‘I need you to find out who bought that ceramic plate from Sotheby’s in auction,’ said Sir Khan to ACP Sunil Garg. Just below the rank of Joint Commissioner of Police, Garg had just the right level of ambition to allow himself to be led around on a leash by Sir Khan.
Ever since his much-publicised split with Dada Rahim, Sir Khan had gone on to open a slew of businesses. It had started with acquiring properties that were the subjects of litigation. Sir Khan would buy out the interest held by one or more of the parties to the dispute. Knowing that Sir Khan was involved, the other litigants would immediately offer to settle out of court, fearful of the consequences of picking a fight with him. Upon acquiring several properties, Sir Khan had decided to float a real estate development company of his own. One of his deputies had innocently asked him, ‘Boss, we know nothing about construction. Why are we getting into this line of work?’ Sir Khan had laughed and said, ‘In the real estate business, it doesn’t matter what you know. It only matters whom you know.’
And indeed the business had flourished. Every corporator, municipal official, and relevant secretary in the state government was soon eating out of his hands. They were happy to pass Sir Khan’s files, no matter the number of fire, safety, environmental or zoning violations, because they knew that Sir Khan was not someone to be messed with.
After leaping into real estate, Sir Khan leapt into the bed of the hottest Bollywood leading lady—Kaavya. Kaavya had sizzled on screen in the role of a sleazy bar dancer in her debut movie, and Sir Khan was smitten. He had sent her a hundred long-stemmed roses each morning until she agreed to have lunch with him. ‘Lunch? Next time, it shall be dinner,’ he thought to himself as his valet helped him slip his feet into his soft-leather Stefano Bemere moccasins. By the time lunch ended, Sir Khan had decided to finance Kaavya’s next film. It was a rather long lunch that extended well beyond dinner, the most delicate negotiations being conducted in Kaavya’s bed.
Having financed a couple of movies, Sir Khan realised that most producers were strapped for cash. He decided that he would make movie-financing into a regular business. He would not only finance movies but also buy up their foreign distribution rights in advance. The desperate producers had no option but to sign over lucrative territories to Sir Khan, if they wanted his money.
Sir Khan was a regular at the finest hotels around the world. In Mumbai, a suite of the Taj Heritage Wing remained reserved for his private dinner parties. In Delhi, the grandest suite of The,’ replied Sir Khanoufoss Imperial would be made available whenever he visited the capital. In London, Sir Khan would check in at The Savoy; in Dubai he used a private chopper to land at the Burj al Arab; in New York his preferred hotel was the Pierre on Fifth Avenue and in Paris, the George V.
Wining and dining his way through umpteen tours and meals, Sir Khan soon found that he preferred to stay in hotels where he owned a substantial equity stake. This led him to create his own hotel chain, which had the added advantage of having access to some of the finest properties of his real estate arm. Sir Khan’s flourishing real estate, film and hotel businesses provided him with ample opportunity to launder the money that he received from his illicit businesses in counterfeiting, betting and smuggling. Legitimate businesses now provided an outward veneer of respectability to Sir Khan.
ACP Sunil Garg—Assistant Commissioner of Police—sat in Sir Khan’s private study and opened his file. He cleared his throat and began. ‘Sotheby’s auctions are usually open to the public and attendees have no obligation to bid. The reserve price on the ceramic plate had been set at fifty thousand pounds. The lot was knocked down at seventy-five thousand pounds, which was the ultimate price. Sotheby’s then organised the delivery of the lot in private with the buyer.’
‘Thank you for educating me in the Sotheby’s auction processes,’ said an irritated Sir Khan. ‘I simply want to know who bought it.’
‘Ah, yes. Please bear with me for a moment,’ said Garg gently. ‘If an item is up for auction, potential bidders must register beforehand in addition to supplying some valid proof of assets. Unfortunately, this data remains private with Sotheby’s. Serious
bidders—such as collectors or trusts—often do not attend the physical event and prefer to bid anonymously by phone. These are the rules of a Sotheby’s auction and they must be followed. This is precisely what happened with the ceramic plate.’
