The Nidhi Kapoor Story Read online

  He emptied his wide-rimmed whiskey glass in a gulp and put it back on the table with a loud thump. Any louder or harder, he would have shattered the glass top of the table or the glass itself. His fury and his pride made Tabrez Khan underestimate Nishant Kapoor and his ambitions. It was to prove costly to him and would eventually lead to his decline as a mover and shaker in Bollywood.

  Nishant sighed. He took a small sip. He let the golden-brown nectar roll in his mouth and then gulped it with satisfaction. He started humming one of his songs. He then slowly pulled out an envelope from an inside pocket of his jacket. He took his time to open it and remove some papers from it. He unfolded the papers slowly and looked at them with contentment.

  “Khan Saab, you know, apart from acting, I have this little hobby where I like to shoot with hidden cameras. I have a lot of cameras at home that no one knows of. You must see my latest shoot.” With that he threw a bunch of large black and white photographs on the table. It had Sapna, Tabrez Khan’s wife, lazing on the floor in assorted poses. She was naked and looked happy posing for the camera. Her sari lay bunched next to her feet and she seemed comfortable with her nudity. In the photograph on the top, she had curled her lips and was pointing at the photographer with a crooked finger, as if she was inviting him.

  “What… what is the meaning of this? Where did you get these?” Khan pulled the photographs off the table and hastily leafed through them. Once he was through with the set, he tore them. He tore them over and over again till the pictures were reduced to tiny bits of colored paper. While he was tearing the pictures to pieces, some parts fell on the immaculately maintained garden. A large scrap of a picture, showing Sapna curled up on the floor at the foot of a man, flew a little distance from the table. Tabrez ran after it and when he bent to pick it up, the wind blew and the scarp flew a little further. He chased it for a bit and eventually caught it. He then tore it into tiny pieces.

  Nishant continued to hum his song while Tabrez Khan struggled with the pictures. He pulled out another folded envelope from his jacket nonchalantly and waved it at Tabrez Khan calmly. “Khan Saab, don’t get all worked up. Not good for your health. Here, this is another set. There are more copies back home. Khan Saab, you know what? Why don’t you take some time to think? Please let me know by Thursday evening. Because you know, Friday is the deadline to submit photographs for the film supplement that comes on Sunday with Maha Sakaal. Oh, and do say hello to Sapna Ji. I haven’t seen her since… you know, this shoot.”

  Tabrez Khan mumbled something but by then Nishant had left the other set on the table and was on his way out. When he reached the gates, he turned around, looked wishfully at Ronak and then in a fluent move, went out.

  Nishant did not have to wait till Thursday. The gossip mongers were unlucky to miss out on Sapna Khan’s assets because the very next day the newspapers announced that Tabrez Khan had offered Nishant Kapoor the ownership of his ancestral property, Ronak, in exchange of his dates for the next full year. The first of its kind deal in the history of Bollywood.

  In time, Ronak was renovated and Nishant threw a grand party. Missing from the gathering, however, were Tabrez Khan and his wife Sapna.

  The party was the first of many that Ronak would eventually host. Nishant’s life, since then, started to revolve around two things. His work and his indulgence with Ronak. While he was working, he would leave no stone unturned to ensure that he gave his best. He was a workaholic and he made everyone around him work harder. As a result, he even made weak scripts and plots into brilliant movies that enthralled the audience. And whatever time he was left with, he spent at home. He had designed the layout by himself and he loved to roam around the house, the way a king would have roamed around in his kingdom. More than anything, he loved to see people cringe with jealousy when he gave them a guided tour of the magnificent bungalow.

  A few months later, when Sapna Khan committed suicide, hardly any newspaper covered the story. They would have but they ran out of space. Naveen Verma, owner of one of the oldest and biggest film distributing companies in India, had announced the wedding of his sister Neelima, an upcoming actress, with Nishant Kapoor. Every inch of valuable fourth estate was covered with the story and its implication on the business of entertainment. Every tabloid came out with large photographs of the young couple. In most of these photographs, Nishant and Neelima were holding each other in a warm embrace; with a newly renovated Ronak lurking shyly in the background.

