MUSCLE

It was three in the morning in the cold month of November. It was dark and not a single silhouette in sight. Water crashing on the concrete platform and the crows cawing were the only sounds audible. It seemed like a typical 3 am scene at the port until faint footsteps could be heard from a distance. His leather shoes stepped on the hard concrete platform heading towards the edge. He had his regular cigarette in between his index and middle finger, he put this stick in between his lips and puffed it out. He then looked around him for any sign of movement. He signalled his left hand to a group of small boats in front of him which seemed to have been unoccupied. A few seconds later, men wearing white banyans and loose boxer shorts, weary of the chilly weather, start sailing the boats forward. They anchor the boats to the platform and start unloading one of the many blue cartons which were loaded on the boats. On the surface, the cartons had fresh mackerel and prawns. The four men moved swiftly and cautiously so as to not create any sound. One of the bulkier-looking men with a beer belly handed over a small note to the man, he was about to take the last puff of his favourite cigarette. He tapped his shoe on the platform while reading the scribbled text on the note. Looking satisfied and content, he nodded at the man in front of him and signalled him to move the boxes inside the basti. The four men immediately got to work they have been so familiar with. The man shoved the note in his coat jacket and threw his cigarette on the ground before stubbing it with his shoe. He walked his way along the quiet and dark basti towards the rusty old warehouses finishing off for the night.

Early in the morning, the trucks drove in to unload the Chinese goods near the port at Coalbundar. Men dragging the fishnets into their tiny boats were dispersing into the sea, women gracefully carried the cane baskets over their heads with freshly caught fish, and a few ferries packed with passengers and vehicles scattered onto the mainland. Amidst the hive of activities, two brothers broke into an argument. With the loud screams of the argument, Brijesh’s bubble of fantasies burst, he shook and woke up to this sound opposite to his jhopdi. Awakened, he tried to peep out into the street from the only jali in the

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corner of his mezzanine, rubbing his eyes on the glazing sunlight. He saw several men in front of the tapri watching the fight and sipping over warm tea until Akbar chacha arrived peddling on his bicycle and stopped the fight. Akbar chacha was an old wise man to whom many turned for advice. Anwar was his grandson. Anwar, woh toh Brijesh ka pakka yaar hai! They owned a small chicken shop in Coalbundar and were trusted by many. Akbar chacha had once served as a part of the gangster group but voluntarily retired they say but no one knows for sure. Brijesh was often called by Anwar for dinner where Akbar chacha would unfold the underworld stories. He talked about murder gangs of Sewri, Reay road mafia groups, and about a few suspected Mafia godowns. He could discuss swapping techniques and predict frauds like a master. Anwar and Brijesh soon became a young duo, powered to learn about fake scams, illegal extortion, and robbery. They together spotted crime residences and also joined some feasts and celebrations at a few places. This couldn’t last long as Akbar chacha became aware of their activities, followed them once, and caught them red-handed. Anwar was definitely a true partner in crime.

Brijesh, “Kitne baje khana lene aaoge aaj?”, bhabhi called out from the kitchen. Unlocking the phone he saw it was already 8:30 a.m. He grabbed his only pair of trousers and crawled to the ladder to climb down. Bhabhi, “bas rojana ka waqt adai baje ko aa Jaunga mein.” Brijesh was a migrant from Jharkhand whose family made a living practising agriculture. His parents had a group of people travelling to the city and decided to send him along. He lived at the edge of Darukhana, with bhaiya, bhabhi, and two other men, in a compact tadpatri house that stood on stilts. There was enough space to cook and lie down. He worked for a year at Rampurwala’s steel workshop, which made him sustain in the city and earn enough money to wire home every month. He pushed the curtain of his jhopdi and stepped outside into the street. He picked up the small lotta and filled it up with water from the blue plastic barrel. Walking straight towards his favourite spot, the train siren blew louder as it approached Reay Road station near the stairs of the old port. He stretched his arms out and inhaled the salty air. He splattered cold water on his face and thought about all the lonely, downtimes he had managed, keeping himself motivated with a bottle of rum, standing there in front of the unjust city accompanied by Anwar sometimes. He couldn’t open up his thoughts

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to anyone in his jhopdi, he missed his home and his family.

