If people asked Ramnivas where he’d gotten so much money, he’d say he’d invested in a half-million-rupee pyramid scheme in Saket, or that he was playing the numbers and kept hitting. Or that he’d won the lottery. Or — and this he reserved for only a few — that he’d met a great holy man near the mosque who whispered a very special mantra in his ear that caused future stock-share figures to flash before his eyes.
In turn, Ramnivas whispered the same mantra into the ears of several people, all of whom failed to see the numbers flash before their eyes.
Whenever Ramnivas felt like it, he’d go and fill up his bag with a few stacks of cash from the wall in Saket. It was amazing that no one had stopped him or arrested him, and no one had moved the stacks of rupees around. Spending the money as he pleased for so long with no one stopping him had turned Ramnivas into a carefree man, and so his daring grew. And yet he was still beset with worry that one day the rightful owner of the money might show up and take it away. So with foresight, he bought a ten-acre plot of land in Loni Border and put it in his wife’s name. He took three-hundred thousand and deposited it into various savings accounts in several banks — all under different names.
Things began to crumble about eight months ago.
Ramnivas made big plans to take Sushma on a trip to Jaipur and Agra, where, of course, they’d have their photo taken in front of the Taj Mahal.
They found a taxi driver the moment they stepped out of the train station. Ramnivas instructed him to take them to a hotel. “What’s your price range?” the taxi driver asked, sizing him up.
Ramnivas could tell that the driver thought he was an average joe, or worse, some schmuck. “It doesn’t matter so long as the hotel’s top-notch,” Ramnivas said firmly. “Don’t take me to some cut-rate flophouse.”
The driver appeared to be around forty-five; he had a cunning look on his face and dark eyes as alert as a bird of prey. He smiled, asking sardonically, “Well, there’s a nice three-star hotel right nearby. Whaddya think?” The man must have been expecting Ramnivas to lose his cool at the mere mention of a three-star hotel, but Ramnivas was unfazed.
“Three-star, five-star, six-star — it’s all the same to me. Just step on it. I really need a hot shower and a big double plate of butter chicken.”
The driver gave him a long look, which he followed with a piercing, hawklike glance at Sushma. Pleased with himself, and mixing in mockery, he added, “Yes sir! On our way! And do you think I’m gonna let you settle for a plain old hot shower? I’ll see to it you have a whole big full tub of hot water! And butter chicken? You’ll get triple butter chicken!”
Ramnivas laughed at this and said, “That’s more like it! Now step on it.”
The taxi driver then asked, “So where are you from, sir?”
“Me? I’m a Delhite. What, did you think I was from U.P. or M.P. or Pee Pee or someplace like that?” Ramnivas quipped, smiling at Sushma as if he’d just won the war. “I come to Agra every couple of weeks with the company car,” he added, hoping that this shrewd driver wouldn’t ask him about his big job. What would he say? Grade four sanitation worker? Broom pusher? Fortunately, the driver didn’t follow up.
When they got to the hotel, the driver told him, “Go and see if they have any rooms. If not, we’ll try someplace else.”
Ramnivas left Sushma and went inside. When he got to the reception desk and heard the rate, he wondered if they should find a cheaper place to stay. But he soon signed on the dotted line for an air-conditioned room with a deluxe double bed for fifteen hundred a night. The man at the reception desk sent a bellboy to fetch the luggage.
When Sushma arrived upstairs, she looked a little worried. “Gosh!” she exclaimed. “What kind of a place is this, anyway? Everything’s so shiny and polished, like glass. I feel like I shouldn’t touch anything. What if it gets dirty? There’s something about all this stuff that gives me a weird feeling.”
“Just enjoy yourself. We’ve still got plenty socked away, so why fret?” Then, lovingly, he added, “Come here and give me a big smooch. And crack open that bottle in my bag while you’re at it.”
The knock on the door came at half past 10 that night. It had already been a long day of sightseeing at the Taj.
Ramnivas wondered who it could be so late. He opened the door to find two policemen. One was an inspector, and the other, the inspector’s sidekick.
“You’ve got a girl in there?” the inspector asked in a scolding voice.
“Yes,” Ramnivas replied. The inspector and his sidekick came in. The name V.N. Bharadwaj was engraved on a little brass tag pinned to his uniform. The way he was looking at Sushma! A fury began to build in Ramnivas, but he was too scared to say anything. Sushma was wearing her pink nightie, and you could see right through to the black bra he’d bought for her. And beneath that was her fine, fair skin.
“Something tells me she’s not your wife,” the inspector declared. “So where’d you pick her up?” The man’s square face housed cunning little eyes that kept blinking. His hair had been turned jet-black with unspeakable quantities of dye.
“She lives next door. She’s my sister-in-law,” Ramnivas said; he was a terrible liar.
“So, you’ve been having a little party!” the inspector continued, glancing at the fifth of Diplomat on the table. Then he gave Sushma the hard once-over. “She ran away. You helped her. You brought her here. My guess is she’s underage.” He turned to Sushma. “How old are you?”
She was scared. “Seventeen,” she said.
“I’m taking you down to the station — both of you. We’ll find out from the medical reports exactly how much fun you’ve been having.” He pulled up a chair and sat down. “So where’d the money come from? A three-star hotel? AC? My guess is this isn’t your usual style. Did you steal it? Or knock someone off?”
Ramnivas had a good buzz going, and he should have been able to pluck up his courage; but Sushma telling the truth about her age had unwittingly thrown him to the wolves. He felt as if he was walking right into their trap. He thought quickly, and a smile took shape on his face. “C’mon, inspector, just give the word. Another bottle?”
“That I can order from the hotel. As for you two — I’m taking you to the station. Get dressed. Is she coming like this? With her see-through everything?”
“What’s the rush? The station goes wherever you go, inspector. The inspector’s here, so we can work things out right now,” Ramnivas suggested with a little laugh.
He was surprised at himself. Where had this been hiding? He took a quick look at the sidekick, who was standing by the bed, to see if he could get him to go along. It looked like a yes, Ramnivas thought: The sidekick was busy staring at Sushma, but seemed to give a little nod when his eyes met Ramnivas’s. “Aw, they’re just kids, Bharadwaj sahib,” he said. “They come to see the Taj. Let ’em have their little party. You and me can have some fun with her too. Whaddya say, pal?”
Ramnivas didn’t like what the sidekick was hinting at.
“Wait just a minute,” he said. “Look, Bharadwaj sahib, as far as some food and drink go, just say the word and I’ll have it sent up in no time. But you’ve got to believe me that she’s really my sister-in-law. I swear!”
The inspector began to laugh. “Uh-huh. You need an AC hotel room in order to polish off a fifth of the good stuff with your underage sister-in-law? And then let me guess: The two of you were singing hymns and clapping your hands? But now that you mention it, go get a bottle of Royal Challenge and order a plate of chicken. Actually, don’t move.” The inspector sat down on the bed. He pressed the intercom button at the head of it that got him to the reception desk, placed the order, and then stretched out on the mattress. He loosened his belt buckle and regarded Sushma, who was sitting at the foot of the bed looking as if she wanted to crawl under a rock. “And you — go sit in the chair in the corner and face the wall. Don’t make me crazy. I lose it a little when I drink, and then the two of you’ll go crying to your mothers about big bad Bharadwaj.