  ∗ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chawl

  13. Day 6, Morning. Police Station.

  After her meeting with Vicky Taluja, Rujuta had spent time in the Asiatic Library poring over old newspapers and magazines, looking for articles on Nishant Kapoor’s early life. She read about the unusual twist of fate that brought Nidhi and Payal together at Ronak. It was her first tryst with a Bollywood family and she liked how the lives of these celebrities were devoid of banalities. Everything that these people did was rooted in some reason that was beyond explanation. It was a classic game of one-upmanship where every person tried to better others. And best of all, everyone called each other a friend.

  She was bubbling with excitement for she had done a lot of work in just one day and she wanted to show it off to Prakash.

  ∗∗∗

  She grabbed a Vada Pao from the tea stall outside the police station. The Vada Pao is the national snack of Mumbai. It is a potato patty layered with gram flour batter, deep-fried in hot oil and sandwiched in a burger bun. It is then garnished with assorted toppings depending on the whims of the vendor who sold it. More often than not, sold by, and bought from a roadside kiosk. Rujuta wasn’t the kind to keep a watch on her diet; she could eat as much and yet remain petite.

  Prakash and Tambe were nowhere to be found. She concluded that they were out on some urgent call. She decided to work on her photo-essay while she waited for Prakash to come back.

  Ever since the incident at Nidhi Kapoor’s house, Rujuta hadn’t had the time to review or edit the pictures that she had taken for her assignment. Today looked like as good an opportunity as any. She parked herself on one of the desks, ordered for a cutting chai, yet another invention of Mumbai, put music on her headphones and got lost in her pictures and Photoshop filters.

  ∗∗∗

  “Not bad,” said Prakash. He had come in few minutes ago and when he saw Rujuta engrossed into a computer, he had sneaked behind her to look at the screen.

  Rujuta was cropping a picture of a policeman at Juhu Circle. The policeman was standing next to a man clad in white∗, holding on to a sign that read, ‘Follow your religion, love everybody.’ The policeman and the man in white were sharing a lighthearted moment, while traffic snarled around them.

  Rujuta did not notice Prakash sneaking behind her. She turned around and found him towering over her chair. She broke into a smile and removed her headphones.

  “Hello. When did you come?” Rujuta was adept at making small talk.

  “Hmm. What did Taluja say?” Prakash was not.

  “A lot of interesting things, actually. I have typed a report. I will print it out for you and highlight what I think is important.”

  “Thank you. Do see this when you get time.” Prakash handed a CD to Rujuta.

  “What is it?” Rujuta asked.

  “Just see it.” Prakash said and left.

  Tambe was standing at a corner, leaning against a wall with his own cup of tea in hand. Rujuta eyed him and he shrugged. He had his trademark apologetic stupid grin on his face.

  The CD had a video file on it. As the video ran, her face started to lose its color. She could not believe what she saw on the screen. Thankfully, she still had the headphones plugged into the computer and it prevented the pandemonium on screen to waft away into the police station and cause panic.

  When the film was over, she rushed into Prakash’s office. “Where did you get it?” she gasped.

  “What? The video? Naveen Verma called me early in the morning. He found the CD in hi
s car.”

  “What do you mean?” Rujuta was still bewildered at what she had seen.

  “Naveen had gone to gym in the morning. When he came out, the CD was lying on the front seat of his car. Along with a red rose and a letter. He doesn’t know how these things got in the car because he is sure that he had locked the car when he went inside.”

  “What the fuck, Prakash? A rose? Another letter? And… and what is the point of this clip? How old is it? The poor man is already in an asylum. And… now I am so very

  sure that the fire is linked to Nidhi Kapoor.” Rujuta was

  visibly agitated.

  “Calm down, Rujuta. Did you see the video carefully?” “Yes, I did. I did not know that he’s such a sick man. I

  am so so angry. How could he?”

