The Benefit Season Read online

  ‘A friend of ours… works in our company’.

  ‘He’s on the ball?’

  ‘Yeah he’s on a roll’.

  ‘So tell me what I can do you for, Bhabiji6’, he said and wiped his sneer with his lapel. The men behind him sniggered too.

  ‘I am here to collect something that belongs to Vishal’.

  ‘Then why isn’t he here himself?’

  ‘He’s abroad. He’s asked me to’.

  ‘Is he shy of calling?’

  ‘He must have his reasons. Why, Bhai jaan7, is there a doubt? I hope the trust remains. This isn’t the first time we’ve done, or are going to do- business.’

  ‘Of course not. Except that I hear things that are not very pleasant’.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as that the money he punted with, didn’t really belong to him. Someone else, someone much bigger than all of us put together, and then many times over, says the money belongs to him’.

  ‘Has he told you that himself?’

  ‘Naah’.

  ‘Vishal punted with a good many people’s money, some good, some not so… you know that well. You never asked up until now what the color of the money was that we placed many a time on this table right here. Why now?’

  ‘Look I don’t want to mess around with these people from Mumbai and Dubai. I just want to be sure I’m not helping someone make away with what belongs to the big bosses. The retribution is severe, and swift’.

  ‘So is a reputation, and its downfall- severe and swift. If the Bhai is afraid, and doesn’t want to honor a promise, let him say so. If he wants our business taken elsewhere, let it be so said’, Monal said, placing the glass firmly on the table. She took out the note from her pocket and placed it under the glass. ‘Tell me and I’ll walk’.

  The Bhai looked at his men and then back at his visitors. He shook his head- he was impressed with the spunk in the women. On his nod, one of the men picked up the note and handed it over to him. He opened a small safe and searched for something. Finally he found a half note and matched it with Monal’s. It was a fit. He looked up and smiled.

  ‘I owe you’, he said. ‘ But what if I tell you that I know for sure the big Bhai is looking for his money… and this here is his money?’

  ‘They say…they say! Why don’t you call him and ask him in person?’ Monal shook her phone at him. ‘I also hear what you say they say. And if I have heard better than you, then they say he’s in a police morgue these days- unclaimed, unmourned’!

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Yeah. Got shot in Sariska in an old hunting lodge. Check’.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Hmm’.

  The Bhai dialed a number and spoke into it and then threw down the phone as if there was current in it. He waited for the phone to ring again while Monal fixed another stiff shot and threw back her head and gulped it in one go. The Bhai’s phone vibrated after a tense pause and he brought it to his ear and listened closely. Then he kept the phone down and stared blankly, his face pinched of color.

  ‘So what do they say?’

  ‘Mohsin, bring them their money’, the Bhai said, clasping his head in his hands. ‘And collect the rest…everything- the diaries and papers and the phones and computers and shut down this place for a few days. We are going to lie low for a while. Come on, move it’! He thumped the desk impatiently.

  Monal smiled at Ruby, who was busy quaffing her drink, unaffected by the goings on. She smiled back and looked away again, as if she couldn’t care less. Though the bastard daughter of the sheik, she was still his daughter, and she knew she was untouchable by these low lives, and she was unafraid. Neither did she chase money- she knew she would never be short of it. She played along with Monal as long as it brought spice and adventure to her boring, humdrum life, and intended to move on as and when she felt like.

  ‘How much are we talking about here,’ Monal asked the Bhai.

  ‘ He won the bets. He gave us 27 crores; he bet 3 to 1, so give and take my commission and overheads, I owe you… around 55 crores. Are you going to carry it with you?’

  Monal closed her mouth with some difficulty. ’55 crores- you said?’

  ‘Yes- you wouldn’t steal my commission and livelihood from these poor boys, would you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t, provided you bring the cash out quick before I change my mind’.

  ‘Wait then’, he said and rose from the table. His men followed him out through a backdoor into the safe behind the room. Arjun slowly removed his phone and under the table pressed the tiny red button on it. A few nervous minutes later, which saw Monal fidgeting and drumming on the table and swinging on her chair, the men walked in with two large steel suitcases and flung them open on the table. They were filled to the brim with 1000 rupee wads. ‘Want to count? It’s all there’.

