I quit the journalism field nearly 3 years ago but the passion to follow developing stories will die in me.
And in this regard, the saddest day that unfolded in front of me was the 26/11 in Mumbai, referred to India's 9/11.
Forget the massive intelligence failure, but i tried to sit and analyse something - the mindset of these youngsters. I watched in horror a bunch of fanatical youngsters crossed the sea and carried out a spectacular blood-thirsty campaign that lasted 3 days and killed over 200 people.
The oldest of the 10 attackers was only 28. Only one was caught alive. He is now a pariah, his country does not acknowledge his existence while this country waits for the law to take its course.
I wonder what it felt when they shot down unknown men and women and spilled innocent blood in Mumbai. Am often left wondering the same question over and over again.
What has made these young men hate us so much? Reports in the Times of India says that these 'Jihadis' are only the final product of a long process.
The initiation process starts young and right in the schools. The school textbooks of a 7th and 9th grader is filled with hatred and distorted form of history. We are referred as 'eternal enemies'. This indoctrination is similar to what the Nazis did in the 1930's to instill a sense of hatred towards the Jews. The consequence of which the world had to bear for the next 50 years.
I see the same pattern being adopted by our neighbouring country, albeit on a smaller scale. I have no answers to some questions that continue to trouble me.
How could a nation thrive on hatred and raise an army that exists merely on suspicion? How could it continue to hate a neighbouring country for more than 60 years though both countries were once part of a single entity?
How could religion alone be a differentiating factor when people dress, speak and feel the same? How can they think of war against us, when we love their music and they love our movies?
Will their hatred be extinguished by the destruction of Bombay, or any other city? Will nuking us quench their thirst for revenge and prove that their religion is better than ours? Or will spilling the blood of a million innocents bring peace to their minds and ensure death of the 'infidels'?
The world is already facing chaos, financial meltdown, global warming and rising population. Why can't we both stand shoulder to shoulder to face this impending disasters together rather than fight like fools over religion.
When death and destruction come calling nothing will remain... not us, not them. But is anyone listening?
Sunday, December 28, 2008
1 Year and After
I write after a long hiatus. A job change, a status upgrade (as daddy) and a very eventful year in my career and life, I find myself again as the year draws to a close - Could I have done better? Worked smarter?
The job change to a blue chip major meant more money and respectability for the brand value it held, but did it provide me with job satisfaction? I will never know. An year ago money and financial security weighed in favor, compared to job satisfaction, growth prospects and a promised trip to the U.S.
Well that was then. With a difficult boss to handle and not-so-perfect colleagues I find myself questioning my rationale for the decision. Would i go back to my old job... No I don't think so.
The money sure is good, but as for the rest I just discussed above I have no idea about the growth in the company. There are too many fishes in this big ocean that are trying to gain attention.
Some try too hard to grab attention, so hard that the attempts almost seem ludicrous, while others do the same by doing someone in and getting a few brownie points.
Though people and their 'competitive spirit' no long surprise me, what surprises me are the levels to which people tend to stoop. Some you can laugh away and dismiss as a joke others that try to malign you are not funny. Yet I cope with them, as I have for the past 1 year hoping for better future.
As some people say some people grow wise only in retrospect, hope that's not true in my case. :)
The job change to a blue chip major meant more money and respectability for the brand value it held, but did it provide me with job satisfaction? I will never know. An year ago money and financial security weighed in favor, compared to job satisfaction, growth prospects and a promised trip to the U.S.
Well that was then. With a difficult boss to handle and not-so-perfect colleagues I find myself questioning my rationale for the decision. Would i go back to my old job... No I don't think so.
The money sure is good, but as for the rest I just discussed above I have no idea about the growth in the company. There are too many fishes in this big ocean that are trying to gain attention.
Some try too hard to grab attention, so hard that the attempts almost seem ludicrous, while others do the same by doing someone in and getting a few brownie points.
Though people and their 'competitive spirit' no long surprise me, what surprises me are the levels to which people tend to stoop. Some you can laugh away and dismiss as a joke others that try to malign you are not funny. Yet I cope with them, as I have for the past 1 year hoping for better future.
As some people say some people grow wise only in retrospect, hope that's not true in my case. :)
Sunday, April 20, 2008
The Devil in Me (Part 1: The Beginning)
A gentle breeze brushed aside the day’s newspaper that lay on my desk. The TV was was beaming pictures of policemen lined outside a posh high-rise building.
A petite news channel reporter appeard stating: “The Breaking News: Jatin Tambwekar, once touted as son-in-law of Mr Narendra Sharma, CEO of Sharma Group of Companies, has locked himself in his 12th floor room of Sea Breeze Apartment. For the past two hours, police have been trying to negotiate with him. Jatin is accused of involvement in the murders of……”
I switched off the TV and sat brooding over the last three years of my life. It was the beginning of the end.
It was nearly three-and-half years ago that I had met this 20-something girl, after a party. She has a pudgy nose and a rotund face. But Aditi had lovely pair of eyes and a laughter that one would never forget. I was a business reporter for a Mumbai-based financial daily.
Business reporting wasn’t my cup of tea. It never had been. My nine-year stint as a crime reporter in Delhi had come to an abrupt end after my expose of high level corruption in a defence deal had gone wry. I lost my job and had to leave Delhi.
That's when I decided to take up business reporting in Mumbai. I often interacted with Aditi, a senior business correspondent of Jai Bharat Times. She was my mentor and her contacts with high-profile businessmen helped me get exclusives.
Initially, Aditi appeared curt. But as we met frequently over endless cups of teas at meetings and press clubs, she became a close friend and a confidant. I told her everything and soon we crossed the realm of professional relationship. We went on a date at Coffee Day, where we spoke about our mutual interest - history.
I was on the wrong side of 40 and having never had the time to concentrate on matters other than career growth, romance bloomed in my heart. Though an orphanage, I was pretty lucky. I was around 8, when a businessman and his wife chanced upon my dance performance at a special charity show.
The couple having lost their son two years ago in an accident, took an instant liking for me. Nearly an year later, my adoption papers were signed. Mr and Mrs Naik took good care of me; sent me to the best school, bought designer clothes, and showered gifts.
But, then misfortune struck again - both died in an air crash as they were flying from a holiday in Europe. Mr Naik was rich and his partners were soon at each other’s throats for a piece of his vast business empire. I was too vain to see their avarice. And soon I had lost everything.
I had always been frank to Aditi about my modest background. Yet, she evaded questions about her past or parents. She was unwilling to tell anything about her past except that she had had an MBA in Marketing from Calcutta.
Any further queries elicited studied silence and instant change in the topic. All that I could fathom was that she was single and she shared an apartment with a friend. There were few things I would never know about her…
A petite news channel reporter appeard stating: “The Breaking News: Jatin Tambwekar, once touted as son-in-law of Mr Narendra Sharma, CEO of Sharma Group of Companies, has locked himself in his 12th floor room of Sea Breeze Apartment. For the past two hours, police have been trying to negotiate with him. Jatin is accused of involvement in the murders of……”
I switched off the TV and sat brooding over the last three years of my life. It was the beginning of the end.
It was nearly three-and-half years ago that I had met this 20-something girl, after a party. She has a pudgy nose and a rotund face. But Aditi had lovely pair of eyes and a laughter that one would never forget. I was a business reporter for a Mumbai-based financial daily.
Business reporting wasn’t my cup of tea. It never had been. My nine-year stint as a crime reporter in Delhi had come to an abrupt end after my expose of high level corruption in a defence deal had gone wry. I lost my job and had to leave Delhi.
