The Dead End

The year was 1991.The telephone rang, waking up DCP Rathore. He picked up the phone, listened for a few minutes and left for the police station immediately. There had been another shoot out. This time, a prominent builder from Lokhandwala had been shot late at night, coming out of his mistress's apartment. The builder Mr. Sanjay Kapur had been receiving death threats for quite some time, and had gone to the police and lodged a complaint. The police had been monitering his telephone calls.

Inspector Rathore reached the site of the shootout. The place was a mess, it had been raining, and the roads were covered with mud, blood. The man had run for his life, and he could very clearly smell fecal matter, the victim had emptied out his bowels out of fear before he finally died.

DCP Rathore sighed, this was the fourth death this year, it was getting very tiresome. They found two bullet marks on the victim. One on his right leg, and one right in the middle of his temple. Rathore barked order for his men to first cordon off the area, not allowing any reporters to take any photographs and then search the area for gun casing.

The next day the Chief Minister of Maharastra Sharad Pawar, issued a statement about how the murderer would be found. The crime branch was called in by the Commissioner of Police, he wanted the killer or killers to be caught, dead or alive he did not care. The police started thier investigation, it was a slow and painful one, because either people had not seen anything, or did not want to say anything out of fear of repurcussion. One week into the investigation, they discovered a Soviet made SVD Dragunov, found in one of the dumpsters, one lane away from the shootout. Immediately it was sent to the forensics for both fingerprints and bullet analysis. They hit pay dirt, one bullet matched the gun. That was the puzzling bit, the bullet that hit the leg had been shot with the SVD they found, what about the one that killed him, the one through the head? No said the forensic experts, this bullet has been fired from another gun. They came back with some smudged finger prints as well, on sending these to the lab, for carefully reconstruction, they were found a match. They belonged to an ex -army jawan. His name was K. Devaya, he had been a sniper in the army and had served in the IPKF in Jaffna in 1987.

The police started their man hunt for Devaya.

Devaya had left the Army in 1987, and had moved to then Bombay in 1988. He was a widower, with one daughter. He lived in Ghatkopar, and worked in the mill area of Parel, in an import export house. The police managed to find his house, but when they reached, it had been locked up. The neighbours told the police that he had left hurriedly a couple of days back, telling the neighbours that his mother was very ill and that he had to go home. The police then went to all the train and bus stations, and finally in the Dadar station, one ticket collecter recalled that he had bought a ticket for the Rajadhani express to Delhi. The man hunt for Devaya lasted for months. They finally found him in Arunachal Pradesh, with an ex -army colleague of his. He was brought to Bombay and locked up in Arthur road jail, in maximum security.

DCP Rathore spent many hours interrogating Devaya, he slowly pieced together his story. Devaya had moved to Mumbai in search of work. While working in the import export business, one of his friends had introduced him to betting on horses. This had become addictive, Devaya had lost a lot of money and the touts began to threaten him for the money. One day he was approached by a tout, who had a job for him. They told him that his debts, now mounting to Rs 7 lakhs would be forgotten, all he had to do in exchange was to shoot a builder. Devaya, was hesitant. Though he was ex- army and had served and fought in Sri Lanka, he had never killed any one in cold blood. They then threatened him, if he did not do it, they would break his hands and legs. DCP Rathore was well aware of how the blackmailing worked. Devaya finally relented. They gave him the gun, and told him when and where and who was it to be carried out.

On that faithful night, Devaya positioned himself outside the apartment block, he was sitting in the car with two other goons. When he fired the first shot he missed, the victim's car windshield exploded. The victim let out a scream and started running away from his car, Devaya shot him again, this time on his leg, the victim collapsed. Hearing the screams of the victim, some passersby stopped, immediately Devaya and the other men, started the car and drove away. Leaving the victim alive. The next day Devaya read in the papers that the victim had died. Devaya panicked and left the city.

DCP Rathore knew that this was no ordinary murder. He rounded up the men Devaya had owed money to, then after some "gentle" persuasion, found out the head of the betting circle, his name was Aziz. He then got Aziz arrested, and brought to the police station. Aziz was thrown into prison and no FIR was written. Aziz was not even allowed to meet with any of his colleagues or family. Aziz was given the third degree treatment, the infamous rubber tyre. The prisoner is tied up and his legs are put through a rubber tyre, and with a bamboo stick covered in cloth, the heels of his feet are beaten mercilessly. No marks will be left on the prisoner, but he will not be able to walk for a few weeks. The pain is unbearable. It had the desired effect. Aziz sang like a canary. He had received a call from Dubai, giving him specific instructions on getting rid of Sanjay Kapur, all he had to do was make it look untraceable. Unfortunately for him, the people in Dubai did not have too much faith in his ability to choose a good shooter. They had also sent one of their own. That was the bullet that had killed Sanjay Kapur.

The police never found the real killer, he had appeared and disappeared into the night like a ghost. It was another dead end.

What does the future hold for you?

Rani, Poulami and Simone were three best friends, who had met in school in Lawrence Ooty. In 1992, in the last year of college in Bangalore, they decided to go on a holiday to Pondicherry together. On their way back from Pondicherry, they decided to stop off in Chennai for a day, before going their separate ways. They were all very excited, they had heard of a Nadi, this community of people in Chennai, who specialize in reading thumb prints. They take a thumb print, and then give the person his/her past lives and present lives, and what the future will hold. They tell you of the Karmic cycle of the soul and how the deeds done in the past, will effect what happens in the future.