  ∗∗∗

  The video was shot at night and it showed an almost naked Neelima, standing in a swimming pool, pleading to someone. The man had his back to the camera but it looked like Nishant Kapoor. Neelima’s hands were folded against her bare chest. She was shivering and crying. A younger Nidhi Kapoor was on the ground next to the pool. She had visible injury marks on her and was bleeding from multiple places. Remarkably, unlike her mother, she was not crying. She looked rather defiant and was making an attempt to reach for her mother when she was stopped in her tracks by a stern voice, unmistakably Nishant’s, “You shall remain in the pool till the time I please. Or I will kill the two of you.” The man then lifted his hand to reveal a gun. He aimed the gun menacingly at Nidhi and then at Neelima. It was followed by an unmistakable noise of a gunshot.

  Nidhi recoiled at the sound of the gunshot. Neelima yelped. However, the bullet did not hit either of them. The racket made by the gunshot was replaced with Nishant’s raucous laughter. His face was hidden from the camera but it was obvious that he was threatening to kill his wife and daughter. It was conclusive enough evidence to prove him guilty and punish him in a court of law.

  ∗∗∗

  “What’s in the letter?” Rujuta asked.

  “Here. Read it.”

  Dear Nidhi,

  Why do you love Ronak so much? The walls are high, fences sharp and guards alert. I can’t look in. You can’t look out. It just adds to our separation and my frustration. I try to come in but I can’t.

  You see I had to send a letter and I had to use your uncle for it. Nice guy by the way.

  Nidhi, don’t you feel bad about staying trapped in an ivory tower? Everyone can see that. You are all alone and no one that loves you. Except me.

  You know, even your family doesn’t love you. I mean look at your father. He loves the damn house more than he loves you.

  Oh! I have an idea. Why don’t you sell the house and go live somewhere else? Where I could reach you easily. No? Yea, that’s a good idea. You would be out of your damn bungalow. Do you know what all has happened behind those closed walls? You can’t live in the shadow of evil like that!

  Wait, I know what to do. Nidhi, dear, if you don’t sell the house in next 30 days, I promise that I will send this video to your friends at the TV channels. And then you’d discover who is a friend and who is not.

  But.. but you must appreciate that like a friend, I have sat on this video for so long. I could have sold this to anyone for any amount of money. No? Let’s see if those TV hounds are as good friends.

  30 days, baby. 30 days.

  You know Nidhi, the world outside is so beautiful. Come with me. I would take care of you. Like my own. I promise you. We would be so so happy together Nidhi.

  Coming out of the house will be the first step. Please do it. Don’t force me to do something that neither of us would like. Please.

  The typed letter ended without any sign or salutation. Just like the other letter that Prakash and Rujuta found next to the dead bodies of the animals. They were still unaware about the letter that Nishant found in his room. That letter had confessed that the murder of the pets and the fire were indeed, related.

  Rujuta looked at Prakash. “Bastard! Prakash, this guy is getting serious now. You can’t just force someone out of the house. Damn!”

  Prakash speculated. “The funny thing is that this guy, whoever is doing this, has access to these videos that were shot so long ago. Where did he find the videos? Maybe in the study?”

  “Maybe. Did you ask Nidhi about these?”

  “No, I couldn’t ask her anything. She wasn’t home. Although Verma was furious when I met him. He was angry with Nishant, with Nidhi. He was angry with me. He was angry at everything else in his sight. Plus, he did not know that Nishant beat up Neelima and Nidhi like that. ” Prakash spoke in a slow, measured tone and walked back to his office. Rujuta ran after him. “Prakash! What next? What to do?”

  “We stick to the plan. You meet the filmwallahs. I would talk to my informers and meet some people. Let’s sit on this in the evening. I suspect that this is going to be a long drawn investigation. I will waste so much energy working on the case that I won’t be able to do anything else after it is over!”

  Little did Prakash know that he was going to be so right with his little jibe.

  Rujuta nodded at it. She was desperate to crack this case. Not because she cared for Nidhi, but because it was like a challenge and she couldn’t find a way out from the maze. She was stuck and she had no clue about the direction she ought to take. She couldn’t spot a motive. She couldn’t imagine who’d want to hurt Nidhi. There weren’t any suspects. Nidhi Kapoor was in danger, the killer was getting bolder by the day and she did not know how to go about it.