That's when I decided to take up business reporting in Mumbai. I often interacted with Aditi, a senior business correspondent of Jai Bharat Times. She was my mentor and her contacts with high-profile businessmen helped me get exclusives.
Initially, Aditi appeared curt. But as we met frequently over endless cups of teas at meetings and press clubs, she became a close friend and a confidant. I told her everything and soon we crossed the realm of professional relationship. We went on a date at Coffee Day, where we spoke about our mutual interest - history.
I was on the wrong side of 40 and having never had the time to concentrate on matters other than career growth, romance bloomed in my heart. Though an orphanage, I was pretty lucky. I was around 8, when a businessman and his wife chanced upon my dance performance at a special charity show.
The couple having lost their son two years ago in an accident, took an instant liking for me. Nearly an year later, my adoption papers were signed. Mr and Mrs Naik took good care of me; sent me to the best school, bought designer clothes, and showered gifts.
But, then misfortune struck again - both died in an air crash as they were flying from a holiday in Europe. Mr Naik was rich and his partners were soon at each other’s throats for a piece of his vast business empire. I was too vain to see their avarice. And soon I had lost everything.
I had always been frank to Aditi about my modest background. Yet, she evaded questions about her past or parents. She was unwilling to tell anything about her past except that she had had an MBA in Marketing from Calcutta.
Any further queries elicited studied silence and instant change in the topic. All that I could fathom was that she was single and she shared an apartment with a friend. There were few things I would never know about her…
The Devil in Me (Part 2: A Change in Fortune)
I blew at the cigarette smoke. But, it was too late to regret.
My experience in the orphanage, and my subsequent hardship after Mr and Mrs Naiks death had taught me a valuable lesson - the world is only for the monied.
I yearned for the luxury provided by the Naiks. But after finding myself in a hopless job in Mumbai, I wondered if this would ever be possible. But, then the wheel of fortune began to turn in the most unusual circumstances.
I was on my way for a jog one September morning. As I was walking towards the park, I chanced upon an elderly gentleman in jogging suit who appeared to be sweating profusely and breathing hard.
I took little notice of the man. After nearly 20-minutes, as I was walking back the same stretch, I saw people crowd around a slumped figure. As I made by way through the crowd, I recognized the man. He was barely conscious, sweating, and breathing heavily - symptoms of a cardiac arrest.
No one in crowd offered to help. Hence, I called up the medical emergency number from my cell phone. Within a few minutes, I was sitting in the ambulance as it rushed towards the nearest private hospital.
When I tried to check for his ID, I found that his watch, cellphone and purse had gone missing. I then called up the police.
He was placed on the ventilator and administered IV drips. I spent a princely sum on his initial medication and room expenses, never really expecting him to recover. However, his condition began to stabilize by evening.
At nearly 5 p.m., a policeman arrived along with the man’s family friend and daughter, Minal. The family had contacted the police since he had failed to show up at office after his usual morning jog.
Minal stood beside her father’s bed, Mr Narendra Sharma, with tears streaming down her face. Mr Sharma was a shrewd wheeler-dealer who dabbled in several business ventures. I later came to know that Mr Sharma knew Aditi and was her source for several .
This apart, Mr Sharma was known to have close contacts with members of the ruling Jana Parikrama party, which had benefited him in the form of lucrative government contracts.
Mr Sharma had now been shifted to the posh Aditya Specialty Hospital. As Mr Sharma regained his health in the next few weeks, he began to warm up towards me.
During the course of his recovery in the next few weeks, I often visited his bedside where I met Minal. She was initially coy and appeared uncomfortable in my presence. But as we became familiar with each other, she opened up. I found Minal to be a down-to-earth person, and unlike Aditi, she was sensitive and frank about her opinion.
I always thought that rich kids were blessed with everything. But, Minal obviously wasn’t that lucky. Though her dad had become a successful businessman, he had little time for his daughter. Minal had grown up as a lonely child after her mother’s death six years ago.
She had finished her BCA owing to the insistence of her father but her heart was in fine arts and someday she hoped to be a painter. She often confided in me and gradually we were drawn towards each other. As I began to gain the trust of Minal and Mr Sharma, the devil in me began to take hold of me.
I began to realise that winning her heart lay the key to a huge fortune. I knew Mr Sharma would strongly oppose his daughter’s wedlock with anyone below his social standing.
But, then, I had the confidence in Minal’s persuasive powers and my charm over her. Having lost his wife, Minal was Mr Sharma’s only daughter and he would do anything for her. Mr Sharma’s fortune and political clout was on the rise. If I married his daughter, this would add to my advantage.
As my visits to Minal became more frequent and more personal, Aditi began to drift into oblivion. I began giving excuses to avoid Aditi and managed to evade her for two weeks.
Meanwhile, with a bit of Sharma’s goodwill and Aditi’s persistence, I was employed as Public Relations Manager for Sharma Group of Companies.
But soon Aditi realised something was amiss, and her phone calls became persistent. That’s when I decided to confront her and tell her the truth that it was over. We met outside a supermarket where I told her that it was time to call it quits.
I still remember the tight slap on my cheek. She stormed into the night, tears streaming down her cheeks. I laughed it away and breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the worst was over. But it was not to be.
For nearly a week, my life went smoothly as I began to make concerted efforts to win over my prospective father-in-law with help from his daughter. But, then, Aditi would never let go of me. She began calling me again. I refused to entertain her calls, reminding her of the insult she had heaped on me. However, she persisted, first by pleading and then by threatening.
My experience in the orphanage, and my subsequent hardship after Mr and Mrs Naiks death had taught me a valuable lesson - the world is only for the monied.
I yearned for the luxury provided by the Naiks. But after finding myself in a hopless job in Mumbai, I wondered if this would ever be possible. But, then the wheel of fortune began to turn in the most unusual circumstances.
I was on my way for a jog one September morning. As I was walking towards the park, I chanced upon an elderly gentleman in jogging suit who appeared to be sweating profusely and breathing hard.
I took little notice of the man. After nearly 20-minutes, as I was walking back the same stretch, I saw people crowd around a slumped figure. As I made by way through the crowd, I recognized the man. He was barely conscious, sweating, and breathing heavily - symptoms of a cardiac arrest.
No one in crowd offered to help. Hence, I called up the medical emergency number from my cell phone. Within a few minutes, I was sitting in the ambulance as it rushed towards the nearest private hospital.
When I tried to check for his ID, I found that his watch, cellphone and purse had gone missing. I then called up the police.
He was placed on the ventilator and administered IV drips. I spent a princely sum on his initial medication and room expenses, never really expecting him to recover. However, his condition began to stabilize by evening.
At nearly 5 p.m., a policeman arrived along with the man’s family friend and daughter, Minal. The family had contacted the police since he had failed to show up at office after his usual morning jog.
Minal stood beside her father’s bed, Mr Narendra Sharma, with tears streaming down her face. Mr Sharma was a shrewd wheeler-dealer who dabbled in several business ventures. I later came to know that Mr Sharma knew Aditi and was her source for several .
This apart, Mr Sharma was known to have close contacts with members of the ruling Jana Parikrama party, which had benefited him in the form of lucrative government contracts.
Mr Sharma had now been shifted to the posh Aditya Specialty Hospital. As Mr Sharma regained his health in the next few weeks, he began to warm up towards me.
During the course of his recovery in the next few weeks, I often visited his bedside where I met Minal. She was initially coy and appeared uncomfortable in my presence. But as we became familiar with each other, she opened up. I found Minal to be a down-to-earth person, and unlike Aditi, she was sensitive and frank about her opinion.
