1.
Being locked up in Bhondsi jail is not really a bad thing. The inmates largely leave me alone. They are terrified of me. They are terrified of my reputation. I am a cop killer. Killing a civilian is different. It is normal. Killing a cop, on the other hand, can make you look dangerous in the eyes of other criminals. I killed two cops, and injured two others. I do not remember what happened exactly. All I remember is Jaswant’s terrified face, and panic rushing through my veins. I remember firing the gun until all the bullets were exhausted. I remember pulling Jaswant from his stupor and making a dash for the car.
I do not remember the incident, yet the guards on duty will not let me forget. They despise me. I am the cop killer. I killed two of their brothers and they will not forgive me. They call me names. Earlier, I would get angry. I would yell back. I would threaten to kill them in their sleep. Now, I am used to the routine. Their words do not mean anything to me anymore.
The inmates here entertain themselves by counting the days until they will be free. Rajaram, the lanky pickpocket, starts his day by announcing a number at the top of his lungs, the day when he will be free and return to his village in the hinterlands of Chittor. I once accosted him outside the bathroom. He was terrified. The look in his eyes was disgusting. I know about him. He sleeps in the corner of the dormitory. I have seen other inmates creep into his bedding when the lights go out. I have heard the muffled voice of him receiving pleasure. So, he was not repulsed by the act of seduction, but by me. Sometimes, when this happens, I lose my mind. I did slap him. His right cheek was red for days.
These days, my anger is under control. I am no longer desperate. Now, I do not dream of escaping from the prison and go find Jaswant. These days, I do not even think about him; on most days at any rate. These days, I just sit here, looking out at the wizened gulmohar tree, stray birds or squirrels.
I do not count the days to when I will be free. I imagine it will be years; perhaps the time will never come. It does not bother me. I have nowhere to go. This is the truth, or part of the truth. I know, somewhere near Udaipur, Jaswant still lives, free, going about with his daily chores. Some days, sitting in the corner, I try to imagine what he must be doing right now, in his sunbaked village. I cannot go on. I begin to get angry. I begin to get desperate.
A while ago, someone had smuggled a cell phone inside the jail. One night, I borrowed the phone and dialed Jaswant’s number, hoping that it would no longer be in service. It was. There was a long silence on the other side when I mentioned my name. Then he asked feebly, “How are you?” I am in jail, gandu, and it is all because of you, I wanted to scream. I could not. I am still in love with him. Once I told him, I would kill for his love. I did. I killed Ghanshyam Sheth and two police officers.
2.
Ghanshyam Sheth owned a bar near Sikanderpur Metro Station. I was his driver cum bodyguard. I had the muscles for the job. After all, I learnt kushti in a real akhada. I loved my job, which involved picking up Sheth from his home in the afternoon and dropping him home early in the morning. For the remainder of the day, I would hang around the kitchen, finishing half-a-bottle of McDowell’s No 1 whiskey.
Sheth was a good boss. Other than the pickup and drop, and occasional errands where I would drive to Delhi to pick up a packet, a client, or one of those girls from Paharganj, I was mostly on my own. I loved driving Sheth’s brand new Scorpio. Once I was behind the wheels, nothing else mattered. I also loved hanging out with the kitchen staff at the bar. People came to Sheth’s place to get drunk, not to eat. Therefore, the cooks, especially, Radheshyam and Jagan, would be free to join me for a drink, or play a game of teen patti. I loved playing teen patti. It is the ultimate game of luck. Some nights I would win, some nights I would lose. It did not matter. Everything was fair between friends.
I did not notice Jaswant when he first started working at the bar, waiting at tables. I did not notice him even on the first few occasions when, after closing the bar, he accompanied Sheth to his house. It usually happened when Sheth’s wife and kids were not home.
It was a thing with Sheth. He had a special taste for teenage boys. He would hire them at the bar, enjoy them for a few months, and then send them away. He was very discreet about it. His employees would smirk behind his back, but nobody pointed a finger at him. Sheth was a powerful man. He owned the Sikanderpur police station. He could make anyone disappear.
