The Heist

Pooviah woke up in the middle of the night to a sound downstairs, he thought he had heard the breaking of glass. Waking up his wife Kami, he told her that he was going to investigate the sound. Their daughter Rani was getting married in a weeks time and soon the house would be full of relatives and friends who were to come from all over the world.

He saw a beam of light coming from the guest bedroom door. On approaching the door, he decided to alert the thieves of his presence, so loudly asked “Who is there?”, and then repeated it in Kannada. The light immediately went off, and the room was plunged into darkness. He reached inside the door and gingerly switched on the light, but found that there was no power. As he moved further into the room, his foot kicked something soft, so he reached down to see what it was, he found a duffel bag, heavy with some objects. At that instant, something swished past above his head. Only then did he realize that the person or persons were armed. Ducking his head, he charged in the direction of the assailant. He made contact with a body and they both fell heavily with a crash onto the ground. The assailants’ weapon clattered to the ground. In the struggle that followed, Pooviah, tried to grab the man. Unfortunately for him, the assailant was half naked and had oiled his body. The assailant kicked Pooviah in the groin, who let out a cry of pain. Pooviah heard the sound of steps, some one was running out of the room. Even though he was in pain, he pulled himself together, got up and chased after the assailant. What the assailant had over him, was the element of surprise, but what Pooviah had over him, was he knew his house like the back of his hand, so he ran towards the kitchen, to get himself a kitchen knife and cut off the assailants exit from the back door. A torch came on in the dining room, the assailant was trying the windows. Pooviah, heard a loud crash of glass shattering, and the assailant was gone. Pooviah ran to the dining room, to find one window completely broken, and one of the dining room chairs missing. He looked out of the window and he saw in the dark what looked like a man running very fast towards the garage. Pooviah jumped through the opened window, giving chase. He followed the man till the garage, only to find that all the tyres of the cars had been slit. He continued to run behind the assailant, by now yelling on the top of his voice, to awake the farm hands. Soon there were a bunch of men, who had gathered, and started chasing the thief. Finally, one of his men threw what looked like a sickle at the thief, and he fell.

When Pooviah reached the man, now sprawled on the ground, unconcious, he was panting, and trying to catch his breath, when one of his farm hands, reached and turned the man over. Pooviah, was very shocked, he had never seen the man before.

The police were called, and the man was taken into custody. In the lock up, under interrogation, the man confessed. He worked as a teaboy in the village restaurant, and overheard Pooviah giving instructions to the florist about the wedding. He knew that there would be lots of jewellery and money in the house, and decided to try his luck. He befriended the maid, on one of her weekly shopping trip into the village, got a lay of the land, and planned his heist. He was startled to hear Pooviah wake up, the maid had told him that the family was going to Bangalore to finalize some of the preparations. That trip was cancelled by Pooviah, as his brother offered to pick up all the outstanding parcels from Bangalore for him.

The wedding went off without a hitch.

Family Tree

In 1969, in a remote village in Coorg, a man was stabbed to death in a barn. The crime was never solved. The killer was absconding, the police searched for clues and kept coming up to a dead end, and the case was closed. The dead man’s name was Shahabuddin. His death would have gone unnoticed, except for the fact that his granddaughter Ayesha in 2009, inherited among other things the diary maintained by him, along with all the other belongings left behind by her mother Arzoo on her untimely death. While going through her mother’s stuff, Ayesha also found a baby’s blanket with the letter P. K. initialed on it.

After performing all the last rites, Ayesha returned to Mysore where she lived. One day she decided to read the diary written in Urdu by her grandfather. What followed was a series of perplexing tales.

In 1947 at the at of 22, on the eve of the Indian Independence, Shahbuddin was working as a houseboy cum cook in a wealthy Coorg’s Kaverappa’s house. Shahabuddin’s wife Khatija, was expecting their first child. Khatija went into labour that night, and it lasted for around 14 hours. They had a baby girl, and the mother was overjoyed. She had miscarried many times before and had prayed that this time the baby would be healthy and safe. Shahabuddin took the child into his arms and walked out of the house to show the neighbours. Khatija went off to sleep, exhausted by the ordeal, and when she woke up, the child was safely bundled up, and asleep. The mother looked at the child and whispered into her ear “Arzoo…that is your name, as you are what I have prayed for.”