  ‘ I trust you’, she said, motioning to her two companions to grab the suitcases. Ruby said she’ll bring the car in instead and left. Arjun leaned on the lids of the bulging cases and shut them and sat down in wait. The last thing he hoped to hear was the giggly cackle of an overfed baby who was immune to the crossfire of bullets and explosions.

  He was lucky at last.

  A loud voice boomed from a megaphone,’ this is the police! You are surrounded! Put down your weapons and come out with your hands held high!’

  ‘Bitch!’ the Bhai aimed a gun at Monal. ‘You brought the cops!’

  ‘Of course not!’ she cried. ‘Would I give up my own money?’ she looked at Arjun suspiciously.

  ‘I don’t know anything!’ he shrugged. But the gangsters and Monal glowered at him disbelievingly.

  Monal cursed under her breath and took out the Uzi and snapped its magazine into its slot. ’How many men do you have in here’, she spat out and asked.

  ‘About a dozen- they’re watching this place’.

  ‘Watching my foot! They’re probably in cuffs right now. Is there another way out?’

  ‘No… through the front only’.

  ‘Front only! Some show you are running here Bhai!’

  ‘Come on out!’ the megaphone boomed again. ‘Or we’ll shoot! We already have your other men. There’s no one here except the police!’

  ‘Crap!’ Monal said, stomping her foot. She wistfully watched her money on the table. ‘I am not letting them get at my money!’

  ‘Don’t be a darn fool!’ the Bhai said. ‘We can be back out in no time. Leave it to the lawyers!’

  ‘No! It’s my money!’ Monal said, gritting her teeth and waving her gun at the door.

  ‘Back off Monal- it’s not worth it. If we live another day we can make the money again- with my contacts and your information. Let’s walk out!’ the Bhai goaded her, and beginning to sweat. When he found her intractable, he nodded to his men and they threw their weapons on the floor.

  ‘We’re coming out now- don’t shoot- we’re unarmed!’ he shouted. The Bhai kicked open the front door, and after showing his hands, walked out. His men followed him. Outside the waiting cops quickly handcuffed them and led them out to the waiting jeeps. Ruby had already been held.

  Arjun spoke softly to Monal, ‘come on, game is over, let’s go. You can still walk free; it’s not your money. Cops won’t hold anything against you. You can live a life of dignity again ‘.

  ‘It’s my money fool! And money, in my world is dignity! Can’t you see how hard we worked for it! Now even the don is dead! No one is coming after us now! Come on Arjun don’t be chicken. We can take these cops on easily. Come on pick up that gun. We’ll shoot our way out! What have they got- single shot World War II rusty rifles? We can make it!’

  ‘I’m walking out Monal- it’s not for me.’ Arjun began to edge slowly out of the room. Monal swept her gun around and fired just above Arjun’s shoulder. ‘No you don’t! You promised- now you stay with me!’ she motioned with her gun, asking him to get away from that door.

  ‘What was that! Are you okay Arjun?’ it was Krishna speaking on the megaph
one now.

  Arjun could have slammed his head into the wall then. Monal looked at Arjun in shock. A sharp wave of pain flickered across her face twisting her features into an ugly mask. She spat roughly. ‘So it’s you that brought them in you rascal! I trusted you! You ditched me!’ she lunged at him and grabbed him by the collar. ‘Now take me out of here’. She dug the gun in his side and asked him to pick the heavy suitcases. When he’d heaved them off the table she prodded him; ’walk!’

  ‘Come on, don’t do this, please, throw your weapon and walk free’.

  ‘Shut the fuck up and move!’

  She forced him out of the room and they stepped into the central passage. Krishna was standing with her back to the crates, holding a megaphone and a gun. ‘Stop!’ she ordered. Two more cops, clutching stumpy rifles, hid behind a forklift, looking very unsure and unhappy.

  Monal spat out at her, ‘get out of my way!’

  ‘You can’t go far! There are cops outside’.

  ‘Cops like those two out there?’ Monal said with a sneer. ‘Like you?’ she raised her gun and without blinking an eye, shot Krishna in the chest, sending her toppling over the crates onto the floor behind. She waved her gun at the cowering cops and shouted,’ drop your guns and run!’

