Blowfish Read online

  ‘Hmmm...’ I said. I was tired. It was 1 am: three more hours to go before I went blind in one eye.

  ‘Well, let’s see. He fought in ‘71 and you are an expert in getting beaten up. He fought in ‘71, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he says he did.’

  ‘Wonderful, you are a learned man, you have seen more Japanese gangster films than anyone else in Srijan Vihar. You are like a priest and you’ve taken up arms to fight injustice. That’s playing Parshuram-Parshuram.’

  ‘Parshuram fought Bhishma?’

  ‘No but nothing wrong in letting your imagination run a little wild. I’ll be there.’

  ‘You’ll come?’

  ‘Of course, you need a party to accompany you. Chaddha and I will be there to carry your stretcher away before Harpal shoots all his balls into you,’ he laughed.

  I laughed a hollow laugh. My body riddled with pellets wasn’t funny. I asked, ‘How’s Shweta?’

  ‘She’s Ok. The baby can come anytime now,’ he paused, ‘I do want to see this duel but maybe I can’t make it. Maybe Chaddha will have to carry you on his shoulders. I can imagine him singing—He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.

  ‘You still like the Hollies, don’t you?’

  ‘Never went beyond them. Still my favourite band and you like them too. Don’t get me wrong Bhandari, I do like Elvis Costello and Minutemen and Squeeze and all the other obscure shit that you make me listen to but deep inside I still like the Hollies more.’

  ‘Elvis Costello is not obscure.’

  ‘Ok, forget it. You should train now. I think you should start shooting birds or why don’t you try to shoot Chaddha in the leg. He’ll think he’s a cripple even if he doesn’t get a scratch. A cripple in the head is way better than a real cripple. You can pitch this to Anurag Kashyap: a gangster remake of Dosti—a one-eyed coward cowboy with an air-gun and a mind-crippled psycho bird killer.’

  ‘Ok, I got to go,’ I said.

  ‘R.D. Burman played harmonica for the blind chap in Dosti. I’ll playa harp for you in the remake. That way I’ll become immortal.’

  ‘You take care of Shweta man. I will let you know whatever happens.’

  ‘Stuff your shirt with wood and thermocol, cover your face with a thick cardboard and make small holes for your eyes.’

  ‘I don’t have cardboard, thermocol or wood.’

  ‘Try newspapers then. Try something. Try two thick jackets and newspapers. You can ask Chaddha to take you to Harpal in a large tin box, just drill a hole in it and shoot him through...’

  He was laughing. I put the phone down.

  I got a message from him a minute later: Try a helmet.

  Chaddha Hires an

  Assassin

  I was in a train that had gone off the track, I was in a plane that had burst into flames, I was in a car that had smashed to smithreens. I woke up. Chaddha was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  ‘You were talking in your sleep. You were calling for your Papa,’ he said.

  I was dazed. I didn’t remember why he was in my room and why his gun was on my bedside table. I looked at the time. It was 3:30 am.

  ‘Narender had come to get you. I told him we’ll be there,’ Chaddha said. He was reading. I looked closely. It was his resume.

  He looked up, ‘Yes?’ he asked.

  ‘Why are you reading your CV?’

  ‘I tend to write all kinds of shit in it and then I forget.’

  ‘So what’s your plan?’ he asked, putting the paper away.

  ‘No plan,’ I said.

  ‘I have loaded it,’ he pointed to the gun, ‘I think it should work fine. I would have taught you how to hit targets if you hadn’t gone off to sleep. Anyway, we still have some time.’

  I sat slumped on the bed. I wanted to sleep some more. He offered his hand and pulled me out of bed.

  ‘See that,’ he pointed to the balcony.

  I shook my head. I didn’t see anything. I followed his finger. On the right stood a fat pigeon, with its head hidden under a puff of feathers.

  ‘That’s the one whose friend is dead, I mean whose friend I killed, remember?’

  ‘It’s still there?’

  ‘Yes, Bumbum sees it every day,’ Chaddha whispered, ‘It stays here. Other birds come and go but this one has made this its home.’

  ‘Oh,’ I looked at the bird. It did look sad. The cold wind blew through its plumage, it stood on one foot and shifted its weight every few seconds.

  ‘The bloody thing is playing statue. Can you practise on it? It’s a steady target.’