‘I like rules that are made for others and exceptions that are made for me,’ said Sir Khan. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you do not know who bought it?’
‘No. Interested buyers register to bid either in person at Sotheby’s auction centres or online on the Sotheby’s website,’ replied Garg. ‘The auctioneer requires buyers to provide proof of identity and a bank reference. What my contact at Sotheby’s has revealed to me is that it was bought by VSKBC Heritage Ltd. The bank reference supplied was that of BNP Paribas.’
‘And who owns VSKBC Heritage Ltd?’ asked Sir Khan.
‘I don’t know yet,’ said ACP Garg. ‘But I’m trying to find out.’
‘Well, Garg, you know that plum posting up for grabs in the CBI? The one that could ensure your elevation to the post of CBI Special Director? That’s on my to-do list but I’ll only start working on it once you tell me who bought that ceramic plate,’ said Sir Khan, puffing on his Havana contentedly as he watched the policeman squirm.
After ninety-nine Kaurava sons and Karana had been killed, Duryodhana went before his mother Gandhari for her blessings. Gandhari told Duryodhana to take a bath at dawn and meet her completely naked. She said, ‘My eyes have remained shut for so many years that they are radiating my power of piety. Once I cast m,’ replied Sir Khanbeerme Ry gaze on your body, you will become immune to any weapon. The next day, Duryodhana had his bath as instructed and was on his way to his mother when I stopped him on the way. ‘At least cover your privates,’ I mocked on purpose. The fool Duryodhana took a banana leaf and tied it around his waist before reaching his mother. When she took off her blindfold, she exclaimed, ‘What have you done, O Duryodhana? Now you will not be invincible below the waist because my eyes have been unable to see your body entirely.’ I now knew that Duryodhana would have to be attacked below his waist for him to die.
Sir Khan forced his mind back to the present.
‘That still doesn’t answer my question. Who was the last owner of the baseplate?’ Priya was asking.
‘I was,’ Sir Khan had replied.
‘You? How?’ asked Priya, stupefied.
‘My father belonged to a line of Rajput craftsmen and builders,’ explained Sir Khan. ‘My ancestors had worked not only for Raja Man Singh but also for the Mughal emperors. It is very possible that one or more of my ancestors may have been responsible for building the Vrindavan temple of Raja Man Singh. Unfortunately, the policies followed by Akbar in treating Hindus on par with Muslim subjects came to an abrupt end with Aurangzeb. He attacked Man Singh’s Vrindavan temple and demolished three of the seven floors. If you visit Vrindavan today, you can see the floors that remain. It is possible that the Syamantaka and the base plate, too, had to be moved to yet another location.’
‘How did the baseplate become yours?’ asked Priya.
‘My father gave it to me before he was killed,’ said Sir Khan, recalling the words of his father on that fateful day in Besnagar.
Son, today I wish to share an important piece of information with you. Six generations before me, our ancestors were master builders. They had worked on building several important temples and palaces. Through all these years, this small square ceramic plate has been handed down from generation to generation in our family. Today I am handing it over to you. It is taken from a temple. Inside that temple lies an ancient secret. This plate indicates the location. Promise me that you will guard this with your life, my son.
Sir Khan sighed and took another long puff of his Cohiba cigar. He told Priya and Ratnani of how he had been unable to keep his promise to his father. How he had carelessly allowed the fam
ily heirloom to be stolen by Dada Rahim and auctioned for a few lousy bucks and how he had fallen out with Dada Rahim thereafter. In the process he had ended up becoming obsessed not only with getting back the baseplate but also with finding the secret that lay behind it.
‘Do you still recall what was written on the baseplate?’ asked Priya.
‘There was a Sanskrit inscription that my father had tried to make me memorise but I never succeeded in learning it. I do not remember it even vaguely,’ replied Sir Khan ruefully.
‘Any idea who bought it from Sotheby’s?’ asked Priya.
