Mumbaistan (9 page)

But there was no explosion. All they heard was Rabia's cry of disbelief as she cursed aloud on the phone line.

Tanvir cut the line, smiled ruefully and said, 'The RDX detonator pins are all in my pocket. Zohra gave them to me in a sindoor box.'

◉

At Churchgate station, Rabia kept trying to pull the detonator in desperation, but nothing happened. Before she knew it, a police party rushed towards her, bringing her down to the ground in a matter of moments.

Rabia Bano, the rising star of the Lashkar Women Brigade, a woman who had trained shoulder-to-shoulder with her jihadi brothers at the Shawai Nullah Camp in Muzaffarabad, Pakistan Occupied Kashmir. A ruthless woman who had outperformed most men during the hard training, Rabia had finally been outdone by the only friend she had ever had. Zohra, the simple village girl who grew up just fifty miles away, across the border in Kupwara. Zohra, the prostitute, who managed to preserve the inherent goodness inside her, even though she spent a childhood among guns, grenades and RDX.

◉

ACP Hani was sitting on the parapet ledge of the terrace of the Stock Exchange Building, watching the rising sun. Tanvir was standing by, watching the policemen take photographs of the crime scene. He noticed the solitary ACP and walked towards him.

'You didn't tell me about the sindoor box?' quizzed the ACP, as Tanvir neared.

In the morning light, Tanvir answered, off-colour, 'When Zohra whispered "Zaveri Bazaar" in my ear, I had only one thought, to call and tell you about it...later, I wondered why a Muslim woman would give me a sindoor box. Only then did I look inside the box...'

ACP Hani broke in, 'When you called me about Zohra, I was stumped for a bit, but then I guessed that it was a double con that they were trying to pull. First, by leading us to the Stock Exchange building, then disappointing us with nothing there. Then pointing us towards Zaveri Bazaar, so that they could come peacefully to the Stock Exchange, while we stupid policemen would have believed that we had already checked the Stock Exchange and left it unguarded.'

Tanvir nodded. 'Rabia must have started hiding the RDX and the detonators in her room after I came along. Zohra probably discovered the RDX hidden in the trunk earlier today, after the Chira Bazaar incident. I guess she knew that they would not spare her when they came to get the RDX and thinking quick, she removed the firing pins. Poor Zohra, they stabbed her and left her with the false information of bombing Zaveri Bazaar to pass on to me. But she was smart enough to get her own back.'

The ACP didn't say anything. Tanvir shook his head in disgust, more at his own self than anyone else. 'Now that I look back at all that happened, I realize that Rabia had fooled me right from the beginning...and I never realized the deviousness of their plan.'

The ACP gave Tanvir a sympathetic look. 'I know it's very little solace, but let me tell you, I was as fooled by her as you. I should have conducted a double check on her background, but I could never imagine a fundamentalist jihadi female ever working as a prostitute, even as a member of a sleeper cell. She threw me off again when she had Aalamzeb strap her with RDX and make her go out in the cemetery. She never intended to get blown up there. She bet on the fact that my vigilant eye would spot the bombs on her, and I would save her somehow. She just wanted me to see the video on the nazar bead camera.'

'But I jumped to her rescue and...' Tanvir's voice trailed away. He shook his head again, disgusted. The ACP let him be.

Finally, Tanvir looked at the ACP and asked 'So now what?'

ACP Hani looked away into the sky. He sighed, 'Now the experts interrogate Rabia. While I go to Mumbra and search every house, every nook and corner for the rest of the RDX. Hopefully I'll find it before it...' He stopped mid-sentence and looked at Tanvir for a few seconds. Then he added, 'But, like I said earlier, you...are a free man.'

◉

On every street of Mumbai, the loud, pulsating throb of the unravelling day could be heard. The shop fronts, the bus stops, the local train stations—transformed from a rest house to the homeless to a temple of business, rapidly filling up with scores of devotees who would partake of its offering, en route to their daily battle for survival.

