A Man without a Conscience

(A Story)

IZHAR USMANI

(Translated from Urdu by Madan Gupta)

The sessions court gave Neelu the benefit of doubt and ordered his release. He was a free man again. Standing in the accused’s enclosure, he looked at Inspector Ravikant and smiled as if saying: “Inspector, you have failed once again. If you persist, you may lose your job one day.”

As the judgement carne, Inspector Ravikant’s face registered a change of colour from grey to pink and then to grey again. This was the third time he had failed to get Neelu convicted. For the third time, the court had given him the benefit of doubt and released him. Ravikant bowed before the court’s judgement with the respect it deserved and looked at Neelu. His face left no doubt about his determination to get Neelu put behind bars. He had in fact said to himself: “Let me see how long he can go round the law and escape punishment.”

Neelu was a notorious criminal – the uncrowned king of the underworld, the undisputed leader of criminals. All the city’s bad characters feared him and accepted him as their head. He was involved in innumerable thefts, robberies and murders. But on account of lacunae ill the legal system, he had always managed to escape conviction except for petty offences earlier in his criminal career. Now he had advanced far ahead. Now petty offences were too lowly for him. In the twenty years of his life of crime, he had progressed steadily up the ladder as a trader, a politician or a serviceman would.

Twenty years ago when he had run away from his village, he had come to Delhi. He had gone from door to door seeking a job. Everywhere he had drawn a blank. Many times it had meant starvation for days. But he had not given up and had spared no efforts. These efforts, however, proved completely fruitless. One day, out of exhaustion and hunger, he had fainted near the bus stop at the Fountain. Kailash had given him support. When he recovered, Kailash had taken him to a hotel and addressing the proprietor said, “He is a new apprentice. Give him whatever he wants to eat. I shall be soon with some cash.”

Neelu was so hungry that he had not even enquired who his benefactor was and had attacked the food put in front of him like a glutton. After an hour or so Kailash had returned with a wad of notes. He had paid the hotel bill and both had come out. After hearing Neelu’s story, Kailash had said: “I am a pickpocket. Peoples’ pockets are my bank. Whenever I need money I withdraw it from my bank. Neelu who had listened to him in silence, then lowered his head in submission.

Within a few months Neelu had become an expert pick-pocket. His long fingers slid into peoples’ pockets with the ease and dexterity of a snake sliding into its hole. Then he had progressed further; had resorted to thefts and robbery. The next step was murder. The rich of the town, particularly the black-marketers, were mortally afraid of him. On the basis of his experience, education and knowledge, Neelu had, given a new direction to his criminal activities. He seldom took part personally in a crime. His gang carried out the deed under his instructions. He had fixed a liberal remuneration, for his underlings for each crime. It was also his principle not to harass innocent people. In fact he only accepted such assignments for murder where he was convinced that the victim deserved todie. Once when someone wanted to hire him for committing a murder, he was so moved by the tragic story that he refused to take any remuneration and told the man: “I shall commit this murder but do not want any fees. Neelu administers justice. That man has killed your daughter. He will pay for it with his life. The money you spent on the marriage will also come to you with interest.” Next day the murder took place and the murdered man’s house was ransacked. Whatever Neelu had promised, he had fulfilled.

Be it murder or robbery, Neelu defined everyone’s share and never deprived anyone of his dues. Apart from his underlings the police also had a share. He had tried a number of times to tempt Inspector Ravikant but had failed. He had not given up hope. He was confident that he would one day overcome the inspector’s inhibitions although he was conscious that some people are so strong that they would rather break than bend. This had resulted in a personal warfare between the two – each determined to defeat the other.

Neelu was Ravikant’s prime target. Being aware of this, Neelu used extreme care and caution in his operations. He had, as a cover, started a dairy outside the city and spent most of his time there. It was a small dairy but was doing well. If he wanted, Neelu could easily say goodbye to the life of crime and could have led a comfortable life out of the earnings of the dairy. But crime had made such deep inroads into his psyche that he could not desist from it.

One day Neelu was taking the account of expenses from the contractor, at the dairy. The contractor gave him ten thousand rupees in new currency notes and said: “Someone unknown to me asked me to pass these on to you and has asked you to meet him at Subhash Park this evening.”

