Living Hell

by Vivaan Shah

  Nadeem walked over to the spot that was covered and kicked aside the tin covering, showing him the excavated pit where the body had been found.

  ‘Well, I’ve got news for you!’ Nadeem stated. ‘Speaking of death and your casual regard for it. A body was found right about here. A police officer’s, to be precise. The work of your client, no doubt. I can see you’re going to have your hands full for the next couple of days.’

  ‘Hmm . . .’ HK mumbled, walking slowly towards Nadeem to inspect the spot he had uncovered. ‘Now you’re opening up a whole new can of worms with this,’ he drawled, gazing through the cracks in the cement into the subterranean abyss. ‘Did you know him?’

  ‘He was at my house an hour ago. That’s where he got tagged. The work of Ghazfakullah, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he corrected Nadeem. ‘Nowadays it’s strictly Yunus for these kinds of jobs. He’s the new trigger man, quiet as a dove.’

  ‘Who Yunus?’

  ‘Yunus Patel.’

  ‘Yeda Yunus?’

  ‘That was his moniker for a brief period, but one that would suit me better, given the circumstances. After all, it isn’t only Yeda who’s been doing his dirty work, you know.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Nadeem’s polite smile contorted in scorn.

  ‘I too am quite adept at making manoeuvres that could possibly involve the loss of human life. I’ve done things for Irshaad I’m not too proud of.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Things. I’ve killed a man. This wasn’t a first, and I don’t suppose it’s going to be the last. I suggest you take that into consideration if and when you do intend to . . . uh . . .report me to the authorities.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘It’s an assurance.’

  ‘Are you gonna sneak into my building one dark rainy night and put me out of my misery?’

  ‘I’d be inclined to, if the odds were right and it was worth it. But, as of now, let’s just say I’ll let you live.’

  He began to laugh. A fake laugh at first, but then it began to grow more genuine and almost impolite, as if he was scoffing at his new-found company and berating the very absurdity of having this conversation, standing in the middle of the road in the first place. Like he had better things to do, the laugh let out by one miraculously in command of his own hubris, one who supposes himself to be a superior being, lost in the company of strangers. As it progressed, it began to grow somewhat deranged, and Nadeem stared on in awe, trying to decode whether this insanity was an act.

  ‘What are you?’ Nadeem asked. ‘Some kind of legal serial killer?’

  ‘Ha!’ he cackled. ‘Serial killer! That’s a good one, I can almost smell the headlines. I do suppose the common dictionary would refer to me as that particular brand of social misfit, often to be found dwelling amongst the multitudes, in a cruel unforgiving metropolis. Lonely and miserable, preying on the weaknesses of other. A menace to society. Public enemy! I’m not one of those. I’m not out of a textbook. You’ll find me in the back columns of the newspapers, disguised in the classifieds as a chamber or a law firm of some sort, a corporate entity of remarkable significance. There’s no denying my bona fides, I am an honest man, as was Makhija, and he came to a dishonest end. That about sums it up. There’s really not much else to think about, now that it’s over.’

  ‘Tell me something. You ever hear of this medication he was taking?’

  ‘Synahydraloxide?’ he smiled.

  ‘Yeah . . .’

  ‘It was nothing. It was fake; it was rubbish . . . something stupid.’

  ‘As in?’

  ‘As in it was one of the good doctor’s guinea pig attempts. I wasn’t in the market for them. He had tried them on me but I caught him at the onset.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was junk.’

  ‘Junk?’

  ‘God knows what it was! I know what it did to you. I tried it.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Look, it’s a long story and I don’t really have the time to get into it.’

  ‘You might be summoned by the police for a questioning!’

  ‘I have nothing that I wish to hide from the authorities. In fact, I’d be glad to meet them. I even tried getting in touch with a big inspector who’s been on our trail for quite a while. But he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.’

  ‘All your commitment to your client?’

  ‘Just trying to make life easier for him.’

  ‘Making life tougher for yourself in the process,’ Nadeem blinked.

  ‘There’s nothing that can happen to me! Unless they find my prints in the house on the doorknobs. Which, going by the police’s track record of finding anything, is highly unlikely.’

  ‘You actually killed Chintan Makhija?’

  ‘Yup!’ He blew his nose, wiping his hands on the side of his pants.

