Hush a Bye Baby

Episode 7

15

It was late when Hadpude's phone started flashing. He knew this without peering at either his phone or his wristwatch in the dimly lit dive bar. Lad had just begun his lament on how he was certain that Shetty, despite all these years of loyal customering on their part, mixed Dettol in their whisky - that was a better way to tell that the night was no longer young than any timepiece. Give or take twenty minutes and Lad would start on how Marathis need to reclaim Mumbai, which was Hadpude's cue to wind up for the night. He'd finish his drink and then with Shetty's help drag Lad out of Royal's dingy interiors just in time for Lad to vomit out all the whisky (or Dettol) in his system. If this happened right outside Royal, then a waiter would show up with a jug of water for Lad to wash his face. Otherwise, they'd look for a tube well or tap, and by the time Hadpude stopped his scooter outside Lad's ramshackle building, the man would be sparklingly sober with slightly foul breath. So when Reshma called right at the start of this ritual, Hadpude felt a little twinge of dismay that work was squirming into his Sunday night. He was tempted to ignore the call but for the fact that Reshma was not the sort to intrude if it wasn't important. Hadpude got up, instructed Shetty at the cashier to keep an eye on Lad and then stepped outside to take the call.

'Hello?'

'Sir, it's Reshma. I'm sorry to call so late, but-'

'No, no, that's fine. How are you feeling now?'

'Me? I'm okay, sir.'

'Your viral fever is gone?'

'Oh. Yes sir. It's all gone. I just needed to talk to you about the Nandita Rai case.'

Hadpude took a deep breath, exhaled, and pinched the bridge of his nose. It felt like the wrong time of day to talk work. Outside Royal, the street had the calm emptiness of late night. October, with its clear skies and heavy humidity, was squatting on Mumbai. Not a leaf or a piece of paper moved. Inside was Lad and the white noise of conversations that jostled against one another. Hadpude could hear the distant screech of a taxi with bad brakes slowing down suddenly.

'Haan, tell me,' Hadpude said into the phone.

'Sir, I met the Lakdawalas today. Well, I met the wife, but she's the important one and-'

'Wait, you did an interview on Sunday?'

There was a beat of silence before Reshma replied, 'Yes sir.'

Hadpude stared at the Royal sign - the name of the dive was written in blinking pink neon. At one end, a cutout of a Bollywood actor holding an empty glass grinned at him. Guilt swelled up in Hadpude. He burped and a little cloud of whisky, raw onions, tomatoes and papad puffed out of him. Resolutely, he sat down on one of the steps that led to the bar, his back turned to Royal's door and everything that was inside.

'What did you get? I'm guessing you're calling me at this hour because you got something,' he said.

'Yes sir.' Reshma started talking very fast and Hadpude began to regret his whisky as he did his best to focus on what she was saying. 'Sir, if you remember, the Lakdawalas were among the couples whose names showed up in the timeline only after we extended it to go about a year prior to the helpline cases,' Reshma said. 'We had one extension after Lad spoke to Esther and that was six months, for possible sex-selective abortions that could have resulted in early callers to the helpline. Another extension went back a year, to get background information on Dr Rai. The Lakdawalas, Zaveris and Mansukhanis were in this list.'

'But the Zaveris had a girl aborted, no?'

'That's what we'd thought. I'll get to that, but first: I met Sara Lakdawala and she's still very traumatized over her abortion. She pretty much said that Dr Rai forced her into it.'