Harish Narang

Gurgaon, Haryana, India

Putting the phone down, Jeet Singh said to Beere’s mother who sat on her haunches, raising his voice: “Are...re…Ram Kali what has your lad done! Do you know, the parrot belongs to a minister? And that too, a woman minister!”

Ramkali’s breath lost its rhythm. Every day, she heard stories in the university from her fellow safai karamcharis –sanitary workers- about the doings of ministers. And also, from Beere’s father who was a sanitary guide of safai workers in the university. Only a couple of days before, Satto had told them about a minister from an Eastern state who had held captive a truck driver in a room for over a month—without food and water—only because when he was on the minister’s pay role, dacoits had kidnapped him and after tying him with ropes, they had abandoned him in a jungle and escaped with the truck. She said that the poor fellow had somehow managed to send the news about his confinement and had been rescued, barely alive. Newspapers had carried his photograph and even the television had flashed his news.

Ramkali’s heartbeat increased manifold suddenly.

“What else are they saying, bhaiyya?” She asked Jeet Singh in a tone full of pleading. Jeet Singh lived in their neighborhood and was a lawyer in the high court. For many years, he had interacted with Ramkali’s husband. Sometimes also shared a drink with him. Although many did not know, but they knew that Jeet Singh belonged to their own caste. At one time, his father was employed in the Municipal Corporation mortuary.

“They are saying that this parrot is more intelligent than humans. Is one among millions. Converses in fluent English. Its cost runs into millions of rupees. The police officer was saying that the parrot was a gift to the minister from a foreign dignitary.”

“He Ram, what would become of my Beere, now?”

“There is a lot of pressure on the police. Even won’t get bail easily. Anyway, that I shall take care of. Don’t you worry about that. By the evening, I shall bring him in your presence, released on bail. After all, he is my nephew. When will Bhai saheb return?”

“Bhaia, don’t know when he comes back. Had told me that he’d return by yesterday evening. Yesterday evening is gone and so has the yesterday night. Hasn’t shown up as yet. He has gone to Panjab –somewhere—for getting medicine for himself. He has this problem of breathlessness. You know that Ram Nares, Satto’s husband. He told that there was a Baba in Panjab who gives medicine for this disease only. Full alright in one month. Don’t know when he returns. Bhaiyya, save my Beere from this disaster.”

“I have to make some arrangements,” Jeet Singh took the conversation forward.” It is a big police station. What is its name- yes, Chankiyapuri. Hundreds of officers. The officer In -charge was telling me it was a pukki complaint-F.I.R. The minister’s own husband came to register the F.I.R. He said that they wanted the culprit to be punished severely. For three days, their younger son did not touch food. The parrot was his constant companion. Charges of theft have been slapped against Beere. ‘During day light’ has also been added so that a case of robbery can be slapped later. Anyways, don’t you take it to your heart.”

“Bhaiyya, mein te mar gi- Brother, I am as good as dead. I am sure this is not a parrot but a ghost in its disguise. Otherwise, who has heard of a parrot conversing in fluent English? Rohit was telling my Beere that when he offered it water, it said in English- “I want Bisleri water”. Tell me, brother, has anyone heard of such a parrot! It was Rohit who had picked it up and brought it to the campus. Said that he had found it lying on the road near Bhikhaji Kama Place when he was coming to the university. He said that it would have been run over by any moving vehicle had he not rescued it. Our kids saved its life and now they get slapped with charges of chori-dkaiti-theft and robbery. The whole university knows that Rohit gave this bird to our Beere and said “since you know more about birds, you take care of it.” Poor Beere, he got enticed by blue-green feathers of this devil. Brought it home. For hours, he took care of it by offering it sometimes guava, sometimes apple, sometimes bread-butter, even Bisleri water…”

“The first night, he kept it in the cage with the pigeons. In the morning, he found that the devil had killed two of his pigeons. Bhaiyya, my son Beere has come under the influence of sadde-saati- adverse days. How else would a good deed get such bad results. That’s why I say that it is some devil. Otherwise, who has seen a blue colour on a parrot. They are always green. But devils always entice people by changing into different colours. Next morning, he handed it over to the Gujjar’s son. Swear by you, brother, he did not charge a paisa…”

