The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(7)
Siparu, India’s most authoritative rich-list and philanthropy-list provider, has released its report on the real estate sector this month.
The biggest gainer in rank this year was Rahul Taneja, the founder and CEO of Taneja Estate Holdings (TEH). His net worth went up by 26.4 percent to ?45,723 crore (more than 6.1 billion USD). The 50 percent rise in TEH’s share price supported the growth in Taneja’s wealth, the report said.
According to this report, India’s top 100 realty developers’ wealth rose by 20 percent year-on-year, and Rahul Taneja now tops the list. The list is based on the valuation of real estate businesses owned by the entrepreneurs as of September this year, although their personal liabilities, or debt, were not considered for calculating the net worth.
The news of Taneja’s topping the Siparu list has come as a welcome reprieve to TEH because Taneja has been in the news for all the wrong reasons this past year. TEH stocks tanked following the uproar during the MeToo movement, with several B-list Bollywood actresses accusing Rahul Taneja of making physical advances during the lavish parties he threw at his Malabar Hills mansion. Taneja responded to the allegations with pointed rebuttal and has filed defamation suits against several accusers.
The rise in his Siparu listing and the news of his engagement to Kittu Virani, mother of the Bollywood movie star brothers Karan and Rehaan Virani, has indeed helped TEH stocks, which rallied 17 percent to their highest level in nearly two years.
CHAPTER SIX
ARNAV
Once Arnav reached the tall gates of Nandini’s apartment complex in Bandra, he dismissed the car so he could make calls without anyone listening in. On a given day, he fielded more than two hundred calls, about fifty from his khabri. He’d just missed a call from his best, and most expensive, source.
When he called back, a hoarse voice answered. “Ji, saab, boliye.”
It belonged to a man who identified himself only as Ali. Arnav liked these conversations. Basic and to the point. No attempt at a greeting—straightaway please tell me, sir.
Arnav spoke about the body and offered to pay for relevant information. He also asked about gossip on Taneja, and any connections he might have with the less savory parts of Mumbai. The call was brief and ended by the time he reached the door to Nandini’s apartment. It stood ajar. He could hear Shinde’s children, a boy and a girl, laughing out loud.
He pushed at the familiar carved door knocker that spelled WELCOME, hoping to walk in unannounced and freshen up before he met anyone. Nandini opened the door, paused for a second, and broke into a smile. Most times, Arnav found her face ordinary—her eyes not large, her eyebrows thin, her nose snub, her jaw square—but when she smiled one of her rare, full smiles, she was almost beautiful. Other women in her place wouldn’t have smiled right then, but Nandini wasn’t any other woman.
“Hemant Shinde is hungry and making more noise than his children.” Nandini smirked. “He’s gone to wash his hands. We were about to start.”
Shinde was older than him, his childhood friend and mentor. The man took his role seriously—not withholding any insult whatsoever when they sparred—whether at the karate dojo, or the chess table over strong cups of tea. He was the one responsible for Arnav joining the police force.
“Sorry I’m late. Tell him I’ll join you soon.” Arnav shut the door behind him. “I need a bath. It was one of those days.”
She knew what he meant by one of those days, because he said it often enough. Proximity to a dead person. He sneaked into the master bedroom. The crime scene stench clung to his clothes, and he didn’t want it to creep onto the children.
Arnav kept spare clothes in Nandini’s closet, and some of his toiletries sat in a haphazard pile in the bathroom closet. Tara wouldn’t have stood for such mess. A wry smile hovered on Arnav’s lips as he shed his clothes.
Tara cooked and cleaned for him because it had pleased her. She’d enjoyed playing house with him—a pretend game of domestic routine that lasted months without any promises, or words even, until one day, she vanished. She had left years ago. That dead body was not her. He had to stop letting her wander into his mind. Arnav stood under the shower and let the warm water sluice away his memories.
When he stepped out of the bedroom in a fresh set of T-shirt and jeans, Senior Inspector Hemant Shinde made as if to rise from the dining table. “Look who is finally here. Welcome, Avi saab!”
Shinde appeared his usual sarcastic self, curly hair cropped back into a severe crew cut, twinkling eyes, salt-and-pepper mustache. Arnav smiled back at his friend and then ignored him altogether, saying namaste to Shinde’s wife and exchanging fist bumps with the children, the girl a teenager at thirteen, and the seven-year-old boy full of mischief. They seemed to have finished their dinner, and asked if they could watch TV.
At a scowl from her husband, Shinde’s wife took them to the TV and switched on a cartoon channel, and Nandini passed Arnav a plate. Arnav let Shinde’s teasing and recriminations wash over him, followed by the nonstop tirade about work problems. Nandini was the one who should have been upset—she wasn’t pleased about his tardiness, it was clear, but she hadn’t made a fuss about it.
She sat there chatting with Shinde’s wife, whom Arnav called Vaeeni. Sister-in-law, in Marathi. She wore orange flowers in her long, braided hair, and a traditional, gold-bordered saree. Everyone had forgotten her name, Sujata—all Shinde’s friends called her the distant, respectful Vaeeni. Vaeeni’s gaze remained lowered, like most other times, her hands busy serving the table, making sure the glasses were filled. He wondered how Tara would have fit in here, at this table.