  The cops looked at each other, at their fallen colleague, and throwing their rifles bolted as fast as their tubby legs could carry them, without looking back.

  Unseen to those at the ground level, Agent 9 crouched behind a rack of wooden pallets on the first floor, and watched with dismay and helplessness as his beloved wife crashed into the boxes. Tears burst forth and he began to sob and howl. Ordered by his wife to stay at a safe distance and watch over her, there was nothing he’d done to save her. He’d failed her!

  ‘Shush’, said Aarti, who laid by his side, watching along with him the drama playing out below. She comforted him; softly patting his head and arm. Then she gently took his rifle out of his grasp.

  Contrary to all norms of known police procedure, not that she had cared two hoots so far for procedure- by tagging her baby along everywhere- Krishna this time had brought Aarti along, to keep her promise of showing Arjun delivering up an errant Monal to the police, thereby proving his blamelessness in the whole affair. Had she lived, if she lived, she was going to thank herself for bringing Aarti along.

  For, her husband who was overcome with grief, his overwrought heart knitted up and about to break, was of no use to anyone at the moment. But Aarti, a crack shot, was exactly what the doctor seemed to order. Agent 9 was afraid to shoot at Monal, afraid that he might get Arjun instead. But Aarti was not afraid. She wasn’t letting the love of her life be held hostage by that scheming sorceress down there, and dumped later down the road with a gunshot. All she needed was a small but sure bullet to put the miles between the witch and her prince. Though not yet legally joined in matrimony, she had wedded Arjun in the temple of her heart and soul eons ago; the very first moment that she, when just a skinny girl with neatly combed twin braids and a pink frock, had set kohled eyes upon the toothless, gawky boy; now the fine, spotless man that was being pushed around quite unfairly right before her moist eyes.

  She raised the sight, pushed the slider to 100, rested her cheek on the cold butt, curled her forefinger around the trigger, gently pressed it till its free play, calmed her mind, focused her eyes, evened her breathing, and when she briefly had Monal’s face in her crosshairs, she closed the other eye and softly squeezed the trigger. The 7.62 mm NATO-standard service bullet tore into the gun’s rifling, took the quarter right turn, and chased by desperate hot gunpowder gases in its wake exited the muzzle at speeds in excess of 800 mps8, and in a microsecond embedded itself bang in the center of Monal’s forehead.

  It was over.

  Aarti went down the steel stairs and walked up to her prince.

  ‘I ask only one question of you’, she said, halting before him.

  ‘Which is?’ Arjun said, his arms held out.

  ‘Did you sleep with her?’ she knew Arjun could never lie.

  Arjun’s mind’s eye roved to the lone encounter amidst the swirling tides and the whispering casuarinas with the woman that now lay dead before him. Was he asleep then? He doubted it. He could well speak the truth, nothing but the truth.

  ‘No’, he replied, and resolutely puffed out his broad chest and held the arms out wider.

  ‘Oh Arjun, I was so scared!’ she cried and sank into his arms. He raised her chin and passionately showered hot, slobbery kisses on her mouth, cheeks and neck, while she slumped against him. He hugged her close, and she hugged him harder and they stood there and swayed tenderly together, like twin palms in the light sea breeze, till they were awoken from their trance by loud shrieks. It was Agent 9, squatted on the floor, holding an unmoving Krishna in his arms and weeping loudly. Aarti sank down next to the lamenting elf and wrapped an arm around him in sympathy. Arjun shouted to the cops, who’d now appeared out of nowhere on the scene, to get an ambulance. Then he too went on his knees and comforted the wailing, inconsolable dwarf. His laments seemed to reach the skies and rend them.

  He created such a racket that it woke up Krishna!

  ‘O man, why do you make such noise!’ she said, staring up at them from his lap.

  They all stared back at her in disbelief.

  ‘You’re not dead then!’ the hobbit cried.

  Krishna probed inside her shirt. ‘I feel I have been kicked in the chest by a mule’. She undid a few buttons to reveal the bulletproof vest! She tried to rise but the pain was too much.

  ‘You are alive!’ the goblin shouted.