He got ready, walked past his daily route on the uneven roads of the gali, listening to the radio news, and then entered the huge warehouse. He made his entry on the register and waved at Hakeem bhai. Brijesh spent most of his day in the warehouse. He liked being at work. The warehouse was dingy and damp due to high humidity, but he still enjoyed working with his companions, Birju and Kashab who were twins, and Hakeem bhai the co-owner of the workshop. Seth would visit only once a week to monitor the workplace. Brijesh and his friends would take a break every afternoon and smoke a cigarette near the Flamingo statues. He would collect lunch from bhabhi and have dinner at his place. But Friday nights were fixed for parties. His preference was Kalpesh Shetty’s bar and occasionally he would explore new venues. Together the boys had dusted their hands on lotteries, alcohol, and drugs. Brijesh was exposed to prostitution activities at Kamathipura. He had once even randomly asked out a woman at the local Byculla bar and was punched in his face. This week, his friends had planned a film, they kept calling it a blue film studio. He had never heard of this from anyone before. He just tagged along with his friends as usual. He was surprised to see porn screening among such a big audience.

He enjoyed it thoroughly and wanted to go there again but couldn’t afford the tickets. The boy who was usually keen and interested in doing his work was now distracted. He longed to watch it again. As he scrolled down the website to find the download option, a blinking notification popped. He clicked on this notification, and the icon buffered. A person appeared on the other side of the screen, cheap scrapped walls with Bollywood posters could be seen in the background. A person slowly stripped his clothes off. After spending a few minutes looking at the screen, Brijesh got up and closed the incognito tab. Just when he was washing his hands, a notification popped up on his phone, it was a SMS message. He clicked on the notification.

“You have been recorded while watching this explicit content. If you refuse to do whatever you are asked, the consequences will be severe!” At first, Brijesh ignored this message but after a few minutes, he got

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anxious. He had no idea what to do and where to go. If this video were to reach his family back home, the consequences would be unimaginable. He had struggled with his sexuality for years, he had kept it a secret for a long time.

He went to the kitchen in his small kholi and drank a cup of water to calm himself. Brijesh was a daily wage worker, he never intended to get involved in this, he just wanted to work, away from his nagging family and earn enough to live in the city. He had never imagined that a single phone call would tilt his world upside down. In desperate need of help, he decided to reach out to his trustworthy friend Anwar.

He put on his white banyan and blue chequered dhoti and rushed out of the kholi. Familiar faces greeted him on his way but he was lost in his own thoughts to reply back. He hurried through the busy lanes, knocking over utensils being washed outside the kholis, ensuring not to knock over any steps.

He reached his saviour’s doorstep and impatiently knocked at his door. Irritated by the constant knocking, Anwar opened the door. Brijesh was panting and looked worried. Anwar made him sit on a chair and offered him a glass of water. Brijesh declined. He quickly explained everything to his friend. Anwar assessed the situation and after giving it a fair amount of thought he asked Brijesh to take this to the cyber-crime department. He told him it was a simple case of blackmail and there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Brijesh refused this proposition. He told Anwar, he couldn’t go to the police at any cost. Anwar sensed that there was something wrong, but he didn’t ask. Anwar stared into thin air and started thinking. He then thought they could seek help from Waris Pathan. Locally known as ‘dada’. Waris bhai had a huge network, he knew all the local goons, even the ones that were active in the 1990s. One of the major tasks that his gang undertook was smuggling opium from China and small arms from ports like Karachi. His gang carried out multi-level extortions as well. Everyone was on his payroll and that is why he was untouchable. People not only feared him because of his criminal network but also because of his strength. However, Waris bhai avoided killing anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. In Bombay, there was a time, when the name ‘Waris Jaffer’ was the law. But now he

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was reduced to a local ‘dada’ at Coalbunder.

