The Nidhi Kapoor Story (12 page)

Rujuta knew that she had extracted all that she could. She already knew that Prakash was not married and was definitely not seeing anyone. He was too dry for a woman to be interested in him. If not dry, he still wasn’t cool enough.

Rujuta had to change the topic and move on from serious personal matters to things that Tambe would
remember when he’d think about this conversation later.

“So what does he do when he is not saving beautiful film actresses from stalkers and fires?” Rujuta winked and Tambe laughed at that.

“I don’t really know. He spends most of his time either at office or in the field. He never comes to parties except when we have religious functions. He does not believe in God but is always respectful.” Tambe was trying to think. “Oh, yes, he has some capacity to drink alcohol. Always neat. With ice. He can finish one entire bottle and still walk straight.” Tambe’s belly was shaking with laughter as if mini-tremors were bombarding its inside.

“What else,” he continued, “he likes to ride his bike. Oh yes, he likes to listen to old Hindi music. Especially from Guru Dutt movies. He has this vinyl record player at home. He says that a vinyl gives out the purest sound. Every time we pass
chor bazaar
, we try to buy some.”

One could find a
Chor Bazaar
, the market of thieves, in every modern city of India. They are India’s version of flea markets and one could find anything under the sun up for grabs at these markets. In Mumbai however, more than stolen goods,
Chor Bazaar
is a market for used things. You could also buy vintage paraphernalia and antiques like old manual cameras, Bollywood posters, vinyl players, records and other knick-knacks here. Of-course like all flea markets all over the world, you are expected to bargain hard for things you want to buy. Bargaining is actually a minor sport for Indians.

At the mention of vinyl records and
Chor Bazaar
, Rujuta smiled. She knew what her next move would be. Her
taste wasn’t half bad either when it came to music.

∗∗∗

When Prakash reached home later that night, he found a gift-wrapped packet at his doorstep. Since he never got any gifts and wasn’t expecting any, he was cautious around it. He checked the staircase and surroundings for anything suspicious. Then he looked closely at the packet. It had a note attached. “Thank you for the breakfast.” It was signed by Rujuta. Under the signature, she had drawn a smiley.

Prakash frowned and opened the packet. Inside were three vinyl records of Guru Dutt movies,
Pyasa, Kaagaz Ke Phool
and
Chaudhavi Ka Chand
. He smiled at the thoughtful gifts. He rushed to his simply furnished room, switched on the gramophone, changed the gramophone pin and put
Pyasa
on.

It was long since Prakash was so excited about something. As a child he never had an opportunity to play with things and he had grown up before he realized. Music to him was a window into another world, where he could forget about the constant barrage of inane cases thrown at him. A world where he lived on one of the lower mountains of Sehyadris, maybe at Panchgani, and took care of his aging father,where he had a wife and few kids for company when he came back from a hard day at work.

Prakash was that simple.

He poured himself a large serving of JD over ice. With Hemant Kumar singing
Jaane Wo Kaise Log The
, Prakash was soon lost in thoughts. He wondered if the search for his
father would bear result in the end. He knew that he was not the kind to give up easily. He started to make mental notes about the next set of things that he would have to do to find his father. Thanks to the music, for a change, he had forgotten about the Nidhi Kapoor story.

10. Day 5, Noon. Taj Land’s End.

Two days after the fire, a famous tabloid ran a front¬page story on it and featured pictures of the charred set. Thankfully, the papers did not know about Nidhi’s pets, yet. Meanwhile, the investigation was proceeding at a snail’s pace. While Prakash and his team were running their leads, Rujuta had started an investigation of her own.

Nidhi Kapoor had requested Commissioner Joshi to assign Prakash Mohile as part of her personal detail. After the two incidents, Nidhi apparently trusted Prakash more than any other police officer. Prakash, irate with the suggestion, was trying to delay his deputation at Ronak.

The fingerprints report from Nidhi’s house had come out clean. Apart from the usual prints of Nidhi and her family, there was nothing out of place. The CCTV facing the entrance to the house was conveniently reported broken a couple of days before the incident. The maintenance company took its own sweet time to respond. Since there was no estate manager, a secretary at Verma’s office had been given the task to ensure follow up on repairs. Obviously she was not doing her job well.