I always thought that rich kids were blessed with everything. But, Minal obviously wasn’t that lucky. Though her dad had become a successful businessman, he had little time for his daughter. Minal had grown up as a lonely child after her mother’s death six years ago.
She had finished her BCA owing to the insistence of her father but her heart was in fine arts and someday she hoped to be a painter. She often confided in me and gradually we were drawn towards each other. As I began to gain the trust of Minal and Mr Sharma, the devil in me began to take hold of me.
I began to realise that winning her heart lay the key to a huge fortune. I knew Mr Sharma would strongly oppose his daughter’s wedlock with anyone below his social standing.
But, then, I had the confidence in Minal’s persuasive powers and my charm over her. Having lost his wife, Minal was Mr Sharma’s only daughter and he would do anything for her. Mr Sharma’s fortune and political clout was on the rise. If I married his daughter, this would add to my advantage.
As my visits to Minal became more frequent and more personal, Aditi began to drift into oblivion. I began giving excuses to avoid Aditi and managed to evade her for two weeks.
Meanwhile, with a bit of Sharma’s goodwill and Aditi’s persistence, I was employed as Public Relations Manager for Sharma Group of Companies.
But soon Aditi realised something was amiss, and her phone calls became persistent. That’s when I decided to confront her and tell her the truth that it was over. We met outside a supermarket where I told her that it was time to call it quits.
I still remember the tight slap on my cheek. She stormed into the night, tears streaming down her cheeks. I laughed it away and breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the worst was over. But it was not to be.
For nearly a week, my life went smoothly as I began to make concerted efforts to win over my prospective father-in-law with help from his daughter. But, then, Aditi would never let go of me. She began calling me again. I refused to entertain her calls, reminding her of the insult she had heaped on me. However, she persisted, first by pleading and then by threatening.
The Devil in Me (Part 3: Thinking Deep)
Aditi told me she would tell Minal about the physical relationship between us. She even threatened to use her influence and destroy my reputation. She swore to ruin my career unless I agreed to marry her.
As she began to exert pressure on me, I began frequenting bars. It was during one such visit that I met an almost-intoxicated former police dog handler, Chandrakant. He was a familiar face when I was a crime reporter.
This balding 60-something was spending the rest of his pension on liquor. His proclivity towards liquor had ruined his health, and family life. He had been kicked out of his father-in-law’s household and had been disowned by his wife and children.
We became a strange pair at the bar as my visits became more frequent. I loved dogs but never had the means or the time to maintain them. We began to discuss about dogs and Chandrakant would often talk about the techniques he employed to train sniffer dogs.
He talked about the four-week training course for sniffer dogs. It was during one such meeting that he spoke about pit bull terriers and how these dogs could turn deadly, if trained to do so. I had read books on dogs that mentioned that pit bull terriers were initially used to fight beasts and gladiators in Ancient Rome. The book also dispelled myths on how pit bull terriers were violent by nature.
The threats from Aditi had become unbearable and a source of nuisance. I had to act quickly to rid of this nuisance. When intoxicated, he would boast about how dogs could be trained to perform anything, even murder.
This statement made me think: Could I make Aditi “go away” forever. But then how, was the question. A mix of Discovery channel programmes on dogs and Chandrakant’s boastful talk on dog training techniques got me thinking - Would a dog be trained to kill?
I first had to placate Aditi. I called her for a meeting at Coffee Day and then began to make my moves. I told her that I had reconsidered what I had said and that I was sorry. I would marry her but that I needed a year or so to stabilise my position in the company. By now, I had held the position of senior media manager in Sharma Group of companies.
The next visit to the bar was a business meeting with Chandrakant. I spoke to him about Pit Bull Terriers and how they could be trained. Even though age and liquor had blunted Chandrakant’s appearance, his business acumen had not. He eyes twinkled and he licked his lips at the thought of a prospective business proposition.
After a lot of persuasion and haggling, he agreed Rs. 7 lakh as the “fee” for the “deed”. He wanted payment to be in cash only and the cost of the pup would be borne by me. Now the first task was to identify a place where Chandrakant could train the pup.
Half the amount was to be paid during the training and the final instalment after the “deed”. His opinion was that a dog would be ready by the end of a year for the “task”.
Meanwhile, between my busy work schedules I visited Aditi trying to calm her down by reaffirming my fidelity in our relationship. While this progressed, I convinced her that my relationship with Minal was just friendship. It was safe since Minal had not expressed her feelings about me to her father since she thought it was not yet the right time.
As she began to exert pressure on me, I began frequenting bars. It was during one such visit that I met an almost-intoxicated former police dog handler, Chandrakant. He was a familiar face when I was a crime reporter.
This balding 60-something was spending the rest of his pension on liquor. His proclivity towards liquor had ruined his health, and family life. He had been kicked out of his father-in-law’s household and had been disowned by his wife and children.
We became a strange pair at the bar as my visits became more frequent. I loved dogs but never had the means or the time to maintain them. We began to discuss about dogs and Chandrakant would often talk about the techniques he employed to train sniffer dogs.
He talked about the four-week training course for sniffer dogs. It was during one such meeting that he spoke about pit bull terriers and how these dogs could turn deadly, if trained to do so. I had read books on dogs that mentioned that pit bull terriers were initially used to fight beasts and gladiators in Ancient Rome. The book also dispelled myths on how pit bull terriers were violent by nature.
The threats from Aditi had become unbearable and a source of nuisance. I had to act quickly to rid of this nuisance. When intoxicated, he would boast about how dogs could be trained to perform anything, even murder.
This statement made me think: Could I make Aditi “go away” forever. But then how, was the question. A mix of Discovery channel programmes on dogs and Chandrakant’s boastful talk on dog training techniques got me thinking - Would a dog be trained to kill?
I first had to placate Aditi. I called her for a meeting at Coffee Day and then began to make my moves. I told her that I had reconsidered what I had said and that I was sorry. I would marry her but that I needed a year or so to stabilise my position in the company. By now, I had held the position of senior media manager in Sharma Group of companies.
The next visit to the bar was a business meeting with Chandrakant. I spoke to him about Pit Bull Terriers and how they could be trained. Even though age and liquor had blunted Chandrakant’s appearance, his business acumen had not. He eyes twinkled and he licked his lips at the thought of a prospective business proposition.
After a lot of persuasion and haggling, he agreed Rs. 7 lakh as the “fee” for the “deed”. He wanted payment to be in cash only and the cost of the pup would be borne by me. Now the first task was to identify a place where Chandrakant could train the pup.
Half the amount was to be paid during the training and the final instalment after the “deed”. His opinion was that a dog would be ready by the end of a year for the “task”.
Meanwhile, between my busy work schedules I visited Aditi trying to calm her down by reaffirming my fidelity in our relationship. While this progressed, I convinced her that my relationship with Minal was just friendship. It was safe since Minal had not expressed her feelings about me to her father since she thought it was not yet the right time.
The Devil in Me (Part 4: The Task)
Under my persistent assurances, Aiditi’s slowly began to trust me. This first thing I did was to purchase a cell phone and new SIM card. This was the mode of communication between Chandrakant and me.
I was in the middle of a meeting, when Chandrakant called me on my cell phone and explained that I had to plan something to ensure we had an alibi during the “deed”. This set me thinking. He was right, can’t be at the scene of the “deed”.
I browsed the Internet and found the answer in the form of ultrasonic whistle. This whistle operated between frequencies of 16000 Hz to 22000 Hz. Frequencies below 20000 Hz were audible to the human ear and, hence, could escape human detection.
