Even as he turned on the ignition, Raghuram’s wife pleaded to him one last time. Raghuram had shamelessly sneezed twice just when he stepped outside his house and he would not even agree to repent it by having some curd. They say desires are at the root of all sins. They are of course wrong. Certain sins like letting out a careless sneeze while leaving home or having your path crossed by a cat, arise from uncontrollable factors such as involuntarily coordinated neural and muscular response to the irritation of the upper respiratory system (sneeze) or release of a specific amount of serotonin (decision making chemical) in cat’s brain. Yet these sins are far from harmless. In fact, unlike other more well known sins like mass murder or unabated plunder of country resources, these apparently innocuous sins receive immediate attention from almighty. So much so that it is widely believed that the sinners are punished that very day before the sinner reaches the very destination he had set out for.
Luckily there are ways to make up to God and seek redemption. For example, if a cat has crossed your path, there is a very elegant solution for it. Just let someone else take that path first and suffer. God absolutely loves that and will look into it personally that your sins are wiped off completely and pasted on the naïve passerby. An even simpler solution is in place for the sin of sneezing, one that totally absolves you of the crime and not merely passes it on to someone else; just have curd- even a spoonful is enough. If there is no curd, a glass of water has often been found to be a sufficient replacement. Easy, isn’t it?
So when Raghuram refused to bestow even this small token of redemption to the powers above, his wife was naturally at unease. Especially so because Raghuram was currently dealing with an unnecessary life threat from another local mafia just because Raghuram had their head honcho killed though a hired gun. And it wasn’t Raghuram’s fault even. He had barely managed to secure a fifth of the market share in Ghaziabad Illegal Loan Repayment Enforcement business when a group of young and ambitious hoodlums, barely in business for a year, decided that it was time for them to scale up and started poaching men from Raghuram’s ageing but able army.
Raghuram despised this and you can’t call it unjustified when he thus spoke to his men, “My men! The youth of our nation have no respect these days. We started our little venture years ago under the auspicious umbrella of Late. Sreeram Bhujbal Jee Sa’ab and we worked with him as a united force until his demise. We followed good ethics and greed didn’t touch us till the day he died. We did have an internal rearrangement of power after his death and as you know the man who wields the stick gets the buffalo. So I got the buffalo, bulls rather, because that’s what you all are- bulls. And today this new army of thugs, these calves, these cattle, this set of castrated oxen, they are trying to match us? We have been in this business for more number of years than these guys have hair on their moustaches. Now they dream of beating us at our own game?” And then he pulled out his pistol which he always carried in a holster hidden under his khadi kelvar and shouted “I am in no mood to give them the respect of negotiation even. Their leader dies and that’s my verdict. Come forward my brave bulls. Who will do the honors?” No one came forward. He asked again, “Who amongst you brave souls yearns most to make your commander proud with the blood of those imbeciles?” Again no one. “No one?” No one!
Finally the Appa gang from Noida was asked to eliminate the captain of the Youth Gang at the sum of two lakh rupees and it was duly done.
Three days later, one old and respected member of Raghuram’s firm was taken away from his loved and hated ones in act of vengeance by two gun shots around the auricular area. This spread panic among the active members of the gang and prepared the stage for another speech. “My men, the war has now come to us. For long we have rested on our past laurels. Gone are the days when the name ‘Raghuram bhai’ was enough to cause dreadful diarrhea among armies of men. We haven’t bared our fangs for some time now but our poison is still as toxic. You are all snakes.. vipers.. cobras.. they will be foaming at their mouths before they know what bit them. Prepare for battle. We didn’t choose it. But we will fight whoever that comes. From tomorrow two of you, Khalbeer Singh and Ranawat, must always be by my side so that we are ready for surprise attacks.”
Expectedly, the chosen two caught diarrhea on the very next morning and Raghuram had to venture out alone. The unfortunate sneeze had further complicated the matter. Now Raghuram was no fool and he knew that yielding to his wife’s request was a show of weakness. He feared nothing and no one. So despite repeated requests he simply gave a stern look to his wife to stop harassing him and drove away.
He would have driven for less than a mile when he spotted a Mother Dairy store. He stopped over and asked for curd. “No curd left sir. Want lassi?” Raghuram took it as an ominous sign but reasoned that lassi must have all the cleansing and purging effects of curd. He accepted the offer and gulped the lassi down quickly. He felt a little anxious now though and looked around to see if anyone was following him while he walked to his car. Not seeing the pothole, he almost fell but soon regained balance and sat inside.
“A standing car is easiest to aim at”. With his anxiety growing at the thought he quickly started the car. It was then that he noticed something in his right rear view mirror. Two men in helmets had come to a sudden halt right behind him and were starting to get down.
Raghuram’s hand started to shake and for a moment he sat paralyzed with a sudden burst of fear. Then came the adrenalin rush and he didn’t hesitate any further. He put his weight on the gas pedal and skidded away with a jerk. For two minutes he drove like a mad man taking random turns to confuse anyone who may follow. It took a couple of minutes before he could find the courage to look at the rear view again. Sure enough there were no bikes in sight. He let out a sigh of relief and slowly his breath dropped to normal. A moment’s delay could have been fatal. His car was still speeding away now but he had come on to the main city road which was relatively free of traffic at the time.