For me, it did not matter with whom Sheth spent his nights. Every time he took a new boy home, Radheshyam would ask, if I had noticed what Sheth did with the boy on the backseat. I would say they did not do anything. This was the truth. I had no curiosity to know what they did inside the house. I had grown up in an akhada, among boys. I knew what could transpire between two men if they were willing.
Jaswant was something else. There was something about this tall, dark, hairless boy from Udaipur. Was it his smile, which showed his beautiful set of teeth or was it his sparking eyes, or his soft voice that still spoke in a recognizable Rajasthani accent? I was not sure. By the time I started noticing him, I had sensed that Sheth was in love with him. In case of the earlier boys, Sheth would take them home occasionally. Jaswant, however, accompanied Sheth to his home more frequently. Sheth must have found some ways to send his wife and son away. Every afternoon, as I reached his bungalow, I would look for the Santro on the driveway. If the car was missing, I would know Jaswant would spend the night with Sheth.
That day, as I dropped Sheth and Jaswant, I noticed the Santro on the driveway. I parked the Scorpio in the garage and started walking back to my room at the other end of the jhuggi. Sheth had a three-story bungalow in Sector 18, not far from the jhuggi where I had rented a room for Rs 2,000. As I reached the road and lit a cigarette, somebody called me, “Dinesh-bhai…” I turned and saw Jaswant. He was outside the gate. He looked lost. “What happened?” I asked. “Memsaab is back,” he said. It just happened. He followed me to my room, and I had to offer him my bed.
Later, I would accuse him of seducing me that night, and he would agree. He would say he had always admired my body and wanted it for himself. He would say I had a much better figure than the portly Sheth. I was flattered.
Without my realizing how it came about, we fell into a routine. On the days he did not spend the night with Sheth, Jaswant would come to my place. I arranged a cycle for him. Earlier, when he was not with Sheth, he would sleep at the bar. Now, he told his colleagues he was staying with his uncle at the jhuggi near Sector 18.
Those days, by the time I was home, he would already be in my bed. They were good days. I would go to sleep with a happy exhaustion, with his warm body entwining mine, and I would wake up with exhilaration, his breath in my ears.
This did not last. Like Sheth, I made the same mistake. I fell in love.
One night, Jaswant told me that he had taken three days’ leave to go home. He also had some cash on him, but he did not want to go home. He wanted to spend the whole three days with me. He suggested that I too should take leave for three days and we should go on a trip somewhere, to Suraj Kund perhaps, or to Sohna. It would be like a honeymoon, he said. I laughed. Nevertheless, I asked Sheth for leave. I told him there was a family emergency in Karnal, my home. My wife needed me.
I did not get along with my wife. I could never be sure when she would start nagging. And once she started, she would never stop until I smacked her face. I did not enjoy doing it, but there was no other way. This was the reason I was in Gurgaon. I gave her two sons, and as long as I kept sending her the money every month, everything was all right.
Sheth agreed to let me go. Jaswant decided to make the most of the time we had. So, instead of going to Suraj Kund or Sohna, we went to Paharganj. We booked a room in a cheap lodge, stocked it up with liquor and food and spent three blissful days eating, drinking and fucking. I was never big on sex. I did it when I had to do it. I did not discuss it, or spend the whole day doing it. Jaswant was insatiable. He wanted to spend the whole day on it, and he wanted to talk about it. We talked, lying naked on the small cot, holding each other, our bodies pleasantly aching, our hearts palpitating, our heads swirling.
Mostly Jaswant talked. I listened. His head was full of weird ideas. He wanted to spend his whole life like this, locked in a room with me. He wanted to run away with me, to some other city, Bombay, and live together, like husband and wife. Let’s get married, he would repeat often. I would laugh and say, Let’s, but where? He would give me the names of places with temples where he knew for a fact that the priests solemnized marriages between two men or two women. I would laugh at his childish flight of fancy. When his blabbering did not stop, I would pin him down and kiss him deep, sucking his tongue.