  ‘No,’ I shook my head.

  ‘Please. Treat this as a favour. I’m sick of knowing it’s out there looking at me, knowing I’m a murderer. It kills me. Please do it for me,’ Chaddha handed me the gun and stood beside the doorsill. I looked up, the bird was waiting.

  ‘Wait, wait,’ Chaddha whispered, he tip-toed to where I was and took the gun from me, he checked it and said, ‘Just look through the cross-hair and shoot about a centimetre above the bird’s chest. Shoot as close to it as you can. That’s about it,’ and the gun was back in my hand. This time Chaddha was behind the curtains. I could see his pensive eyes gazing at me.

  I crept up. I was clumsy. The door creaked. The bird didn’t move. I was about a meter away. I imagined it was looking at me through its beady orange eyes. I pointed the gun at it.

  ‘What are you waiting for? Pull the trigger,’ Chaddha whispered.

  The bird was breathing and yet it seemed dead. It had no fear or maybe it was numb with cold. I had a life in my hands and yet the bird had more power over me than I had over it.

  ‘Shoot!’ Chaddha said.

  I pulled the trigger. Bang. The bird disappeared. Broken feathers settled down near my trembling feet. I went to the railing and looked down, but I couldn’t see it. Chaddha was beside me. He was breathing heavily. I handed him the gun and walked back to my room. I was shivering. I put on a jacket and wore my socks and shoes and lit a cigarette. It was 3:50 am.

  Duel Royale

  Sampu came sharp at 4 am. He said Shweta forced him to go when she found out that I was in trouble. She’ll call in case something happens.

  It was a foggy, moonless night. The street lights made shadow lines of light and dark. I walked with Chaddha and Sampu in tow. I was wearing a white pyjama, a white sweater, a white jacket and an off-white monkey cap.

  ‘You look like a malnourished Colombian drug lord,’ Sampu said. He was shivering, ‘We look like your psychopathic sidekicks.’

  ‘Yes,’ Chaddha nodded, ‘This does seem like a low budget gangster film.’

  Narender opened the door. We were led in and made to wait on wooden stools. We looked around. It was an L-shaped living room. At the other end, there was a dining table with medicines, glass vials and Dispovan single use syringe packets strewn all over. The longer side had a big new sofa set. The white sequined leather upholstery didn’t look like it had been used much. The room smelt of wood shavings and polish.

  Narender had gone inside. We could hear people talking in a low tone. Puran was in there too. I could hear his gravelly voice.

  ‘What do you they think they’re doing?’ Sampu asked.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Chaddha said.

  ‘This man is sick,’ Sampu pointed to the medicines.

  ‘Yes, he had a stroke last year.’ Chaddha said.

  ‘Whisper, please,’ I said.

  ‘Ok,’ Chaddha whispered.

  ‘He will throw a Crocin syrup at you if you raise your voice. He might even run after you with a disposable syringe,’ Sampu whispered.

  ‘Quiet. I’m terrified and terribly nervous. I need to pee,’ I said.

  ‘The loo must be beside the kitchen,’ Chaddha said.

  ‘No, no, don’t go to the loo. They’ll think you’re afraid,’ Sampu pointed out.

  ‘That’s right. I’m afraid,’ I was clutching Chaddha’s helmet in my hands. He had taken it off the loft just before we left. I had tr
ied it on the way, my head barely fit in, it felt as if someone was squeezing my brain.

  My phone rang.

  ‘Who’s it?’ Chaddha asked.

  ‘Suman.’

  ‘That girl … she’s back?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  I took her call, ‘Hi Suman.’

  ‘Hey, you’re alive! That’s good news!’

  ‘It hasn’t started yet,’ I whispered, ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, but I have a helmet and a clever plan.’

  ‘What’s it?’

  ‘I’ll beg, plead and grovel.’

  ‘Hmm. Are you scared?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Good luck. Hope you don’t get hurt. And don’t forget to pull the trigger. I hate this man.’

  ‘Yeah, I will.’

  ‘Ok, message me once you kill him Bunty. Bye bye,’ she said.

  Chaddha caught my shy smile.

  ‘Lucky bastard!’ he moaned, ‘you get to play the martyr and then walk away into the sunset with this girl in your arms.’

  ‘Pushpa, I hate tears... inhe ponch dalo,’ Sampu told Chaddha.

