The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(24)
Mhatre returned. His expression remained unchanged at what Joshi said next.
“You’re the kind of man we want. I’m promoting you to senior inspector at Bandra Police Station. You’ll follow the proper chain of command, but will report directly to me on occasion.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” Arnav said.
“There are a few openings at the moment,” Joshi went on in his new, expansive mode, “I want deserving candidates who can make crucial decisions based on experience and quick thinking. Mhatre says good things about you.” Joshi beamed like an indulgent parent. “I have his recommendation on record.”
“Yes, of course, sir.” Mhatre nodded. “I wish Rajput all the best.”
This was an opportunity Arnav couldn’t have foreseen; reporting to Joshi would enable a close watch on his activities: who he met, who visited him, and why. On the other hand, this was totally outside of protocol.
“Rajput?” Joshi clearly expected a delighted, grateful acceptance.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t you have an answer?”
“It is all quite sudden, sir. My promotion isn’t due for at least three years.”
Seniority, not merit, was how Mumbai Police worked.
“Are you saying you don’t wish to be promoted to senior inspector?”
“I’ll think about it, sir.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard about you.”
“Sorry, sir?”
“According to reports, you jump first and think later. We need a bit of that right now. The teams are ready. Take on a few cases. I could transfer you with the same designation and promote someone at that station, but I prefer you in charge.”
Joshi’s phone rang and he rose as he answered. “Right, sir,” he said. “I’m leaving now.”
He ended the call and made his excuses to Mhatre. The Home Minister had asked for an immediate meeting based on some intelligence. Twenty days between the most important Hindu festivals—on Dussehra, the god Ram had vanquished Ravan, and on Diwali he would return from exile. The countdown to the heightened alerts during Diwali had begun.
“See you soon, Rajput.” Joshi stretched out his hand to shake.
He walked out, Mhatre behind him, leaving Arnav with a lot of questions and a difficult choice—miss an opportunity to keep tabs on the person responsible for injustice toward his sister, or let go of the Aksa and Versova cases.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MUMBAI DRISHTIKON NEWS
Dance bars to be reopened in Mumbai, rules Supreme Court of India
2:30 PM IST 18 October, Mumbai.
In a ruling that has been controversial on social media as well as off-line, the country’s top court ruled that dance bars in Mumbai will be allowed to renew their licenses. They imposed new regulations, however. Performers can be tipped, but guests may not shower them with cash. The dancers and the bar owners will sign formal contracts, the structure of which will be decided by them. An amount of payment can be agreed upon, but the bar owners are not liable to pay a salary, or install CCTV cameras inside the bars, citing privacy concerns.
A three-judge bench of Justices B K Bhatt, Asheesh Nehra and Amrit Solanki set aside Section 6 of the Maharashtra Prohibition of Obscene Dance in Hotels, Restaurants and Bar Rooms and Protection of Dignity of Women (Working therein) Act, which forbade the granting of licenses to discotheques. Hotel and restaurant owners, performers and others had challenged the Act in separate petitions to various courts.
With dance bars operational in Mumbai again after fourteen years, various sectors have reacted differently to the news. While it has naturally pleased bar owners and women seeking work in dance bars, several religious institutions and women’s rights groups have condemned the move.
“We understand that many women who work at dance bars are the primary breadwinners,” said Shikha Paranjpe, President of the Women’s Association in Nerul, in response to the Supreme Court decision. “On the other hand, the government must restrict the trafficking of minor girls. Dance bars should reopen, but they need strict implementation of laws so that women are not exploited.”
Bar patrons, on the other hand, are excited about the return of quality and variety to the Mumbai bar scene. A patron, who refused to disclose his name, said, “I’ll be one of the first at the Blue Bar next week. Some of the bar girls from years ago are making a comeback, and a famous firecracker will be opening the show.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
TARA
Fourteen years. Fourteen years was the term of a life imprisonment in India. It was the length of the exile into the forests for the god Ram. Tara made a face at the thought. It was quite the opposite for her: Mumbai was the exile and the prison. This time around, she would not let it become either. A week. That was all. Then she would leave again, for good.
Tara dragged her small suitcase and stepped out of the air-conditioned airport and into the heat and humidity of Mumbai. She scanned the crowd of drivers with placards, searching for her name. Her boss, Shetty, was supposed to have sent a ride.
She drew herself to her full height, calming the frisson of panic that crowds at travel hubs still brought her—she was at the Mumbai airport, not the Borivali railway station. The phone in her hand was her own, not given to her by Shetty. She could take all the time she liked. No three-minute deadline, nor the terror of the unknown if she missed it. Tara took a long, steadying breath.