On the second day, I suggested it. Perhaps I was tired of penetrating him. I was very protective of my backside. I would not let even Jaswant touch it. It took a lot of cajoling from him before I allowed him to touch it, and then lick it. He was very good with his small mouth and long tongue. I liked the sloppy feel of his tongue between the cracks of my bottom. Perhaps I was curious to see what would happen next. It did not begin well. Jaswant started with inserting his index finger. It was painful. I asked him to stop, but he would not give up. He quickly dressed up, went down and returned with a bottle of coconut oil. I lay on the bed, face down and legs spread. He massaged the oil on the entrance with the expertness of a nurse. Soon, his finger was completely inside me. He then inserted another. I gasped. I was ready. Then Jaswant turned my body, pulled my legs onto his shoulders and entered me. The pain was back. I asked him to stop. He did, with his penis still inside me. I took few long breaths and Jaswant pushed again. I was breathing fast. There was a strange sensation all over my body. My heart came up to my throat. I stretched my hands and grabbed his buttocks.
Then, for the first time in my life, I felt complete. I did not want anything other than this moment, right now. Jaswant pulled and pushed again. I arched my body, pulled his face towards mine and hungrily swallowed his lips.
Looking back, I was convinced that at that moment, that very moment, I fell in love with him. Right then, I was ready to believe all his silly talk. Right then, I was ready to run away with him. Right then, I was ready to go to that temple and marry him. Right then I wanted him, just for me and me alone.
3.
Back in Gurgaon, I was in love. Not just that, I was consumed by possessiveness and jealously. I could not stand it when Jaswant smiled at customers while serving them, or when a customer struck up a conversation with him and he joined in eagerly. The most difficult part was driving back home, with Sheth and Jaswant on the backseat. Jaswant played his role well. With Sheth around, he would not even give me a smile. This would make me angry. I struggled to keep my anger in check. Then I was home, alone, and I could not contain it anymore.
A week later, I confronted Jaswant outside the bar. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Let’s run away.” This time I proposed the idea. He laughed and entwined his fingers in mine. “Where would we go?” he asked. Before I could come up with a place, he added, “You know, Sheth pays me well. I need the money. You told me he would lose interest in me soon and throw me out of the job. Until then, I must try to pocket whatever money I can. After that I am all yours.”
Yes, I had told Jaswant that Sheth would lose interest in him soon. That was the pattern. Sheth would be interested in a boy until the next one arrived. It did not take Sheth much time to find a new one. In case of Jaswant, however, I could not be sure. It was more than a month and Sheth was still very much into it. Perhaps it was due to Jaswant’s ability in bed. The thought of Sheth doing it with Jaswant made me insane. I would have to try my best to control the urge to smack Sheth’s face.
Radheshyam said if you are in love, it shows. Perhaps it did show, despite my efforts to hide my desperation while I was in the bar. Instead of spending my time playing teen patti, now I would eye Jaswant as he carried on with his job, pouring drinks, opening soda bottles, filling the peanut bowls. I was as discreet as possible. I stopped talking to the waiters who, between breaks, would huddle outside the kitchen. I knew them well. We often exchanged friendly banters. Now, I did not trust myself, especially when Jaswant was among them.
I had to be careful to keep my involvement with Jaswant a secret, not only from Sheth, but also from everyone in the bar, especially Radheshyam. He had an unhealthy fascination for Sheth’s sex life. He was one of the oldest employees at the bar and he knew all about Sheth’s previous lovers. He had told me stories.
Under these circumstances, all I could do was to wait for Jaswant to visit me in my room. Thankfully, he was very good at keeping secrets. Or, perhaps it was because he was keen on getting favors from Sheth as long as he could.
As the weeks went by, I got used to the routine. I could plan the days when Jaswant was with Sheth and when he could come to my place. We started planning our future together. Jaswant wanted to shift to Delhi. He said he would find a job in a bigger hotel, and I could find a driver’s job with a rich man. I would warm up to the idea. I would say, “Okay, let’s leave this place tomorrow morning.” Jaswant was reluctant. He argued he was still getting good money. Apart from his salary, for every night he spent with Sheth, he received Rs 500 extra. He argued that he needed money to send home. I could not argue with that.
4.
That morning, as I picked up Sheth, he asked me to fill the car tank. He said we would be going to Jaipur that night. From there, we would travel to Udaipur and spend the night there. It was a routine trip. Sheth’s brother-in-law was developing a property in Udaipur, with Sheth’s money. Once in a few months, he made a visit to inspect the progress. This time, I was surprised to learn that Jaswant too was coming with him. “He knows the desert,” Sheth explained. “He has promised to show me the desert during the night.”