‘What we were able to find out was that it was purchased by a company called VSKBC Heritage Ltd. Unfortunately, we did not know who was behind the company because of a very complicated holding structure,’ replied Sir Khan.
‘So we’re stuck?’ asked Priya.
‘No. Sunil Garg—for whom I pulled many strings in aside hatred and learn to s sai New Delhi in order that he may be made a Special Director in the CBI—finally came through,’ replied Sir Khan, smiling in a self-congratulatory way. ‘Garg conducted a nationwide search of safe deposit vaults to find out whether any safe deposit locker had been rented by a company called VSKBC Heritage Ltd. It turned out that a safe deposit box in the New Friends Colony branch of South Delhi Safety Vaults had indeed been rented by such a company.’
‘And?’ asked Priya—but her mind lingered on the name of Sunil Garg. It sounded eerily familiar. She forced the thought out of her mind.
‘And the signatory who could operate the box was Anil Varshney—our Kalibangan linguist,’ replied Sir Khan.
‘We would need a court order to access a vault rented by a man who subsequently died,’ said Ratnani, speaking from a legal perspective.
‘But no court would give us that right since we are not his immediate blood relatives or executors,’ explained Sir Khan. ‘So I asked Garg to find a solution. Garg found that Varshney had left instructions that the contents of the box were to be handed over to Ravi Mohan Saini in the event of Varshney’s death. Garg got one of his men to rent a locker in the same establishment and ensured that it was used to store unlicensed firearms. Using this as a pretext, the CBI raided the establishment and threatened the manager with dire consequences if he did not cooperate. Saini will be visiting South Delhi Safety Vaults tomorrow in order to access the safe deposit box.’
‘What do you want done?’ asked Priya.
‘I want you to go to Delhi tonight and I want you to be there at the safe deposit box tomorrow when he reaches there. I want you to retrieve the baseplate and finish off Saini once and for all,’ replied Sir Khan quietly.
Duryodhana, who had been inconsolable when he heard the news of Karana’s death, went weeping to his grandfather, Bhishma, who lay on a bed of arrows. Bhishma now revealed to him the secret of Karana’s birth. Duryodhana was shattered. He could not believe the immense sacrifice that his friend had made for him by fighting his own blood brothers and dying in the process. The next day, Drona’s son, Aswatthama, suggested that Shalya be given command of the Kaurava army. Duryodhana accepted the suggestion. I understood that, given Shalya’s righteousness, the only one who would be in a position to defeat him was Yudhistira. A duel between Shalya and Yudhistira ensued in which Yudhistira’s javelin brought Shalya down. Kripa, Ashvatthama, Shakuni, Kritavarma and Duryodhana were now the only Kaurava warriors left. Duryodhana took direct command over the forces and fought valiantly. Shakuni, the evil uncle who had prompted the gambling match, was soon killed by Sahadeva. Duryodhana’s kin rushed to help their eldest, but Bhima killed them all. The eighteen days of war had virtually decimated all eighteen divisions of the two armies.
‘The original brief was to decimate the four people who stood in our way. The ones who came between us and the Syamantaka—the four researchers,’ replied
Priya. ‘That’s why Taarak left the four symbols of Vishnu at each murder.’
‘Ah, Vishnu may hold four symbols in his hands but his fifth symbol—the snake—touches his feet. The serpent Sheshnag—the one who took birth as Balarama, the brother of Krishna—lies at Vishnu a black-masked commando carrying a sheis Saini and Radhika’s feet,’ proclaimed Sir Khan. ‘Five at the centre of a magic square; five sides of a pentagon; five Pandavas at the core of the Mahabharata war; five children of Draupadi; five sons of Yayati and five obstacles to be eliminated. Saini is the last one, Priya.’
‘Saini is probably the only one who would be able to decipher the Sanskrit inscription on the baseplate and use it to pinpoint a location,’ said Priya, still immersed in deep thought. ‘If we kill him, the Syamantaka may remain lost for ever.’
‘If we don’t, Saini finds the Syamantaka and we lose the opportunity to get it for ourselves,’ countered Sir Khan. ‘My tussle with the members that constitute VSKBC is an age-old one—one that has never abated.’