Anwar tapped on Brijesh’s shoulder, “Brijesh sunn, Waris bhai madad karega humko, yaad hai woh Reay Road wala Don. Akbar chacha boltey hai ki unke darwaze pe jane wala khali haath nahi laut ta.”

Brijesh instantly lifted his head and replied in a low sceptical voice, “Waris bhai kya karega, unka kaam toh chaaku pe shuru hoke, revolver pe khatam hota hai. Anwar ye computer ka mamla hai.”

“Dekh bhai bharosa rakh, aise haath pe haath rakh kar bhi toh nahi baithe reh sakte.” Brijesh agreed to go and visit Waris bhai.

Both of them hastily walked towards Waris bhai’s kholi. On the way, Brijesh had multiple thoughts about backing out of this plan. He knew Waris bhai’s ways and they were unethical. Anwar guided Brijesh towards Waris bhai’s kholi on Reay Road. The roads in his area were narrow, barely having any space for a car to pass by. The locals had set up small shops on the pavements making the place crunched and difficult to walk in. The street was lit up by the neon signs on the hotel boards. Brijesh followed Anwar to one such gali and towards the end, asked Brijesh to wait while Anwar talked to the guard ahead. Brijesh looked around the place, women walked in and out of many kholis, somewhere he could hear muffled sounds. Anwar came back and guided Brijesh to Waris bhai’s kholi. Waris was sitting on a couch in the centre of the room smoking a cigarette, he was a 65-year-old goon who was very well known in his area. He had been in the ‘business’ for so long that he knew all the ins and outs. He joined this world when he was new in Bombay. His young mind wanted to earn quick bucks. It soon became his lifestyle.

The wrinkles on Waris bhai’s forehead disappeared as soon as he saw Anwar. He signalled the guard to let them in. Anwar greeted Waris bhai. “Kya haal chaal beta, Akbar ka pota hai ye! Kaise aana hua yahan?” Waris bhai asked. “Bas aapki dua hai bhai”, Anwar replied.

Waris asked them to sit on the bench in front of him. He paused for a while and carefully looked at Brijesh, “Kya baat hai, kuch khidmat kar sakta hu mein tumhari”, Waris bhai asked in a deep voice,

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reading Anwar’s expression. Waris raised his eyebrows and asked, “Kisine jagah hadap li hai? Ya koi paisa vapas nahi kar raha batao mereko?” Anwar narrated the entire incident. Waris bhai heard everything patiently but as he was about to conclude, Waris bhai smirked and his companions broke into laughter. “Shhh! Brijesh beta, isme kya hua, ye kaunsa gunaah hai? Isme me mein kya kar sakta hu bhala?” said Waris bhai. Brijesh made a long face and rolled his eyes at Anwar. Anwar explained to Waris bhai how sensitive Brijesh was to this situation. He told him how Brijesh wouldn’t be welcomed by his family if this gets out. Waris bhai now scratched his beard trying to analyse the situation.

“Theek hai, naam jante ho uska?” “Nahi Bhai.” “Rehti kaha pe hai?” “Vo toh pata nahi hai hume” “Ha magar jis number se call aaya tha vo save kiya hai!” “Number se kya usko called karke puchega, kaha rehti hai? Bata degi tujhe?” He sounded a little frustrated, but he still continued asking questions “Kaam kaha pe hota hai? Kuch malum hai?”

Waris bhai put this network of spies to work, across the Reay-Road-Byculla area. He contacted every gang in Byculla and soon he was caught in an explosion of whispers.

Walking through the streets with his hand in his pocket, he leaned at the Biddi shop on the highway. “Apna ‘gold flake’ pass kar, sunn vo mobile wala dukhan ka piche wale kholi me admi hai na?” “Aye, gaadi rok! Signal se left le. Acha uss sidhi pe bethe chacha ko puchu? Vo abhi andar station ke bridge pe gaya ... Kon ? Kon ? Udar dekh!” “Railway chawl ke piche ke ground me cricket khelta hai” “Baat karo, mila? Aaj kal ke bache boht chakor hai, Saheb!”