As we left the city and hit the Jaipur highway, I resisted the temptation to gawk at Jaswant through the central mirror and concentrated on the road. This stretch was particularly uneven, filled with potholes of all sizes. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes moved bumper to bumper. I joined the melee. It was my kind of a situation.
We had left the city lights past midnight. We had crossed Sohna a long time back, and right now, we were in the middle of nowhere. The traffic waned to a series of trucks on the other side of the road. I was peering into the darkness when I heard Jaswant laugh. I snapped. The Scorpio swerved. I hit the brakes before the car could turn and landed on the mustard field next to the highway. “What’s wrong?” Sheth screamed. The front tire was punctured. There was an extra tire at the back. Without a word, I pulled the car to the roadside, and got down to business. As I unscrewed the tire, I wanted Jaswant by my side. I mulled over the possibility of asking Sheth to let him help me. At least, he could show me some light. I did not have the courage to ask. I worried it would sound suspicious. I was capable of changing a tire myself, even in the dead of the night.
Meanwhile, both Jaswant and Sheth got down from the car, stood next to the road, widened their legs and peed. They were still laughing. After they were done, Sheth went back inside the car and dialed someone from his mobile phone. Jaswant came and stood next to me. “Everything okay?” he asked. “Looks like you are more than okay, the way you are laughing,” I replied. He did not say anything for a while. Then he came closer to me and whispered, “You know what’s there in the bag Sheth is carrying. Five lakh. In cash.” “What you want me to do?” I asked. I was really pissed. “Nothing, just saying,” he replied. By then, Sheth had finished his call and he called out to Jaswant to join him. “Take it easy,” he said and left.
He was trying to tell me something; I was not sure what. The tire fixed, I wiped my hands on my trousers, and walked towards the field for a pee. They were still laughing. They had been drinking in the car since the beginning of the journey. Sheth offered me a drink too. I refused. I had already had my quota for the evening. As the piss trickled down, it suddenly hit me. The cash. Jaswant had mentioned the cash for a reason. If I had this much cash, I could whisk Jaswant away to any place, even to Bombay. I was convinced he wanted the same thing.
I returned to the vehicle and started the engine. Their laughter had now turned into stupid drunken grins. I looked at them through the central mirror. Sheth had wrapped his enormous hand over Jaswant’s slender neck and Jaswant’s head was on Sheth’s chest. I took a sharp turn. The jolt forced them to untangle their bodies. “I would have been bored to death if you were not here today,” Sheth told Jaswant. “You must always travel with me, my darling boy. I will never let you go.”
I snapped again. This time for real. I did not even pause to think. I reached out to the glove compartment, pulled out the katta, turned and pulled the trigger, twice, right at the place where Sheth’s heart was. Jaswant screamed, “Dinesh, Dinesh!”
It was not my fault. It was Sheth’s idea to keep the homemade gun in the gloves compartment. In case, he said. He had got two of these guns from his friend in Meerut. He kept the other in his bedroom. I was not even thinking about the gun. It just happened. I think I lost it when he said he would never let Jaswant go.
I think Sheth died instantly. I did not notice the blood. The interior of the car was dark. The night outside was dark. The road was empty. All I heard was Jaswant shouting my name at the top of his lungs. I pointed the gun at him and hissed, “Chup kar.” He stopped midsentence. He was shaking all over.
I put the gun in my trousers pocket and pushed the accelerator. The car found a dirt patch among the mustard plants. I zoomed ahead like a man jumping to his own death. When I stopped, the highway was far behind and we were in the middle of a field. Jaswant sat there with his eyes closed. The dead man’s right hand was still on his shoulders. I got down, opened the backdoor and pulled him out. “You okay?” I asked. “What did you do?” he whispered, “What did you…?” “Everything will be okay,” I said, “Don’t worry, I will fix it.” I embraced him and smothered the back of his head. We stayed like this until he stopped shaking and his heartbeat normalized. “Jaswant,” I said, “I love you.” “What are we going to do?” he asked. “You don’t need to worry. I will fix everything.” I was confident. I could do anything with Jaswant by my side.