“…Brother, save my Beere. Get him out of jail and bring him home. My husband too would be grateful to you. Please do spend five-ten hundred rupees if the need be. We’d pay you. Let his father come back, we’d sell an animal or too. Although these are too young as yet but these are only support in times of need…”

Jeet Singh felt that that was right time to go for the kill. Cutting her monologue short, he said-

“Ramkali, what are you talking about five-ten hundred rupees. This much the orderlies demand who call out names in front of court rooms. I told you, the parrot belongs to the minister. And that too to the minister for making bombs. The police officer was saying to me that they were under tremendous pressure…Ramkali, do you understand what does it all mean! Everyone has his mouth wide open these days. There is this new policy of ‘openness’ launched by this ‘khichdi gormint’-coalition government. This means ‘open season’- whatever you do, do openly. Pay openly, accept openly, no questions asked. We see this happening every day. What of leaders, what of officers-everyone is busy filling his coffers. The police accept money through us. Don’t leave even a paisa for us, although people believe we have a ‘cut’…”

“But Ramkali, what you are saying is correct: some evil spirit has possessed your Beere. Why else would he bring this calamity home, seating it on his scooter handle. Anyway, we’d have to free him- bail or no bail. People asking for bribes ask for ‘peti’ these days. You understand ‘peti’, Ramkali? One ‘peti’, two ‘peti’, half ‘peti’! One ‘peti’- meaning literally a box-means one lakh rupees. That’s why I asked about the return of Bhai Saab…”

“Now, of course, nothing can be done till the evening. And tomorrow and the day after are court holidays: Saturday and Sunday. Monday too is a holiday, it being the pandra agast- fifteenth of August, the Independence Day. But those people won’t sit quiet all these days. God knows what other charges they might add after consulting with their lawyer? Which other law might they invoke? It does not cost them a paisa. Phones must be ringing every other minute: now the P.A., now the Secretary.

Jeet Singh tightened the screw a little more- to pressurize Ramkali further.

“…Then the police get irritated with explanations every now and then. And the poor prisoner pays for the police anger…you must have heard stories about what all happens in Tihar Jail. The very name of this jail is scary. Prisoners call it ‘zalim jail’-cruel prison.”

Jeet Singh was sure that Ramkali must have kept aside some money without the knowledge of her husband. All women do- for times of need and emergency. Otherwise, most husbands would splurge it on drinks. That was the money that he was after. And that too before Dharampal’s return from Panjab.

Ramkali was still crying. The word ‘prison’ had frightened her further.

“Ramkali, I have to now get ready to go to the courts. Don’t you take it to your heart. I’d do whatever is possible. Even then, some monetary arrangement needs to me made- and today only.” Saying this, he got up to go inside for a bath. Ramkali too got up, sobbing.

“Bhaiyya, I shall see if I can get some money on loan from the tenant.”

“I’d leave around ten. I was wondering if some arrangement could be made by then. I could go to the courts via Chankiyapuri…I’ve to get papers made.”

 Jeet Singh stopped the car on the road outside the police station gate. When he was about to enter, the policeman at the gate told him to park the car in the parking or els the crane could remove it.

“Let them remove it, the urchins. It belongs to a High Court Advocate. I’ve come here in connection with a case. Haven’t come for picnic, my friend.”

“You are right sir. But this is a V.I.P. zone. And then, there are special orders for he fifteenth of August. Sir, there is the danger from Kashmiri terrorists. The whole of Delhi is under Red Alert. I suggested this to save your time later.”

He was right. The situation was very precarious. During the last ten days, there had been several bomb blasts not only in J&K but everywhere. There had been explosions all over- from railway stations in small townships to high security buildings.