I suggested this to Chandrakant who agreed that this was a great idea. The venue for the dog training was the wooded area behind the company’s defunct cloth mill. Chandrakant identified a suitable four-month-old Pit Bull Terrier pup for the task.
We named it Caesar and we had chosen the venue of the deed to one of the guesthouses owned by Sharma’s Club in the outskirts of Mumbai. I knew that Minal too would ask questions when the deed was complete.
Hence, I began to tell her how Aditi had recommended me to Mr Sharma for a job. And that I was only being nice to her for her help. As a safe measure, I lied that Aditi had emotional problems after a split-up with her boy friend a year ago and, hence, had turned to me for counsel.
In the ensuring months, Chandrakant kept me posted about the status of his training. He even reported how Caesar was fattening up nicely. He was even feeding him with raw chicken to fatten him up and to help him “taste” raw blood.
Our plan was going smooth, but, then, we hit a snag - how do we muffle the sound of a screaming woman in a residential area? It struck me that there had to be noise to muffle the sound. Nothing could be better than using crackers to solve the problem. Accordingly, Chandrakant began to burst crackers to get Caesar accustomed to the loud bang of crackers.
During one such visit to the “training grounds”, he demonstrated Caesar’s aggression by placing a life-sized doll and a handkerchief around it. He then blew the ultrasonic whistle.
Caesar, now almost 30 kg and nearly 6-months-old, pounced on the doll and vigorously ripped apart the neck of the rubber doll. The doll lay decapitated. Another whistle and Caesar sat down calmly with no apparent signs of aggression.
Though impressed with this demonstration, it sent a shudder up my spine – especially after seeing the deep marks at the neck of the doll. Was this how Aditi would look like after the “deed”? I wondered.
Months had ticked by as I had played the honest lover/friend to both women, hoping the impending months would solve my problems. As part of my plan, I often took Caesar for walks to familiarize with people. Once during my walk, I met Aditi who took an instant liking to the canine. She was terrified of dogs, but I assured that Caesar was harmless.
However, constantly I reminded myself that the deed had to be done in November, during Diwali. My plan was to keep Caesar at the guesthouse and wait until Chandrakant blew the whistle for the dog to finish his work. I would be with some guests bursting crackers while Aditi would be meeting her fate.
I knew that cases related to accidental amounted to a paltry fine. There was no dearth of lawyers, and, hence, I would be in the clear soon.
I was in the middle of a meeting, when Chandrakant called me on my cell phone and explained that I had to plan something to ensure we had an alibi during the “deed”. This set me thinking. He was right, can’t be at the scene of the “deed”.
I browsed the Internet and found the answer in the form of ultrasonic whistle. This whistle operated between frequencies of 16000 Hz to 22000 Hz. Frequencies below 20000 Hz were audible to the human ear and, hence, could escape human detection.
I suggested this to Chandrakant who agreed that this was a great idea. The venue for the dog training was the wooded area behind the company’s defunct cloth mill. Chandrakant identified a suitable four-month-old Pit Bull Terrier pup for the task.
We named it Caesar and we had chosen the venue of the deed to one of the guesthouses owned by Sharma’s Club in the outskirts of Mumbai. I knew that Minal too would ask questions when the deed was complete.
Hence, I began to tell her how Aditi had recommended me to Mr Sharma for a job. And that I was only being nice to her for her help. As a safe measure, I lied that Aditi had emotional problems after a split-up with her boy friend a year ago and, hence, had turned to me for counsel.
In the ensuring months, Chandrakant kept me posted about the status of his training. He even reported how Caesar was fattening up nicely. He was even feeding him with raw chicken to fatten him up and to help him “taste” raw blood.
Our plan was going smooth, but, then, we hit a snag - how do we muffle the sound of a screaming woman in a residential area? It struck me that there had to be noise to muffle the sound. Nothing could be better than using crackers to solve the problem. Accordingly, Chandrakant began to burst crackers to get Caesar accustomed to the loud bang of crackers.
During one such visit to the “training grounds”, he demonstrated Caesar’s aggression by placing a life-sized doll and a handkerchief around it. He then blew the ultrasonic whistle.
Caesar, now almost 30 kg and nearly 6-months-old, pounced on the doll and vigorously ripped apart the neck of the rubber doll. The doll lay decapitated. Another whistle and Caesar sat down calmly with no apparent signs of aggression.
Though impressed with this demonstration, it sent a shudder up my spine – especially after seeing the deep marks at the neck of the doll. Was this how Aditi would look like after the “deed”? I wondered.
Months had ticked by as I had played the honest lover/friend to both women, hoping the impending months would solve my problems. As part of my plan, I often took Caesar for walks to familiarize with people. Once during my walk, I met Aditi who took an instant liking to the canine. She was terrified of dogs, but I assured that Caesar was harmless.
However, constantly I reminded myself that the deed had to be done in November, during Diwali. My plan was to keep Caesar at the guesthouse and wait until Chandrakant blew the whistle for the dog to finish his work. I would be with some guests bursting crackers while Aditi would be meeting her fate.
I knew that cases related to accidental amounted to a paltry fine. There was no dearth of lawyers, and, hence, I would be in the clear soon.
The Devil in Me (Part 5: The Deed)
My plans were all set and we waited for Diwali. I convinced Aditi to come over for a booze party with some of our common friends to celebrate Diwali at the guesthouse. My plan was to have the dog in the bedroom and keep him waiting for the “deed”.
I would be celebrating Diwali with the guests in the adjacent guest house while Chandrakant will let loose the killer dog in the living room. The living room opened to a bathroom, a bedroom and a small kitchen. The end of the room had a flight of stairs connecting to the terrace.
The plan was to alert Chandrakant as Aditi attended the call in the living room. With her back turned towards the bedroom, Chandrakant would blow the whistle. The dog would then run towards the victim and finish the “task”. Meanwhile, the fireworks were supposed to muffle the scream of the woman.
I had planned to call Aditi to ask her to visit the guesthouse at 7 p.m. But, an hour before the call, I began to lose my nerve as I began to profusely sweat. The night prior my dreams were filled with her face and the torn doll I had seen months ago. But, I made up my mind - I had to call her.
Aiditi picked up the phone and appeared to be cheerful when I told her to be on time for the party at the guesthouse. I told her that there was no one to take care of Caesar. Hence, he would be chained in the bedroom and that she need not be afraid of him. I told her I would meet her at the guesthouse after a few social calls.
At around 7 p.m., I saw Aditi drive and some of the invitees beginning to stream into the guesthouse. I surveyed the place for any possible witnesses walking unexpectedly and found none. I closed the main gate and walked in 15 minutes late and apologised. I invited her and four others to the terrace of the adjacent guesthouse terrace to burst fireworks.
Whisky bottles were opened and soon liquor flowed freely. As other guests began to drink, I excused myself to pick up some side dish. Now was the time to strike.
As per plan, I picked up the receiver and kept it off the hook. Then, I with some fried chips I began to climb the stairs of the adjacent guesthouse. Aditi was a bit drunk, like some of her friends. I told her someone was calling on the landline.
She expressed surprise to be called on the landline and began to descend the stairs. Meanwhile, Chandrakant stood inside the bedroom with clear view of the phone. An hour earlier, Chandrakant had led the canine into the bedroom through the backdoor with a key that I had lent him.
Caesar’s chain was tied to the window. He watched as Aditi picked up and said “hello”. Chandrakant in his excitement had dropped the whistle. Even as he searched and picked up the whistle, Aditi banged the receiver on the hook. As she was about to leave, Chandrakant called up from his mobile phone.
She picked up the call and said “hello”. Aditi was now at the right place. By then, I had begun to light the fireworks – the loudest were the first. Music system was also on full blast, an idea which was not part of the plan.
