The Briefcase

Vrij had never been to Mumbai before. He stepped out onto platform 14 of Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus as the train drew to a halt with a drawling grind, armed with a briefcase, and a face lit with fascination. In his mind's eye the place had appeared much brighter and clean; but he cared little. Mumbai's grandeur lies not in cleanliness, but in size and activity, thought he, besides, it's cleaner than most stations I've seen.

Never ceasing his gazing, Vrij headed towards the exit. Having spent most of his life in a distant town in Chhattisgarh, he had jumped at the opportunity to visit Mumbai as a representative of the organisation he worked for. He had pleaded his superior to extend his visit, but to no avail. He was to stay only for the day fixed for the conference he was to attend and leave for home the next day.

The clock read two 'o clock, and the conference was at six. With a heavy heart, Vrij decided to head straight for his hotel (which also served as the venue for the conference) instead of indulging in sightseeing. There was hardly any time, he was too tired, and had to prepare himself for the meet.

Lost in thoughts and fascination, he jumped and removed himself just in time from the path of a mob of people alighted off a local train. Their haste and indifference served only to deepen his sense of wonder. He followed them, matching his pace with theirs, swinging his briefcase merrily.

Outside, a clean sky greeted him, along with the hustle bustle of the city with its myriad vehicles and pedestrians. While the former skirted along the roads, ranging from motorbikes to double-decked buses, the latter carried on with their harried pace, some stopping in their way for footpath peddlers selling everything from footwear to toys. All this Vrij watched as he searched for an autorickshaw to carry him to his destination.

Gazing at the quaint mixture of ancient and modern buildings surrounding CST, he beckoned at an empty auto passing his way. Telling the autowallah his destination, he climbed inside and resumed his gazing. He had never seen such wide roads. There was no sign of animals upon them, no dung, no filthy plastic bags or overflowing garbage bins. Neither was there any sign of loose gravel or potholes.

His reverie was broken soon when the auto drew to a halt in a traffic jam. Within moments Vrij found himself engulfed in billowing smoke and bellowing car horns. His eyes smarted, his nose itched and he started coughing. He pulled over his briefcase on to his lap to retrieve a handkerchief -

"What is in that briefcase?"

Vrij wasn't as surprised at the question as he was at the tone with which it was asked: extremely stern and almost hateful and threatening. He noticed the autowallah's gaze, and replied in a strict voice,

"What does it matter to you? You keep on driving."

"I will not drive any further until you show me the contents of your briefcase."

Vrij thought of getting off the auto but hesitated as they were yet in the midst of the traffic jam.

"I'm sorry, bhaisaab, but I've had bad experiences with briefcases. I need to look inside to ensure my safety. If you would just show me, I will not disturb you any further."

There was something about the autowallah's tone, a vague sincerity that made Vrij open his briefcase and turn it towards him,

"See? Just clothes and documents. Now would you please go on?"

"Yes, okay, bhaisaab. Sorry for the problem."

Vrij stared at the autowallah. He was young, almost his own age, with a healthy build, and a stern, square face with short, cropped hair. There was a certain gleam in his eyes that Vrij could not fathom. It puzzled him, as much as the 'bad experiences' he had talked about. Noticing his gaze, the autowallah said,

"I haven't told many people about what happened to me because of fear, bhaisaab, but I'll tell you because you're a kind man, and I feel sorry for troubling you."

The traffic cleared, and the autowallah began driving,

"I came to Mumbai four months ago; alone, and in pursuit of a better life. After being rejected for even the most mundane of jobs, I had to settle for driving an autorickshaw. Most of my day is spent caught up in traffic jams and avoiding collisions. When night falls, I turn to the slum I live in, trying to find sleep in inhumane conditions.

"I was getting used to it, when about three months ago I picked up a man from Charni Road, carrying a briefcase just like yours. The place he wanted to go wasn't too far away, so I agreed and began driving."

He sped the auto past a car, placing it behind a bus.

"There was something peculiar about him, bhaisaab. I swear I saw it when he got inside. But foolishly I ignored it.

"It didn't take long for us to reach the place. He had been fidgeting with the contents of his briefcase; closed it and got off. I turned towards him, expecting money. Instead, he was pointing a gun at me.

"He commanded me to follow him, and led me inside a shabby apartment, where there were two more like him. They had their guns drawn out as they allowed us inside; Now they pointed them at me.

'Sit.' said the man who had opened the door, beckoning at a chair. I did.

'Am I late?' said the one who had brought me in.

'No. He's still inside. We'll have to hurry up, though. He says he'll be out in 15 mins.'

'What about them?'

'They didn't follow him inside, but he's sure they're going to follow him here and ambush us.'