‘There are hundreds of groups. Some this Mujahideen and some that Toiba. Despite thousands of intelligence persons and deployment of lakhs of forces, the bombs were still exploding, people were still dying. Only last week, that well-known photographer from Delhi had been killed. Had gone with other journalists to Srinagar,’ Jeet Singh wondered.

Then Jeet Singh’s attention turned to the Kargil war the previous year and to his cousin Nafe who was in the army-A.S.C. In the beginning of the war, he was carrying rations from Srinagar in a three-tonner. Near Sonmarg, the truck went out of control and fell in a khadd, two hundred feet below. The driver and Nafe had been killed on the spot. Since the tragedy had not taken place on the battle front, Nafe had not become a national hero; nor had his family received tens of lakhs by way of help as is given to families of soldiers- by both the State government and the Central government- who die in combatants. He remembered that the wife of Sube Singh of his own village had got eleven and a half lakh rupees. Jeet Singh knew about it because Sube Singh’s wife had refused her in-laws’ suggestion that she marry her nineteen years’ old brother-in-law. Taking her two children along, she had moved to her parents’ place. Jeet Singh had moved the court on behalf of Sube’s old parents for their share of the compensation.

“Look at the justice of the state! The hussy who had been married to my son for just five years will have all the fun with lakhs of rupees while me, who had not only carried him in my belly for nine months but also brought him up for twenty years will starve for even two meals. No way, bhai Jeete! File a case. We’d see. Anyways, we are dead-this way or that way.”

Sube Singh’s mother had told him that Sube’s father was in favour of an out-of-court settlement. His argument was that both his house and the field would get sold in pursuit of the case and the future of the second son too would be jeopardized.

“Sir, you seem to be worried for nothing. The parking is right here, on the left. Near the rain water drain.”

When the policeman at the gate said this, Jeet Singh, standing next to his car, came back to the present.

“O.K., O.K.,” he said, sat in the car, started it, backed it a little and turning it to the left, took it to the back of the building. After parking, he came and asked the same policeman,

“Where does Inspector Vijay Singh sit?”

“Please ask at the reception. First room on the left.”

“Vakeel Saab, when calamity decide to descend, it manages to catch, no matter where you are and how hard you may try to avoid it. On Wednesday morning, I had hardly settled in my sea when the S.H.O. Saab summoned me and said, “You have to investigate a V.I.P. case. A parrot has been stolen. Please go and inspect the site of the crime. Take a Hawildar with you. Please inspect the site thoroughly. Also record the statements of the family members. And be extremely courteous. The complaint was registered by the P.M.’s office. There is a special minister in the Cabinet. Please be careful and brief me immediately after you come back.”

“Inspector Saab, you are so right. In my language, there is a saying: sar mundate hee ole pade- to run into a hailstorm immediately after getting your head shaved. But what exactly happened? I don’t know.”

“Will you have a cup of tea? It’s a long story,” saying this, Inspector Vijay Singh rang the bell and ordered the boyish looking person who had entered saying, “Yes, Sir!” to go get tea.

“Special cardamom tea. Vakeel Saab is here.”

Jeet Singh knew well why this hospitality! He himself would order Samosa and tea on spotting a victim. But today, he had decided that he wasn’t going to share even a rupee out of the ten thousand he had managed to extract from Ramkali after a great effort- whether Beere got bail today or after three days, on Dharampal’s return.

“Inspector Saab, I too am keen to know all the details. Beere’s father is a close friend. We live in the same neighbourhood. Dharampal has gone out and that’s why I got the information late. Or else, the matter would have got resolved right there. “Vakeel Saab, the matter is quite complicated. The parrot is the favourite pet of the Minister’s son. As I told you on the phone, it is hardly a parrot. It is more intelligent that humans. Vakeel Saab, I have never seen nor heard about such an animal in my entire life.”

“Tea Sir. There is very little sugar in it. There is some in the bowl though,” the orderly had cut short the Inspector’s praise poem about the parrot. “O.K., keep it here and leave. And see, no one is allowed in.”

“Yes sir,” the orderly said with a meaningful smile on his face.