I hoped that the crackers and the music would muffle the screams of the terrified victim. Chandrakant waited for nearly 15 minutes before he blew the sonic whistle for the second time, a cue for the dog to stop his assault.
After nearly half-an-hour, as the other guests had drunk themselves, I began descending the stairs and making my way towards the guesthouse. I tiptoed to my car and picked up pliers.
My idea was to cut the leash into two. The one end was to be tied to the dog collar and the other to the bedroom window. The idea was to show that the drunken victim had provoked the dog, leading to such horrific consequences.
I began to feel queasy as I approached the guesthouse. As I approached the living room, I could hear Caesar’s whining. I entered the room with sweat profusely dripping down my temples.
I saw Caesar and then the blood dripping down his jaws. The sight terrified me but the canine appeared to be calm. The sight of blood was so terrifying that I didn’t have the guts to approach the dog at first.
Caesar was acquainted with me and hence remained quite friendly as I patted him gently. I cut the one end of the chain and tied it to the window. I had deliberately brought a rusted and a thin chain. I then made my way towards the sofa in the hall. It had been quite a struggle, the phone receiver was off its hook and the tablecloth had been pulled down. Aditi apparently was tenacious till the end.
Aditi was lying on her side, her back facing me. She lay in a pool of dark red blood. As I approached the body with dread, I turned her around. Her neck was torn and her vocal cords and the skin of her lower face lay ripped till her chin. The sight was so repulsive that I began to retch.
I recovered my composure and called up the police. I told them that my dog had broken loose and had fatally attacked one of my guests. Meanwhile, I broke the news to other guests. Some were too shocked to react. One cried, while the others were too shocked to react.
I waited for the arrival of the Police and the Press. I was ready with my story. I knew there would be an investigation but my plan had been ingenious, I would get away. But, then…
I would be celebrating Diwali with the guests in the adjacent guest house while Chandrakant will let loose the killer dog in the living room. The living room opened to a bathroom, a bedroom and a small kitchen. The end of the room had a flight of stairs connecting to the terrace.
The plan was to alert Chandrakant as Aditi attended the call in the living room. With her back turned towards the bedroom, Chandrakant would blow the whistle. The dog would then run towards the victim and finish the “task”. Meanwhile, the fireworks were supposed to muffle the scream of the woman.
I had planned to call Aditi to ask her to visit the guesthouse at 7 p.m. But, an hour before the call, I began to lose my nerve as I began to profusely sweat. The night prior my dreams were filled with her face and the torn doll I had seen months ago. But, I made up my mind - I had to call her.
Aiditi picked up the phone and appeared to be cheerful when I told her to be on time for the party at the guesthouse. I told her that there was no one to take care of Caesar. Hence, he would be chained in the bedroom and that she need not be afraid of him. I told her I would meet her at the guesthouse after a few social calls.
At around 7 p.m., I saw Aditi drive and some of the invitees beginning to stream into the guesthouse. I surveyed the place for any possible witnesses walking unexpectedly and found none. I closed the main gate and walked in 15 minutes late and apologised. I invited her and four others to the terrace of the adjacent guesthouse terrace to burst fireworks.
Whisky bottles were opened and soon liquor flowed freely. As other guests began to drink, I excused myself to pick up some side dish. Now was the time to strike.
As per plan, I picked up the receiver and kept it off the hook. Then, I with some fried chips I began to climb the stairs of the adjacent guesthouse. Aditi was a bit drunk, like some of her friends. I told her someone was calling on the landline.
She expressed surprise to be called on the landline and began to descend the stairs. Meanwhile, Chandrakant stood inside the bedroom with clear view of the phone. An hour earlier, Chandrakant had led the canine into the bedroom through the backdoor with a key that I had lent him.
Caesar’s chain was tied to the window. He watched as Aditi picked up and said “hello”. Chandrakant in his excitement had dropped the whistle. Even as he searched and picked up the whistle, Aditi banged the receiver on the hook. As she was about to leave, Chandrakant called up from his mobile phone.
She picked up the call and said “hello”. Aditi was now at the right place. By then, I had begun to light the fireworks – the loudest were the first. Music system was also on full blast, an idea which was not part of the plan.
I hoped that the crackers and the music would muffle the screams of the terrified victim. Chandrakant waited for nearly 15 minutes before he blew the sonic whistle for the second time, a cue for the dog to stop his assault.
After nearly half-an-hour, as the other guests had drunk themselves, I began descending the stairs and making my way towards the guesthouse. I tiptoed to my car and picked up pliers.
My idea was to cut the leash into two. The one end was to be tied to the dog collar and the other to the bedroom window. The idea was to show that the drunken victim had provoked the dog, leading to such horrific consequences.
I began to feel queasy as I approached the guesthouse. As I approached the living room, I could hear Caesar’s whining. I entered the room with sweat profusely dripping down my temples.
I saw Caesar and then the blood dripping down his jaws. The sight terrified me but the canine appeared to be calm. The sight of blood was so terrifying that I didn’t have the guts to approach the dog at first.
Caesar was acquainted with me and hence remained quite friendly as I patted him gently. I cut the one end of the chain and tied it to the window. I had deliberately brought a rusted and a thin chain. I then made my way towards the sofa in the hall. It had been quite a struggle, the phone receiver was off its hook and the tablecloth had been pulled down. Aditi apparently was tenacious till the end.
Aditi was lying on her side, her back facing me. She lay in a pool of dark red blood. As I approached the body with dread, I turned her around. Her neck was torn and her vocal cords and the skin of her lower face lay ripped till her chin. The sight was so repulsive that I began to retch.
I recovered my composure and called up the police. I told them that my dog had broken loose and had fatally attacked one of my guests. Meanwhile, I broke the news to other guests. Some were too shocked to react. One cried, while the others were too shocked to react.
I waited for the arrival of the Police and the Press. I was ready with my story. I knew there would be an investigation but my plan had been ingenious, I would get away. But, then…
The Devil in Me (Part 6: The Puzzle)
Inspector Narayan Apte was on his way home when he was informed of the case. The incessant rain had soaked his uniform and the call of duty didn’t please him one bit. And he would now miss his lunch and his afternoon nap.
He was informed that a young woman had been mauled to death by a pet dog. The owner of the dog had called the police and his statement had been recorded by Sub-Inspector Ananth Ghokale.
Inspector Apte was running on 54. He had a bulging belly, receding hairline and a handlebar moustache. In nearly 22 years of his service, he had never come across someone being mauled to death by a pet dog.
As Apte entered the station, he was greeted by Ghokale, who presented him with the gist of the case. Both of them stepped into a jeep and sped towards the guesthouse amidst peak hour traffic and heavy downpour.
By the time they had reached their destination, public, TV crews and journalists had gathered in large numbers. The medical examiner had completed his formalities. He said the dog had gone for the artery of the victim. The victim probably died of shock within 5-10 minutes due to excessive blood loss.
Ghokale screwed his face in disgust, as Apte looked closer at the victim’s face. The neck had almost been ripped apart, with part of the lower jaw and suspended near the chest. The victim had put up a good fight, considering the deep bite marks visible on her hands. The dog had been locked in the bedroom. Apte and Ghoklae waited until the crime scene technicians dusted the place.
The body was put on a stretcher and sent to the government hospital morgue for autopsy. When the crowd began surging towards the building, Ghokale lost his cool and yelled at them in chaste Marathi.