The sleuths that Prakash had deputed around Ronak and Vie did not report anything out of the ordinary. They spoke to the guards, hawkers, neighbours, reporters and other regulars at two places. No one suspicious was noticed loitering there. No strange vehicles were seen around the area. It was as if the assailant had come out of thin air and
then killed the animals.

The CCTV tapes from Vie were with the police but amidst the frantic activity around erecting a film set and melee of faces from the unit, it was next to impossible to spot someone out of place.

Prakash had also asked his contact at Maha Sakaal to dig out everything that was reported about Nidhi Kapoor. He also asked for a similar file on Vicky Taluja. Prakash did not want to take any chances, and he believed that assumptions were the mother of all fuckups.

The files on Nidhi and Taluja had come from Maha Sakaal but each of them was more than four inches thick. There was no way Prakash could go through the files before two-three weeks. He marveled at the patience that it would have taken the newspaper to pull out these clippings.

Prakash decided to ask Rujuta to help him with the investigation and asked her to interview Nidhi, Payal, Naveen, Vicky and other people from the film industry. He did not want to waste his time with their long narrations and now that he had Rujuta to help, she could be ideal for their depositions.

Rujuta was more than happy to chip in. She had a couple of reasons. One, it gave her a legit reason to hang around Prakash. Second, the initial brush with the two incidents had excited her. She loved being at the crime scene. She craved to get back to her days as an investigative reporter. She thought that a break from photo-essays would help recharge her batteries.

Rujuta had thought that interviewing Nidhi, Payal and Naveen would be easy, as they had promised cooperation.
But it was proving tougher than expected. Both sisters remained elusive for some reason. Verma was out of Mumbai on some urgent business that couldn’t wait.

Vicky Taluja was, however, easy to catch. Rujuta got his phone number from Sonal, who had recently joined the gossip sections of a leading daily, The Breaking News. Sonal told her that Vicky Taluja had a known disdain for reporters and cops but Rujuta remembered that Taluja actually helped Prakash when the fire broke out. Rujuta was thus not surprised when Vicky readily agreed to meet her and talk about the incident.

They decided to meet at Taj Land’s End, overlooking the Arabian Sea, the view interrupted only by Hotel Sea Rock. Once a landmark in itself, the Sea Rock was razed during the 1993 Mumbai terrorist attack and has been shut since.

When Rujuta mentioned at the reception that she was expecting to meet Vicky, she was ushered into a plush lounge on the 21st floor. Vicky hadn’t arrived yet. Rujuta had time to seep in the surroundings. The lounge came with typical snobbery of an expensive hotel and typical splendor of a room hanging in the air with an expansive view of the ocean. She could see a vessel moored at a distance in the sea and she wondered what it was up to.

“You looked different that day,” Vicky Taluja announced as he walked in. He was wearing a blue linen shirt and a comfortable pair of denims. Orange suede boat shoes.

“Hey! Thanks for coming! And in what? Good way or bad way?”

Taluja laughed at her reply. “Tough one. But you know,
you sounded so earnest on the phone; journalists are never straightforward. This is the first time I am meeting a media person without my agenda,” Taluja answered with a smirk.

He seemed pompous and arrogant, the way a successful
filmwallah
often is. He had a chiseled body for a second-generation film producer. Rujuta made a mental note of it as she flashed her magical smile at him.

“I just need 15 - 20 minutes of your time. I promise I will not quote you anywhere on this. And I have anyhow heard that you are not afraid of voicing your opinions,” Rujuta was preparing the bait.

Taluja laughed at that. “Yes, I may not be the most popular guy around but I have had my share of wins and losses. If you hadn’t helped Payal back then, I would’ve never agreed to meet you. In you, for once, I saw a real life hero. I wouldn’t have the balls to jump in that fire.” Taluja called a waiter and made a quick motion with his fingers. He apparently was a regular there.

“What may I order for you, Rujuta?”

Rujuta smiled at the impeccably dressed waiter and said, “A Diet Coke please, thank you.”

Turning back to Vicky, she said, “Thank you for your compliments. I just did what felt right to me. Let’s not waste time in making a mutual admiration society and get to the questions directly, shall we? I gather that your family has known the Kapoors for a long time?”