The guy who had brought me then turned away and -"

A couple of motorcycles whizzed past from the left; The autowallah just avoided colliding with one of them. He drew out his head and mouthed angry curses at them,

"I'm sorry, bhaisaab, these crazy bikers are always trying to get themselves killed...

Well, the guy who had brought me in started talking on a phone. The other pointed his gun at me again, and said,

'Do not act smart. Do as we say and you will be unharmed. If you deviate at any point, we will not hesitate in killing you. Even if you escape, we will track you down and make sure you breathe no more. Do you understand?'

I nodded.

'Good. Now you will take Ash here to the Administration Tribune building in Khetwadi. Drive steadily and reach within 10 minutes. Ash will get down and our companion Shaz will get inside when you arrive. Take him where he tells you to.'

I nodded again and followed his gaze. Ash was filling up the Briefcase my captor had brought with him.

He continued, 'Do not panic and keep calm. Remember, any smart moves, and we will kill you.'

Meanwhile, Ash had completed with the briefcase. Pointing his gun at me, he beckoned me to follow him, and said, 'Let's go, Rob,' to the guy who had brought me in. He followed us out, while the third stayed inside.

"Rob didn't come with us. He went in a different direction. Meanwhile, I drove with Ash. All the time I was aware of the gun he kept pointed at me. I had no desire to disobey them, and did as was told. We reached the Tribune building within 10 minutes, and as I halted in front of it, I saw a man emerge from within, with a briefcase identical to the one Ash was holding. Ash paid me and left, leaving his briefcase behind. Shaz approached me and was telling me where to go.

"He repeated the same address on his phone as I began driving, after which he disconnected. He was panting, but there was an air of pride about him; as if he had succeeded in a very difficult task."

The autowallah took a sharp left turn which almost propelled Vrij outside. He continued,

"Shaz looked at me and said,

'Hurry up. We are being followed. Do not let them catch up with us.'

I looked at the rearview mirror, and saw a car tailing me not very far away.

'Do you know what this is?' he said boisterously, pointing at his briefcase, 'These are copies of extremely secret documents. They didn't suspect me earlier, but now they are following me all the time. They believe I haven't noticed them and want to catch me delivering these to my associates. But that's where You come in.'

"I hated that guy, but made sure I didn't show it. He was the one responsible for my predicament, and his haughty tone only served to accentuate my loathing. Yet, I was very afraid; I didn't know if I would escape this alive. Even if there were no mishaps, I feared they would kill me to protect themselves.

He took a long breath, and released it in a sigh,

"We arrived at the destination soon. Before he got off, Shaz exchanged his briefcase with the one Ash had left inside. I saw Rob waiting nearby; he approached me and got inside as Shaz was leaving. There was no sign of recognition on his or Shaz's face. He ordered me to go back to their hideout.

"He ensured that we weren't being followed and then opened the briefcase. There was a momentary gleam in his eyes, but he hid it as soon as he saw I was noticing him. As we got away, I saw the car following Shaz stop in front of the place he had got off. There were people getting off. But I turned left and couldn't see any more.

"Rob got off with the briefcase as we reached the hideout. I looked at him with extreme apprehension. I have never been more afraid, bhaisaab. But he just reminded me not to breathe a word to anyone else, and then turned away."

The autowallah paused for a moment and continued in a voice heavy with emotion,

"I cannot express to you the relief I felt when I watched him go. I drove away as fast as I could; nobody followed. I was free.

"Since that day, I have been living in dread of seeing them again. When you opened that briefcase, I thought you were one of them."

There was a long silence. Vrij couldn't think of what to say. He blurted out, "So, you didn't tell the authorities?"

"No, bhaisaab. I told a few friends about this and they advised me not to go to the police. They say there are informers within the police."

"But then, why do you keep staying here?"

"I cannot leave. Not until I have made for myself a proper living. I don't think I'll see them again. They would have killed me otherwise. I won't return to my village worse than I was when I left it."

Vrij looked outside. The city appeared to him much more familiar now. Behind the shining mask, it was hollow, ridden with disease, poverty and crime . Now and then he could discern shoddy buildings, filthy huts, and angry, troubled people. No longer could he see pride on their faces: it was replaced with worry and hidden sorrow.

The hotel arrived. The fare was Rs. 65; but Vrij paid the autowallah the spare Rs. 80 he had with him. He went to his room and prepared for the conference, but couldn't concentrate. The conference was trivial; he didn't have to do much. Probably this is why they sent me here.

Vrij woke up early next morning to catch the train that was to carry him back. He prepared himself, signed out of the hotel and caught an auto to CST. During the journey, he kept looking outside and thinking about the city and its people. The autowallah kept returning to his mind.

Thus lost in thoughts, Vrij was surprised to find CST approaching. He looked at his watch. It was only 10 minutes since he had left. The auto stopped. He looked at the fare. It was Rs. 23.