“Ha Sampat!!!!! Ha mil gaya, arey voich hai, ekdam cut to cut. Saala mai bol raha na, jaldi Ebu bhai ko bol, ye yaha chokra-chokri chuma-chati karne aate hai na, waha aaya hai. Waha matlab apna Hansraj lane, Byculla flyover ke neeche, jaldi bata koi bhai ko!”

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“Kaiko arey kaiko bhej raha Mushu bhai ko, merepe bharosa nahi teko? Ha ek baar kya galti hua, saala apna izzat hi nahi kya kuch. Jaa Dagdu Saheb ko bol! Ha aur ye chinese gali me aana, M.S.B.”

“Ho! Salma bhabhi, ha Pravin cha ghari zo bhadekaru aala ahe na, toh pharach shanta ahe, avali yeto ani avali jato, konashi kahi bolat nahi ani mela garmit paan hoodie ghalto”

As the conversation continues, Brijesh was lost in the trail of his thoughts. His phone screen lit up. It was a text message from an unknown number. He was terrified to open the text.

The message read “Collect box from Byculla and deliver it to Kamathipura.”

Nervously fidgeting with his fingers and pressing his thumb, his past events started flashing before his eyes. All he could think about was his lies, all his secrets that never left his room, all the allegations that were made against him, and all the consequences this situation could have. Not knowing what to do next, Brijesh quietly escaped the kholi. He quickly ran down the steps and called for a taxi. For a moment he wondered if reality was a simulation, whether it was really happening. What if it only existed to trick him into doing illegal activities?

“Bhaiya kidhar jana hai?” asked the taxi driver from his half-rolleddown window. Over the bustle of the street and constant horns from the scooter behind he asked “Byculla chaloge?” After settling down in the taxi, Brijesh opened his google maps. It took 28 minutes to reach the location.

After reaching Byculla, he requested the taxi driver to wait a few minutes while he collected the box from the location he was blackmailed to go to. He continued travelling in the same taxi. The taxi driver enjoyed his soft Kishore Kumar music. Not being able to think, agitated Brijesh yelled “Gaana band karo”. There was complete silence and yet a thousand thoughts crossing his mind, chacha from the streets, vehicular traffic noise, and lowered music in the background. Brijesh was sweating.

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“Kamathipura mein kaha jana hai bhaiya, hum pohoch gaye” “Ha bas yahi laga do side mein” answered Brijesh.

They made a small eye contact through the rearview mirror while he made the payment, Brijesh thought the taxi driver was looking at him suspiciously. Beads of sweat rolled down his face while he was waiting for his change. He quickly wiped it and slammed the door. Holding the parcel close to his chest, he started walking ahead in search of the pharmacy.

Waris bhai starts thinking of ways to catch this criminal as he has a number to trace this person. He has a huge khabri network which he mobilises to catch him.

He takes out an old diary of his from cupboard, he dusts it off and asks one of men to fetch him his old pair of reading glasses and with a ballpen in his hand he starts jotting down numbers from his old dairy and yells “Aeyy, Anda sunn jaldi Pappu Hatela ko phone ghuma, ye aadmi agar Kamathipura bulaya tha isse milne, toh waha zarur koi parcel rakhne aaya hoga aur Kamathipura Pappu ka ilaka hai, waha uske marzi ke bina ek pata nahi hilta”