  ‘You realize what you’re saying?’

  ‘I think I do.’

  ‘You’ve just confessed to me about the murder of Chintan Makhija. If I go straight to the cops right now, there isn’t a thing in the world that prevents you from being locked up.’

  ‘Except for the law. That’s the only thing that prevents you from convincing anyone else about what you believe to be the truth. The law’s a stonewall. It’s there to protect the guilty as well as the innocent, in equal measure, and give them both a sporting chance. Suppose you tell them I did it. What’ll you say was the motive?’

  ‘Protecting your client!’

  ‘No lawyer will stretch that far. They know lawyers better than we know ourselves. No, what’d be the real cause? Insanity’s an easy solution. But I’ve exhibited no real outward signs, unlike my client. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that my behaviour has remained wholly logical. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Then why’d you do it?’

  HK faked a crooked smile, breathing gently through it. He turned his upper torso back towards the vehicle. ‘Get into the car,’ he chirped. ‘You’ll know.’

  Nadeem followed him step by step to the side of the road towards the parked vehicle. He watched every move like a hawk as HK pressed the top button on the autocop, popping open the door to the driver seat. He got in, slamming the door harder than was necessary. Nadeem got into the passenger seat slowly. The entire car was reeking of air freshener. It was smelling like a Listerine leak.

  HK stepped on the accelerator, clicking open the dashboard with his left hand. A large folder fell on to Nadeem’s lap as the car slowly swerved to a turn.

  ‘You see that subway over there?’ HK asked, pointing towards the underground walkway outside the bus depot.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I used to go there to score smack back in the late 2000s when it had just been built. Don’t blame me. The job gets tough. We need all the healthy recreation we can lay our hands on. Now, I’m off it. I get my kicks out of whatever modern pharmaceuticals have to offer. It sedates the shit out of you, but it’s nothing like the real stuff we used to get down there. There was an old lady who used to live down there. I forget her name. She used to sell vegetables as a front for powder, but I suspect she was nothing more than a beggar, setting up shop wherever convenient. She was the most sinister-looking bhaajiwaali I ever came across. Had great big craters under her eyes that swelled out through her cheekbones. But she was all there, had her faculties in place. She got busted eventually, but she’d carved up a little spot for herself behind the tiles.’

  ‘Behind the tiles?’

  ‘Behind or perhaps even under. Who knows? All I know is that a sewer system runs practically all the way across it. Whoever has the misfortune of having to use that walkway on a daily basis is likely to complain about the smell. It’s no bed of roses.’

  ‘Apparently, Makhija was doing smack.’

  ‘Possible,’ he coughed. ‘Irshaad had asked me for some numbers. I even supplied him with the old lady’s number. You think he might have gone there? There’s peop
le down there, you know.’

  ‘People?’

  ‘Yeah, if you wanna dispose of a body out there, they’re the ones that do it for you. It’s like an unofficial cemetery. An underground union. That’s where you wind up if you’ve done somebody wrong on this earth. In Hindu mythology it exists. The paatal ghar they call it. Ha ha! If they start digging up this city, God knows how many more corpses they’ll end up uncovering.’

  The car took a left after the signal, straightening out on to S.V. Road. He seemed to be headed towards Goregaon (East).

  ‘That manhole where they dumped the cop?’ he mused.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Wonder where it leads to and wonder what the hell he was doing where he was found under the asphalt?’

  ‘He wasn’t there of his own accord. He was put there.’

  ‘By fate, I suppose. A respectable police officer like that, crawling through the sewers in search of salvation. Seems highly unlikely, doesn’t it? But free will is a strange thing. You never know where it makes you wind up. Like you. I have enough reason to ensure you don’t leave this car alive, but you exercised your own free will by getting in.’

  Nadeem’s face shrivelled up. His heart skipped a beat and his eyes leapt towards his new-found acquaintance, contemplating the indecision on his face. He kept all eyes on the road, squinting through the beam of the headlights trying to decipher the routes. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘To Chembur. To a eunuch communion at their holy temple, where they’re going to dip a sickle in hot, boiling oil and cut off your pecker. You’re going to join the holy order.’

  Nadeem wondered for a brief flicker of a moment if he was actually serious or not but noticed him trying to suppress a smile.