At the same time across the estate in the main house, Kamava the wife of Kaverappa, was giving birth to their third child. The child was a baby girl and immediately after the birth, the child was carried away by the midwife to get bathed. Kaverappa, who had been pacing up and down outside, immediately rushed into the room to be with his wife. He was a very happy man, he had wanted a daughter badly. He was going to call her Ganga, after the holiest of holy rivers in India.

Both children grew up under different circumstances, and both much loved by their parents. When they reached adulthood, both girls were married. Arzoo was married to a man in Mysore, who owned a bakery, and within the first couple of years, produced first a boy Armaan and then her daughter Ayesha. Then one day Arzoo, got a telegram from Coorg, her father had died. She rushed to Coorg and found her mother inconsolable, her father Shahbuddin had been murdered, stabbed to death. After performing the last rites, Arzoo returned to Mysore , but her mother refused to join her. She had found work as a cook in the main house, and was being looked after by Kaverappa . He had come for the funeral, and spared no expenses in looking after all her needs. He was meeting Arzoo for the first time, and spent some time asking her how she was doing, and if she was happy.

Life soon returned to normal, and many years passed, Ayesha grew up, into a beautiful girl, both her and her brother’s education was paid for by Kaverappa, and he made sure they received the best. Arzoo was very proud of how the grandchildren of a cook were now having good steady Government jobs. She would all her neighbours, that Ayesha and Armaan were like family to Mr. Kaverappa.

Ayesha finished reading her grandfather’s diary and had a long talk with her brother. They then boarded a bus for Coorg and went to meet Mr. Kaverappa. Now 86, he was ailing and in bed, but his mind was as sharp as ever. When they walked into his bedroom together, he told all others present to leave the room at once. He then beckoned to both to approach the bed, and then said “I am sorry, please forgive me. What your grandfather did to me was very wrong, and I know two wrongs do not make a right, but I was angry and upset, and I killed him.”

In his own words he narrated to them what transpired that faithful day in 1969. Shahbuddin had come to the barn to ask him for some money, Kaverappa refused. They got into an arguement, and had come to blows, Shahbuddin then picked up a stick and started hitting Kaverappa with it, who in turn dived and picked up a sickle lying on the ground. He stabbed Shahbuddin with it, who reeled back and hit the ground. He died soon after that. But before dying, he made a confession. Shahbuddin had switched his daughter with Kaverappa’s, on the night they were born, and had decided to come clean about it.

Kaverappa looked at Armaan and Ayesha and told them “ You are actually my grandchildren, and if you have it in you to forgive me, I could die a happy man.’
Its been a year since the meeting.

Ayesha and Armaan had just returned from Coorg after attending Kaverappa’s funeral. Kaverappa’s sons embraced their niece and nephew, and though they all knew it would be difficult, it was not impossible to form a new relationship.

First Love...or is it?

It was the day of his son's wedding and Nanda Kurambiah was feeling good. He had not felt this good in a long time. His only son Arjun was getting married to a very pretty girl called Kritika. As far as Nanda was concerned she ticked all the boxes as an ideal wife for his son. But that was not all, the alliance was something that Nanda had been planning for years. He actually was quite surprised at his own obsession. But obsession it was.

When Nanda was a young man, staying in a paying guest accomadation in Coorg, working as a lawyers assistant, he had seen her. She was the neice of his landlord. Kaveri was absolutely beautiful, Nanda was smitten instantly. You hear of love at first sight, well according to Nanda it existed. He silently admired this beautiful creature, she did not even know of his existence. Then he heard that she had gotten engaged to a landed Coorg. Instead of his obsession waning, it actually now took on a new form. He was determined that somehow he would be connected to Kaveri. He made it his life's ambition to succeed, after all that's how he knew he would get noticed. He moved to Bangalore, and set up his own practise. Going from strenght to strenght. His parents then found a suitable bride from a wealthy Coorg family and he got married to her, ironically her name was also Kaveri. He was a good husband, but deep down Nanda knew he did not love her or ever would love her. They had two children, his eldest being Arjun and then his daughter Soumya.

Nanda continued to follow the life of his obsession Kaveri. He soon discovered that she did not have kids for a long time. She then had twin daughters, Kritika and Kavita. The next step in Nanda's plan took shape. He befreinded her husband, and got his kids introduced to her kids. Then he told all who would listen, that he would get his son married to one of the twins.

Now these many years later, his goal had been achieved. He was now forever going to be linked to Kaveri, his first love. He saw in her daughter Kaveri, and his son he saw himself.

