‘Vickybhai, we appreciate your concern to uplift the downtrodden,’ said one person. ‘We wish for your success,’ said another. I smiled with tears rolling down my cheeks. ‘Your repentance makes you deserving of a pardon. We pray that you get forgiveness,’ said another. My heart filled with contentment.
‘Vickybhai, we have a visitor here from Udupi city. On your right,’ said an unknown man. The name Udupi energised me, and I turned right. A man in his fifties sporting a light golden beard and a white kurta-pyjama and skullcap, stood gazing at me.
‘Can you identify him?’ asked a man. ‘He is Imtiyaz Khan, baby Munni’s father. He was at Udupi during the riots,’ he said.
I blinked. My heart pounded and my nerves tingled. I closed my eyes and a black spot formed in my mind. My limbs and fingers shivered. I opened my eyes and stared at his countenance. It reflected the baby’s image. I leapt and grabbed his feet and thumped my head on them. Tears flooded my cheeks, and I sobbed and moaned. A multimillionaire who could buy what he desired begged for mercy. Imtiyaz Saheb held my arms and helped me to a seat. I sat motionless, wailing beyond control. The other men joined him and lifted me. With my eyes closed, I blubbered multiple apologies. A rough hand wiped the tears off my cheeks, and I opened my eyes. Imtiyaz Saheb wept along with the others. A bliss granted before seeking, Imtiyaz Saheb pulled me to him and hugged me. With due respect, I embraced him and wailed. He caressed me and uttered Arabic verses, whose meaning I learnt later. He said, “Indeed, God is all-forgiving and merciful.”
After a few minutes, the other men separated me, and I wiped my face. I folded my hands and wanted to say ‘Please forgive me’, but I couldn’t utter it. My lips parted, and another burst of tears rolled out. Imtiyaz Saheb held my hands and rubbed my back. Those weightless water drops released tons of burdens from my body, heart, and mind.
After another few moments of wailing, Imtiyaz Saheb and the other men pacified me. ‘Calm down, Vickybhai,’ said a man. ‘We have informed him of your story. He respects your repentance and changeover. He has forgiven you and wishes you success in your endeavours,’ said another.
A man served me water. I drank and cleaned my face. With my heart trembling, I bowed again with hands folded in thankfulness of his Godly gesture. Later, I left for the hotel with their blessings and prayers. Another best day of my life ended. Pardon for my haunting crimes received. I wished my chubby chocolate girl would be happy above. My body emitted a warm glow.
Chapter—35
Off to Liberty
The next morning, I woke up energised. The experience of a serene sleep after a long, long time lifted my spirits. I freshened up, finished my breakfast and hurried to Naroda Patia to pay my homage. I proceeded to Chharanagar and accompanied Guddu to Satkarnagar Station to resolve Chhara issues. We returned by noon and found four men prowling near the entrance. They followed us. The door to Guddu’s house was open. We checked for his family, and the guys entered behind us.
‘Attention, please,’ said one. ‘O Vikrambhai. Your pregnant wife and daughters, along with her family from Udupi approached our organisation for help. They complained of your ill-treatment and torture. Our boss wants to meet you,’ he said, and winked at me. We gaped at them. He turned to Guddu and said, ‘Your spouse, son, and daughter also joined them in support. Hope it’s clear to you. Have a memorable day.’ He left jeering, followed by his associates. We followed them outside and stood dazed.
Fuck. ‘What the hell,’ I murmured, holding my head. Despite watching ample Bollywood films, I overlooked the safety of my family members. Bloody pigs. They had traced and kidnapped my family from Udupi to control me. My heart palpitated and beads of perspiration shone on my face. I glanced at the sky and cursed God. My hard work to uplift my community bordered on failure and I had landed in the soup.
Negative thoughts bombarded my mind. Why do we think about the negative first? My body warmed up, but I was cold inside. Guddu held his head in his hands. He burst out crying, and I stayed numb for a while. I approached Guddu and squeezed his upper arm.
‘Let’s go in,’ I said.
‘This is disastrous, Vicky.’ Guddu erupted. ‘I need my family back at any cost. To hell with your community welfare plans. Who here is bothered, huh? We struggle for them yet they backbite us. Our families are at stake now. I don’t care, Vicky. I don’t care for anybody. I need my loved ones back safe and sound,’ he said, and cried. His behaviour was furious and childish. Personal emotions overtook him.