  ‘You got jokes, ha!’ Nadeem grunted.

  ‘I got you for a moment there, didn’t I?’

  The lawyer switched on the radio with his left index finger, twirling the volume dial with his pinky till he was satisfied. It seemed that he was keen on hearing the weather report in Marathi on 101.9.

  ‘Hmm,’ he responded to it. He pressed down on the accelerator, speeding to an alarming degree. The road was bumpy but he didn’t seem too perturbed. His suspension was taking a beating. The car jumped across potholes in the road, rocking Nadeem back and forth, silently prompting him to put on his seat belt. The man’s driving abilities were undoubtedly questionable, his manoeuvring skills had more reckless daring than good sense. He overtook a car which was a good deal ahead of them, honking at it a dozen times before it moved aside for him to pass through. Nadeem held on to the hand rest, his eyeballs scanning the road. HK was headed towards the depths of Goregaon, perhaps towards the forest in Film City.

  ‘You going to tell me?’ Nadeem trembled.

  ‘I wonder what it must have been like for him.’

  ‘Whom?’

  ‘Makhija. Entombed in that bathroom. Alive in an 8x10 coffin, fit for a king. Wonder how long he must have lasted till he perished. There was no water at his house that day, no electricity either. We conducted the remainder of the transaction by candlelight. It was pitch black in the bathroom. I’d used it myself before him and had to keep the door slightly ajar to keep track of my aim. I sprayed a little bit here and there, but couldn’t even wash my hands. Perhaps they’ll find droplets of my urine, perhaps they’ll find my prints on my money on the floor.’

  ‘Your money?’

  ‘I’d dropped some on the floor from the table and forgot to collect it on the way out.’

  ‘How much was it?’

  ‘About ten grand, I think.’

  ‘You left ten grand at the scene of the crime?’

  ‘I’m only human. I make mistakes.’

  ‘It wasn’t there when I found him . . .’

  ‘I snuck back into the building last night. Hid in the shrubbery all night long till the watchman fell asleep. Tried going back up to collect it but realized that a guard was sleeping inside. Maybe the Gypsy parked outside saw me sneak in. Perhaps they’ll catch me and I’ll spend the rest of my life behind bars. But one thing they’ll never know is why. Why I did the most heinous thing an upright model citizen could do. Why a lawyer was pathologically incapable of abiding by the very law he professed to practise.’

  Nadeem’s gaze tightened on him. He was speeding at an alarming rate, looking only at the road as he spoke. He didn’t even turn to address Nadeem, he pretended almost as if he wasn’t there, that he was all alone and talking to himself in soliloquy.

  ‘You see, when we were growing up, we had been told by all the maulanas and maulvis of a promised land, a land where you were rewarded by the virtues you possessed, not by the whims and fancies of circumstance. Those that were rewarded on this earth were to be consigned to eternal damnation. After all, it was merely, as they called it, a “kaafiron ki Jannat”, a place of sin and treachery where evil prevails. “Let ’em enjoy this life” was always their peaceful surmise. This one isn’t for us. Those that found no peace or joy in the material world would console themselves with the cheering illusion that life would be kinder to them after it was over. That there would be real joy and real peace, which wasn’t to be found in chicks and cars and money. A hell on earth was what their existence was about. A biblical purgatory of the everyday, where every step you took out of your house was a drop further away from sanity. Where the very air you breathed sucked the very life out of you, where your eyes were graced with only the sight of hideousness, where the only sounds that crept into your ears screamed misery, and where the forces of fate conspired against you, to keep you one step short of fulfilment. I’d never thought of it until Irshaad put things into perspective for me. What he said was that the only sentence that counts is the one the Almighty gives out, not the one notarized by some judge in a black gown. He should know, his account with the Almighty has suffered considerable deficits in proportion of his vices to his virtues. But as far as I’m concerned, I find that kind of liberating. The thought that the law and rules which apply to normal citizens don’t really make that much of a difference in the scheme of things. That the ones toeing the line are actually just suckers.’

  ‘Pull over!’ Nadeem ordered him.

  The speedometer was closing in on a hundred and fifty. Oncoming vehicles flew across with the beam from the headlights. The car leapt off an upward sloping road, the angle of which propelled them like a ramp, making them airborne for a couple of seconds.

