It had been a bad morning for Arif Khan. He had spent it running back and forth between the police lock-up and the office of the Additional Commissioner of Police, trying to get Khukri released. His henchman, who had been arrested two days ago, was cooling his heels in the nick, while the police dawdled with their red tape to produce him before a magistrate. Things had not been going right for a while. My influence is waning. It’s a bad omen; a sign that I am getting old.
All the police officers he had painstakingly cultivated for the past decade or so had either been shunted out or retired. His reputation had no leverage with the new lot.
Khukri was his right-hand man. Over the years, the guy had executed dangerous tasks without questioning or failing. Not long ago, Arif had wielded significant clout. Right from politicians to police officers, film stars and socialites, everybody had fawned over him. The fact that power is ephemeral had been forcibly brought home to him. People’s allegiances are fickle. Situations reverse. One has to constantly work on those factors. Arif sighed. He had tasted the exhilaration of power. But it was slipping away fast. The string of bars, casinos and restaurants owned by him had been his source of supremacy. In his seedy joints, people lost or made fortunes. From a rag-picker to the top of a crime syndicate, he had come a long way. Fraught with danger, blood and gore, it hadn’t been an easy journey.
Drat! The lift is not working. Wheezing with the exertion of climbing the flight of stairs to the additional commissioner’s office, Arif puffed at the asthma inhaler. He was informed by a junior officer that the boss was tied up in an important meeting and wasn’t to be disturbed.
A look of frustration clouded Arif’s cadaverous face as he cracked his knuckles.
Just then his phone buzzed. Sighing, Arif glanced at the caller ID. He had no intention of speaking to anyone, but this call had taken him unawares. Ramola hadn’t been in touch for a long time. Why now?
Should I answer? he glanced doubtfully at his phone. He didn’t want to complicate his life any further at this juncture. It was difficult enough, as it was. The phone continued to ring, irritating him with her persistence. It was time to give her a piece of his mind.
‘Haan, bolo. Kaise yaad aayee?’ he rasped asthmatically.
‘Adaab arz hai,’ came the hushed reply. ‘Tabiyat theek nahin kya?’
‘Main busy hoon. I can’t talk now,’ he replied brusquely.
‘Arre, itna gussa? Anger is not good for your health. I’ll only take a minute of your precious time,’ she breathed. ‘I’m throwing a party for my birthday, it will be followed by an important announcement. Aap ko aana hai.’
He was amazed at the cheek of the woman.
But before Arif could begin to decline the invitation, a message popped up on his phone. Putting her on the hold, he read the text from his lawyer. Khukri had been released. His efforts had paid off. A divine intervention. The superstitious don interpreted Ramola’s call as an auspicious sign.
‘I don’t even know where you live now that you have disappeared from this city,’ he snarled.
‘It’s a lovely hill town called Ramsar.’
‘Never heard of the place.’
‘Not many people have heard of it. All you have to do is take a flight from Mumbai to Delhi and cover the rest of the distance by road.’
‘It sounds like the boondocks.’
‘That’s why it’s so beautiful.’
‘Nahin, main nahin aa sakta,’ he wheezed into the phone. ‘I have a lot of work lined up for the next few weeks and if I remember correctly, your birthday is around the corner. Some other time, maybe.’
‘I am disappointed,’ Ramola said in a small voice. ‘I will email my address to you anyway, in case you change your mind.’
‘That’s highly unlikely,’ Arif’s tone conveyed finality.
He wondered whether he could attend Ramola’s party. The cautious part of him was reluctant to venture into unknown territory. Curiosity, however, is a compelling factor. The mention of an important announcement intrigued him.
What could it be?