There were times when running a simple business was not about guns and bullets. Late Sreeram Bhujbal Jee Sa’ab had built his business of money recovery though the weight of his mace and size of his moustaches. The youth had spoilt the whole model. The entry of guns was appreciated by Raghuram himself at first. Carrying it around was a lot easier on his ageing muscles. Also the recovery process itself became a lot faster. You don’t mess with the bearer of a gun. Mace bearers can still face significant resistance especially in these times when the other party may also be an owner of this modern weapon. Business grew. And then came the downside. Anyone with a tiny gun and abundant gut could now become a threat for experienced old timers such as him. Raghuram mused over all this and excused himself for getting so shaken up by the slightest hint of an attack. After all it was a matter of life and death. “Maybe I shouldn’t have gone for the kill. Sometimes I should just keep my speeches a little tempered,” he admitted.
Just then, he noticed a motorcycle again. It was still at some distance behind him but it was definitely the same bike. He recognized the helmet clad “faces” instantly. Same black metal, same dark shades covering the front. Black Death lurched behind him. He started shaking again. Adrenalin rush is a tricky affair. You can only use it once in a single chase sequence. Raghuram had jumped the gun already and now he dreaded facing another. He felt exhausted and his limbs felt heavy. He found it hard to steer the car and simply drove straight. His heart seemed to have collapsed already and only organs that seemed to be working now were his sweat glands. The bike grew larger in his mirror.
With much effort, he felt his pockets for his mobile with some hope of a divine rescue act. No mobile was to be found. “But how can that be!” He was pretty sure he had picked it up on his way out of home with his wife and the curd on his tail. “Maybe it fell out at the dairy shop when I slipped!” he felt his head reeling with the thought “Destiny it is then. It all makes sense. For a spoon of curd, the legend falls.”
THE LEGEND! Was it not him who used to wrestle three at one time- boys at least a decade younger than him? He was twenty then and he had felt that he must go to the city where someone could use him for what he was born for-TERROR! With immense strength he had managed to become the number one masseuse for Late. Sreeram Bhujbal Jee Sa’ab. Slowly he had risen to become his closest confidant. It had taken him three weeks of continuous canvassing and two personal favors from Appa gang after Bhujbal Sa’ab’s demise before he was elected unchallenged for the top job at Bhujbal’s. And now this petty threat had blown all that to wind and reduced him to mere chicken awaiting his turn. NO!!
Raghuram breathed deeply with determination. As if someone had shoved in some more coal in a dying engine, his heart pumped a gush of blood to his numb limbs. His right arm reached for his gun, pulled it out and he kept it on his lap- ready to shoot. “You want my blood. Be ready to shed yours too.” He was on stage again with himself as audience. The bike was no further than thirty feet away. “A true hero is not one who is never scared. He is one who has the courage to face his fears.” He could hear the sound of the bike now. “For long I stayed in this treacherous business but never got my hands dirty- never killed another soul. But now that it’s time, my hands won’t shake- no they won’t. My hands! You won’t shake right, will you?” The hands didn’t answer but the bike was now a second away from the car’s rear.
Raghuram held his gun with his right hand and waited. A sudden heaviness was about to grip him again but he fought it away. The bike was now right beside his window. The angle of death sitting on the back seat of the bike reached for his pocket and was about to pull out something black and shiny when Raghuram also brought his gun out with a jerk. Before the bikers could do anything, Raghuram had his gun aimed at the rider because he was nearer. With a squeaking and wavering voice he begged, half to god and half to his assassins, “Oh God! Please save me!” and pulled the trigger. Alas! The trigger was too tight for his failing strength.
Seeing the gun come out the window though, the rider got startled and pulled on his front breaks as hard as he could. The bike went out of control and skidded loudly towards the pavement hitting a pole and falling with a loud rattle. A truck that was right behind could not stop in time and went right over this mess as bones and steel cracked together. And then silence.
Raghuram nearly fainted before he could bring his car to a halt. He was too scared to do anything. Unsure of what to do, he did what he could do best; went on the same way, and after a mile or so, he took another way home.
By the time he got home, he had regained a lot of himself and his head was already full of yarns and yarns of brave tales of his brave self. It was the only moment of his entire life when even his own inner self had relented to grant him some semblance of courage. So the kind of happiness and pride he felt now was unparalleled and he wished to stand on top of Qutub Minar and shout it out. Only that few could hear it from up there and he might also get into trouble on two counts; Qutub Minar is not open for public and causing accidents is yet to be afforded legal status.
Anyways, he got home and rang the bell with an arsenal of self-congratulatory words queued up right behind his lips. All that was required for the lips to be parted was the sight of his first listener-his wife. But the door opened with an expected sight which kept his lips from parting. His wife was crying uncontrollably.
As soon as she saw him, her eyes grew wide and all she could say was “You are alive?”
“Yes, what happened, how do you kn..?”
She was panting and hugged him tight. “I got a call from your cell number. He asked me to come over. It was police. He said that the owner of this phone has been run over by a truck and I had to come over to identify. I was waiting for Chowdhary to come and take me there. But you came. Thank god, you are alright. You are alive. YOU ARE ALIVE.. Thank god. Oh god…..”
She was shouting away happily like a mad woman while Raghuram was gulping down the words lined up behind his lips and putting two plus two together.