I kept quiet for a while and said, ‘All right, I’ll ask them to murder my family first. Okay?’ Guddu stiffened and stared at the floor. I pulled him inside his house and rested him on a chair.
‘Don’t give up, Guddu. History states that you don’t earn freedom easily. People have sacrificed their lives to achieve it. Calm down. Let us plan out a solution. Though they have our families, the data we hold is catastrophic, and they’ll never risk it leaking out. Their attempt to threaten us will go unsuccessful, and I am confident of our victory. We must sail through a storm, and that is common for a Chhara. We have been doing it since our birth,’ I shared my optimism with him.
After a few tense moments, Guddu calmed down. He matched my understanding, and we floated at the same mental plane. ‘Let us call important tribesmen for discussion,’ I said. ‘Keep calm. We will win at any cost. Trust me, Guddu, and let me handle this. This is our last chance to nail them. If life does not open a door for us, this time we will kick it open ourselves.’ My confidence made him comfortable and hopeful.
The volunteers informed key members to gather at the playground. By 1 pm, we met 40 Chhara men. I explained to them our requirements as a community and the plan we had hatched to take it to success. I also highlighted the risk and our situation. Our daring astonished them, and they cheered for us. They turned in our favour.
‘We support you, Vickybhai. Please command us. Tell us how we can help?’ said Manoj, raising his right fist.
‘Freedom needs sacrifice. Those bastards want to scare us by kidnapping our families. We are ready to forgo everything for our community’s liberation. Are you too prepared for the same?’ I asked.
‘Anything for freedom. Everything for freedom.’ The men yelled, raising both hands.
‘Okay. My plan is that we will also threaten them in front of full media glare. If required, we will sacrifice our lives. Do or die, this time. Are you all ready?’
They roared in support.
‘Fine. Line up, everyone, from the entrance to the inside. Hold the fuel cans in your hands. Guddu and I will meet them. If the talks fail, I’ll inform you. We must self-immolate to press our demands. If we succeed with a mere threat, we will enjoy freedom together. Else, those who sacrificed their lives will remain immortal for the others.’
The word self-immolation resulted in chaos. Ten men argued to sacrifice themselves first. Ten martyrs along with the explosive data we had was sufficient to force VD and MPP to surrender.
‘We are leaving; all the best to you. Be prepared. Keep these contacts of journalists handy.’ I handed a paper to Manoj and said, ‘When I signal, inform them to cover our self-immolation. And most importantly, keep the medication and fire extinguishing tools ready. “Long Live Chharas, Freedom for us now”,’ I yelled.
They resounded the slogan, “Long Live Chharas” and “Freedom for us now”.
I called up their office. The receptionist said the authorities were at the Liberty Resorts. We both left for the venue. The name of the resort delighted me.
At Liberty Resorts, a man guided us to a conference hall where the white-clothed beasts with dark and fearful faces celebrated their victory. The State and National MPP members and 70 MLAs of Gujarat sat around a huge rectangular table. Ramubhai and Ketanbhai were seated on cushioned armchairs draped in white silk. Munching on samosa, kachori and khaman, they boasted about overpowering us.
Everyone gazed at us as we entered, a few with hatred, a few with fear, and a few with a sarcasti
c smile on their faces. Ramubhai and Ketanbhai thrust their chests out and showed us white teeth. They bragged about a counter-attack of kidnapping our families. I circled the table, but no one offered us a chair. They mocked us. “What is your name, mister?”; “May I help you”; “Head of Chhara, Vikram Chhara; Hahaha.” They expected us to beg for our families, surrender the data, and apologise for our blunder. Hah. Too much to expect from Vicky Chhara.
I swaggered to reach opposite Ketanbhai and kicked on a chair’s armrest. It tumbled along with the MLA who was sipping the mineral water. All the members stood up at once. Many blasted the worst of abuses, and a few stormed at me, fuming.
‘Ay, pig. What are you up to?’ said Ketanbhai.
‘Nothing... My friend Guddu will sit on this chair beside me.’
