I am what you call a khabri,a person who passes
on information to the police on the location and whereabouts of my
gangster boss. Yes, like the old Hindi movies, I too had a widowed
mother and a young sister who was unmarried despite being of the age to
do so.

I had to take odd jobs as I was ‘uneducated’, (not educated enough to work in a blue collar job.)

A Good Samaritan, Tinku Bearingwala showed sympathy on
me and inducted me in his gang.We were a gang of three who performed
‘hafta-vasooli’ (getting the local traders to pay up for ‘protection’.
Protection from us!)Our gang was small as we worked in a small but
wealthy locality of the town. And folks were scared enough to hand over
the money to us without any problems. Years passed by and I was able to
up the standard of my family’s life.I indulged in hollywood movies,
theatres and books. I was reading on a wide variety of topics to
improve my "General knowledge".I had no intention to marry.

When you marry, the so called sympathetically side of yours shows up and tries

to awake the ‘good’ person in you. Nope, not my cup of tea or coffee or whisky.

I was a cunning fellow. I wanted more, more of everything under the sun, especially money-the one with the Bapu’s photo on it. They smelled good, especially the 500 and the 1000 rupee notes.

The local bar proved to be the perfect setting. I met a police constable, Chaube
and during drinks, I shared withhim my desire to earn more. If you are
wondering how I was talking to a police fellow, well in the drinks bar,
it was an unwritten law. Every mortal was the same. Only the liquor was
placed higher.

I stuck an agreement with him. I became a khabri. Yes
like Di Caprio in the Oscar winning ‘Departed’. For one lakh rupees, I
got the other member of my gang killed. Well, he was going to die any
way. Someone or the other benefits from somebody else’s death. Why not
me?

Boss and I were the only members left. Chaube’s boss
had offered me fifty lakh rupees to cheat on my boss. Fifty lakh
rupees! That was a lot of money. I started dreaming about my sister’s
marriage, my own house and a Bajaj pulsar. I immediately agreed. I
asked him to bring the police to an address that I wrote down for him
on the back of the paper.The prize money on Tinku"s head was one crore
and that fat idiot had robbed me of the other half. Well, you cannot
have everything. Can you? This was enough

The time had come. Tinku and I were held up in the
room. He looked out of form the whole day as if some thing bad was
going to happen to him today. I was the architect of his day. Tinku
said-‘Chela, You have been a good friend and a companion to me. But why did you do this’.

I was shocked. He knew that I had set him up. ‘Boss, what are you talking about? I have no idea.’

‘Do not lie to me. I was there when you spoke to that fat idiot, Chaube.’

‘Well, I cannot act further more. I am sorry boss. I had to do it. My sister had to get married. My home needed repairs.’

‘Now that you have done it, I have nothing to say. You have done what you had to do. You could have asked me for the money.’

The police team was intently listening to the
conversation outside the room. They were 4 of them. Each one had an
AK-47 rifle along with an additional magazine. They wore green bullet
proof jackets. The radio was kept on silent so as not to disturb the
stealth nature of the operation.

Inside the room, the conversation continued. Tinku went
on ranting about how I had back stabbed him. I reminded him that he
might have done the same to someone else too. If you are wondering why
Tinku had attacked me, he never carried a weapon and was too frail to
attack me. He was one of those guys whose name evoked fear

manifold times than his presence.

‘Chela, I leave the enterprise in
your hands. Make it big’. He sounded like Dhirubhai Ambani and I was
Anil Ambani.Heck. ‘Boss, thank you.’ I fell on his feet for his
blessings. I hit the empty box lying on the ground in process. That was
the signal. The police would rush in five minutes. I had to get out.

I pushed the boss and ran from the back door. I met
Chaube on the way. He handed me the fifty lakh rupee in a black
suitcase. It was the same configuration that I had asked for. The smell
of money was irresistible. I took it and ran. ‘He is inside. He’s all
yours.’

The police stormed the room. ‘Hands up’ they shouted in
unison like the Italian orchestra.The room was deserted except for the
broken box and the mirror.