‘How?’ asked Priya.
‘I have since learned that VSKBC is simply an acronym for Vrishni—Shainya—Kukura—Bhoja—Chhedi,’ replied Sir Khan. ‘These were the Yadava tribes that helped Krishna build his fabled city of Dwarka, using ways of reclaiming land from the sea. Varshney was a direct descendant of the Vrishni line—to which Krishna himself had belonged. He took it upon himself to seek out other like-minded Yadavas who would help him acquire the Syamantaka. He thus created VSKBC Heritage Ltd to find and acquire the Syamantaka. He had a sufficient number of investors who knew the value of the antiquities that were likely to be recovered from the research effort.’
‘You mentioned that it’s an age-old tussle between Varshney’s outfit and yours. What did you mean by that?’ asked Priya.
‘My father was of Rajput stock. The VSKBC members were Jats,’ explained Sir Khan.
‘What’s the difference?’ asked Ratnani.
‘Krishna’s Yadava tribes were either concentrated around Indraprastha or Dwarka,’ began Sir Khan. ‘When Dwarka sank, the Yadavas living there had to find a new home. Some of them moved to the region that we now call Iran-Iraq. The maritime links between Dwarka and the Persian Gulf were flourishing even during Krishna’s times, so this was not a problem. When they got there, they noticed the four rivers there, which reminded them of the four rivers of Mount Kailash. They called their new home Sumeru—or holy mountain.’
‘What about the Yadavas who were living in and around Indraprastha—modern-day Delhi?’ asked Priya.
‘They continued to go forth and multiply all over the north-west of India. They were known as the Jats—the word having been derived from Krishna’s Gyati-Sangh,’ answered Sir Khan.
‘What happened to the Yadavas who moved to the Persian Gulf region?’ asked Priya.
‘The Yadavas who had moved towards the Persian Gulf eventually occupied areas in eastern Iran and southern Afghanistan. They came to be known as the Indo-Scythians because of genetic intermingling. When they arrived back in India in later years, they were called the Sakas—because the area that they occupied in Iran and Afghanistan was known as Sakestan. It was the Sakas that evolved into the Rajputs.’
‘So the Jats and Rajputs were essentially the same people—descendants of Krishna’s Yadava clans?’ asked Priya.
‘Absolutely. But the sands of time obliterate historical truths. We find that the Rajputs and Jats continued to engage with each other in battle,’ replied Sir Khan energy sai down the ages of modern Indian history,’ replied Sir Khan. ‘One could say that I represent the Rajput faction and Saini represents the Jat faction. Hence the battle over Krishna’s Syamantaka continues even today.’
‘But how can you be a Rajput with a name like Sir Khan?’ asked Priya.
Sir Khan laughed. ‘That was just a title given to me by Rahim when I landed in Mumbai. My real name was Kanha—another name for Krishna,’ he explained. ‘Do you see this pendant that I wear around my neck?’ Sir Khan took off the gold pendant that Dada Rahim had presented him with many years ago and handed it over to Priya. Priya examined it curiously.
It was
an ordinary gold pendant on which the words ‘Sir Khan’ were engraved in gothic font. ‘I know you are called Sir Khan and that you wear a pendant which bears that name. So what?’ asked Priya blandly.
‘Just rotate the pendant you have in your hand a hundred and eighty degrees so that the letters are upside down,’ instructed Sir Khan. Priya did as she was asked—and gasped at the result.
Sir Khan smiled at her. ‘The honorific bestowed upon me by Dada Rahim was—ironically—also an anagram of Krishna. Now, tell me, should I ask Sunil Garg to meet you at the safety vault so that you can take care of Saini?’
Priya’s face suddenly went fiery-red with rage. In the deepest recesses of her brain she had finally managed to make the connection. Sunil Garg! It was the name of the policeman who had troubled her father to the point that he had been left with no alternative but to accept briefs on behalf of Sir Khan! It was the very same Garg who had also refused to