Attention Grabbing Syndrome

Mumbai is a very difficult city. You will either love it or hate it. Daisy loved it, she loved every thing about it, the people, the buzz, the chaos and even the smell that every one complained about. Daisy was from Coorg, while studying in Mount Carmel in Bangalore, she had tagged along with a friend of hers for an audition, her friend did not get the part, she did. She was over the moon, and then that started the ball rolling, she participated in the Modelhunt competition held by a leading magazine. She placed on the top three and was invited to Mumbai to participate in the finals, where she did not win but came in second, but was completely starstruck. A famous Bollywood actor crowned her, and she got business cards from all the top agencies. “This is where I need to be, I am not going back to Bangalore”. She then pleaded with her Dad and Mom to let her try her hand at modelling, her father gave in after much negotiations, Daisy would have to finish her college and then she would be given 6 months in Mumbai. “Ok, that sounds fair”, she told her Dad.

Coming to Mumbai was tough, she had to find her self a home, the biggest question single women face in the vast city, but the God’s were smiling down at her, she knew it was a good omen, when in an audition she met another girl from Bangalore. Kavita was a Kannidiga and had moved to Mumbai to try her hand at modeling. She lived in an old part of Bandra , right behind Hill road in the fishing village, in a huge house shared with 3 other girls in the fishing village, the rent was moderate, and they had place for one more girl. Daisy moved in that day. She got the room upstairs, it had a tiled roof, and was absolutely bare. She went out and bought herself a mattress, one pillow and some sheets. She was quickly told the rules in the house, every girl had their own shelf in the fridge, bills split equally, and if boys stay over, they were not to disturb the other girls. Privacy was the most important thing for all the girls. She quickly became friends with all the others in the house, each woman was connected to the media in some way. Pia was a Maharastrian from Kolhapur and worked as the head of production with one of the best advertising house’s in Mumbai. She was no nonsense woman, with a heart of gold and bad taste in men. Malini was from Delhi, half Punjabi and half Scottish, she was a fabulous mix, and worked in as Veejay in one of the top music channels in the country. Parizad was a Parsi, she was married and divorced and was a voice over specialist and a Radio jockey.

Daisy’s career took off, and she was flying all over the country doing shows, and ads, and generally life was good. She periodically joked with her house mates, that the house was a place where she came to wash her clothes. She did not mind the travel, it was hectic and fun, though she did get a bit lonely sometimes. She quickly shook her self out of any such thoughts and realized that she would not exchange this life for any thing else. One day she came home in the afternoon, as usual, and there was a palpable quiet in the house. She went up to her room and came down to make a cup of tea. She heard loud sobbing coming from Malini’s room. Not wanting to intrude on her privacy, Daisy made her cup of tea and went into the dining room. She was sitting sipping her tea and dipping her Marie biscuits in the tea, and generally enjoying the peace and quiet, when Malini walked in. Her face was swollen and her eyes puffed up from continuously crying. She walked past Daisy, went to the cupboard, took out a bottle of Vodka, and walked back into her room. Daisy was now a bit alarmed. Wondering what she should do, she went looking for her room mates. She found Pia and Kavita sitting in Pia’s room, both were reading. So immersed in their reading were they , they did not even look up when Daisy entered. Its only when she spoke did they look up. She quietly told them about Malini, they looked at her and Pia rolled her eyes. Kavita told her in Kannada to just ignore the whole thing.

The next day Daisy was off to Goa for a shoot for a calendar for a liquor baron. When she returned, one week later, everything seemed to okay again. Relieved, as she hated drama, Daisy went to her room and having been exhausted with all the work and partying in Goa, she decided to crash, even though it was only the morning, she told Kavita she did not want to be disturbed and to take a message if the phone rang. She slept soundly, but around two was woken with some sounds downstairs. Thinking that it was an intruder, she picked up her tennis racket, and walked down the stairs as stealthily as she could. The sound was coming from the kitchen, and as she approached she saw a light. Feeling foolish that no burglar would switch on lights, she put down her tennis racket and walked into the kitchen to find Malini cutting onions, her eyes were streaming with tears. There were about twenty onions in a basket and a huge mound of chopped onions on one side. Daisy approached her and said “Every thing okay? Why are you chopping onions in the middle of the night?”, to which Malini replied that she was going to cook. So Daisy asked her if she could help. Malini told her no, “just leave me alone and go back to sleep”. Slightly alarmed by her tone, Daisy went to Kavita’s door and knocked on her door, Kavita came out, looking very sleepy. Daisy explained to her what was happening downstairs, they then came down together, they then went to Parizad’s room and woke her up. Parizad, being the oldest of the lot, took matters into her own hands, marched into the kitchen and asked Malini “what the hell are you doing in the middle of the night?”. They started arguing, voices steadily rising till they were both were screaming at each other. Daisy did not understand every thing, but “boyfriend dumped me”, “selfish ass”, “get a grip” was being shouted at each other. Finally Malini picked up the knife and turned, screaming like a banshee, with a look of madness in her eyes, charged at Parizad. What followed was that all three women, scattered, Daisy ran up the stairs, Kavita towards the front door and Parizad towards her bedroom. In the commotion, Daisy found she was still holding her tennis racket. She turned and ran down the stairs, and went running behind Malini, who was now chasing Parizad around the dining room, both screaming obscenities at each other. Daisy took a wide swing and hit Malini, the racket caught Malini on her arm and the knife fell down, then Daisy hit her again, but this time, at the back of her legs. Malini fell down, Parizad threw her self on top of her and tried to restrain her. By now Kavita was in the room, she also jumped on Malini.