Meanwhile, I strangely felt a sense of relief. The deed had been done, and I thought my troubles had been over. But then things began to unravel…
He was informed that a young woman had been mauled to death by a pet dog. The owner of the dog had called the police and his statement had been recorded by Sub-Inspector Ananth Ghokale.
Inspector Apte was running on 54. He had a bulging belly, receding hairline and a handlebar moustache. In nearly 22 years of his service, he had never come across someone being mauled to death by a pet dog.
As Apte entered the station, he was greeted by Ghokale, who presented him with the gist of the case. Both of them stepped into a jeep and sped towards the guesthouse amidst peak hour traffic and heavy downpour.
By the time they had reached their destination, public, TV crews and journalists had gathered in large numbers. The medical examiner had completed his formalities. He said the dog had gone for the artery of the victim. The victim probably died of shock within 5-10 minutes due to excessive blood loss.
Ghokale screwed his face in disgust, as Apte looked closer at the victim’s face. The neck had almost been ripped apart, with part of the lower jaw and suspended near the chest. The victim had put up a good fight, considering the deep bite marks visible on her hands. The dog had been locked in the bedroom. Apte and Ghoklae waited until the crime scene technicians dusted the place.
The body was put on a stretcher and sent to the government hospital morgue for autopsy. When the crowd began surging towards the building, Ghokale lost his cool and yelled at them in chaste Marathi.
Meanwhile, I strangely felt a sense of relief. The deed had been done, and I thought my troubles had been over. But then things began to unravel…
The Devil in Me (Part 7: The Pieces Fall Together)
S-I Ghokale began to record statements from the guests Mr and Mrs Pai and their friend, Pratik; Aditi’s friend and room mate, Jyothi Ingle.
Meanwhile, Apte walked around the guest house, looking into the bedroom from the adjacent window and the empty grounds behind the house that had knee-height grass. Ghokale was keen to close the case and go home but Apte wanted to look at the case at his own pace.
I was in the midst of a presentation for my clients, when I got a call from Apte, asking me if I could spare an hour for a few questions. He said he wanted to close the report as an accident. So, he wanted to ask a few questions in that regard.
It had nearly been two weeks since the incident at the guesthouse. By then I had convinced Minal that it had been an accident. Apte met me in my apartment late in the evening while on his way home. I answered most of his questions about my relationship with Aditi and about Caesar, who by now had been put to sleep after a week of observation.
He finished his questions and began to go towards the door, when he paused and asked me if there was anyone else in the compound apart from the guests we had interviewed. My heart skipped a beat but managed to keep my composure and replied in the negative.
As I closed the door behind him, several thoughts ran in my mind: Had he detected that something was amiss? I knew that the police always had keen sense of observation. Did he see something wrong?
Apte went home but as he slept he knew that the last question had ruffled me. He needed to look at the statements and the other evidence collected again.
The next day Apte was at the station looking at the statements of all the witnesses on that day. Something caught his eye. Pratik had stated that the stairway gate had been locked from inside when he tried to go to the washroom located in the first floor. This seemed strange to him since most guests had said the gates were open after the incident was reported. And I no one had mentioned the gates were locked.
Unlike other guests who had taken whisky, Pratik had taken a few glasses of beer. As he walked towards the flight of stairs he found the gates locked. Later, he began looking at the other evidence at the sight.
Something else was amiss - the dog chain. On closer examination, the chain hadn’t snapped as claimed but had been cut cleanly. He remembered having seen footprints outside the window adjacent to the living room.
Apte’s experience told him that there were too many things that didn’t seem to be in place. According to the recorded statements, a call on the guesthouse landline had been the reason for Aditi to proceed towards the living room in the adjacent guesthouse.
He began looking at the call records and found that during the 20 minutes before the incident there had been only one call from a mobile phone. Inquiry revealed strangely that the phone call had been made from a mobile number. Apte began to think.
The next day, the FIR the section under which the case had been booked Section 304-A (not amounting to culpable homicide) was now Section 302 of IPC (murder).
Meanwhile, Apte walked around the guest house, looking into the bedroom from the adjacent window and the empty grounds behind the house that had knee-height grass. Ghokale was keen to close the case and go home but Apte wanted to look at the case at his own pace.
I was in the midst of a presentation for my clients, when I got a call from Apte, asking me if I could spare an hour for a few questions. He said he wanted to close the report as an accident. So, he wanted to ask a few questions in that regard.
It had nearly been two weeks since the incident at the guesthouse. By then I had convinced Minal that it had been an accident. Apte met me in my apartment late in the evening while on his way home. I answered most of his questions about my relationship with Aditi and about Caesar, who by now had been put to sleep after a week of observation.
He finished his questions and began to go towards the door, when he paused and asked me if there was anyone else in the compound apart from the guests we had interviewed. My heart skipped a beat but managed to keep my composure and replied in the negative.
As I closed the door behind him, several thoughts ran in my mind: Had he detected that something was amiss? I knew that the police always had keen sense of observation. Did he see something wrong?
Apte went home but as he slept he knew that the last question had ruffled me. He needed to look at the statements and the other evidence collected again.
The next day Apte was at the station looking at the statements of all the witnesses on that day. Something caught his eye. Pratik had stated that the stairway gate had been locked from inside when he tried to go to the washroom located in the first floor. This seemed strange to him since most guests had said the gates were open after the incident was reported. And I no one had mentioned the gates were locked.
Unlike other guests who had taken whisky, Pratik had taken a few glasses of beer. As he walked towards the flight of stairs he found the gates locked. Later, he began looking at the other evidence at the sight.
Something else was amiss - the dog chain. On closer examination, the chain hadn’t snapped as claimed but had been cut cleanly. He remembered having seen footprints outside the window adjacent to the living room.
Apte’s experience told him that there were too many things that didn’t seem to be in place. According to the recorded statements, a call on the guesthouse landline had been the reason for Aditi to proceed towards the living room in the adjacent guesthouse.
He began looking at the call records and found that during the 20 minutes before the incident there had been only one call from a mobile phone. Inquiry revealed strangely that the phone call had been made from a mobile number. Apte began to think.
The next day, the FIR the section under which the case had been booked Section 304-A (not amounting to culpable homicide) was now Section 302 of IPC (murder).
The Devil in Me (Part 8: Trouble in the Backyard)
Even as Apte began his investigation, I began facing problems at my end. I had paid the last instalment of Rs. 3.5 lakh within a week. However, I had underestimated Chandrakant’s avarice. Within a month-and-a-half, he established contact with me using the cell phone he had purchased for the “task”.
I had told him to dispose off the cell phone and the SIM card after the deed. But, instead he continued using it and once called my personal mobile. This made me furious. I excused myself from the meeting and rushed to the Men’s room and spewed a set of expletives. He hung up. But that call was not his last.
Two days later, on a Sunday, he called me from a phone booth. He began with the usual set of niceties - his speech slurred with liquor and greed. However, he began to subtly hint at the possibility of another small payment, stating that the money he had received had been spent in settling old loans – a white lie. I knew he had blown the money on race horses and card gambling.
His call was for a small amount of Rs. 9,000 to pay his house rent. It was evident he was indulging in subtle form of extortion. A few days later, he wanted Rs. 15,000, this time around for making repairs in his house.
I knew he would keep calling and extorting. His fourth call was more menacing and unpleasant than the first. I had to do something about this nuisance calls. I needed to something snap this connection between the two of us. This was practical necessity since he was the only link between the incident and me. But how do I get rid of this menace? I wondered and began looking up some books on poisons.
After some search on the Internet, I had zeroed in one of the two poisons: Succinylcholine or Aconite. Succinylcholine was mostly used for muscle relaxation which in excess could paralyze respiratory system and kill the victim.
