Free Murder in Bollywood by Shadaab Amjad Khan Page A

determine if those calls could help them discover what he had been investigating. With this line of action chalked out, the two decision makers of the SCS returned to their daily duties. Hoshiyar briefed Zagde on the previous night’s events and instructed him to pay a visit to Mule’s detective agency after duty hours and see what he could find out. Then, at around eleven o’clock the same morning, a call came, informing the squad of a high-profile murder that had taken place in Gyan Darshan bungalow, located in the posh residential area of Juhu Vile Parle scheme, which required their immediate attention. The victim was a gentleman by the name of Ram Prasad Tiwari, the late superstar couple Nikhil’s and Mallika’s long-time secretary.
    Now, as an area, North Mumbai’s Juhu Vile Parle scheme, also known as JVPD scheme, was a strange mix of old money and new, and was made up of a labyrinth of lanes and by-lanes that sometimes connected and sometimes intersected each other. The area was famous because one of its residents was the Bollywood legend Amitabh Bachchan. But if one were to take the Big B out of the equation, then JVPD scheme was a run-of-the-mill spectacle, lined with unspectacular buildings and ostentatious bungalows, old and new, which were home to enterprising businessmen and many a diamond merchant, who were rumoured to be so clannish that it wasn’t odd to hear of cases where members of one particular community were denied permission to buy homes in that neighbourhood, perhaps out of fear that their presence would somehow sully their culture and render impure their way of life. Or maybe, the residents did not let them enter their space on account of an intolerance for anything that went against their creed. Whatever the reason, it was both sad and shameful to hear of such a regressive mindset, particularly in the twenty-first century when Indian cities aspire to be the next Shanghai or New York.
    But Hoshiyar wasn’t concerned about JVPD scheme’s alleged reputation, as he wasn’t interested in buying a house in that locality. All he wanted to do was solve a murder. But on reaching Gyan Darshan bungalow at the corner of 10 Gulmohar Road, Hoshiyar and his team were surprised to find a large contingent of uniformed officers scattered about the place, and at the helm of that chaos was Commissioner Ghankar himself, who was standing near the bungalow’s main gate, smiling like a Cheshire cat, as if to say he had the situation well under control.
    ‘Oh ho, if it isn’t our Mumbai Police’s super-istar here to grace us with his presence . . . Step aside everyone and start taking notes, for Senior Inspector Hoshiyar Khan is here, along with the Special Case Squad, to teach us how to solve a murder in five minutes,’ Ghankar remarked sarcastically, as Hoshiyar alighted from his car and gave him the customary salute.
    ‘So tell me, Hoshiyar, how did your holiday go? And how was your brother-in-law’s wedding? I heard it was very royal, very lavish, with a whole lot of biryanis and kebabs and kormas and halwas. The next time there is a wedding in your family, kindly invite this
garib kisan ka beta
also. I would also like to see how you super-rich maharaja types celebrate these grand occasions. But just keep a little dal and
sukha
pao, with
kanda
and
hari mirchi
, on the side for me, because that is all my humble stomach is used to, bhai,’ Ghankar laughed and said, looking around at his men for approval, while Hoshiyar simply smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.
    Just then, Meeta Kashyap’s car pulled up outside the bungalow. She felt nauseated at the sight of Ghankar holding court a few feet away. But since he was her superior, she had no choice but to get down from her car and greet him with a ‘good morning, sir’, to which he responded with a silliness that had become his trademark over the years. ‘And a very good morning to you too, Meeta. So tell me, where have you been? Long time, no