The Night It Rained in Mumbai 3

They could come down any moment. I clutched the auto rickshaw driver’s shoulder. I was panicking. At this instant my only hopes rested on the pan chewing thug of a rickshawala.

"Listen sir", I said, desperation evident in my quaking voice. "I have been kidnapped… I am from Pune. I need to get to the nearest police station. There are bad people after me. I have to escape. Please…Please…You are the only one who can help me…..Please". With that, I broke down.

The auto driver stood blankly for a moment, staring at me, peering into my eyes for any signs of foulplay. Apparently he saw none. He took one look at the building before him and said…"Get in.." I was never ever more thankful to an individual. He had understood my predicament and despite there being circumstantial evidence that even his life could be jeopardized by his choice, he had chosen to help me. I was grateful for his mercy.

"Whats your name?" I asked after we had driven down the road for a few minutes.

"Ganshaam..". He replied. I could see he was feverishly glancing at his side mirror to see if anybody was following. But I doubted anybody could catch up with us. Ganshaam was Evil Kneivel reincarnated. I had looked back a couple of times to check for any signs of my attackers but had been reassured time and again that we had lost them.

"Thank you Ganshaam", I said, finally leaning back and beginning to breathe normally.

"Thank me later….After we get to the police chowkey…."

"How far is it from here?"

"10-15 min more…"

"What time is it?"

"2:30". He said hardly glancing at his watch.

He did not utter a single word after that. Neither did I. It seemed silence was helping us bond much faster than words. I took the time to check on myself. I ran my fingers over my forehead. The bleeding had stopped. But my head still hurt. There was that feverish feeling again. I felt like I was burning up. I again forced myself to relax. Involuntarily I checked my pockets. It was an age old habit instigated by an experience that I had had when I was in a rick, and halfway to my destination realized that I did not have any cash on me. How I escaped out of that is a completely different and funnier story. Today was no different from that day though. My purse was missing. But I doubted Ganshaam would sue me on that note on this dreadful night. But I found something else in my pocket - a peice of paper...infact two. Both of them were drenched to the point that I had to use extreme caution while unfolding them so as to not tear them apart. The ink was smudged. All I could figure in the light cast by the bulb above the meter was that one was a receipt of some kind....and the other was a hastily torn paper that had a number scribbled on it - 9823734197. That was funny....I did not remember shoving these papers in my pocket. Then I smiled grimly. In one rainy night I had gone from being in the comfort of my 2 bedroom hall kitchen flat in Pune to a smelly dingy apartment in Mumbai, probably being operated as the headquarters of some unearthly crime syndicate, and here I was worrying about some bits of paper that had 'magically' turned up in my pocket. I thought of throwing them away.....thought better....and neatly folded them up and put them back where they belonged. I again leaned my head back on the leather seat. The midnight tirade was starting to take its toll on me. Starting....??? I wondered sarcastically....For now I seemed safe....Now if I could just reach the police station. Relax. I again commanded myself like I used to during my board exams. Relax. Maybe if I shut my eyes for a few minutes…..

Why is this guy speeding so much? Whats wrong with him? Hey…..I called…Slow down…..I reached over the driver’s seat to tap him on the shoulder. The expressway whizzed by in a blur. It was no use. The driver did not seem to be in a mood to heed my plea. I gave up….I looked around the seat to find my playstation….Playstation? I was in a rick wasn’t I. No I am in a car. I am speeding at about 120 km/hr. Slow down you asshole….I am shouting now……The driver looks back…..Oh Fuck… He doesnt have any eyes..…Whats happening…..Help…….I am trying to open the doors to the car…..Look out….I cry….But its too late….I find myself being thrown into the windshield, on to the bonnet…. A head-on collision…the kind you see in the freaking movies…..I am lying on the road….Somewhere a horn blares…..I turn my head to see the tyres of a massive oil tanker inches away from my face….

"Saab?...Saab?" I heard Ganshaam shouting in the distance. I open my eyes to see Ganshaam’s concerned face. It was a dream…no..no…it was a nightmare….The same nightmare from which I had woken up to about an hour ago. I straightened myself to a sitting position. Ganshaam was still riding the rickshaw…he was trying to balance out the act of waking me up and keeping the vehicle on the road at the same time. I shook my head to clear out the bits and pieces of the dream that were still clinging on to my mind.