  She fumbled for a Stikk and realized that she had forgotten about the pictures that she was working on. She decided to take a break. She looked at the screen one more time before she walked off. The last picture she had seen was that of Krishna Das, holding his placard above his head. “Follow your religion, love everybody.”

  ∗ Krishna Das, Open Magazine. http://www.openthemagazine.com/open-space/the-peacemaker-of-juhu

  14. Day 6, Evening. Rujuta’s House.

  Rujuta did not see Prakash for the rest of the day. He was busy with another case that required immediate attention. Since Nidhi Kapoor’s case, Prakash had had little time to work on other things. Rujuta used that time to make notes from Vicky Taluja’s interview and her research. She also managed to get with Payal for a meeting.

  It had been a hard day and Rujuta, Prakash and Tambe decided to end it with a dinner at Rujuta’s place. They called for some Biryani. It was a little too early to get drunk but Rujuta really needed one. She fixed herself a JD with coke. Prakash refused and squeezed himself some limewater. Protocol dictated that Tambe not consume alcohol in presence of a higher-ranking official, but Prakash was easy going and between him and Tambe, they disregarded these protocols often.

  When Rujuta offered Tambe a drink, he said with his toothy grin, “I can’t digest this imported whisky ma’am. You don’t have anything stronger, like 8 PM or something?”

  Prakash was lost in a painting on the wall. Tambe was sitting on the edge of a lounger, scratching Felix’s back. Felix, in return, seemed to like Tambe’s company. Rujuta said, “Come on Tambe Ji. I know what all you’ve been digesting. You want me open your history sheet in front of Prakash?”

  The three of them were getting into a sort of comradeship that existed only amongst old friends or soldiers of the same unit. They liked each other and had different reasons for their want of inclusion into the clique. Rujuta wanted Prakash to be the steady man in her life. Tambe looked up to Prakash and revered him. Prakash thought of Tambe as a worthy ally and a friend that he could bank on in the hour of need. He was still confused about Rujuta though. He liked her but wasn’t sure if Rujuta would want a man like him. Prakash had no experience in these things and he did not know how to find out. Had this been a police matter, Prakash would have closed it by now.

  Tambe grinned. While he was accepting the wide-mouthed whisky glass from Rujuta, he looked at Prakash, seeking his approval. Prakash however, was
still busy in the painting hanging on one of the walls.

  Rujuta winked at Tambe and handed him the glass. Tambe came from a world where a drink was not something that you savored. You downed it as fast as you could and moved onto the next one, till you were drunk or sleepy. He gulped his drink fast and said apologetically, “Saab, I’d take your leave. I need to take my wife out for a movie.”

  Prakash nodded. It was useless to expect any other reaction from him. Rujuta on the other hand laughed out loud. “This is the very reason Tambe Ji, you should not get married.”

  Tambe did not know how to react. He grinned from ear-to-ear, saluted at Prakash and left.

  After Tambe left, Rujuta changed into her long sleeping t-shirt. She wasn’t going to shy away from Prakash. And she wasn’t going to force him either. If he needed time to start getting comfortable with Rujuta, she would wait. If he needed encouragement, Rujuta would help. Prakash was a very remarkable and a peculiar man. Rujuta was poles apart and she would stake it out till he was ready.

  Rujuta poured herself another drink and sat in silence, looking intently at Prakash. He had been staring at the painting for some time now. The oil on canvas showed Chanakya’s four commandments about settling conflicts– Saam, Daam, Dand, Bhed∗– in an intricate pattern. It was divided into four quadrants, merging into the center. Each quadrant had illustrations of an old sage and a young prince in different settings. The Saam quadrant, the one about resolving matters with discussion, showed the young prince holding court, with the sage sitting slightly behind him. The Daam quadrant, the one about using incentives to solve a conflict, showed him sitting on one side of the scale and the sage holding onto a pile of gold. Dand quadrant, the one about punishing your opponent to settle conflicts, showed dark clouds shrouded over a palace and the young prince scampering away from it. Bhed, the divide and rule quadrant showed the prince dressed as a woman standing next to two kings fighting with each other.