Q & A

Smita remained true to her word. She fought for me like a mother fights for her children. First she dealt with the police. She proved to them that they had no basis on which to arrest me. She also found out that nobody had even heard about the dead dacoit on the train and there was no pending investigation. So the nameless dacoit remained nameless, even in death.

Then she dealt with the quiz company. They threatened me with allegations of cheating and fraud, but Smita proved that the DVD footage clearly established me as a legitimate winner on the show. After four months of dilly-dallying, the company was forced to concede that they had no grounds on which to withhold payment of the top prize to me.

I did not get a full billion rupees. I got a little less. The government took some. They called it ‘gameshow tax’. The company producing W3B folded after the massive payout. So I became the first and last winner on the show.

Prem Kumar died two months ago. According to the police, he committed suicide by gassing himself to death in his car. But there are press reports of foul play. My own hunch is that the thugs financing the show probably took their revenge on him.

I realized a long time ago that dreams have power only over your own mind; but with money you can have power over the minds of others. What I discovered after receiving the payout was that with money I had power even over the police. So, accompanied by a sizeable police contingent, I paid a visit to Goregaon last month, to a large decrepit building set in a courtyard with a small garden and two palm trees. The police arrested five people and freed thirty-five crippled children. They are all now in the care of a well-known international child-welfare agency.

Lajwanti’s release from jail was also secured last month and she is now staying with me in Mumbai. In fact, she returned just last week from her sister Lakshmi’s wedding in Delhi to a top-level officer in the Indian Administrative Service. The groom’s family made no demand for dowry, but Lajwanti still gave her sister a Toyota Corolla car, a thirty-two-inch Sony TV, twenty Raymond suits and one kilo of gold jewellery.

Salim has landed the role of a seventeen-year-old college hero in a comedy film directed by Chimpu Dhawan, and these days is busy shooting in Mehboob Studios. He thinks the producer is a man named Mohammad Bhatt, but it is actually me.

The love of my life has joined me in Mumbai. She is now my lawfully wedded wife, with a proper surname. Nita Mohammad Thomas.

Smita and I are walking along Marine Drive. A pleasant wind is blowing, occasionally sending a misty spray from the ocean where giant waves crash and roll against the rocks. The uniformed driver is following us at a snail’s pace in a Mercedes Benz, maintaining a respectful distance. The rear bumper of the Benz carries a sticker. It says ‘My other car is a Ferrari’.

‘That evening, when you saved me from the police station, why didn’t you tell me straight away that you were Gudiya?’

‘Because I wanted to hear your stories and find out the truth. Only when you narrated my own story, without realizing that I was in front of you, did I know for sure that you were telling me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. That is why I told you at the very beginning that I didn’t need you to swear on any book. I was your witness, just as you were mine.’

‘That same evening, when I first brought you home, before you told me your stories, you flipped a coin. Why?’

‘I was not sure whether to trust you. The coin toss was my decision-making mechanism. Heads I would have told you everything. Tails it would have been goodbye. As it turned out, it was heads.’

‘What’s luck got to do with it? Here, take a look at the coin.’ I take out the one-rupee coin from my jacket and hand it to her.

I take the coin from her and toss it high into the air. It goes up, up and up, glints briefly against the turquoise sky, and then drops swiftly into the ocean and sinks into its cavernous depths.