But, the problem was it was a schedule drug and, would never be sold over the counter.
Aconite was another deadly plant that could kill humans. Just three drops of the extract of this plan could kill an adult. But again the plant normally grew only in the altitudes of 1,000 to 3,000 metres. I would never get my hands on this herb.
Finally after a bit of reading I decided to use anti-freeze. The chemical was easily available. The chemical had ethylene glycol which tasted sweet and could be substituted in any food item. My research showed that ordinary clinical tests normally skipped the presence of this poison as the symptoms in the victim could be easily misconstrued to that of a heart attack.
I had told him to dispose off the cell phone and the SIM card after the deed. But, instead he continued using it and once called my personal mobile. This made me furious. I excused myself from the meeting and rushed to the Men’s room and spewed a set of expletives. He hung up. But that call was not his last.
Two days later, on a Sunday, he called me from a phone booth. He began with the usual set of niceties - his speech slurred with liquor and greed. However, he began to subtly hint at the possibility of another small payment, stating that the money he had received had been spent in settling old loans – a white lie. I knew he had blown the money on race horses and card gambling.
His call was for a small amount of Rs. 9,000 to pay his house rent. It was evident he was indulging in subtle form of extortion. A few days later, he wanted Rs. 15,000, this time around for making repairs in his house.
I knew he would keep calling and extorting. His fourth call was more menacing and unpleasant than the first. I had to do something about this nuisance calls. I needed to something snap this connection between the two of us. This was practical necessity since he was the only link between the incident and me. But how do I get rid of this menace? I wondered and began looking up some books on poisons.
After some search on the Internet, I had zeroed in one of the two poisons: Succinylcholine or Aconite. Succinylcholine was mostly used for muscle relaxation which in excess could paralyze respiratory system and kill the victim.
But, the problem was it was a schedule drug and, would never be sold over the counter.
Aconite was another deadly plant that could kill humans. Just three drops of the extract of this plan could kill an adult. But again the plant normally grew only in the altitudes of 1,000 to 3,000 metres. I would never get my hands on this herb.
Finally after a bit of reading I decided to use anti-freeze. The chemical was easily available. The chemical had ethylene glycol which tasted sweet and could be substituted in any food item. My research showed that ordinary clinical tests normally skipped the presence of this poison as the symptoms in the victim could be easily misconstrued to that of a heart attack.
The Devil in Me (Part 10: The Final Deal)
Chandrakant called up one last time in his life. This time I decided to meet him and finish the unfinished business. I was now fighting to stay calm; Minal was beginning to see the stress taking its toll on me. My finances were stretched and many questions were being asked by the police about my finances. I had forked into my savings to pay Chandrakant, hoping that the gamble would pay off eventually.
However, he had gradually become a menace with his unbridled greed and avarice. It was time to get rid of him for good. I agreed to meet Chandrakant and told him that I would make a final payment to him.
The pay-off would be the last and in return, he was to leave Mumbai forever since he was the only link to this. We agreed to meet at the outskirts of Pune. It was 12 a.m. that day and we decided to meet at the roadside dhaba of national highway 142. I didn’t want to get out and wanted food served inside the car. I didn’t want too many people to see my face.
I drove my SUV and waited for nearly 20 minutes before a helmeted driver on new blue Kawasaki bike parked next to my vehicle. It was Chandrakant and his motorcycle was his new sign of new-found opulence. This was dangerous as it would attract unwelcome attention. It was now becoming imperative for me to act.
He sat in the front seat and began to drink the imported whiskey bottle that he had demanded from me. As he began to drink, his tongue began to loosen up. He began laughing loudly and cracking filthy jokes. He turned around to face the waiter to order another round of chicken tikka. This was my chance and I interchanged the bottle with similar whiskey bottle mixed with four spoons of anti-freeze.
He was too drunk to see the change in the colour or taste of the whiskey. The anti-freeze was green and tasted sweet. I had mixed aerated drink in his glass cup. He gulped it all up. I had parked in the dark corner of the shop so there would be very little chance of anyone noticing my face. Money exchanged hands. I gave him an airline ticket for Delhi that had been booked through an agent.
Three hours later, I am told that the poison began to take effect. He appeared drunk as he staggered towards his one-room shack, where he began to vomit. Neighbours took no notice, since this was usual condition of Chandrakant, after a heavy round of booze.
Three days later, neighbours broke open the door after a foul smell started emanating from his room. They found him slumped on the floor. His body had begun to decompose. The police were called in and they began to investigate.
However, he had gradually become a menace with his unbridled greed and avarice. It was time to get rid of him for good. I agreed to meet Chandrakant and told him that I would make a final payment to him.
The pay-off would be the last and in return, he was to leave Mumbai forever since he was the only link to this. We agreed to meet at the outskirts of Pune. It was 12 a.m. that day and we decided to meet at the roadside dhaba of national highway 142. I didn’t want to get out and wanted food served inside the car. I didn’t want too many people to see my face.
I drove my SUV and waited for nearly 20 minutes before a helmeted driver on new blue Kawasaki bike parked next to my vehicle. It was Chandrakant and his motorcycle was his new sign of new-found opulence. This was dangerous as it would attract unwelcome attention. It was now becoming imperative for me to act.
He sat in the front seat and began to drink the imported whiskey bottle that he had demanded from me. As he began to drink, his tongue began to loosen up. He began laughing loudly and cracking filthy jokes. He turned around to face the waiter to order another round of chicken tikka. This was my chance and I interchanged the bottle with similar whiskey bottle mixed with four spoons of anti-freeze.
He was too drunk to see the change in the colour or taste of the whiskey. The anti-freeze was green and tasted sweet. I had mixed aerated drink in his glass cup. He gulped it all up. I had parked in the dark corner of the shop so there would be very little chance of anyone noticing my face. Money exchanged hands. I gave him an airline ticket for Delhi that had been booked through an agent.
Three hours later, I am told that the poison began to take effect. He appeared drunk as he staggered towards his one-room shack, where he began to vomit. Neighbours took no notice, since this was usual condition of Chandrakant, after a heavy round of booze.
Three days later, neighbours broke open the door after a foul smell started emanating from his room. They found him slumped on the floor. His body had begun to decompose. The police were called in and they began to investigate.
The Devil in Me (Part 10: Curtains)
I had underestimated Chandrakant. Things began to unravel too fast for me to think. I had always perceived him as a drunk and an opportunistic thief. But his death only accelerated my downfall. The man had taped almost all the telephonic conversations between us. He kept a detailed account of every penny he had received from me. This was his way to ensuring that I went down if things went wrong for him. Police found a heap of evidence in his one-room apartment.
The tapes and a SIM card from his phone were sent to Inspector Apte. The phone records from the SIM card were traced to my cell phone. They also found that the call to the guest house on that day was from the SIM card recovered from Chandrakant’s house.
They also found books on dog training a few bundles of currency notes that had been withdrawn from my account. The numbers of the currency bundle were in series and worst of all, when dusted; it had my fingerprints on them.
The money now lay in the dead man’s house. The last nail in the coffin was the pliers that had been used to cut the dog chain. The doll and the sonic whistle were part of the evidence recovered.
The medical examiner’s report on Chandrakant’s case showed a high amount of Oxalic acid, the body’s metabolic by-product of ethylene glycol in the anti-freeze. Though he was initially thought to have died of heat attack, the new found evidence of suspected foul play, prompted police to reopen the case and a thorough examination brought to the conclusion that it had been a case of poisoning.
