over the khaki broken tiles spread across the floor. Warren had nearly fallen asleep, but Nadeem listened with a fierce attentiveness. Dr Vengsarkar stood awkwardly in the corner, surrounded by Dilip and Srikant.

  ‘Anyway,’ continued Irshaad, ‘he said he had to kick Makhija out and get the flat cleared out in time in order to show it to potential clients. I realized there was no point in pursuing the situation with the flat, so I ran a little check on the car. Turns out that it was a stolen vehicle. So, again I tried getting in touch with Makhija to get some assurance that he possessed some assets I could rely on. But he didn’t pick up my calls for days on end. Finally, one day I got a call from Rinki, who claimed he had been calling her up persistently, begging her to talk me into extending the time period. I told her not to get involved in the matter and that I would come to a settlement and sort it out. I promised her that no harm would come to him under any circumstances. I sensibly, however, left out any mention of his claim that she had withdrawn the money. I spoke of old times instead, reassuring her that her ex-husband would be fine. Next thing I know, the son of a bitch went to the police. First to Inspector Nagpal, who immediately notified me that he was filing an FIR for threat and extortion.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Inspector Nagpal affirmed. ‘Makhija didn’t get any help in this police station . . .’

  ‘. . . so he went straight to the Anti-Extortion Cell in Kalbadevi and took my name there,’ continued Irshaad.

  ‘And that’s when he was transferred to me,’ broke in Inspector Gaekwad.

  Nadeem sat upright in his chair and looked at Inspector Gaekwad, who avoided eye contact. Warren too snapped to attention and took note of the inspector’s claim.

  ‘I was notified by DCP Panth of EOW Unit V,’ said Inspector Gaekwad. ‘According to him, Chintan Makhija claimed he was being pursued by Irshaad Ahmed Sheikh’s men and that he had been receiving threatening phone calls.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me all of this in the first place?’ asked Nadeem, in a hollow voice.

  ‘I told you that I had his records, his Vodafone application form with all his bank details, address, PAN card number and a photocopy of his driver’s licence,’ said Inspector Gaekwad. ‘I just happened to leave out how I knew he was connected to Irshaad Batla.’

  Diagnosis

  ‘Look,’ said Irshaad, ‘I don’t know what any of this has to do with me. I’ve told you everything I know about this man. Why am I being questioned with regard to his murder? I even have an alibi for where I was yesterday.’

  ‘Well,’ Inspector Gaekwad cringed. ‘That’s the thing. No one knows the exact date when he was killed. The post-mortem report said he had been lying in that condition for over twenty-four hours, judging by the disintegration. All we know is when he was found.’

  ‘Why have you brought him here?’ asked Irshaad, pointing at Dr Vengsarkar.

  ‘Because, Irshaad,’ began Dr Vengsarkar, ‘as your counsellor, it is my duty to clarify certain facts to the authorities before we conclude our treatment. I daresay your bills for therapy are still pending.’

  Irshaad jumped up from his stool and sprang on Dr Vengsarkar. Nadeem pulled him back as Dilip and Inspector Nagpal restrained him, shoving him back on the stool. Inspector Gaekwad was as cool as a cucumber and hadn’t budged an inch, having anticipated the volatile reaction from Irshaad.

  ‘I thought, doctor,’ laughed Nadeem. ‘That you did not share information about your clients?’

  ‘Given the circumstances,’ said Dr Vengsarkar. ‘I think I can take the liberty to do so.’

  ‘Keep your trap zipped, Nadeem,’ ordered Inspector Gaekwad.

  ‘Why?’ asked Nadeem. ‘I have the right to talk when I want to. It’s a free country.’

  ‘And it’ll be a free funeral for you if you carry on that way.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to wind up like Makhija,’ said Nadeem, looking the inspector straight in the eye.

  ‘Look, Nadeem,’ said Inspector Gaekwad, with a sudden change of tone. ‘You’re like a son to me. Once I have given my word to one of my boys, I stand by them to keep them in the clean.’