  ‘Shut up Pandey,’ Chaddha snapped back.

  ‘Who’s this Suman?’ Sampu asked.

  I was about to tell him when Narender and Puran emerged from the bedroom. Narender was carrying a tray with three glasses of water. He placed it on the coffee table and said, ‘Colonel sa’ab is coming in sometime. He’s getting ready. Would you like to have something—chai, biscuit?’

  Sampu pounced at the offer. ‘Chai please.’

  Narender was stumped. He looked at Puran for guidance. Puran looked back at him admonishingly and said to us, ‘No milk in the house.’

  ‘Chai patti bhi nahin hai,’ added Narender.

  Sampu said, ‘Ok, no problem. We’ll wait.’

  We fidgeted in our seats for a while. Then I got up and asked if I could use the loo.

  They grinned and pointed to the first room on the right. Harpal must have been in the master bedroom. The door was closed but I could hear sounds when I passed it.

  ‘What’s taking him so long?’ Chaddha whispered when I returned.

  ‘I don’t know. Must be powdering his nose.’

  He grinned, ‘Yeah, that must be it. Do you know his son’s name?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head.

  ‘Pintoo Singh! No wonder he doesn’t want to come and see him. Why would you want to see a man who named you Pintoo Singh?’

  ‘Where did you find that out from?’ I asked.

  ‘That glass cabinet there, I took a stroll around the room. It has photos of Harpal’s wife and his son. It has a class photo of his son: fourth from the right, third last row—there is no mistaking, his name is Pintoo Singh.’

  I sat down and twiddled my thumbs. Sampu turned to me and said, ‘The helmet, they might not allow it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Rules, they are making a few rules for this,’ he said pointing in Narender and Puran’s direction. They did seem engaged in an interesting debate—anything to do with killing and maiming and you could rely on them to make and break the rules.

  A few minutes later Harpal emerged. It was 4:20 am.

  ‘Sorry gentlemen, I’m guilty of being late.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said drily.

  ‘It’s a tactic,’ Sampu whispered in my ear.

  He heard that, ‘No, no, no, it’s not a tactic,’ he said, ‘I was shaving,’ His chin was shining, he wore a military uniform and medals adorned his khaki chest.

  ‘You’re looking smart Colonel Sir,’ Narender said admiringly.

  ‘Thank you Narender! A soldier needs to be appropriately dressed even for small things like this.’

  ‘Can we start?’ Chaddha asked.

  ‘No, no,’ I said to Chaddha and turning to Harpal added, ‘I want to talk to you Sir.’

  ‘There is nothing to talk about really,’ said Harpal, ‘do you have your weapon?’

  ‘Yes, he has his weapon,’ Chaddha wanted to get it over with .

  ‘Chaddha, can you stop representing me on this please,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, he has his weapon.’ Sampu said.

  ‘Sampu man, please, please,’ I said. ‘I wanted to request you not to do this Harpal sir. I’m sure you’ll agree that this is stupid.’

  ‘You think everything is stupid, don’t you? You think you are a wise chap who knows why and when one should steal, threaten and kill? You think you understand what’s right and what’s wrong and you think I’m from some medieval world and I shouldn’t exist, that what I think or do is outdated, archaic, criminal.’

  ‘No, I don’t think anything of that sort Sir.’

  ‘Then you don’t think of me at all, do you? In your self-serving world, there is no place for an insignificant old man like me? I’m a pushover, a weakling in your world. I don’t hold any meaning for you, right?’

  ‘No, no, that’s also not true, I respect you Sir.’

  ‘RESPECT! You people, you don’t give a fuck.’

  ‘That’s not true Sir. Believe me, that’s not true,’ I said. It was true.

  ‘Where is your air-gun?’ he asked, ‘Puran, please get my rifle. It’s in the bedroom, in the corner beside the Godrej almirah.’

  ‘Sir, I request you, let’s stop this madness,’ I pleaded.

  ‘No, that’s exactly why I want to do it. I want to do it because you think it’s stupid and crazy. Now stop acting like a tottering calf and hold your gun steady. You wanted a fight of equals and you are getting it, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m sorry I said all that.’

  ‘Why? You’ve suddenly discovered that you’re a pacifist, have you?’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘We must finish this soon.’

