I know then that Nita will never be mine. That Shyam will never let her go. That even if I somehow bring six lakhs, Shyam will increase the demand to ten lakhs. My mind seems to go numb and I see blackness all around me. A wave of nausea assails me. When I recover, I see a soggy newspaper lying on the floor. It has an advertisement showing the face of a man who is grinning and holding several thousand-rupee notes in his fingers. Underneath the picture is a caption that says, 'Welcome to the greatest show on television. Welcome to W3B – Who Will Win A Billion? Phone lines are open. Call now or write to us to see if you will be the lucky winner of the biggest jackpot on earth!' I look at the address given in the advertisement. It says, 'Prem Studios, Khar, Mumbai.' I know in that moment that I am going to Mumbai.
I step out of the Emergency Ward as if in a trance. The antiseptic smell of the hospital doesn't irritate my senses any longer. The bespectacled man is still in the corridor. He looks at me with hopeful eyes, but doesn't try to accost me this time. Perhaps he has reconciled himself to his son's death. I still have the brown paper bag in my hand. I gesture to him. He comes shuffling to me, like a dog expecting a bone. 'Here, take this.' I hand over the bag. 'It has four lakh rupees inside.
Go and save your son's life.'
The man takes the packet, falls down at my feet and begins crying. 'You are not a man, you are a god,' he says.
I laugh. 'If I were God, we wouldn't need hospitals. No, I was just a small tourist guide with big dreams,' I say and try to move forward, but he bars my way again. He takes out a worn leather wallet from his pocket and extracts a card. 'The money you have given me is a debt I owe you.
This is my card. I will repay it as soon as I can, but from this moment I am your servant.'
'I don't think I will need you. In fact, I don't think I will need anyone in Agra. I am going to Mumbai,' I tell him in an absent-minded way and slip his card into my shirt pocket. The man looks at me again with tearful eyes, then rushes out of the hospital, running towards Rakab Ganj and the all-night Gupta Pharmacy.
I am just about to step outside the hospital when a jeep with a flashing red light comes screeching to a halt. An Inspector and two constables jump out. Two more men emerge from the back seat whom I recognize. One is a guard at Swapna Palace and the other is Abdul, the gardener. The guard points at me. 'Inspector Sahib, this is that boy Raju. He is the one who has stolen Rani Sahiba's money.' The Inspector instructs his constables. 'Since we found nothing in his room, the cash must be on him. Check the bastard's pockets.' The constables grope through my shirt and trousers. They find a small packet of bubble gum, some corn kernels and a one-rupee coin, which doesn't seem lucky any longer.
'He is clean, Sahib. He doesn't have any money,' one of the constables replies.
'Really? Still, let's take him in for questioning. We'll find out where he was this evening,' the Inspector says brusquely.
'Ztyjoz Hz?' I reply, my lips twisting in a deformed way. 'What did you just say? I didn't get it,'
says the Inspector, a little baffled.
'Q Oxqa Ukj Xnz Xi Qaqkp.'
'What is this nonsense?' the Inspector says angrily. 'Are you trying to make fun of me, bastard?
I'll teach you a lesson.' He raises his baton to strike me, but Abdul intervenes. 'Please don't hit him, Inspector Sahib. Raju has become mentally unbalanced since his friend Shankar's death.
Shankar also used to speak like this.'
'Oh, is that the case? Then why did you even think of him as a suspect? We won't get anything out of a lunatic. Come, let's go,' he gestures to his constables. Then he looks at me. 'Sorry to have bothered you, you can go home now.'
'Pdxif Ukj,' I say. 'Pdxif Ukj Rznu Hjyd.'
* * *
I am sitting on Smita's bed with tears falling from my eyes. Smita takes my hand in hers and gently squeezes it. I notice that her eyes too are misting with tears. 'Poor Shankar,' she says.
'From what you've told me, he seems to have been an autistic child. What a horrible death he endured. You have really gone through hell, Thomas. You didn't deserve all that pain.'
'But my hell is still preferable to Nita's. Just imagine what she has had to undergo since the age of twelve.' Smita nods her head. 'Yes, I can imagine. Is she still in Agra?'
'She should be, but I can't know for sure. I have had no news of her for the last four months. I don't know whether I will ever see her again.'
'I am sure you will. Now let's see the penultimate question.'
* * *
The studio sign says 'Silence' but the audience refuses to heed it. They point at me and chatter excitedly among themselves. I am the idiot waiter who has staked a hundred million rupees on one question.
Prem Kumar addresses the camera. 'We now move on to question number eleven for ten crores.
Believe me, I am getting goosebumps just thinking about it. So, Mr Thomas, are you nervous?'
'No.'