Neelu took the notes and did not put any questions to the contractor because he knew that the man will not know anything more. In the evening he had a round of the Maulana Azad Tomb and leisurely moved towards Subbash’s statue in the park. A man passed by his side and said: “Come with me.” Neelu started following him. Both crossed the road and moved towards the petrol pump where a white metador with dark window-glasses stood. Someone opened the vehicle’s door and both went in. The metador started moving. Neelu lit a cigarette and looked around but could not see much in the darkness. Even so he judged that the vehicle had two more persons besides him. The driving cabin was separate. “We are smugglers,” one of the occupants said to him. Neelu looked towards him but was unable to see him. “Our boss is here these days,” the man continued. “The police has come to know about this from Interpol. A very strict cordon has been put to arrest him. We want you to take him across the border. You will get two lakh rupees. “Two lakh rupees,” repeated Neelu. “Yes”, the man replied. “You smuggle narcotics from Nepal. With the help of your accomplices, you can easily accomplish this mission.” There was silence in the metador. Only the sound of the vehicle’s engine disturbed the silence. The vehicle was going at a good speed. The silence was broken by the man who said: “This briefcase has one lakh rupees in notes. The rest you will set as soon as our boss crosses the border.”

“I accept”, Neelu said, “When does your boss want to go?” “Soonest possible, “the man replied briefly. There was silence again. Neelu was puffing his cigarette. Then he said: “I need two days to organise this. Meet me day after tomorrow at around 6 p. m. at the liquor shops at Majnu-Ka-Teela.” “Fine”, said the other man, “but ensure that the strictest secrecy is maintained. Our men will be trailing you. If you deceive us….” Neelu reacted like an enraged python. “Stop the vehicle,” he shouted, “the deal is off. Nobody even dare talk loudly to Neelu, let alone hold a threat.” And taking out the wad of ten thousand rupee notes, he flung it at the man. “Forgive me friend,” said the man, putting the notes in the briefcase, “I apologize.” There was silence again in the vehicle. Neelu lit another cigarette and picked up the briefcase. As soon as he did this, the metador came to a halt. Neelu got down. He found himself near Shrinivaspuri.

Neelu did not go to the dairy. He went to his secret hideout to make the necessary preparations for the journey. He had to cross the U. P. border after the Wazirabad bridge. This route was safe for him because he used it for smuggling narcotics. He had been greasing it for years with money. He could therefore use it without fear.

Inspector Ravikant was very upset for the last two days because Neelu was missing from the dairy. This meant that he must be planning some big crime Every-nook and corner, every possible hideout had been visited but there was no trace of him.

Neelu was driving the car himself. He had been driving for three hours. He had crossed Rampur. According to his estimate he was hopeful of reaching Sattarganj in an hour or so. From there he had to pick up Dewan Singh who was a known “Dada” of the area. In the sale of smuggled goods Dewan Singh was his partner.

Near Rudarpur, Neelu felt the need for a cup of tea and stopped the car by the side of a tea-shack.

“Will you have a cup of tea,” he asked the boss. This was their first conversation since they had left Delhi. Most of the time the man was asleep.

“No,” said the boss. “Keep going; you are unnecessarily wasting time.” “Don’t worry,” replied Neelu, “I know what is to be done and when.” Neelu ordered a cup of tea and looked at the newspaper. Crime news only interested him and he started turning the pages. A headline on the front page suddenly arrested his attention. He started reading the item in detail. As he drank his tea, he found his mind highly agitated. Events of the last few days started revolving before him. He soon grasped the situation. Paying for the tea, he came to the steering wheel.

As soon as the car reached a lonely stretch, Neelu took it off the road and switched off the engine. “What is the matter?” the boss asked sternly. Neelu turned round and said, “This is exactly what I want to know.”

“Mind your business. As soon as I cross the border you will get the rest of the money,” the boss said offended.
“No, my friend, I must know the truth. I must know who you are and why you are paying such a large amount to cross the border. I want to see your briefcase.”

“You are going against the pact. I am not going to show you anything.”

“Neelu does what he decides he must do. The car will move forward now, only when I have seen your briefcase.”

