As I stand under the grey awning, panting from exertion, the stolen mobile rings. The caller ID says 'Private number'.

I am not sure what to do. Mechanically I press the green 'talk' button.

'Hello, Brijesh? I am going to give you the pick-up location. Are you listening?'

It is a harsh, guttural voice. A voice with authority. A voice which cannot be ignored. Which has to be answered.

'Yes,' I say in an equally guttural voice. A monosyllabic answer which reveals nothing about the person answering.

'Go to the alley next to Goenka Public School on Ramoji Road. The maal has been left in a black briefcase inside the municipal dustbin. Collect it within the next half-hour. OK?'

'Haan,' I say again.

'Good. We shall talk again after your pick-up. Bye.'

Maal. The word keeps ringing inside my brain like an alarm clock. Maal can mean any number of things. Literally, it means 'goods'. In old Hindi films, gangsters used to refer to contraband consignments of drugs and bullion as maal which would be offloaded from ships on Mumbai's Versova Beach. A beautiful girl is also maal, but unlikely to be packed inside a briefcase. For that matter, even groceries from a provision store can be maal. There is only one thing to do. I have to find out what the maal is.

I try and get my bearings. Ramoji Road is just a five-minute drive from the petrol pump, twenty minutes on foot. I walk.

The Goenka Public School is one of the premier private schools in Mehrauli. In the morning when the children begin their classes and in the afternoon when they leave, there is a mini traffic jam in the area, caused by all the cars of the rich businessmen whose children study here. However, at eight p.m. it is completely deserted. Only a couple of guards stand in front of its imposing gates, warming their hands over a fire. I pass the school and enter the narrow alley. It is deserted. I find the dustbin almost immediately. It stands unobtrusively at the back of the alley, illuminated by the yellow glare of a lamppost. There is a dog sleeping next to it. 'Shoo!' I say and the dog pricks up his ears and slinks off into the shadows. I push open the lid of the bin to find it brimming with rubbish. I feel around with my hand but my fingers scrape only bulging plastic bags, glass bottles and metal cans. So I begin emptying the bin, removing the plastic bags and stacking them up against the side. The stench of rotting food makes me gag. The dank recesses of the dustbin yield various kinds of rubbish, even a few soiled nappies and a broken transistor. And at the very bottom is a briefcase, wrapped in a white plastic sheet. I have to lean right in to pull it out. It is an expensive black VIP attaché case with a hard top. I rip off the plastic sheet, and press the two side latches. The briefcase clicks open and my eyes are dazzled by stacks of thousand-rupee notes lining the inside. It looks like a lottery advertisement. How could I forget that cash is the ultimate maal! I hastily close the briefcase. I do not need to count the wads of notes to know that it contains more money than I have seen in my life.

I take a good look around. Not a soul appears to be in the vicinity. I put all the plastic bags back into the bin. As I am about to leave, the stolen mobile trills again. Its incessant ringing almost paralyses me. With trembling fingers I switch it off and push it deep inside the dustbin. Then, with my heart thumping madly, I pick up the briefcase and hasten towards the main road.

6 The Politician

'Hello. Is this the Spiritual Meditation Centre in Mathura?'

'Yes.'

'Is Swami Haridas there? Bhaiyyaji wants to speak to him.'

'Bhaiyyaji? Who is Bhaiyyaji?'

'Are you new there? Don't you know that there is only one leader in Uttar Pradesh who is addressed as Bhaiyyaji and that is Home Minister Jagannath Rai.'

'Oh! Home Minister Sahib? But Guruji is in the middle of his discourse. We cannot disturb him.'

'Tell him it is urgent. He never refuses Bhaiyyaji's call.'

'OK. Please hold on. I am going to the lecture hall.' (Pause.)

'I am passing the line to Guruji. Please put Home Minister Sahib on the line.' Beep. Beep. Beep.

'Namaskar Guruji. This is Jagannath.'

'Jai Shambhu! What is the big emergency, Jagannath, that you forced me to interrupt my discourse?'

'Guruji, there has been a disturbing development. I need to consult you urgently.'

'Is it about Vicky? His case is coming up for a verdict, isn't it?'

'No, Guruji. I have managed Vicky's case. I am more worried about the case against me.'

'There are so many cases against you. Which one are you referring to?'

'It is an old murder charge, dating back to 2002.'

'Whom did you kill?'

'It was Mohammad Mustaqeem, a worthless heel who had dared to challenge me. The prosecution case was very weak, based only on circumstantial evidence. Now suddenly a new witness called Pradeep Dubey has come forward, claiming that he saw me shoot Mustaqeem. The court hearing is on the fifth of next month. If the judge convicts me of murder, it could be curtains for my political career. As you know, Guruji, the Chief Minister is already biased against me.'

'According to your horoscope, all this is the result of Saturn sitting in the fifth house. The bad period will last for another four months. After that all your troubles will disappear.'

'So what should I do during this period, Guruji?'

(Laughs.) 'You know what to do. After all, the entire police force is under you. But start wearing blue sapphire. It will counteract the influence of the malefic Saturn.'

'When I talk to you, Guruji, I feel at peace. I really believe all my troubles will disappear.'

'That is what gurus are for. Can I also trouble you over a minor matter?'

'Tell me, Guruji, and I will attend to it personally.'

'I bought a small plot in Kanpur, some twenty acres. Now I am told squatters from a nearby slum have erected their huts on part of the land. I am leaving very shortly for a world tour. If they could be evicted before I leave it would-'

'Say no more, Guruji. Tomorrow I will have the bulldozers sent in.'

'Good. Give my regards to Vicky. I hope he is wearing the coral ring I got specially made for him.'

'Of course, Guruji. Till his case is resolved, he dare not disobey your advice.'

'OK, Jagannath. I have to go now. Richard Gere is here to meet me.'

'Who is he, Guruji? Some car manufacturer?'

(Laughs.) 'No, he is an American actor. Bye now. Jai Shambhu.'

'Jai Shambhu, Guruji.'

'Tell me, Mr Tripurari Sharan, are you my chief sidekick or am I your sidekick?'

'What has prompted such a strange question, Bhaiyyaji? Have I done something wrong?'

'But of course. Since eight o'clock I have been waiting patiently for your call to find out if you managed to speak to the witness, but you did not phone. So I am phoning you.'

'I was going to call you in the morning, Bhaiyyaji. I didn't want you to have a disturbed sleep.'

'So the news is bad, eh? What happened? Was Pradeep Dubey not available?'

'No, I met him. He seems to be an idealistic young man. I offered him a lot of money to keep his mouth shut, even went up to ten lakhs. But he refused to budge. Said he will definitely testify against you. My hunch is that he has been put up by Lakhan Thakur.'

'Hmm… (Long pause.) So Lakhan is playing games again. He has not heeded my warning.'

'Why should he? He fancies himself as the next Jagannath Rai. Hard to imagine that five years ago he was just a petty gangster. Ever since he won the assembly election, his star has been on the ascendant. It is said he owns half the timber factories in Saharanpur. Now his ambition is to become a minister, like you.'