“Vakeel Saab, please have tea. There is more sugar, if you want to. As I said, early morning, the S.H.O. handed over the case to me to investigate…”

“But what all happened? How is this related to the P. M’s office?” Jeet Singh had already collected a lot of information on his own but wanted to understand the Inspector’s point of view.

“I’d explain everything. Have some patience. I hope you are not in a hurry. Do you have a hearing in the forenoon?”

“No, I am in no hurry. Only that I am concerned about Beere. He’s like my own son. I have seen him grow up since his childhood. Despite the environment, he is a decent boy. If he has any obsession, it is to groom birds-particularly pigeons-of many kinds and hues. He looks after them, trains them, teaches them many tricks…”

“Vakeel Saab, it is this love of his for birds that doomed him. What the investigation has revealed is that he stole this parrot with the help of a servant in the Minister’s service. He stole the parrot from her home. The Minister lives in a big bungalow on the Ring road. After stealing, the bird was taken to a nearby university where, after holding it for several hours, Beere brought it home in a jhuggi-shanty- near Lodi colony nullah- a big rainwater carrying drain. Next day, he sold it to a Gujjar for two thousand rupees. The Gujjar approached a birds-exporter through a Muslim friend of his. We too had, in the meantime, alerted out sources to inform us if a bird like that came for sale in the market. Our people were also keeping an eye on the work places of these people. Also, a couple of persons had been sent out as decoy customers. During the day, the Gujjar and his friend to a dealer in Lajpat Nagar and proposed to sell the bird. They were asking for one and half lakhs…”

“One and a half lakhs!. Inspector Saab, what’s special about this parrot? Does it have wings of gold or what? Please let me also have a of darshan this king of birds?”

“The parrot, Vakeel Saab, has gone back to the Minister’s residence. Without it, her younger son was in a really bad shape- wasn’t eating anything. He’s repeat only one thing- Martin ko lao- Bring back Martin. Martin is what he called this macao.”

“Macao! Who’s that?” the lawyer could not get anything.

“Macao is the breed of this bird. It is generally found in the jungles of Africa or the Pacific region. It is a very colourful bird…blue-yellow, red and in many other colours. In size, it is much bigger than an ordinary parrot. The unique thing about it is that it can be trained to speak. It can also learn a lot by listening. It can converse too by using certain words in an appropriate situation. Martin is very smart. Thrice, it told me to ‘shut up’! Also, kept on using ‘O, Shit!’ many times. It belonged to a nation in the Indian Ocean and was gifted to the Minister by the President when she went there on a visit.”

“In that case, it must have made a lot of noise when being taken away. And must have recognized the servant too. What does the servant say?” Jeet Singh’s legal mind became active immediately.

“The servant is missing since that day. A force has been dispatched to his home town. He belongs to Eastern U.P.-some village near Gorakhpur. All that would be taken care of routinely. Tell me, what is to be done with Beere? Shall we try for his bail, etc. As I said, it is a complicated case. The first phone came from the P.M.’s office.”

“How come?”

“The story is like this, Vakeel Saab: that he Minister Saab was going for a cabinet meeting at the P.M. House before proceeding to the Parliament when she was informed on her wireless about the theft of the macao. On reaching the P.M.’s residence, she sought the help of the P.M.’s staff. As it is, the Minister Saab is very close to the Prime Minister. They say, there are old family ties between them. Enquiries about the progress in the case have been made many times from the P.M.’s office. Anyways, tell me, are Beere’s parents ready to get him out on bail. Many times, we have seen that…”

Jeet Singh thought this was the right moment to ‘fix’ the Inspector. So, he cut his story short and said-

“This is what I came to share with you. The students of the university where Beere works are very angry about his arrest. According to Beere’s mother, all of them saw how a friend of his-another employee named Rohit- brought the parrot and gave it to Beere. The students say that the parrot was half-dead due to heat, hunger and thirst. After long caring and cajoling, after offering it water, cucumber, apple, etc., Beere revived it. And the parrot then fell for Beere and when his friend gives it to him, the parrot sat on the handle of Beere’s scooter like a mascot and went away with him.”