  ‘Woooohoooo!’ HK exclaimed in nervous exhilaration as the car fell back on to the road. The smell from an adjacent sewage dump slipped into the car, making Nadeem even more ill at ease than he had good reason to be. HK continued rejoicing in his adrenalized elation. The pitch of his voice escalated beyond the boundaries of mania.

  ‘Pull over, Hoseipha!’ Nadeem screamed, his voice drowned out in the roar of the road.

  ‘You know I kind of like that name. No one calls me by it. I like the sound of it. You know, it means Joseph.’

  Nadeem grabbed hold of the steering wheel and twisted it around clockwise, sending the car straight towards the divider. The car skidded, going momentarily out of control, before HK pushed him aside, clearing his grasp off the wheel. Nadeem’s shoulder pushed him back against the window, grabbing the gear and pulling it down from fifth to neutral. The car swerved across the divider and spun on to the other side of the road, with its rear end facing the oncoming traffic. A grey Innova screeched to a halt two inches behind, another truck cut across just at the right moment, missing it narrowly.

  Just as the car came as close to being stationary, as HK would possibly allow, Nadeem flung open the door of the passenger seat to haul his torso out of it. HK immediately caught hold of the seat belt Nadeem had made the mistake of putting on and pinned his neck back to the headrest with it. Nadeem flapped about violently, trying to wriggle his way out of the headlock. He began to choke. The bewildered driver from the Innova got off to see what the matter was. He tapped at HK’s window as the two men cl
utched vigorously at the seat belt inside. Nadeem bit HK’s arm, trying to cry out for help. HK stuck his fingers up Nadeem’s nostrils, jabbing him in the ribs. Nadeem’s door was still open and HK’s elbow was pressed firmly to the horn, making it scream across the empty road. On registering the gravity of the scuffle, the man outside immediately deserted the car and made back for his Innova, getting into it with undue haste. Nadeem tried to scream out to him as he zipped off, but HK stuck his hands over his mouth. Nadeem bit his hand again, this time managing to dig deeper. Blood spurted out of the side of his palm, leaving a tear of flesh hanging loosely over it.

  ‘Aaaaarggghhhh!’ HK screamed, retreating his hands and holding them up against the light to examine the wound. Nadeem took the opportunity to make a dash for it. He quickly turned around and tried to jump out but was catapulted back into the car by the strapped on seat belt. Before he could even reach for the red button to open it, HK slammed his foot down on the accelerator, sending the car hurtling forward. Nadeem’s door swung back and forth, his left hand getting jammed between it. The car swayed wildly across the long empty road. The pickup was tremendous. It could lift off from 10 to a 100 in a matter of seconds. The car sped in the opposite direction, heading back towards the Goregaon telephone exchange. The road sloped forward, crossing a dilapidated bridge, which hovered aimlessly over a nala. The two men inside the car were battling fiercely over the steering wheel, causing a strange succession of screeching sounds that sent the vehicle staggering left and right. As it ran down the slope, Nadeem lifted his feet off and kicked the steering wheel, pushing HK’s clasp aside. The car careened out of control and smashed through the crumbling concrete railings of the bridge, taking a nosedive straight into the filth of the creek.

  Black water spilled in through the edges of the windows and the cracked windscreen. Bubbles swelled up all around them, submerging the entire vehicle in slime. It sunk slowly into the creek, filling up rapidly, almost to the point where it began to balloon out of shape. Nadeem held his breath, pushed open the seat belt and swam out of the open passenger seat door. HK was stuck inside with his door jammed. He struggled to open it but was bombarded by the influx of mucky water that poured in all around him, drowning him in sewage waste. Nadeem surfaced from the sea of sickness, his head popping out of the grey oblivion, paddling deliriously to the dirt-ridden shore. He heaved himself out of the creek, covered in slime from his head down to his toes. There were plastic bags and excreta everywhere. Every step he took was a living reminder of purgatory, almost of biblical proportions. He screamed for help, beckoning to the heavens above, but there was no one in sight for miles but for a few nocturnal cats and the resting swine rolled up to sleep in the sludge. Even the mangroves immersed in uncertain slumber at the edge of the creek seemed disinterested in his plight. The car had sunk completely and was no longer visible, taking with it the strange man interred in his own automobile down to the bottomless pits of hell.