In the end, it was just another day in Mumbai. Mumbai's descent into mayhem had been avoided. Yet the average Mumbaikar, if there could ever be such a being, had no clue of the colossal danger that had been averted. The one man who had fought a battle for Mumbai walked unsung among the crowds in the Fort area. Office goers brushed past around him, unmindful of their saviour walking amongst them.

Tanvir stopped and stared at his face, reflected off a glass shop front. A haunted man with black stones for eyes stared back at him,. Tanvir felt his shoulders droop, his head sink a few inches below his shoulders. Standing right in the middle of the rush of the city, Tanvir felt alone, defeated.

With a jerk, he straightened himself to his full height. He shot a glance at the man in the mirror. His eyes were now shining bright.

Inside his mind, a fleeting thought had transformed itself into an idea.

◉

The rushing Mumbai office goers didn't even notice the heavily guarded police van threading its way through the morning traffic.

On its way to the Arthur Road Jail, the police van was flanked by two armoured attack vehicles. They were led from the front and followed at the back by police jeeps laden with policemen armed to the teeth. Right in the front of the motorcade was a white Ambassador car with a red light atop.

As the motorcade stopped at a busy traffic intersection, a nondescript Maruti 800 drew up along side. Tanvir disembarked from the Maruti and walked up to the Ambassador. He knocked at the window. A surprised ACP Hani opened the door. Before the ACP could say anything, Tanvir got into the Ambassador. The signal turned green and the motorcade started onwards.

The driver of the van behind received a wireless message from the ACP's Ambassador, telling him to park his van on one side of the road.

The confused driver looked up at the wireless, then at the red light atop the Ambassador and did what he was told. By this time, of course, the policemen in the jeeps and in the armoured vehicles had all jumped out and surrounded the van.

The ACP emerged from the Ambassador with a revolver at his temple. Tanvir, who was holding the revolver, announced, 'Give her to me, right now.' The senior inspector in charge of the motorcade stepped forward. He knew how important the ACP was. Just a few minutes back, he had been speaking to his friend at headquarters and had heard that the ACP was being recommended to receive the president's Medal of Gallantry for his role in averting the terror attack. He ordered the armed policemen to stand aside and asked one of the policemen to open the door of the police van.

Rabia emerged, looking very much like the meek and demure woman that she had made everyone believe she was.

Tanvir's grim face didn't alter an inch. He held Rabia by the arm and led her to the Maruti 800. He opened the door and Rabia got in. Tanvir ordered the ACP to drive, then got in next to him. As a parting shot, Tanvir spat out a threat, 'If anyone follows us, the ACP will die.'

The door closed behind them. The Maruti swung away into the traffic.

The Maruti had long disappeared by the time the senior inspector got on to the wireless about the daring daylight kidnap.

◉

Excel Godown that morning was the most desolate piece of real estate one could find in the entire city. It had been abandoned after a thorough search the previous night, as if its role in the whole dramatic turn of events had been too insignificant to be worthy of a second look.

Rabia regained consciousness. She sat up and looked around through the haze that her mind was trying to clear itself out of. She realized that she was lying alone inside Excel Godown, sitting at almost the same point where she had stood with Aalamzeb the previous night, while giving him instructions.

A few silent minutes later, the wooden door behind her groaned open. Rabia turned to see who it was. Tanvir.

Rabia remembered that he had not spoken a word after he had got into the car along with her. In fact, he had ordered the ACP to keep driving till he felt that the police was no longer chasing him. Then, without wasting time, Tanvir had asked him to stop in a small dirty by-lane in a nondescript locality that she didn't recognize. He had doused a handkerchief drenched in some liquid—chloroform, she believed—and had held it to the ACP's nose. Once the officer had become unconscious, Tanvir had unceremoniously dumped him in the lane. She was just about to ask him where they were when he had held the same handkerchief to her nose, making everything lapse into blackness.

