Part 6 Meeting Mr. Gilroy Mr. Gilroy was a big man. He was easily over 6 ft. tall, with a booming voice, bulging arms and rotund belly. His countenance was perfectly tailored for the profession that he was in. “Good morning,” he said in a voice that betrayed no pleasantness, “how may I help you?” “Good morning,” I returned his greeting, and cleared my throat. “We were referred to you by Mr. Anupam Tiwari, who works at this airport.” The name did not appear to ring a bell. But he decided to listen to me anyway. “Ok, so what do you want?” he boomed. I went on to recount the series of incidents that had led us to him. “Hmmm,” he said, languidly stroking his moustache, “I remember that incident pretty well. Unruly group of fellows they were. Lowlife rowdies, I would say. But what surprised me most, was how strong those monks were.” He stroked his moustache again. “I mean, you are a monk, a saint, sadhu…..are you not supposed to be meditating all the time, living on water, feeding only once in a while on boiled food? How come these guys have lean muscles and are flying around the country by air?” “Ok, let’s see.” One hand was turning the pages and the other hand was stroking the moustache. “Let’s see.” There was a long silence. I could feel Jatin breathing heavily. The poor boy was tired. I felt sorry for him. He was putting in all possible effort to trace his brother. He had taken vacation time off from his workplace. He had to get back to work. He had a family to care for. I understood that he was feeling hesitant to mention that. It would make him look selfish. But it had to be done. Tonight I would ask him to join back at work. I would carry on this search by myself. “Can’t help you,” said Mr. Gilroy in a resigned voice. “Those fools claimed that they did not have an Indian address. They were planning to take a bus to the international terminal and fly out of the country the very same day. So we don’t have anything on them.” “Nothing?” asked Jatin unbelievingly. “Nope, nothing,” Gilroy replied, “see, it’s very difficult for us to handle these vagrant sadhus. Only God knows what they are upto.” “But they did provide an address for the jeans clad boy. That’s the guy you’re looking for, right?” “Yes,” both of us exclaimed, “yes, please….what is the address?” I asked, my heart palpitating at a furious rate, “What is the address?” “Wait bhai,” he looked at me with some annoyance, “here it is.” I got ready to note it. Jatin pored through the writing. He shook his head “This is not a Mumbai address. It is supposed to be Sunil’s home address……..and it is totally concocted. There is no such place in our home town.” “What?” said the burly man, “No?” He looked terribly irked. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Quite sure,” Jatin said assertively. “Damn,” he muttered, “damn. These guys fooled us.” “You did not verify the address?” Jatin exploded. “How do you suppose we would do that?” he retorted, “send an officer to your brother’s home town?” His tone was getting increasingly sardonic. His temper was rising, more from the insult of being fooled by the monks, than from Jatin’s outburst. I felt a lump in my throat. We had lost Sunil again. I leaned back in my chair and looked up at the roof. “Don’t worry,” said Gilroy, after a moment of silence. His tone had softened. “We work with limited resources, so it becomes easy for some people to give us the slip. But we are a very efficient force, and we are very sensitive to being fooled.” I stared blankly at him. “Give me a phone number I can reach you at. If your son stayed in Mumbai after landing here, I will get that information for you within 2 days. That much I can promise. From there on, you will pick up the lead and carry on the search. I can do nothing further for you.” There was nothing else to be done. I noted Jatin’s number and postal address on a piece of paper and handed it to him. As we walked out into the hot sun, I felt a churning feeling in my stomach, and threw up on the roadside before we had reached the car.
Posted on: Fri, 09 Aug 2013 05:15:24 +0000
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