The man seated next vacated his chair. I slumped on it and ran my hand through my hair. On the table, I spread my legs, the right one above the left, and placed my mobile on the table.
‘Same formula for today as well, Ketanbhai. But considering the surrounding ferocious creatures, today’s cut-out time is 30 seconds.’
Some glared at me, some gaped, and some glanced with raised brows.
‘Sit down, everybody,’ I said. They squinted at each other, adjusted their cuffs and clothes, and settled on their chairs.
‘A bloody untouchable Chhara takes us for ransom,’ said Ketanbhai. ‘Look at this bastard. He is Vicky, Vikram Chhara, the scum who murdered our ex-boss and vanished to Bangalore. He is a bloody builder there. And along with him is Guddu, who leads Chharanagar. The coward has handed the leadership to Vicky, who has challenged us,’ said Ketanbhai. ‘Well, we have your family. Your aged in-laws are horrified. Your pregnant wife is terrified and crying constantly. Harmful to her foetus, I’m sure,’ he said, rubbing his chin with his right hand.
‘30 seconds up,’ I said and punched a few buttons on my mobile. Their faces became red. Some men lowered their eyes and glanced around. I messaged at every half a minute, and that depleted their spirit. The MPP members tried hard to make me surrender. Most of them threatened, and a handful proposed lucrative offers. Many warned me of my family’s safety, and a few criticised my actions. The rest grabbed the armrests and witnessed the ongoing drama. A Chhara held a State and National ruling party at ransom.
‘So, you think we are fools, huh? We have your family, and you think you can rule us? Then speak up, Vikram Chhara. How do we punish them for your crimes? Should we rape and murder your wife and daughter? And how should they be raped? And how should they be murdered? Do you want their body parts as a souvenir? Or you would prefer their rape video?’ said Ketanbhai, and the members snickered.
‘I am here for my community, Ketanbhai,’ I said.
‘Hahaha. He is so frightened to negotiate his family’s release. Your balls got jammed, huh?’ said Ramubhai. The hall echoed with their laughter. Guddu grabbed my trousers.
‘No man born of a woman can harm my family while I am alive!’ I banged the table. ‘It will cause a disaster. That is Vicky Chhara for you. Go, touch them, and I’ll show you what destruction means,’ I shouted. I picked up my mobile phone. ‘Anybody wants a disaster trial here?’ A grave silence followed. ‘Anyone born of a single father here?’ I growled, grinding my teeth. The members looked shaken as they sat frozen and glanced at each other from the corners of their eyes. After all, courage is might. You don’t win battles with many soldiers but with brave soldiers.
‘Stop your movie dialogues,’ shouted Ramubhai. ‘We are not shooting for a film. We ask you for the last time—shall we order for gang rape and murder of your families? Speak up. Our men are waiting.’
Guddu’s heart thumped. He put his handkerchief between his teeth and bent his head down. I bared my teeth, flipped over the refreshment plate, and screamed. ‘Last time for you as well. Shall I order for your destruction?’ I said and banged the table.
‘To hell with your threats,’ roared Ketanbhai.
‘Teach him a good lesson,’ shouted another.
‘Kill these dogs!’
‘These downtrodden tribes will always remain so,’
You know who we are, you rascal?’
‘You think you can finish us with your god-damn 64 GB data, huh?’ Everybody yelled at me. The environment turned so hostile that I needed to overpower them.
‘Shut up, you bastards,’ I screamed with my face shaking and banged a chair on the table. The water bottles and glasses fell, and the refreshments splashed around. I dialled a number.
‘Manoj, Vicky here. Inform the media, and start,’ I said and disconnected the phone. Everybody panicked.
‘What the hell are you doing, Vicky?’ asked Ramubhai.
I dialled another contact. ‘Hello? Saheb, Chharanagar is protesting for their right to equality and Chharas are ready to self-immolate. Please cover the event. Thank you, Saheb,’ I said and disconnected.
The politicians sensed something was up but remained clueless. I had saved a message as a draft with various numbers of journalists. I flashed the mobile to the gathering and pressed “Send”.
‘The game starts now, you bastards. You think you can play with my family? Hah. Bring them here right now and arrange for their safe return, you fuckers. Else, I’ll make one call and your bio-data will flash on social media in front of the world. The citizens will screw your asses,’ I screamed.