“Yes. My father and Nishant uncle, Nidhi’s father, were very good friends. In fact, when everyone had written Nishant Kapoor off, my father gave him his comeback film. I had just started to assist my father at that time. I thus got to
know Nishant uncle, Neelima aunty and their entire family well. Though like all filmy friendships, ours ended when a couple of other projects did not work out that well.”

Rujuta found Vicky Taluja’s reputation spot on. For a serious contender in Bollywood, he was very candid. She knew she could hook Vicky Taluja and reel him in.

“I did not know this. Did you know Nidhi and Payal from back then?” Rujuta threw the juicy bait at Taluja.

“Yeah. I knew about them but I really noticed them first at a party thrown by Nishant uncle. It was actually the golden jubilee celebration for his comeback film with my father,
Lahu Ka Rang
. Those were the days when films could run for weeks in the box office. Now if a film lasts a weekend, we throw parties. So I remember that party well because one, my father was the producer and two, the party ended in an ugly spat between Nishant uncle and Neelima aunty. That’s one match that no one has ever been able to make sense of. Neelima aunty wasn’t the greatest actress. Neither was she the most pleasing. And Nishant uncle could get any woman he wanted and yet he chose Neelima aunty. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the lure of easy money.”

“Spat? I did not know they fought. I have read newspapers dating back to late 1980s, when Nishant Kapoor was just starting his career.” Rujuta was genuinely surprised. She slacked the bait line a bit.

Vicky jerked his head. “Come on, Rujuta. You are a journalist yourself. You of all people must know that newspapers don’t carry half the truth that they ought to carry. Paid inserts and gossip columns have been around since the very invention of the publishing industry.”

The waiter, meanwhile, had placed a pint of Corona in front of Vicky and Diet Coke and a glass full of ice in front of Rujuta. Vicky did not wait for Rujuta. He took a hard swag at the imported beer.

“Yeah, I guess,” she continued, “but tell me something. Did they fight often? Were the girls around when they fought?”

“I don’t know that. They threw a lot of parties but otherwise they always guarded their private life. You know, it was the last party that Nishant uncle ever threw. Even though it was his biggest hit of all time, he did not do any more movies after that. We found it rather strange. Dad approached him for a sequel of
Lahu Ka Rang
but the project did not materialize. My dad would have tried to talk to Nishant uncle again but he had almost gone mad when that heroine from
Lahu Ka Rang
suddenly went missing. And then soon after, Neelima aunty. Even Nishant uncle almost lost his life in an accident. If I remember correctly, he had mixed drugs or something in his drink. No?” Vicky paused and went back to his beer.

“I don’t know about drugs, but the report says that he had mixed too many sleeping pills in his drink. But whatever, Nishant Kapoor was truly a legend, no?” Rujuta could feel the bait being taken. She gave a little more line.

“Legend my ass. Agreed that he was an actor par excellence but he was the worst human being I’ve ever known. I shouldn’t be talking about him like this but he had the most fucked up personal life. And he made the lives of people around him more miserable than his,” Vicky said as he took another drag from his beer.

“Really? I have read completely opposite accounts. I’ve read that he was one of the biggest philanthropists of his time. He funded schools, orphanages and God knows what all. You’ve met Shankar and Malti? Their domestic helps? Nishant got them off the street!” Rujuta knew she had her catch in sight.

“Maybe he did. But it’s an open secret that he was very temperamental. He was the biggest womanizer that we have had in the industry. You haven’t talked to a lot of people about him, have you?” Vicky was sitting with his back resting on the lounge chair and had folded his legs, knees resting on top of each other.

“No I haven’t,” Rujuta gave an embarrassed smile. “But I realize that I did not choose a bad place to start,” Rujuta winked at Vicky. She was a natural at flirting.

“Look, he was a great guy. I truly respect him for his talents on the screen. As far as the temperamental issues go, I think he deserved to be like that. He really was a big big superstar. All his films were golden jubilees, if not more. Fans were mad about him. They would queue up for hours to get into the first-day first-shows of his films.” Taluja had finished his beer. He signaled to the waiter and pointed at the bottle.