  ‘It would seem so. A little sore between the…’ she cupped her breasts and raised them. ‘But okay otherwise’. The wimp began to laugh, hysterically. Soon his wife too started laughing, coughing and laughing. And then they all laughed, crazily… for no reason other than the simple joy of still having each other… for the light of day after the pitch-blackness of the night. For the hope the morning brings after the despair of the bad dream.

  ϖ

  Epilogue

  Krishnamala was promoted and given a medal. He husband was promoted too, but assigned, much to his derision, to a humble desk job. Krishna had used her considerable influence to keep him out of harm’s way, so that she could go ahead and poke the louts in ‘em eyes. And the baby needed caring too. She couldn’t afford to have the risk of having her family totting along to every crime scene. Agent 9, sorry 8 now, was too obstinate a man to be stopped from trying to protect her in every encounter, so ‘twas better he were kept away in the safety and comfort of their turquoise painted govt. office overlooking the Arabian Sea, filing in the reports of her deeds while feeding the baby the milk and bread of the land.

  ϖ

  As for me, now that it’s all over, I am sitting at the Khosla’s residence for a quick family meeting summoned by the elders to decide upon the next course of action. Aarti has moved to Delhi while I have no job, no money, not even a character certificate. While the others are gathered inside over drinks, Aarti and I are strolling in the blooming garden, hand in hand.

  ‘You’ve put on weight’, I tell her, suddenly turning her and wrapping my arms around her.

  ‘It’s not weight silly’, she says, and puts my hand on her belly. It’s firm and round, not soft and saggy.

  ‘Then?’ I stop, turn her around and gape at her.

  ‘It’s us’, she says.

  I recall then the very first weekend at the apartment- when she’d closed her thighs and tucked away my marching soldiers for good. One of them must have strayed too far.

  I laugh loudly. ’Thank you, jeez, god bless you’, I tell her. I bend down and wrap my arms around her again and squeeze softly and kiss her pretty neck.

  ‘Break, Arjun, break’, she taps me on the shoulder like a pinned down wrestler. I release her gently. I am about to say sorry but she hushes me with a finger.

  ‘If you would please remove the finger, I should like to kiss you now
’, I mumble through her finger.

  She laughs her wild, free laugh- the laugh I missed for so long, and I bend and press my lips against hers in a long, lingering kiss. We are like that for some, lost to the world till clapping in our vicinity rouses us. The Khosla siblings, my mom and others, step out of the vaulted porch, clapping and grinning broadly.

  ‘I’ve just gotten off the phone with my astrologer,’ Khosla says; ’ he says he can find an auspicious date for the wedding two months from now’.

  Everyone howls in protest.

  ‘I have a better astrologer, Khosla ji’! My mom scolds him, while caressing Aarti’s and my face, her own face lit up with a thousand moons. ’He says the kids can wed on the weekend. A lot can happen in two months and this time I’m not taking any chances’.

  Khosla’s weak protests are drowned in his sister’s cheers, and then he too gives in to the rest in making happy noises. I am about to protest that I have no job, no money but am not given the chance.

  ‘And look who’s paying us a visit’, my mom announces proudly, motioning towards Tom, my ex-boss, standing quietly behind the others in the shadows of the Golden Shower trees. I wonder what he’s doing here? And he’d never bothered to reply to my mail of resignation and regrets that I’d sent him! Is he here to reproach me?

  Instead Tom steps forward and shakes me warmly by the hand! Surprise!

  ‘Welcome home… Partner’, he says. ‘When I came to India I didn’t know much except that Cricket was supposed to be a gentleman’s game. Thanks for restoring the game to the gentlemen!’

  ‘Really’, my mom cries. She knows what “partner” means in the corporate world. She watches TV serials!

  ‘Yeah. Our top order has fallen! They shamed us! But you brought us great honor and credit! You’re up for strike, young man! Right here, at our India office in Delhi. Are you up to it?’

  ‘You bet he’s up to it, Mr. Tom’, my mom interjects in her exuberance. ‘ One day my son will take your place!’

  Fortunately Tom takes it in good, Christian spirit, before sauntering off into the fading dusk, chuckling to himself.