“Look at this first.” And the man pointed towards the pistol in his hand.

“Put away the pistol. These toys don’t frighten Neelu.”

“What do you want?” asked the man, still pointing the pistol at Neelu.

“You will have to double the amount.”

“I accept,” the man said and put the pistol in his pocket.

The car started again. After about ten minutes Neelu pressed hard on the brake pedal. The car jerked and came to a sudden halt. Simultaneously he jumped from his seat to the rear seat. All this happened so suddenly that it took the boss completely by surprise. He tried to take out his pistol but Neelu did not give him a chance. He put a knife at the boss’s ribs. “Give me the pistol,” Neelu said.

“Don’t be stupid. You wanted me to double the money and I have agreed. What more do you want? You are under a solemn promise that you will not betray.”

“Take out the pistol. Anyone who points a pistol at Neelu forfeits his life.”

The boss put his hand into his pocket to take out the pistol. Neelu increased the knife’s pressure on his ribs. Ignoring the pressure, the boss fired the pistol from the pocket. The bullet grazed Neelu’s leg. The knife had pierced the boss’s ribs and a muffled shriek came. Neelu’s hand was on the boss’s mouth. Neelu stabbed him several times and within minutes the boss lay dead.

Neelu got out of the car and opened its bonnet so that passers-by, if any, may get the impression that the Car had been parked by the wayside to cool the engine. Then he looked around. There was no one in sight. Neelu stuffed the dead body in the car’s boot. Then he opened the small briefcase. It was full of currency notes. In the bigger briefcase there were some clothes. Below the clothes was a file. It contained some papers and photo copies of some documents. Neelu looked at them carefully for sometime. Then he took out a towel from the briefcase and wiped the blood from the seat. He then shut the car bonnet and returned to the driver’s seat. For a few minutes he sat at the steering wheel thinking. Then taking out a whisky bottle from the glove compartment, he gulped down one-fourth of it. He then started the car and reversed it. Soon it was racing towards Delhi. At around four p. m. he reached the Gaziabad by-pass There he stopped the car and pouring the rest of the whisky down his throat, he threw the empty bottle in the field nearby. For a while he sat quietly. Then he turned the car towards the by-pass.

Before entering Delhi, Neelu put his pistol under his leg. When he came near the barrier, he saw two cars in front of him. The guard on duty gave them a smart salute. Thinking that a V. I. P. must be travelling in those cars, Neelu put his car behind them to give the impression that he was also a part of them. And, as he had thought, he crossed the barrier without any difficulty.

On coming to the ring-road, Neelu turned the car towards the Ashram. He had not gone far, when he saw a car behind wanting to overtake him. Although Neelu was driving fast, the car behind him was faster. It looked as if it will fly over him if he did not let it pass. He therefore let it overtake him. But as soon as it cameo next to him, there Was heavy firing from it on Neelu. Then it came to a halt at a short distance away. Neelu’s car was in front of Sarai Kale Khan. The occupants of the other car waited to see which way Neelu will go. Neelu turned his car towards Sarai Kale Khan. When they saw him turn, they started firing indiscriminately. The traffic on the road came to a standstill. There was panic all around. Before anyone could move, the cars vanished from sight. Neelu entered Sarai Kale Khan. Luckily the railway crossing was open. Soon his car entered the police station. The policeman on duty rushed towards him. He got down from the car. The two briefcases were in his hands. His body was dripping with blood. The policeman wanted to give him support and take the briefcases from him. Neelu spurned him away. Unsteadily he walked into the S.H.O.’s room. Inspector Ravikant sat in front of him. Seeing Neelu, he got up from his chair. Neelu put both the briefcases on the table and said haltingly: “I, Abdul Qayum, alias Neelu, give my­self up. I have committed a murder. The body is in the boot of my car. Inspector, I give you this body as a present. I have had to drive for three hundred kilometers to bring this gift to you. Now you can prove me a killer without difficulty.”

“Whom have you killed?” asked Ravikant.

Neelu said: “Inspector, I am a man without a conscience. I have bought and sold everything. But I could not sell my country. He is a spy. In the briefcase are important docu­ments pertaining to the country’s security.”

He could not continue. Leaning against the chair, he fell down and fainted.