The body was heavy. We hauled it out of the car, wrapped it in the plastic sheet that we used to cover the vehicle, and deposited it in the boot. “Do you have any more drink, or did you finish everything?” I asked. There was an unopened full bottle of Royal Stag. I opened the cap and swallowed the drink in long gulps. Jaswant followed. The backseat was soaked in blood. Jaswant found a rag and tried to clean the mess. I pinned him down. Tonight, I was going to make love to him like I never had. Tonight, I was going to show Sheth who loved him more. I did. Right there. Right then.
I woke up with violent knocks on the window, and muffled voices surrounding the car. My shirt was soaked in dry blood, and Jaswant was on top of me, completely naked. It was bright outside. There were faces peering through the window. I opened the door. Startled, Jaswant looked for his clothes under the seat.
“What’s on your shirt?” somebody screamed. I am not sure I saw his face, but I noticed the dress. They were cops. There were four of them. Somebody grabbed the collar of my shirt. Somebody dragged Jaswant out of the car. He had found his underwear.
Jaswant screamed, “I did not do it, I did not do it…” Somebody found the body. “Who’s this?” a voice asked. “Ghanshyam Sheth,” I said. “I did not do it; I did not do it…” Jaswant kept repeating. Another cop was talking on a cell phone.
They made us stand next to each other, our backs to the hood of the car. Jaswant looked at me, panic writ large on his face. “Mujhe jail nahin jana hai,” he whispered piteously, “I don’t want to go to jail.” I did not want to go to jail either. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this boy in the underwear. I wanted to see him happy.
Just then, I remembered the gun. It was still in my pocket. I pulled it out, and fired the shots. I pushed Jaswant inside the car, started it and sped away. I had no idea where we were going. I just drove.
5.
Now, as I sit in the corner of my cell, sometimes I wonder if Jaswant understood why I did what I did. I did it for his love. I did it because I could not imagine myself being away from him. Yet, this is exactly what happened. Sometimes I wonder if I would have been happier had Jaswant too been in jail. I am not sure. Perhaps, perhaps not. He did not want to go to jail.
By midday, after the shootout, we were somewhere in Rajasthan. We found a tiny stream not far away from the road. We washed our clothes, cleaned ourselves, then taking the bag filled with cash, we hit the highway. We were okay. We were almost happy. We hitched a ride with a truck and reached Delhi. We booked the same lodge in Paharganj, and just like the previous time, we fucked to our heart’s content. “What’s the plan?” Jaswant asked one day. “You tell me,” I answered, “You want to go to Bombay?” “Let’s,” he said. “But, first, I will need to go home for a few days. My family needs money. All the money I had is still at the bar.” “Don’t worry about money,” I said, “We have more money than you can ever hope to earn in your lifetime.”
I gave him half of the money. I did not bother to count. That evening, Jaswant left for Udaipur. I saw him off at Kashmiri Gate bus depot, with the promise that we would see each other in three days’ time and then, we would be off to Bombay.
At midnight, there was a knock on the door. I opened it and somebody hit me on the face. I could take a punch, but what followed the next day was intolerable. They did not leave a single part of my body unscathed.
A week later, I was in Bhondsi jail. The guards shouted at me, and the inmates were intimidated by me.
This I heard from a guard. The unlucky cops who found us were not even supposed to be there. They were returning from highway patrol when a villager informed them that he had seen an abandoned car in the middle of the field. They just went there to check the car. They were not carrying their guns or handcuffs.
I wanted to know how they had found me in Paharganj. The guards would not tell me. I had several scenarios in my mind. In one of them, I would imagine that Jaswant had betrayed me. Perhaps he was terrified of me as well. Perhaps he was not convinced that I loved him and him alone.
Finally, I decide that it was better this way, not knowing what happened. The only thing I know is this. I did it for love, and I will do it all over again if I had to.
***
First published as part of a special issue on ‘rejection’ in Earthen Lamp Journal, a literary eMagazine published from New Delhi, August-September 2016.
Photo by Arun Clarke on Unsplash