“Vakeel Saab, this is an F.I.R. by the minister Not a role play by boys. As I told you, the complaint came from the P.M.’s office.”

“Inspector Saab, these are the same students who had stood up to the excesses of Mrs. Gandhi during the Emergency and after she became the Prime Minister again, forced her to relinquish the Chancellorship of the university. What I mean to say is that it is difficult to scare them by invoking the name of the Prime Minister. It is also being said that many Professors too saw the tricks performed by the parrot and they are ready to testify that the parrot was first given to Beere by Rohit-on the campus, in everyone’s presence. What I mean to say is that the allegation of stealing the parrot will be difficult to…”

Inspector Vijay Singh cut him short and said, “But, Vakeel Saab, if Beere files an affidavit, confessing his crime then all this would become meaningless. We are asking him to confess, trying to, I mean…”

“Try a little carefully, Inspector Saab. I have heard that these boys are planning to meet the SC&ST Commissioner and also the Chairman of the Human Rights Commission. Beere’s mother has told me that a group of students came home to meet her and assure her of all help. They told her all this. That’s why I thought I’d talk to you about this in advance. You know how active this Commission has become. Every day there is a news item of the suspension of one police officer or another. Of course, this is an excess with all those poor officers who work day and night to maintain the law and order in the city. But the world has changed. Inspector Saab, the students are also planning to file a complaint against the minister for cruelty against animals. They say the Incharge of that ministry is a woman minister who is not on good terms with this minister. A woman is another woman’s worst enemy-there is saying like that, no!”

Inspector Vijay Singh felt that Jeet Singh had got a hint from somewhere that the complaint had already reached the police. The F.I.R. had already been lodged and the police felt that its case of theft was becoming weak. He was trying to extract something out it before its dismissal in the same manner that private Nursing Home management extracted the last bit by operating upon a patient although they knew full well that there was no hope of the patient surviving.

He had already extracted twenty thousand each from both the Gujjar boy and his friend Aslam and had weakened the case against them.

“Anyways, you have the papers prepared for the bail application of Beere. We’ll see I will try. But I have to meet Beere’s father and ask him a few questions before that.”

The lawyer understood what it meant.

“That’s problem, Inspector Saab. Dharampal has gone to Panjab- for getting some medicine for himself. He is expected back some time in the day today…Please keep my observation about the students in mind, Inspector Saab…I’ll telephone you after getting the papers ready.”

“That’s fine. But as I told you, the complaint has come from the P.M.’s office. A little oversight and my job will be gone…please tell Beere’s family to send his father here immediately after arrival…his statement is very essential before the case for bail…the accused can tutor him, influence him.”

Jeet Singh felt that Beere would get bail only after the arrival of Dharampal- only on the payment of ‘service tax’ to Inspector Vijay Singh. But he himself was not ready to share anything from his ‘extraction’ whether Beere got bail that day or after four days. Since the case had taken an interesting turn after two ministers coming into conflict with each other- and that too women ministers- there was no chance of excesses being committed on Beere during the interrogation. Otherwise, every day there were reports of cases of ‘death in custody’ in the national media. Also, he had warned the inspector in the name of students and professors…the rest was Beere’s own luck…

“O.K., thank you inspector,” saying this, Jeet Singh came out of his room.

It was very hot. When Dharampal and Ram Nares reached the Hoshiarput Bus Stand, he was panting. There appeared to be no difference in his condition even after taking the medicine for two days, although the Baba had said that his disease would disappear completely before he arrived home.

Dharampal suffered from the disease of breathlessness and he had come to Hoshiarpur for the treatment for the same.

“Baba Ji gives medicine absolutely appropriate for this disease..” Ram Nares had told him one day when they were both eating ‘dosa’ in Madrasi’s-South Indian person’s- canteen.

“How long have you had this disease?” Ram Nares had asked him.