Now, as Tanvir advanced towards her, she registered the anguish on his face. It only heightened as he neared her.

'Why me?' he whispered. Rabia waited till he had reached her and then slowly rose to her feet.

Looking him in the eye, she hissed, 'Because you are a small price to pay for the cause.' Tanvir clenched his teeth. He whipped out an automatic pistol, levelled the gun at Rabia's heart and readied to squeeze the trigger.

Rabia stared silently at Tanvir, as if daring him on.

Tanvir yelled, 'You think I will not shoot, Rabia?'

Rabia continued to stare, her expression placid. For a while the two, who had not so long ago made passionate love and uttered sweet promises of eternal togetherness, simply stared at each other without a word.

'I am a soldier. A true soldier never fears death.' Rabia finally broke the silence. Tanvir's finger curled to squeeze the trigger. Rabia's expression remained frozen.

Tanvir's hand dropped to his side. He was overcome and fell down, sobbing. Rabia did not say anything. He reached out and handed the gun to her. 'Shoot me. Kill me. Before I become...like you,' he said in a shattered voice.

Rabia shivered.

The expression on her face was indecipherable.

She took the gun from Tanvir's limp grasp. A single tear rolled down her eye.

'I ask for your forgiveness,' she said

'I can only give you my love. Only Allah can forgive you.'

◉

Outside Excel Godown, ACP Hani was pulled out of his thoughts by a loud 'Bang!' He leapt forward and opened the wooden door.

The gunshot still echoed inside the large godown. Tanvir was standing in front of Rabia's lifeless body. Her small hands still clutched the automatic pistol with which she had blown her brains out.

Tanvir's hollow voice boomed over the gunshot echo, 'She told me. The RDX is hidden in a sand barge in Mumbra harbour.'

The ACP walked up to Tanvir. 'Your plan worked, Tanvir.' He patted the young man's shoulder. Tanvir looked at the police officer with a hardened gaze. 'We got her with her own tactics,' he said.

The ACP nodded grimly. 'Yes, we did.'

ACP Hani bent down and pried the gun out of Rabia's lifeless hand. He half-lifted her body, dragging it on the godown's dirty floor, and pushing it into the waiting Maruti outside. Tanvir stood, silent, as the ACP got into the car and revved up the engine. He watched till the car receded and disappeared, turning a corner.

'But she did really love me,' Tanvir's broken voice said to no one in particular.

Injectionwala

T
he man sighed. Shut his eyes. Died.

Porus detached the syringe needle from the man's listless throat. Trembling ever so slightly, he let go of the man's limp body. The body slumped on the cheap cushions lining the sofa.

Porus scanned the body with his sharp, sparkling eyes. Searching for any last shivers. Looking for any indication that there still might be some life left lurking in those limbs. Noticing none, he eased himself into the chair opposite the sofa.

All of a sudden, waves of fatigue lashed his brain. He wiped his brow. It was dry.

He fished out some chewing gum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, to relax himself.

Outside the window, the Mumbai rush hour was rearing its ugly head. Horns honked, brakes screeched, voices vomited viciousness.

After rummaging through the black backpack lying on the floor, Porus took out a small plastic medical kit. He detached the used needle from the syringe. Putting both needle and syringe into small comfortable slots in the medical kit, he shoved it into the bottom of the backpack.

Dr Porus Udwadia, MBBS, was done for the day.

◉

Inspector Ramesh Virkar entered the room. A thirty-five-year-old lean swarthy man with a ramrod-straight posture, Virkar looked every inch a street fighter, ready to jump into a fight and come out the winner.

The body still lay on the sofa. Virkar's eyes took in the educated face, the prosperous potbelly, the sedentary lower limbs, and...a tiny, protesting red spot on the folds of the sun-deprived neck. A pinprick out of place in the otherwise smooth remains, reeking of affluence.