With mounting evidence, the judge served a search warrant of the two-room apartment that I had once occupied and planned for the task. It was too late for me by the time the police could not find the bottle of foreign liquor with antifreeze in it. I had destroyed it. But I had forgotten that I had used my credit card to purchase the anti-freeze from a website. They had tracked me right to my door.
As days went by Mr Sharma and Aditi began to realise the truth. I last spoke to her on my phone, two days before the police began to encircle my house. She was crying, and said she hated me more than anyone else. And, that meeting me had been the biggest mistake of her life.
Mr. Sharma disowned me publicly, and in a swift move, he and the rest of the board, removed me from the board of directors. This move came as his stock prices began to plummet after the news began to trickle in of my involvement in the double murders.
I was served a quit notice, and soon the apartment, the car and everything I had dreamt of began to evaporate. Minal was gone and now I was facing the prospect of a long term jail sentence. I knew I didn’t have the influence or the money for a long-drawn court battle. The money had gone dry.
As my phone began to ring, I knew that it was Inspector Apte. He was cajoling me to give up. I had bolted the main iron-gate and barricaded the door of my bedroom.
I opened the large window, looked down at the curious crowd below looking at me. As I stepped over the ledge calmly I felt the wind rushed towards me. I closed my eyes for the last time.
The tapes and a SIM card from his phone were sent to Inspector Apte. The phone records from the SIM card were traced to my cell phone. They also found that the call to the guest house on that day was from the SIM card recovered from Chandrakant’s house.
They also found books on dog training a few bundles of currency notes that had been withdrawn from my account. The numbers of the currency bundle were in series and worst of all, when dusted; it had my fingerprints on them.
The money now lay in the dead man’s house. The last nail in the coffin was the pliers that had been used to cut the dog chain. The doll and the sonic whistle were part of the evidence recovered.
The medical examiner’s report on Chandrakant’s case showed a high amount of Oxalic acid, the body’s metabolic by-product of ethylene glycol in the anti-freeze. Though he was initially thought to have died of heat attack, the new found evidence of suspected foul play, prompted police to reopen the case and a thorough examination brought to the conclusion that it had been a case of poisoning.
With mounting evidence, the judge served a search warrant of the two-room apartment that I had once occupied and planned for the task. It was too late for me by the time the police could not find the bottle of foreign liquor with antifreeze in it. I had destroyed it. But I had forgotten that I had used my credit card to purchase the anti-freeze from a website. They had tracked me right to my door.
As days went by Mr Sharma and Aditi began to realise the truth. I last spoke to her on my phone, two days before the police began to encircle my house. She was crying, and said she hated me more than anyone else. And, that meeting me had been the biggest mistake of her life.
Mr. Sharma disowned me publicly, and in a swift move, he and the rest of the board, removed me from the board of directors. This move came as his stock prices began to plummet after the news began to trickle in of my involvement in the double murders.
I was served a quit notice, and soon the apartment, the car and everything I had dreamt of began to evaporate. Minal was gone and now I was facing the prospect of a long term jail sentence. I knew I didn’t have the influence or the money for a long-drawn court battle. The money had gone dry.
As my phone began to ring, I knew that it was Inspector Apte. He was cajoling me to give up. I had bolted the main iron-gate and barricaded the door of my bedroom.
I opened the large window, looked down at the curious crowd below looking at me. As I stepped over the ledge calmly I felt the wind rushed towards me. I closed my eyes for the last time.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The 'Chak De' concept
Every since this movie has set cash registers ringing at the box office, every little (and large) corporations and businesses have co-opted this film title for every effort of theirs.
Take for instance, the sloppily organized get-together event called 'Chake De .... 2008' by an organization where my wife works. The invitation card promised games, food, dinner, etc.. But all that it finally gave after four hours was mild irritation of the bowels and angst over the type of people you occasionally come across in Chennai.
We reached the venue, The Guindy Race Course, by scooter. Thankfully, we didn't take the bus that was supposed to take us there from the office. The function started off nearly 40 minutes late after the employees began arriving in droves in buses hired by the organization. We waited for my wife's two acquaintances and then entered the venue. But the first thing that struck me with people there was that - most had come there only for the food and cared little for anyone for anything.
Most didn't seem to even a pretence of etiquette at the food stall as well as while watching the performances that were held to enthrall the audience. What irked us the most were three extremely obese women who shamelessly flaunted their girth.
As people forgot the system of queue and began rushing at the food stall, I watched in wonderment as these three women steamrolled past other men, children, and women at the food stall.
Using the mighty girt to their magnificent benefit, they shoved aside men, women and material aside with gusto. Using every inch of their body as battering rams, they effectively ploughed through mass of hands and bodies and continued to hog plate after plate until their large appetite was satiated. We watched in amazement, plates of pani puri, behl puri and other food items seemed to be consumed in no time.
Once these three Ms Sunshines finished their food hunt, off they went to sit in between the rows of chairs and chattered loud and merrily. We watched in amusement as the award ceremony stretched for nearly two hours with names being called and the top management honchos continued congratulating themselves and winning the award in turns.
Once this tom-foolery concluded, the only piece of interesting item was the mimicry piece by Badva Gopal. Once done there was Housie-Housie which stretched for nearly an hour. Finally, dinner was announced at 10 pm. But by the time we were at the counter, people had begun to crowd around the plates. The general mayhem seemed a repeat of the scene near the food stall.
Both of us had sip of soup which tasted like sour orange syrup and appeared like water from the dish washer. Disgusted and fuming, we left the venue and had a spartan dinner at Sarvana Bhavan in T.Nagar.
Never again we promised, shall we ever waste time on corporate-sponsored family get-together.
Take for instance, the sloppily organized get-together event called 'Chake De .... 2008' by an organization where my wife works. The invitation card promised games, food, dinner, etc.. But all that it finally gave after four hours was mild irritation of the bowels and angst over the type of people you occasionally come across in Chennai.
We reached the venue, The Guindy Race Course, by scooter. Thankfully, we didn't take the bus that was supposed to take us there from the office. The function started off nearly 40 minutes late after the employees began arriving in droves in buses hired by the organization. We waited for my wife's two acquaintances and then entered the venue. But the first thing that struck me with people there was that - most had come there only for the food and cared little for anyone for anything.
Most didn't seem to even a pretence of etiquette at the food stall as well as while watching the performances that were held to enthrall the audience. What irked us the most were three extremely obese women who shamelessly flaunted their girth.
As people forgot the system of queue and began rushing at the food stall, I watched in wonderment as these three women steamrolled past other men, children, and women at the food stall.
Using the mighty girt to their magnificent benefit, they shoved aside men, women and material aside with gusto. Using every inch of their body as battering rams, they effectively ploughed through mass of hands and bodies and continued to hog plate after plate until their large appetite was satiated. We watched in amazement, plates of pani puri, behl puri and other food items seemed to be consumed in no time.
Once these three Ms Sunshines finished their food hunt, off they went to sit in between the rows of chairs and chattered loud and merrily. We watched in amusement as the award ceremony stretched for nearly two hours with names being called and the top management honchos continued congratulating themselves and winning the award in turns.
Once this tom-foolery concluded, the only piece of interesting item was the mimicry piece by Badva Gopal. Once done there was Housie-Housie which stretched for nearly an hour. Finally, dinner was announced at 10 pm. But by the time we were at the counter, people had begun to crowd around the plates. The general mayhem seemed a repeat of the scene near the food stall.
Both of us had sip of soup which tasted like sour orange syrup and appeared like water from the dish washer. Disgusted and fuming, we left the venue and had a spartan dinner at Sarvana Bhavan in T.Nagar.
Never again we promised, shall we ever waste time on corporate-sponsored family get-together.
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