"Its just a dream…" I said when Ganshaam still looked concerned. "It’s a dream that I have often…. I wish this would turn out to be one too…"

"Its ok saab…." Ganshaam comforted. "We are almost there…"

The rain had increased three fold… Cats and dogs would be like a blasphemy to describe it. This was dragons and….dinosaurs. The distant sound of a motor cut through my thoughts…it was getting closer…..It seemed Ganshaam had heard it too cos he grew stiff all of a sudden staring fixedly at the side mirror to his left…Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear….the mirror said. And I wished to God it was wrong because if it was right then right behind us was a bike and the rider was none other than the scar faced man I had seen guarding the apartment door! The sudden flash of lightning helped me identify his salient features. Sitting pillion was another guy….a face that I did not recognize. He seemed to be motioning threateningly to pull over the rickshaw. My sudden dream and commotion had coaxed Ganshaam to slow down. That is how they had caught up with us. I looked at Ganshaam. My fate rested in his hands now….He could either pull the rickshaw over and hand me over to these people or he could race towards the police station like there was no tomorrow. Ganshaam seemed to understand the plight that I was in yet again. I almost hugged the guy when he wrung the accelerator mercilessly and blasted into the night. The chase was on.

For a brief moment I wondered if Ganshaam was an undercover RAW agent hell bent on saving my life. The bike was good but Ganshaam was better. Everytime the bike tried to overtake….Ganshaam veered the rick right before them. Tyres squealed as they desperately tried to cling on to the slippery road. With one eye on the road ahead and the other eye keeping track of the bike’s headlight, Ganshaam grimly rode through the night, his rickshaw slashing the curtain of rain like a dagger. The rickshaw’s wiper was not as effective as it was supposed to be and we could hardly see what lay ahead. But I was guessing Ganshaam knew this road like the back of his hand. His confidence was unnerving. For the first time that night, I felt safe. The bastards didn’t stand a chance.

"There.." Ganshaam cried out. In the distance I could see a dim light. The police chowkey. We had almost made it. Suddenly there was a bang on the back of the rickshaw. Ganshaam looked back… a shadow of fear passing his face. I froze too. Were they shooting at us? Why wouldn’t they? If we reached the cops the game would be over. Another bang. No. Not gunshots. I stuck my head out and turned behind. The pillion rider was shouting and wielding the scar-face’s club.

"Ganshaam hurry…" I cried. I knew if Ganshaam allowed them to pull alongside they could hit us with the club and knock us off track. Ganshaam too seemed to assess the situation and increased the speed. The rickshaw’s engine whined in protest.

"Aaaaaaarrggggghhhhhhhhh…." Ganshaam screamed. Before I could turn around to see what had happened the rickshaw flew off the road flinging me on to the driver seat. The next thing I knew I was falling off the rickshaw while it somersaulted over my body to crash into the trees lining the road. I fell hard on my shoulder and rolled down the hill that was banking the road….. I kept rolling until I hit the bottom.

An unearthly silence filled the air. I felt dazed. Out of the corner of the eye I saw the bike’s headlight. I could see shadows moving along the edge of the road on top of the small hill down which I had rolled. The shadows were moving to the rickshaw or what was left of it…..Ganshaam.... I stifled a sob. They had not seen me…not yet….But poor Ganshaam… There is nothing you can do about it now, I convinced myself. You coward, I retorted, you are just saying that because you are scared to go up there. No. Going to save Ganshaam will neither help him…nor you. I crawled behind a bush and watched as the shadows reached the rick and started rummaging through the wreck. They would start searching the area soon.