At this point, the front door opened and in walked Pia, with her production team. They had gone pubbing and had come over a late night meal, of omelette sandwiches and tea. They came running into the dining room on hearing the commotion and found a sobbing Malini , straddled by Parizad and Kavita while Daisy had gone to get a bucket of water to throw on her. They all were separated, and over much accusations, and indignant statements, the story was narrated.

Malini had been dumped by her model/actor boyfriend, and had not taken it too kindly to find out that he had dumped her for another Veejay in the same channel. To make matters worse, she was the last one to know about it, and Malini concluded “she is soo bloody ugly, how could he dump me for her?” Pia, went into the kitchen first made tea for everybody, then used some of the chopped onions to make the omlettes, and then after feeding every body, told all present to go either go home or into their rooms.

The next day, Malini was asked to move out, it was a unanimous decision , as Pia told her “we had enough of your attention getting drama, we all have our ups and downs, but my God you take the cake and the bakery.” That evening she left for Scotland to be with her family, and peace returned to the house.

Politics makes strange bedfellows...

Anil opened the wedding invitation. He was surprised to receive an invitation, and even more so when he read the contents.

“….Shri Rachianda Cariappa and his wife Jaya, request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their son Ponappa to Kavya daughter of …..”. Ponappa, now that’s a name he had not heard in a long time. He felt a tingle, it had been 8 years, but the name could still evoke that response.

Anil Medappa was studying for his engineering degree in RVCE- Engineering college in Bangalore in 1990. He was in his third year, and that year had decided to run for the President of the student union. He was being opposed by a heavy weight called T. Suresh, who had political backing. The moment he applied for the candidate's position, he started receiving threats. His phone would ring in the middle of the night and a voice would ask him to withdraw his nomination. This went on for about two weeks. Anil refused to back down. They started harassing him during the day, his motor bike tyres of his Yezdi were slashed, they would not let anybody in the canteen serve him even a cup of tea.

One day Anil found a note, which fell out of his books. Thinking that it was another death threat, he picked it and was about to toss it into the dustbin, when he stopped and opened it. The message was simple and clear. It just said “ Go and meet R.C. Ponappa”.

R. C. Ponappa was a legend. An ex student of RVCE, his name still made some of the professors and students quake in their boots. Various urban legends about the man and his bravery had been circulating the college. His nick name was Acid Ponappa. The story goes that a bunch of goons attacked him with hockey sticks and cycle chains, they had cornered him near the college chemistry lab. Only to have one guy loose his eyesight, two break their necks and one to have third degree burns. There was no one to verify these stories, and as R.C did not either deny or agree, these rumours grew. He was a man of few words and a black belt in Karate.

Anil went to meet him the next day at his house. He introduced himself, and told him about the upcoming elections. R. C told him that he would pick him up the next day morning at 8 o’clock from his house. The next day in the morning sharp 8, R.C was out side his house on his Royal Enfeild. He and Anil went to the college together. R. C then walked into the canteen with him, ordered two cups of tea and bread butter sandwich. The canteen was packed with students and staff, when Anil entered with R.C, a hush fell onto the crowd. R. C then proceeded to eat the sandwich very slowly, the whole canteen watching every move he made. He then got up, and asked Anil to come till the door with him, at the door, he shook hands with Anil and looked around the room slowly and left.

Anil won the elections in a land slide victory. He stood unopposed, his opponent, suddenly fell very sick.

Anil was definitely going to attend the wedding….only if it was to see who was brave enough to marry the man…..