An MLA pounced on the remote control and switched on the television. He changed from one channel to another. With eyes popped and tongues hanging like the Chharanagar dogs, they stared at the idiot box. But the media was telecasting more important issues. One channel highlighted the indigestion problem of a film star’s infant. One focussed on the honeymoon destination of a sportsman. Another was broadcasting a debate on whether the National Anthem should be played before adult movie shows in theatres. Ramubhai whispered to Ketanbhai, and he dialled a number.
‘Bring their families and arrange for their return,’ he ordered on the phone.
‘Vicky, stop this drama at once. Surrender the data to us and we will settle things amicably. We will shower you with enough rewards, and also not harm your family. I promise,’ said Ramubhai.
‘What? Harm my family?’ My nostrils flared, and face quivered. ‘You fucking scoundrel. I challenge you to touch them and see what I do. Bloody bastard,’ I said. Ramubhai pushed backwards and gulped a lump in his throat.
‘You have pissed in your pants due to a protest in Chharanagar. Let me warn you. More than a hundred DNT communities stand with me. I have contacted them, and they have pledged me their unconditional support. Imagine a nationwide revolt by all the tribes? Do as I say. Send our families home.’ I thundered and banged the table again.
And the anchor on the television exclaimed, ‘We have sensational news from Chharanagar, Ahmedabad. Chhara community is protesting. Their appeals to the government since decades to grant them equality have gone unheard. They have queued up with fuel cans in their hands. Oh my God, they are self-immolating. Our cameraman has reached Chharanagar, and we will live stream for you. “Yatin, are you there? Are you there, Yatin? Please brief us about the situation?”
The room turned into a horror house. The man switched to other channels, and they all covered the Chharanagar news. He settled for the channel on their payroll. Manoj flashed on the TV as the cameraman interviewed him.
‘We want freedom, we want equality. We have two hands, two legs, two eyes, two ears. Stop discriminating against us. Stop abusing us. We too are humans. Give us the deserved honour,’ said Manoj and went on and on. ‘Our leaders have approached government officials at “Liberty resort” to press our demands. If required, we will sacrifice our lives today,’ he added. The MPP members looked as if they held their lungs in their hands. Their power, dictatorship and ego, disappeared in the filthy sands of Chharanagar.
The camera focussed on Manoj, and a heart-breaking moment followed. Manoj opened a can and poured fuel over himself. He lit the fire without my instruct
ion and shrieked ‘Freedom’. Guddu trembled and screeched, and my heart almost thumped out. Manoj had reacted in desperation over our social stigma. He burnt, and members ran around him to douse the flames. I shivered and screamed from my lungs, spitting out saliva.
‘Bastaaaaard. Nobody can save you now. I am releasing your data.’
Everyone leapt up. ‘Wait, please wait,’ pleaded Praveenbhai with joined hands and rushed towards me. The neighbouring MLAs fell at my feet. Ramubhai signalled to Ketanbhai, glaring at him. He called up and shouted over the phone to bring our families instantly.
‘Your family is free. They’ll reach here soon. Meet them. We’ll arrange their safe return home. Trust me over this,’ said Ketanbhai.
‘Stop this, Vicky. Please stop this. I’ll call our senior leaders here. We will discuss it,’ pleaded Ramubhai. Their party members raised their joined palms.
I called up Manoj. Another man picked up. ‘Save Manoj and arrange for the best treatment for him. Hold the protest for now and wait for my instructions. No more self-immolation till I instruct, okay? Update me regularly about Manoj’s condition.’
‘Over to you, Ketanbhai,’ I said, gritting my teeth and with flared up nostrils. ‘And listen, you motherfucker, no more filthy games. I’ll not give you another chance.’
Ramubhai informed the State Home Minister, who instructed the Police Commissioner to cease the self-immolation.
‘Please chill, and sit down, Vicky. I’ll call our leaders,’ said Ketanbhai, and scurried out with some associates. The MLA next to me rubbed my back. They offered me water and refreshments, and requested me to calm down. Ramubhai thumped his head on the table and covered it with his hands. I kicked up another chair and sat with my legs on the table, right one over the left. Guddu patted my hand in appreciation.
The Branded Criminal: In Search of Liberation Page 24
