Hot Pursuit

     As the 9:10 Fast pulled into the Central Station, everyone on the platform prepared himself for the onslaught and jumped into the train even before it had come to a halt. Everyone scrambled into the crowded compartment to grab one or two solitary vacant seats, but all through the confounded excitement I had this strange feeling that someone was closely watching me. As I settled in my seat, I looked around triumphantly as if I had won an Olympic event and it was then that I saw him standing there in the doorway staring at me intently. He was a fair complexioned, somewhat handsome man of a good build and height, with a prominent nose and a pair of deep, green, sleepy eyes. He sported a thin Talwar cut moustache with two-day-old stubble on the chin. He had a large, deep scar on his left cheek and with that barely visible smirk of a smile in the corner of his mouth he looked very much like Madan Mohan, the then reigning villain of the Hindi screen.

       These Mumbaikars have this uncanny habit of staring at strangers for no particular reason, whatsoever. It happens to you invariably while travelling in the local train, especially if you are new to Mumbai. At first, of course, you generally tend to ignore the man as some silly, ill-bred goon, but when you find that he is persistently staring at you, you begin to wonder if something is not the matter with you after all, to attract that kind of undivided attention. Perhaps, you forgot to shave that morning or to fasten your zipper! Maybe, there’s a lipstick mark on your shirt collar or you look like an alien from the outer space!

       After I had checked and satisfied myself that none of the above could be the reason for his everlasting interest in me, I began to feel a little apprehensive about the man’s true motive. Perhaps, he was that Mumbai Mawaali, about whom my mother had so often talked and cautioned me before I left Dharwar. He usually stalked the streets of Mumbai, she had said and he could relentlessly pursue someone with the intention of robbing him at knifepoint. Was this man, then, trying to hypnotize or intimidate his intended victim into submission before the actual assault? Suddenly, I felt a frightening chill running down my spine. Oh, I had just 35 rupees in my pocket, which in those dark days of unemployment meant a fortune to me!

        I looked up and found that I was still under his constant watch. He was probably planning to ‘strike’ while alighting from the train. I decided then that I must somehow preempt his every move and thwart his attempt to rob me. So, picking up my umbrella, I quickly moved towards the doorway preparing myself so as to alight from the train just as it entered the Churchgate station. When the train slowed down, I leaped on to the platform and promptly joined the sea of humanity already moving towards the exit. It was probably the first and last time in my life that I ever tried that stunt!

      The burgeoning crowd was hampering my progress towards the exit gate and I kept looking back frequently to make sure that my tormentor was not following me. I could spot him in the crowd at a reasonably safe distance behind me and saw that he was frantically searching for someone, most probably for me! Just then our eyes met and I saw a sudden glint of recognition in his eyes. He made some awkward signs and threatening gestures with his umbrella, which I could not exactly comprehend. Then, I saw him moving towards me. Frightened at the prospect of losing my jaw or something, increasing my pace I started making my way through the crowd. I then suddenly changed my direction twice and emerged from the station through a side gate. I took a few steps before I turned right and came straight to the pedestrian crossing near the Asiatic Restaurant. I looked back and heaved a sigh of relief when there was no trace of him anywhere around. I felt somewhat safe now, but not for long. For, when I started crossing the road at the signals, I found my friend crossing too only a few yards behind me in the crowd!

         Luckily, he had not seen me yet; so, I ran a little towards the other side of the Asiatic where I joined the flow of pedestrians going across towards the Eros Cinema. A car screeched to a halt somewhere behind me and I could hear the driver curse. When I naturally turned back looking over my shoulders, I found, to my horror that our friend was also coming across in a hurry. He had seen me now, I was sure! I had to do something quickly before he caught up with me.

        I looked around for some escape route and at the spur of the moment I decided to join the queue of cine-goers at the ticket window. There was an old Parsee lady ahead of me in the queue standing with her friendly little poodle, which for some inexplicable reason, took an immediate fancy for me and started sniffing at my feet. Suddenly, I gasped and held my breath; for, standing there just a few feet away in front of me was our friend, Mr. Madan Mohan! He had luckily his back towards me and he was obviously looking all around for me! To add to my troubles, the poodle had by then concluded his investigations and finally decided that I was an electric pole! However, I had to silently suffer the indignity for the fear of alerting Mr. Madan Mohan. But for the eerie background music, which was so conspicuously absent, it was just like a Hichcock suspense thriller!