  ‘What about Makhija? What was he like to you? A brother or an uncle, or maybe a stepson even?’

  ‘Shut up, Nadeem! Don’t talk back to me!’

  Nadeem looked down at the floor again, dead silent. He held his head down low, as if in shame, and waited for what the inspector had to say. Inspector Gaekwad didn’t have much in way of an explanation, so he decided to give a clinical history of his relation with Makhija.

  ‘When he came to me,’ began Inspector Gaekwad, ‘I didn’t know what to do for him. I told him that I had been trying to nail Irshaad Batla but hadn’t succeeded so far, and that it was no good coming to me with a stupid extortion case. But he insisted I do something about it. I told him the only thing I could do was put him in protective custody, but he was desperate. He looked haggard and worn out, like a man on the brink of a nervous breakdown. He was ready to do anything to ensure his safety. So, I put two plainclothesmen with him and offered to repay his loan in exchange for his services. I decided to execute a little plan I had been harbouring for quite some time.’

  ‘What plan?’ asked Irshaad.

  ‘I had a copy of your files for the half-murder case on the Eastern freeway. It said that due to certain outbursts when in the custody of the police and three acts of vandalism, including two chairs in the interrogation room and the registrar’s desk, you were immediately restrained by two hawaldars and confined to the nearest cell. After having observed your uncontrollable behaviour, while in the lock-up, the authorities decided to have you transferred to the special ward for an examination by the psychiatric authorities. It also mentioned that your bail had been set at Rs 1,28,000, and that you had to undergo mandatory counselling and therapy from a psychiatrist.’

  Dr Vengsarkar stepped forward in order to corroborate that statement.

  ‘Well,’ he began, ‘according to the authorities at the Nandlal Pramod Functionality Centre, the preliminary evaluation determined that you have complete and total possession of your mental faculties. You were, however, diagnosed with advanced neurosis, pathological hysteria and occasional instability. You had been exhibiting recurr
ent trends of psychotic behaviour and violent homicidal tendencies. One prognosis did predetermine that the asylum is no place for you and that a person like you belongs in the penitentiary. However, we at Healthy Mind Clinic beg to differ. Instability is a common problem and we aim to do whatever we can to correct it.’

  ‘You mean cure him?’ asked Nadeem.

  ‘Same thing,’ said Dr Vengsarkar.

  ‘Look,’ Irshaad broke in agitatedly, looking towards Nadeem but addressing Dr Vengsarkar. ‘All I ever wanted from you was a clean bill of health so that I was certified stable and could apply for immunity from the case.’

  ‘Are you sure, Irshaad?’ asked Dr Vengsarkar, with the cunning command of a clairvoyant. ‘Is that all you came to me for?’

  ‘Well, of course,’ he laughed nervously, looking at Nadeem. ‘Why else do you think I’d go to a psychiatrist?’

  Nadeem nodded silently in agreement.

  ‘I had tried getting in a word earlier with Dr Vengsarkar, but to no avail,’ said Inspector Gaekwad. ‘So, I decided to send Makhija to him as a decoy patient. To pretend as if he was suffering from work-related stress in order to undergo therapy, so that he may be able to fish for some information regarding your case history, and to try and get hold of your files if possible.’

  ‘Little did we know,’ added Dr Vengsarkar, ‘that his condition was far more grave than he had presented.’

  Irshaad looked at Dr Vengsarkar in utter bewilderment, with impatient eyes that had by now grown agitated.

  ‘He suffered from the same condition as you, Irshaad,’ said Dr Vengsarkar. ‘Only worse. I can spot a paranoid-schizophrenic from a mile away. You see, when there begin to appear certain physiological manifestations of the psychic state, the matter goes outside the realm of my jurisdiction and into the field of a physician. I have only to add that were it not for me, they would have probably put him away in a sanatorium.’

  ‘That is one way of putting it,’ broke in Nadeem. ‘But yet another way of putting it is that he was made that way by you. By becoming one of your patients and taking your prescribed dosage.’