  Puran came back with Harpal’s rifle. Chaddha’s air-gun was a flimsy looking black thing with a plastic grip and a thin metal barrel, compared to that, Harpal’s rifle seemed like a Howitzer. It had something written on it. I began reading but Chaddha was the one who read it aloud, there was a hint of admiration in his voice ‘Stinger A200: AFC technology for unmatchable ballistic precision. What does AFC mean Sir?’ Chaddha asked.

  ‘Air Flow Control,’ Harpal beamed. ‘It boosts accuracy.’

  ‘Awesome, awesome!’ Chaddha said. His fingers beat the back of the sofa like a drum. I looked around. There was anticipation and excitement in that room.

  ‘Sir,’ this time it was Sampu. ‘What are the conditions for the duel?’

  ‘I have already told him the terms,’ Harpal said.

  ‘Sir, as a friend of his, I would like to comment on the terms,’ Chaddha said.

  ‘Stop playing this lawyer, you little piece of shit,’ said the Colonel.

  Sampu said calmly, ‘We have a request.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Harpal.

  ‘No matter what happens, you won’t refile the FIR.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I? If he gets hit, I will.’

  ‘Sir, he’s doing this so that he doesn’t go to jail. You know that a police record will ruin him. And I know you will win this showdown. Everybody here knows,’ Chaddha looked around to see if anyone had a doubt. No one was in two minds—we all knew I was going to be riddled with pellets from a Stinger A220.

  ‘I refuse to revise the terms,’ Harpal grinned: a hint of pride emanated from his shiny face.

  ‘Please sir, it’s a sincere request,’ Sampu said.

  ‘He can threaten people with a gun but doesn’t want an FIR? Very convenient, eh! He’s going to jail if I have my way and I will have my way. Anyway, this showdown won’t happen. He’ll chicken out, I can see he’s turning yellow.’

  ‘He won’t chicken out!’ Chaddha said. He put a hand on my shoulder.

  I said, ‘I’m leaving. You can file the FIR. I can’t do this.’

  Harpal sneered, ‘See, he’s a chicken.’

  ‘He’s not a chicken,’ said Chaddha. He handed me the gun, ‘Wear the helmet, you’ll be fi
ne.’

  ‘No helmets,’ said Puran.

  ‘No helmets,’ said Narender.

  ‘To hell with helmets,’ said Sampu. He snatched it from me and threw it on the floor, ‘Go get him Parashurama!’ he shouted.

  ‘No, I won’t do this.’ I got up and turned to leave.

  ‘Wait,’ it was Harpal, ‘Sit down.’

  I sat down. He said, ‘Ok, there will be no police case from either of the parties. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes, we agree,’ Chaddha said. We sat there in silence for a while then Harpal got up and walked to the centre of the room.

  Chaddha pulled me up. The gun was in my hand.

  Puran said, ‘Here are the rules: Colonel sa’ab and you will stand together in the centre and then you will turn and walk back five paces and turn around and fire.’

  ‘No, doesn’t work for us,’ Sampu said, ‘we need something to protect his eyes.’

  ‘That’s why he was carrying my helmet!’ Chaddha pointed out.

  Sampu ignored him, ‘We need some kind of a carton or box or something like that.’

  ‘Bunch of sissies, that’s what you people are,’ Harpal said. He was doing some fine tuning with his rife. The muzzle was aimed at the leopard poster.

  ‘Can it be ten paces? I’m not doing it if it’s not ten paces,’ I said.

  They ignored me.

  ‘Sir, please give him a carton. We don’t want to file an FIR against you for grievous assault. I think it’s good for both of us,’ said Sampu.

  ‘Give him a carton, see if you can find something in the kitchen loft or in the store room,’ Harpal said to Narender.

  ‘Narender bhai, please bring a thick carton,’ I shouted after Narender.

  ‘Rule number two,’ Puran continued, ‘No photography.’

  ‘Ok,’ someone said. I was too nervous to notice who it was.

  ‘No video recording and switch off your phones,’ Puran talked in a matter-of-fact tone. He seemed to have practised his lines.

  ‘Ok,’ someone said. I wasn’t sure if that someone was inside me or outside. Later, Chaddha told me I nodded and muttered OK as Puran spelt out the rules.

  ‘Rule number three,’ Sampu said. ‘Trigger will be pulled only once.’