didn’t dare – he didn’t know where to begin.
They were sitting quietly with their tea and some sweets when the
real
policeman approached their table. They’d already been interrogated by the duty officer from the Tardeo Police Station, an Inspector Somebody – not very impressive. The inspector had arrived with a team of subinspectors and constables in two Jeeps – hardly necessary for a golfing death, Dr Daruwalla had felt. The Tardeo inspector had been unctuous but condescending to Inspector Dhar and servile to Farrokh.
‘I am hoping you are excusing me, Doctor,’ the duty officer had begun; his English was a strain. ‘I am being most sorry I am taking your time, saar,’ the inspector added to Inspector Dhar. Dhar responded in Hindi.
‘You are not examining the body, Doctor?’ the policeman asked; he persisted with his English.
‘Certainly not,’ Dr Daruwalla replied.
‘You are never touching the body, saar?’ the duty officer asked the famous actor.
‘I are never touching it,’ Dhar answered in English –in a flawless imitation of the policeman’s Hindi accent.
Upon departing, the duty officer’s heavy brogues had scraped a little too loudly on the stone floor of the Duckworth Club’s dining room; thus had the policeman’s exit drawn Mr Sethna’s predictable disapproval. Doubtless the old steward had also disapproved of the condition of the duty officer’s uniform; his khaki shirt was soiled by the thali the inspector must have encountered for lunch – a generous portion of dhal was slopped on his breast pocket, and a brightly colored stain (the obvious orange-yellow of turmeric) lit up the messy policeman’s drab collar.
But the second policeman, who now approached their table in the Ladies’ Garden, was no mere inspector; this man was of a higher rank – and of a noticeably elevated neatness. At the very least, he looked like a deputy commissioner. From Farrokh’s research – for the Inspector Dhar screenplays were scrupulously researched, if not aesthetically pleasing –the screenwriter was certain that they were about to be confronted by a deputy commissioner from Crime Branch Headquarters at Crawford Market.
‘All this for
golf?’
whispered Inspector Dhar, but not so loudly that the approaching detective could hear him.
Not a Wise Choice of People to Offend
As the most recent Inspector Dhar movie had pointed out, the official salary of a Bombay police inspector is only 2,500 to 3,000 rupees a month – roughly 100 dollars. In order to secure a more lucrative posting, in an area of heavy crime, an inspector would need to bribe an administrative officer. For a payment in the vicinity of 75,000 to 200,000 rupees (but generally for less than 7,000 dollars), an inspector might secure a posting that would earn him from 300,000 to 400,000 rupees a year (usually not more than 15,000 dollars). One issue posed by the new Inspector Dhar movie concerned just
how
an inspector making only 3,000 rupees a month could get his hands on the 100,000 rupees that were necessary for the bribe. In the movie, an especially hypocritical and corrupt police inspector accomplishes this by doubling as a pimp and a landlord for a eunuch-transvestite brothel on Falkland Road.
In the pinched smile of the second policeman who approached Dr Daruwalla and Inspector Dhar at their table, there could be discerned the unanimous outrage of the Bombay police force. The prostitute community was no less offended; the prostitutes had greater cause for anger. The most recent movie,
Inspector Dhar and the Cage-Girl Killer
, seemed to be responsible for putting the lowliest of Bombay’s prostitutes – the so-called cage girls – in particular peril. Because of the movie, about a serial killer who murders cage girls and draws an inappropriately mirthful elephant on their naked bellies, a
real
murderer appeared to have stolen the idea. Now
real
prostitutes were being killed and decorated in this cartoonish fashion;
They were sitting quietly with their tea and some sweets when the
real
policeman approached their table. They’d already been interrogated by the duty officer from the Tardeo Police Station, an Inspector Somebody – not very impressive. The inspector had arrived with a team of subinspectors and constables in two Jeeps – hardly necessary for a golfing death, Dr Daruwalla had felt. The Tardeo inspector had been unctuous but condescending to Inspector Dhar and servile to Farrokh.
‘I am hoping you are excusing me, Doctor,’ the duty officer had begun; his English was a strain. ‘I am being most sorry I am taking your time, saar,’ the inspector added to Inspector Dhar. Dhar responded in Hindi.
‘You are not examining the body, Doctor?’ the policeman asked; he persisted with his English.
‘Certainly not,’ Dr Daruwalla replied.
‘You are never touching the body, saar?’ the duty officer asked the famous actor.
‘I are never touching it,’ Dhar answered in English –in a flawless imitation of the policeman’s Hindi accent.
Upon departing, the duty officer’s heavy brogues had scraped a little too loudly on the stone floor of the Duckworth Club’s dining room; thus had the policeman’s exit drawn Mr Sethna’s predictable disapproval. Doubtless the old steward had also disapproved of the condition of the duty officer’s uniform; his khaki shirt was soiled by the thali the inspector must have encountered for lunch – a generous portion of dhal was slopped on his breast pocket, and a brightly colored stain (the obvious orange-yellow of turmeric) lit up the messy policeman’s drab collar.
But the second policeman, who now approached their table in the Ladies’ Garden, was no mere inspector; this man was of a higher rank – and of a noticeably elevated neatness. At the very least, he looked like a deputy commissioner. From Farrokh’s research – for the Inspector Dhar screenplays were scrupulously researched, if not aesthetically pleasing –the screenwriter was certain that they were about to be confronted by a deputy commissioner from Crime Branch Headquarters at Crawford Market.
‘All this for
golf?’
whispered Inspector Dhar, but not so loudly that the approaching detective could hear him.
Not a Wise Choice of People to Offend
As the most recent Inspector Dhar movie had pointed out, the official salary of a Bombay police inspector is only 2,500 to 3,000 rupees a month – roughly 100 dollars. In order to secure a more lucrative posting, in an area of heavy crime, an inspector would need to bribe an administrative officer. For a payment in the vicinity of 75,000 to 200,000 rupees (but generally for less than 7,000 dollars), an inspector might secure a posting that would earn him from 300,000 to 400,000 rupees a year (usually not more than 15,000 dollars). One issue posed by the new Inspector Dhar movie concerned just
how
an inspector making only 3,000 rupees a month could get his hands on the 100,000 rupees that were necessary for the bribe. In the movie, an especially hypocritical and corrupt police inspector accomplishes this by doubling as a pimp and a landlord for a eunuch-transvestite brothel on Falkland Road.
In the pinched smile of the second policeman who approached Dr Daruwalla and Inspector Dhar at their table, there could be discerned the unanimous outrage of the Bombay police force. The prostitute community was no less offended; the prostitutes had greater cause for anger. The most recent movie,
Inspector Dhar and the Cage-Girl Killer
, seemed to be responsible for putting the lowliest of Bombay’s prostitutes – the so-called cage girls – in particular peril. Because of the movie, about a serial killer who murders cage girls and draws an inappropriately mirthful elephant on their naked bellies, a
real
murderer appeared to have stolen the idea. Now
real
prostitutes were being killed and decorated in this cartoonish fashion;
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