Free Mumbaistan by Piyush Jha Page A

mechanic-like overalls, sitting inside. The man he had come to recognize as Aalamzeb was holding an automatic pistol to a petrified Rabia's right temple. Tanvir sighed and walked inside without a word. One of the men, with a constipated expression on his face, got up and shut the door behind him. The smiling Aalamzeb finally broke the silence.
    'Welcome, Tanvir. We meet for the first time, but I feel as though I know you well.'
    Tanvir's lip curled in a sneer. 'I don't think you know me well enough, Aalamzeb.'
    Aalamzeb continued to smile 'Of course, of course, I don't know your deep inner thoughts, but I know you well enough to have been playing you like a mouth organ for the past three months'
    The other men laughed. For the first time, Tanvir noticed the third one, a rat-faced teenager who stuck close to Aalamzeb. Rabia half-rose from the bed, saying 'Tanvir, please forgive me...' but Aalamzeb reached out and pushed her down again. Tanvir moved to stop him, but Aalamzeb turned the pistol towards him, stopping him in his tracks. Aalamzeb smiled and spoke again, 'Thank you, Tanvir, for your hospitality. I knew I'd done the right thing by not killing you in the beginning. I've used you well. Even now, I'm using you. No one is looking for us in your house.'
    Tanvir cursed under his breath. Aalamzeb continued to pour forth, like a man who was dying to be complimented for his intelligence. He only stopped when his mobile phone rang. He picked it up and listened to the voice on the other side. 'Okay' was all he said as he disconnected. He flashed his sarcastic smile once again at Tanvir. 'Thanks to you, in the next few minutes, the police will have emptied the Stock Exchange Building and gone off to Zaveri Bazaar.' Tanvir clenched his fists in impotent anger. Aalamzeb now got up and smoothed his clothes, as if headed for an important meeting. The other two Pakistanis took this as a signal and picked up the large duffel bags lying in the corner. Tanvir had not noticed them earlier. Aalamzeb unzipped the last duffel bag and took out another grey overall. He threw it towards Tanvir, indicating that he should wear it. Then he zipped up the duffel bag, picked it up and said, 'And now, Tanvir, you are going to help us get into the Stock Exchange building. Rabia will remain here as a guarantee against you trying anything funny, which you will not even dream of because, if you will notice, your house is wired to explode with a remote timer.' As Tanvir put on the overalls, he spotted the wires running along the floors for the first time. Rabia's muted sobs called for his reassurance. He touched her face with an indescribable longing. Then, without a word, he left the house with the three Pakistani terrorists.
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    It is said that mornings in Mumbai are akin to mornings in New York, in that they infuse the same charged-up feeling in every Mumbaikar, getting him ready to spring into the new day to decimate it.
    Today, Mumbai was set to come even closer to New York, to become a victim of a massive terrorist attack that would take down a symbolic monument in its financial district.
    Tanvir's grim thoughts sketched out this comparison as he sat in the taxi with the three Pakistanis. Since the traffic lights had not started functioning as yet, the taxi had chugged its way through the by-lanes that led to the Stock Exchange. For some reason, Aalamzeb had directed the taxi driver to loop around Flora Fountain and approach Dalai Street from behind. As the taxi neared Horniman Circle, Aalamzeb gave instructions and the taxi stopped. He paid the taxi driver, who drove off. It was only then that Tanvir realized why this circuitous route had been taken. A police sub-inspector stepped out of one of the small by-lanes and approached them. As he neared, Tanvir saw that it was the same man, with the hyena-grin, who had earlier been posing as a burqa-clad woman, and before that, as the stone thrower. Hyena sensed Tanvir's thoughts. 'It's so easy to