I carry out my promise the next evening, when Shantaram returns from work and climbs the rickety stairs to the first floor. He walks with slow, bumbling steps. Even his clothes reek of whisky. As he is about to pass that section of the railing which has not yet been fixed by Mr Ramakrishna, I charge at him from behind. I slam into his back and he slams into the wooden railing. The railing is already weak and wobbly. It cannot take his weight. It cracks and splinters.
Shantaram loses his balance and topples to the ground below.
In films, they show a villain falling from the roof of a skyscraper and it seems as if he is floating in the air; he twists his legs and flaps his arms and screams, 'Aaaaaaaaaaaah!' In real life, it doesn't happen like that at all. Shantaram drops down like a rock. There is no flapping of hands or legs. He hits the ground facedown and lies spread-eagled, hands and legs outstretched.
Only when I see Shantaram's limp body on the ground do I realize what I have done. And then I visualize the consequences of my act.
The crime-scene officers arrive in a jeep with a flashing red light and make a nice neat outline in chalk. They take photos and say, 'This is where the body fell.' Then they look up and see me on the first floor. The inspector points at me. 'That is the boy who pushed him down. Arrest him!' I am taken to jail, where I am stripped and beaten. Then I am presented in court, where a stern-faced judge sits in a black robe with a ceiling fan above him. A faded and dusty golden sign with the words Satyameva Jayate – Truth Always Prevails – is fixed on the wall behind him. The judge takes one look at me and pronounces his verdict. 'Ram Mohammad Thomas, I find you guilty of the premeditated murder of Mr Shantaram. Under Section 302 of the Indian Penal Code, I hereby sentence you to death by hanging.'
'No!' I cry and try to run, but my legs are shackled and my wrists are handcuffed. I am blindfolded and led to the execution cell. A noose is placed around my neck, a lever is pulled. I shriek in pain as my legs suddenly dangle in the air and the breath is choked from my lungs. I open my eyes and find that I am in heaven. But heaven seems just like the chawl and I look down and see the body of Shantaram lying spread-eagled on the ground. People are gathering around it now. Someone shouts, 'Call the police!'
I don't wait another moment. I scramble down the stairs and start running. I run past the gate and the milk booth and the multi-storey building. I run to the local station and take the Express to Victoria Terminus. I search every platform for a particular train. I find it at last and jump inside just as it is pulling away.
I left Mumbai, I left Gudiya, I left Salim, and ran away to the only other city I knew. Delhi.
* * *
Throughout this story, Smita remains perfectly silent. I can see now that she has been deeply affected. I detect a hint of a teardrop in the corner of her eye. Perhaps, being a woman, she can relate to Gudiya's torment.
I pick up the remote. 'Let us see question number three,' I say, and press 'Play'.
* * *
Prem Kumar swivels on his chair and addresses me. 'Mr Thomas, you have answered two questions correctly to win two thousand rupees. Now let us see whether you can answer the third question for five thousand rupees. Are you ready?'
'Ready,' I reply.
'OK. Question number three. This is from the field of—' Just then the central spotlight goes off, plunging Prem Kumar and me into darkness. 'Oops! Houston, we have a problem,' says Prem Kumar. The audience laughs. I don't get the joke.
'What did you just say?' I ask Prem Kumar.
'Oh, that is a famous line from the film Apollo Thirteen. I am sure you don't see English films.
You use this line when you suddenly have a major problem, and we do have a major problem here. The show cannot proceed till we fix the spotlight.'
As the technicians start checking out the wiring of the spotlight, Prem Kumar listens to a voice on his headset. Then he leans forward and whispers in my ear, 'OK, buster, your golden run has lasted all of two questions and is now about to end. The next question is really tough, especially for a waiter. I would love to help you win more, but the producer has just informed me he wants to move on to the next contestant, a maths professor. Sorry, tough luck!' He takes a sip of lemonade and smacks his lips.
The spotlight is now fixed. The studio sign changes to 'Applause'.
As the clapping dies down, Prem Kumar looks at me. 'Mr Thomas, you have answered two questions correctly to win two thousand rupees. Now let us see whether you can answer the third question for five thousand rupees. Are you ready?'
'Ready,' I reply.
'OK. Our next question is from the world of astronomy. Tell me, Mr Thomas, do you know how many planets there are in our solar system?'
'What are my choices?'
'That is not the question, Mr Thomas. I am just asking whether you know the number of planets in the solar system.'
'No.'