I stood up gingerly holding my shoulder….I had a bad feeling that it was dislocated. I looked around. Shit….I couldn’t even see two steps ahead of me…..pitch dark….and the rain wasn’t helping either. I wiped the rain off my face and peered into the Godforsaken night. I could make out a dim light in the distance. Nursing my shoulder I stealthily crept towards it risking one last look behind. My assailants had realized that I had escaped the wreck and started to comb the hillside. Fortunately they did not have any lights other than what I was guessing was that of their cellphones. And you don’t even have that I reminded myself smiling grimly. In the land of the blind……I thought briefly. A grumbling thunder in the distance brought me back to my current scenario. The light. I looked ahead. Now that my eyes had gotten adjusted to the bleary surroundings I noticed that it wasn’t that far away. The police station lay up the hill and on the other side of the road. The same hill which was swarming with scar-face and Lord knows who else. But could there be a one in a million chance that I could climb up the hill unnoticed and run across the road to the police station before they could realize what had happened? I thought about it…..Yes. You could. My mind counterattacked itself. If you were a super spy in a high octane action movie. Back to the light….I sighed. I stealthily started to creep towards it. It was when I heard shouting that I realized the futility of my discretion. They were coming downhill…. I took a deep breath and made a dash for it…. My body screamed at the sudden murder of inertia. It felt as if each and every muscle on my legs were on fire, the ligaments ripping apart and my shoulder vengefully made me stifle a moan that, I feared if, escaped out of my throat would put a howling dog to shame.
I realized I had absolutely no idea where I was running to. Well turn around and run back into the hungry arms of your predators then, my sarcasm retorted. The rain drops were unmerciful too….each felt like needles pricking on my already ravaged body. After what seemed like ages the light grew closer and closer until I could make out a signboard with a red cross on it. Next to it stood a dingy shop with half its shutter down. By the looks of it, it seemed like a rundown medical store… Gasping for breath I almost collapsed into the shop. I looked over the shop counter. Beyond it stood the pathetic excuse for a medical store. The shelves had more cobwebs on them than medicines. A single light bulb clung desperately to its holder as if to keep itself from falling into the carton cluttered, newspaper strewn floor. In the middle of all this stood an ornamental stool (which reminded me of a statue in the Mortal Kombat movie). I could see the entire interior and still found no trace of a human being in there. I banged on the counter a couple of times and shouted "Help! Is anybody there…."
I almost did a double-take and clutched my heart when suddenly, out of nowhere a banyan-dhoti clad figure popped out from underneath the counter like a jack-in-the-box. He gave me a menacing look which obviously meant that he was having a sound sleep before I had brutally jolted him back to reality. But the menace gradually turned to surprise then fear as he took in my condition.
"What do you want?" he asked roughly peering behind me to check if I had brought some trouble with me.
I instinctively glanced over my shoulder. It seemed as if I my escape had gone unnoticed.
"I need to make a phone call." I said.
"STD or local?"
"What?" I looked increduosly at him. I glared at him for a second. "STD" I replied.
"Not working.." he smirked nonchalantly.
I would have wrung the bastard’s neck if he wasn’t the only sign of human life on this ‘fear’ street.
"Please…" I pleaded instead. "I am in trouble.."
As soon as I said that he again looked behind me.
"Inside…" he hitched his thumb to the back of the shop. He opened up the small door under the counter and let me in. He guided me to a small closet at the back of the shop. On a shelf there was a phone that looked like it had survived Quit India Movement.
"Thank you.." I nodded gratefully at him. He looked at me a tad bit too slyly and walked back to the counter. He seemed suspicious. One moment he was rude and the next he was willing to help. I shook my head. No time for guesswork.
I grabbed the receiver and dialed my home number.
The operator’s voice slashed through my head like a knife. "This telephone number does not exist…."
What the…? Strange…. Had I forgotten my home number? I dialed again.
"This telephone.." I banged the receiver back on the cradle. Shit.
Wait. Think reasonably….It may be a technical snag….Call any other number. One part of me wished to call the cops. But I knew it would be too late before they got here. So instead I thought of at least informing my family. They would be worried sick right now. The neighbors – the Shukla’s….. What was their number again? 2767-. It took me a moment to remember.
Yes. I dialed Shukla uncle’s number. I crossed my fingers. Yes! The phone was ringing…..
"Heellooo" a groggy voice answered the line.
"Hello Shukla uncle….. Its me….Anil…"
There was a pause on the other end. A low groan and then
"Who Anil? Do you know the time…??"
"Shukla uncle….its me Anil Andrews…" I didn’t wait for any reply this time. "Listen…just inform dad n mom that I am in Mumbai….I don’t know how I got here uncle…but I need help….I am…"
"Anil??" the voice on the other end interrupted. It was much clearer now. "Anil beta….Its been…"
The line went dead. Fuck!! I cried again banging the receiver.
I took it up and dialed the number again. The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
Shit. Their line must’ve gone dead. I glanced back at the shop front to see if the shop keeper was glancing. To my surprise he wasn’t there. Had he left the shop unmanned? Screw that. My mind retorted….. What next? Wait a minute…. The number inside my pocket……I took out the crumpled piece of paper and spread it. This was my last hope. 9823734197. As I was dialing the digits I could here muffled muttering outside the shop.
I pressed the receiver to my ear silently praying that whosoever this number belonged to would pick up the phone…soon. I glanced at the front of the shop. I could see the shop keeper now. He was standing at the corner outside his shop, feverishly glancing at me. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Wait. He was talking to someone. Someone in the shadows…..
Suddenly the line connected. And I heard a ring on the other end.
C’mmon. Pick up. Pick up. I was now holding the receiver and staring at the front of the shop.
"Hello…" A voice answered.
I was about to respond when the ‘someone’ the shopkeeper was talking to stepped out of the shadows. Fear struck me like lightning tearing the sky apart. My eyes widened as in the dim light cast by the bulb I could make out scar- face walk towards the shop.
"Hello?" the voice repeated. I was too dumbstruck to say anything. I cowered behind in the shadows of the closet still holding the receiver to my ear. It was then that I noticed.
"Who are you?" This time I sensed the coldness in the voice. Scar face approached the counter holding his cell phone to his ears.
"Who is this?" he shouted into the phone only for his words to echo in my ear through the rusty old receiver…… Paralyzed by fear I realized with dread….Oh God!!…..It was his number that I had dialed!!!