          I was trying hard to think of some way to shake off my ‘shadow’. By now, I had exhausted almost all the standard tricks, which I had seen the American heroes use in their movies. As I stood there contemplating what to do next, all of a sudden I wanted to sneeze. Whenever I am terribly nervous, I don’t know why, but I always have this strong urge to sneeze. The more you try to suppress it, the more badly you want to do it. So, reluctantly, I allowed myself a real, nice, loud sneeze. The Parsee lady shrieked, her poodle went hiding into her saree and the startled Mr. Madan Mohan turned around to stare straight into my eyes!

          Taking advantage of a BEST bus that just came by, I left the queue and quickly brushing past the man I ran behind the bus only until I reached the other side of the road. Then I jumped on to the opposite footpath while I could clearly hear the man shout, “Hey, you” after me. But I ignored him and ran towards the Oval, that huge, sprawling playground next to EROS theatre. Unfortunately, there was a barbed-wire fence all around it and in order to get to the entrance I would have to go half way around the Oval. I couldn't’ have possibly slipped through the barbed wires for the fear of hurting myself or tearing my shirt. Just then, I happened to see a small gap in the fence through which I could somehow manage to squeeze myself and I prayed that our friend Mr. Madan Mohan would find himself just too plump to follow suit.

       Once inside the Oval, I started sprinting across in order to gain some distance from my pursuer. There were some boys playing cricket on the grounds. Presently, the batsman hit a lovely “sixer” and the ball came flying right in my direction. The lazy fielder didn’t budge an inch from his cozy position under the shade of a tree, which he obviously didn’t think it fit to sacrifice. Instead he shouted, “Ball please” and I picked up the ball and threw it back towards the bowler. Then, I looked back to find our man desperately trying to negotiate the fence.

         I emerged from the Oval near Rajabhoy Tower and turned left on to the road leading to the University. But, just before turning I looked back once again to check if my faithful follower was still there treading on my footsteps. He had somehow managed to jump over the fence and now was sprinting across the Oval. He was looking now even more furious than ever before. So, terrified as I was, I started to running and when I came to the pedes trian crossing on the M.G. Road, I quickly went diagonally across towards the Chicago Radio Company. I quickly turned into a small by-lane just next to it. I must have hardly gone a short distance into the lane when I suddenly realized that it was a dead-end alley and at this time of the day, it was almost deserted. Oh my God! I was completely trapped and I knew now there would be no escape from my tormentor. I looked back over my shoulders and sure, he was there just entering the street.

         Now, I had no other alternative but to surrender, I thought. The only thing I could try now, as a last resort, was to appeal to his finer sentiments. For, had I not read somewhere that lurking inside every stubborn criminal there rests a warm, kind-hearted persona just waiting to be aroused? So, I thought, I should tell him the complete truth about self without any reservations: that I was just a poor, middle-class, unemployed youth come to this great city in desperate search of a job and that I didn’t have any money on me but for a paltry sum of 35 rupees sent by my poor father for personal expenses, which he could hardly afford and that I had to manage with the amount through the entire month. He could take all the money if he liked but could he kindly spare me my life and just two rupees for lunch and return bus fare?  I wanted to tell him all this but the words just wouldn’t come out! Small beads of perspiration had begun to appear on my forehead, my throat was parched and tongue almost paralyzed. As he approached me, I took out my wallet and stood there motionless holding it in my outstretched hands.

        “Arre Bhai! Tum bhi kamaal karte ho, Yaar!” he said angrily on reaching me, “I have been making all sorts of crazy signs for you to stop and you keep running like nobody’s business! And what’s this? I don’t want your money. You just tell me one thing. Are you Sunil Dutt?” I shook my head. 
          Aa ha! Now I knew the reason why he was following me. The poor fellow thought that I was Mr. Sunil Dutt, the famous film actor and all he wanted from me was my autograph! And I mistook him for a thug, poor thing! Actually, I was not a wee bit surprised as I always had some idea of my charming personality, but no one before had ever told me that I had also a strong resemblance to Mr. Sunil Dutt. However, since I couldn’t possibly have obliged him with even an imitation scribble, I just had to tell him the truth. The man just smiled and said, “ Well, then, I am Sunil Dutt. And you see that umbrella you picked up in the train happens to be mine! You can check the name on the handle, if you like.”

      I looked at the brand new umbrella in my hand and found the name “S. DUTT” neatly carved on the wooden handle. I smiled sheepishly and we exchanged our umbrellas. I felt too embarrassed either to apologize or to thank. When I looked up, he was already gone.

*****  *****  *****  *****  *****

(Published in KS, LXXXIII, No6, (Jun 2002) p51)