Pappu picked up the phone and said “A-Salaam Walaikum Waris bhai! Bola kiska game bajana hai, aap bass naam bolo! Bhai bas aap bolo” To which he answered “Walaikum A-Salaam! Rajesh, ek kaam tha tere se, Kamathipura tera ilaka bolte toh ek aadmi ke bare me pata karna tha, tereko photo aur ek number mil jayega, dekh toh area me koi aisa madarjaat ghum raha hai kya, bas itna ek kaam kar chal phata phat” Pappu said “Ha bass itna ye toh chindi kaam hai abhi yaha ki Randiyo se aur aspas ke roz ke bhadvo se baat nikalvata hu jaise kuch milega aapko bol dunga, bas ek 2 din do” Waris bhai says okay to this and disconnects the call and tells Brijesh and Anwar with a confident smile on his face getting up from his khaat, “Ab bas tumlog dekho Waris Pathan ka kamaal, kaise tumlog ke blue film recorder ko pakadta hu”

In the meanwhile Anwar and Brijesh went back to their daily routines, Brijesh was instructed to inform Waris bhai if he gets a call in these

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2 days, before doing anything the caller asks and was told not to leak any information to him, that he is being looked for by Pappu’s men.

Two days passed and Pappu came back to Waris bhai with an address, Paapu as a professional could never stand the words ‘If’, ‘But’ and ‘Maybe’, he was a man who worked with absolutes and therefore as soon as this information reached Waris, he and his men, rushed to that address.

Room No.7, Abba Gani Manor, Sant Savta Marg, Mazgaon, Mumbai-400 010.

As they reached the place they found themselves in front of a huge metal gate and as Waris Bhai and his men walked in everyone looked at them with suspicion.

He knocked on the door of a kholi which was adjacent to the gate. A thin man in a banyan came out and said “Sahab kuch kaam tha?” To which one of his men answered “Aeyy, lukhe bata ye kholi kaha hai!”

Shocked after hearing his strong voice, the man quickly answered, “Ye, Ibrahim Gani chawl hai iske aage wali building ke aage wali building ke paas waha pocho.” He thanked the man by letting him go and then moved to the gali.

aris bhai and his men reached the house, it was more like a chawl kholi which was developed slightly to have a mezzanine. The house seemed abandoned, with all the dirt which had settled on its small ota but they noticed that there was a pair of footprints on the surface, which meant that there was someone inside the house.

Moving cautiously towards the door, to break it open, while taking two men with him and asking the other three to keep the neighbours quiet. Waris bhai asked one of the two men with him to ram the door open with his shoulder. He broke the door and as they rushed into

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the kholi they saw a man run upstairs. They followed him to malla, as one of them climbed the staircase and reached the upper level he was struck down by the beams of the kholi, which were abnormally low and to add to their trouble there were three of them, a man who was more than 5 feet could never make it through these beams. Some crawled, some hunched and made it to the balcony door.

And as they entered the balcony, they saw that the man had disappeared but suddenly they had dust falling on their faces, they walked further ahead in the balcony area and noticed he was on the patras running.

Waris bhai yelled “Abey! Paani kaam chai, bhag uske peeche!” The men managed to climb on the roof and they ran behind him across rooftops through out the chawl. Some of them fell into other people’s homes and received a delightful thrashing, others who had the will and the stamina to catch him kept chasing him.

After running across rooftops they landed on the ground floor, where the man went through another small gate, which seemed like an entry point to a private house, he went through a small alley which served as a shortcut through the house to get out of the society, while doing so, he got entangled with clothes which were being dried across the alley and stepped on various types of papad. Because of this, the men in these household also started running after him as he was about to reach the door, which had a spiral staircase beside it, he saw Pathan on the other side waiting and therefore decided to take the spiral staircase and founds himself in front of an old man known as ‘Dada Shankar’, who started thrashing him with a paints container, which he used as a tumbrel, somehow pushing him away, he found himself on their water tank where with one jump he entered Ibrahim Gani Baithi Chawl. Where he ran through a path which had kholis on both sides, playing high jump across kids and elders and at the same time avoiding utensil water and occasionally open manholes.

He finally reached the gate, where he found himself in the hands of Waris bhai, who gave him a smile and banged him on the wall of the adjacent kholi and once again, he said “Agli baar mil jayega.”

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