“It hasn’t been long. Last year, I was fit and fine. On Dussera, I fought in a kushti-wresting match. You know Pappu, from the Kamputar Sentar. I defeated him. After that, I started feeling a little weak in the body. My wife also felt that…the evil eye of some enemy has affected me…”

“There is a Baba in Panjab. Gives medicine…not exactly medicine but some herbs from high mountains. The whole year long the mountains are covered in snow. Only in summers, it melts for ten-fifteen days. Only then he goes and fetches them-himself. That too after an intense search. You know that Partap fellow, who works in that factory-cum-bungalow- that minister’s residence. There was someone from his daughter-in-law’s village. He caught this disease. This Baba made him well in only one go…You come with me once…these doctors will kill you with allopathic medicines…you know this Sahni fellow…in the administration…that tall, thin fellow who drank excessively…these doctor treated him with such medicines…destroyed his liver…with medicines and he contracted that…what do they call it cirrohsis or something. And on top of it, they also don’t allow you to drink…”

On listening to Ram Nares’s last observation, Dharampal agreed to go with him because the doctor had asked him to keep away from drinks and had instructed his wife to keep a watch on him.

“It does involve expenses for coming and going but the medicine is very effective. Baba does not charge anything for himself. Yes, he had a gosala- sanctuary for cows. A huge one. There are thousands of cows. People give donations for the same. He never touches the money himself. For that, there is a separate office, separate staff. They accept the donations and give you a receipt. Whatever one feels like giving-five hundred, one thousand…”

Dharampal got surprised on hearing about ‘five hundred, one thousand’ but did not say anything.

“The medicine is very effective. Destroys the disease completely and the body regains it strength so much that the wife gets fed up…Dharampal, with Baba’s blessings you’d win the kushti again at the next Dussera…

The Bus Stand was very big. All around, only buses and buses, only people and people. The noise was deafening. Conductors, cleaners, helpers, all were shoting- “Chandigarh, Chandigarh! Dilli, Dilli! Chintpurni, Chintpurni! Maata, Maata, Maata!...”

Dhaba owners and shopkeepers were raising their own shindy:

“Chai, Chai!. Lassi, Pronthe! Pakode! Chai, Chai! Pepsi, colddrinks!”

Along with heat, the humidity was very oppressive. After walking for two hours, there was no strength left in Dharampal’s body. His breathing was still very heavy and fast. Even after taking the medicine continuously for two days, there appeared to be no improvement in his condition.

Suddenly, Dharampal felt dizzy. His throat went dry. He saved himself from falling by holding Ram Nares. When Ram Nares saw Dharampal holding him tight, he asked-

“What happened, Dharampal? Are you alright?”
“Yes…but I am feeling giddy. My throat is also parched. Help me lie down here and you go get a bottle of water…Get Bisleri! You never know how the other kind of water is…My purse is in the inner pocket, take out the money. Go, quickly!”

Saying this, Dharampal lay down himself, his eyes closed and he passed out.

Ram Nares was feeling his pocket and taking out the purse when someone touched him from behind. When he looked back, he found a policeman… a Sardar.

“What happened?”

“Ji, he is my friend, Dharampal. He has become unconscious. Taking out the money, I was going to buy Bisleri.”

Ram Nares became nervous on seeing the policeman. The purse was still in his hand.

“yes, yes, he’s your friend. Has become unconscious. You were going to get bisleri water for him. You people drink bisleri water only. Come, I will tell you everything..”

Before he could compose himself, the policeman had snatched the purse from him.

“I understand everything. Every day dozens of incidents are happening. Make him unconscious after administering some medicine. And then disappear after looting the money. Come, I’ll get you bisleri water…”

Saying this, the policeman held Ram Nares by the hand and made him stand up.”First, let me take care of you, then I’ll also look after him…”

The policeman pushed Ram Nares forward and took him along. Dharampal was lying there, unconscious.

“Saab, what are you doing? He’s my friend Dharampal. We are both from J.N.U…

I was going to get bisleri water…Saab, Dharampal…”

“Come, come! That’s what I said, I’ll get you Bisleri water.”