The same evening they went to see the Nadi in Adiyar. He lived in a non descript house, and they were taken into a waiting area, and were told that they would be summoned one at a time.

Rani was the first to be called. She was told that in her past life, she was a big Zamindar’s wife, who was exceptionally cruel. She treated her servants really badly. Especially one servant, who looked after her. This servant was born in this life and was going to be her husband. His name would start with the alphabet R, and it would be an arranged marriage and he would also be Bengali like her.

Poulami, went next. She was told that in her previous life, she had been a temple elephant. She had been extremely hard working, and in this life her husband would be the mahout from her previous life and his name would start with K.

Simone was the last to go, and she was told that in her previous life, she had been a man, and was a very unfaithful husband. In this life she would marry a Coorg, it would be an arranged marriage. It would be a loveless marriage, she would have two kids, and when the elder son was 17, he would die of drug overdose, and the trauma of his death, would be too much for the couple and they would get divorced.

All three left the Nadi’s house very depressed. Soon they all went their separate ways.

Many years passed. All three friends met up for the 20^th anniversary of the school reunion in Ooty in 2009.

Rani was married to a French gentleman called Peirre Michels. She had met him while flying for Cathay. They were settled in HongKong and he is a pilot.

Poulami is a professer in Pune University, teaching linguistics, happily married to a man 20 years her senior. He had been her mentor in her Phd studies in college. She did not have any kids, but he did have two kids from his previous marriage.

Simone is married to a British banker, she had met him while working as an intern in Citibank. They live in Dubai, and had no plans for kids.

They all remembered that evening well, and had a good laugh about it…or may be it was for their next life?

Oooops...my memory

Muthanna was a snob. Period. Nothing in between. But sometimes God reminds you to be humble, or at least to try to be humble. This is one such story.

The year was 1984, Muthanna was standing at the check in line to catch a flight to London, at the Air India counter in Chennai, then Madras. As he reached the check out counter, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw someone he thought he recognised. A short portly man, in a safari suit, was standing next to him, talking animatedly to another man.

Muthanna finished his check in procedure, checked in his luggage, collected his boarding pass. The flight was not being boarded for another half an hour. So he decided to buy some books. After finishing his purchases, he proceeded towards the security line. There in front of him, was that gentleman again, who turned and looked at Muthanna, and his face lit up into a smile.

He reached over and shook Muthanna's hand vigorously. Muthanna, could not place him, so smiled politely and enquired about his family. They continued to chat, that gentleman said he had got a job in Dubai, and was catching a connecting flight in Bombay now Mumbai. After going through security, both shook hands again. And then just before parting ways, the gentleman asked Muthanna "Sir, now that I am leaving for Dubai, who will cut your hair?"......" Oh MY GOD"..thought Muthanna, "he is my BARBER!"

This story was never repeated to any one for many years, and I hope he is not reading this right now....

Fight for what is rightfully yours...or for ever hold your peace

Vidya and her husband Bopiah, stood on the steps of the courthouse, giving an interview to the press . It was a historic verdict for Vidya, the Supreme Court had ruled in her favour. She looked across the steps at her father and her step mother, and her father turned away in anger and left the building. It had been a long and hard fight, but finally she got justice. Then members of the press, started asking her questions, and she turned and started to reply to each and every one. “I want to send a message”, she said “ to all the women in this country, that we have equal rights under the law”. She paused, “ Equal rights to inheritance, and more importantly, what is rightfully yours, should never be taken away by anyone, whoever they are”.

The people of Coorg had been a bit divided about the whole affair. Vidya and her husband Bopiah had taken her father Pooviah and her step mother Dechu to court for her share in the property. But when she went to the lawyer, it opened a whole other can of worms. The lawyer found that the property had belonged to Vidya’s maternal grandfather, Somanna, who had left it to his only daughter, Divya, who was Vidya’s mother. Divya had died soon after giving birth to Vidya. Her father Pooviah soon remarried. His second wife, Dechu, was an ambitious, beautiful woman. She gave birth to two sons, and subsequently pushed Pooviah to join politics. His rise was slow, and finally he managed to become an Member of Parliament . Over the years, Pooviah had taken an income from the property and slowly built up his own wealth, a substantial fortune. He lived large, secure in the knowledge that no one would claim this property.

When Vidya got married to Bopiah, it was considered a good match. He was an I.A.S. officer, working in Delhi. The marriage was a quick and small affair. Vidya settled into her new life, blissfully happy. One day she opened the newspapers to read about a historic verdict and a change in the law in India, where the women’s bill had been passed, unanimously in the Parliament. This bill had changed the inheritance laws in the country, women now had equal rights. It got Vidya thinking. She spoke to her husband about it. When she went down to Coorg, she asked her Dad for her share in the property. Her father lost his temper and called her an ungrateful wretch. It got worse, he asked her to leave the house and never come back. Vidya, was so offended, that she went to a lawyer. The lawyer did some digging, and through the clerks records in Coorg, found that the bulk of the property did not belong to her father, but was left in the name of her late mother.

It had been 2 years since the revelation. Vidya’s case went from the lower courts, to the higher courts, finally after changing three lawyers, her appeal went to the Supreme Court, and she won the case. The press had got wind of the situation, it was a very unusual case of a daughter suing her father for her share in the property. The case had been building momentum, as it went along. It had been a long and exhausting battle, but one lesson Vidya learnt was that if you do not fight for what is yours you will never get it.

She turned back and looked directly into the camera, and said “ For years, women in India would rather keep the peace with their families, than ask for what is rightfully theirs, I hope with what happened here, they will get bolder and fight for their rights.”

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.