The Society Scandal

Rumors flew thick in the air. The whole society was abuzz. Mrs. Rastogi had not attended Mrs. Malhotra’s pet Pommerian’s birthday complaining of a headache. Mrs. Ghosh whispered, “Even last week, she walked in the last moment to Mrs. Malhotra’s kitty party.” Mrs. Mishra nibbled delicately at paneer pakora and remarked, “That’s because she had to water her Star of Bethlehem’s. She always says that 4pm is the only time of the day when the plants can absorb water. Fo..fo…she called it fotosynthesix.” “Actually,” replied Mrs. Ghosh, “the whole fallout was because Mrs. Rastogi lost to Mrs. Malhotra in the Mahjong party at Mrs. Mirchndani’s”. “Ssshhhhh!” Joined Mrs. Krishnamurthy. “I know the real reason. Mr. Malhotra is soon going to get a big promotion and then he will be senior to Mr. Rastogi.” “Oh! My gosh” exclaimed Mrs. Mishra and Mrs. Ghosh.

It was official now. Cold war had begun. Chintu Rastogi was not allowed to play with Bobby Malhotra. At Pummy’s wedding, Mrs. Malhotra gifted her silver anklets and Mrs. Rastogi hit back with gold earrings. When the Rastogi family decided to spend their summer at Singapore, the Malhotras chose New Zealand.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Krishnamurthy was doing her best to bring them together. She paired up the two of them in the three-legged-race at her residence on a sunny winter Sunday afternoon. It did not work. She went to Mrs. Rastogi’ place and under the pretext of learning how to maintain Star of Bethlehem’s, tried to gain her confidence. Mrs. Malhotra poured out her heart while showing her how to cook Paneer Butter Masala. Mrs. Krishnamurthy had all the inside dough and people flocked to her for news.

Equations in the company were changing very fast. Mr. Ray the President was about to retire and there was speculation about who would succeed him. Opinion was divided between Mr. Malhotra and Mr. Rastogi. Many said, Rastogi would be promoted over Malhotra and he would be the next President. Mrs. Malhotra and Mrs. Rastogi continued to smile their plastic smiles when they met at parties and grimaced as soon as their backs were turned. Tension was rife in the air.

The day arrived. Mr. Ray was retiring. He would name his successor and a grand farewell party would be thrown at the club soon afterwards. Mr. Rastogi and Mr. Malhotra arrived in office in spotless white shirts and their wives got their best Kanjeevarams ready. Mr. Ray called everyone to his office and said; “The management has decided that in the event of my retirement, Mr. Krishnamurthy will take over as the next President of the company. Mr. Malhotra and Mr. Rastogi will be assisting him. They will both be promoted as Vice-Presidents. Thank you.”

The party was a grand success. Everybody commented on how appropriate it was of the wives of the newly appointed Vice-Presidents to turn up in South Indian silks. Mrs. Krishnamurthy was particularly pleased. She commented on how glad she was to have Mrs. Rastogi and Mrs. Malhotra as her dearest friends. She demanded that they jointly throw a party at the women’s club next week. Mrs. Rastogi and Mrs. Malhotra had suddenly become best friends, together venting their ire against the newly appointed President’s wife. Mrs. Krishnamurthy had the last laugh!

Money..Money..Money - 2

(Continued from Money..Money..Money - 1)

Ravi Raju was looking at the chandelier with admiration. He was actually trying to gauge the cost of the thing. The last time he saw a similar thing was at the Y.V Chavan Auditorium at the Women’s College, which is happens to visit more often because his daughter was studying there. It was 11 am in the morning and the crowd out side the flat 304 as well the Kiran gate was almost immobile. The buzz around was only asking one question. What actually have happened?? Ravi himself was a bit flummoxed. The flat he was standing on was a typical Mumbai up market one with all the facilities starting from Home Theatre to 29’ color television. The bathroom was a dream come true for anyone with sauna bath facilities along with a wide array of expensive toiletries. Other than the chandelier, there were very costly paintings in the Hall. One thing that was missing from the flat was any picture. His people could not find a single snap or photo in that flat. Patkar from the forensics called him. Breaking out of his reverie Ravi asked, found the body? Patkar nodded in the negative. Actually till now Ravi had witnessed lot of gruesome crime scenes. But this one at the Kiran had him stumped. Every where he can see blood smeared with the torn pieces of clothes. But there was no sign of the body at all. And most intriguingly, the person who have been the first to set off the alarm do not even know the name of the inhabitant of the flat. The CSI Team was almost sure that a violent crime was committed. But then as an investigating officer Ravi cannot lodge an assault and murder case unless he can get hold of the body. Suddenly constable Wagle came running down the corridor holding a piece of cloth in his hand. It was stained with blood and seemed to be a part of a beige kurta. Saab, I recovered it from the staircase. It was actually wedged between the window sill between the second and third floor. Now this was some clue, Ravi thought. Wagle, take your people and search every nook and corner of this building and the adjacent lanes please, he barked his orders. But inside he was very confused.
He gave a last look at the flat and came out of the door of the flat – the same one through which Anil made his entry sometime before. The crowd outside was fell silent. Where is the building watchman? No one uttered any thing. Then a very old and haggard face came forth. I am Bimal Sir. And I am the watchman cum gardener here. Ravi looked up. The man was any where between 40 and 50. Dark complexion and seems to be a habitual drinker. He was reeking of country liquor all around. Ravi took him to a corner and started questioning.
Who used to stay here?
I don’t know. Actually she has just come to stay here.
Don’t you have her name in your society’s register?
No Sir. The register has got Mr. Khare’s name as he used to pay the society charges.
You want to tell me that a complete stranger was staying in your building and none of you had any inkling about it? That person could have been a squatter as well. Have you informed the owner of this flat? Ravi blurted out.
Yes Sir, actually the lady in question has brought in a letter from Mr. Khare declaring her as a lawful tenant. Here is the letter.
Ravi went through the letter very carefully. The only question he was thinking was whether the letter has been forged or not.
Did Mr. Khare previously used to keep tenants?
No.
With that Ravi concluded that there is little to know from the Kiran people. He picked his cell phone and started to place a call to the control room for the police artist. He was sure that he cannot file anything more than a missing complaint. While dialing suddenly he remembered something. The neighbor fellow was mentioning something about a telephone ringing that brought him out of his flat!!!
He began looking very carefully inch by inch through out the flat until he came across the thing he was looking for. It was a very small Sony handset tucked discreetly in between two books in the bookshelf. It was wide screen and would have doubled as a PDA as well. Perked up with his discovery he tried to look at screen and find out the number that might have been there courtesy the missed call. But unfortunately all he could find was the screen saver playing. It was a flash demo for the set itself. Where he tried to press any button the only thing he could see was “ Enter the Authorization Code”. Thoroughly dejected the Inspector decided to send it to the Technicians (the geeks from the IT Crime cell) near the Crawford Market and wait for the artist to come down so that he can have at least a description sketched out for the mysterious lady. (To be Continued)