THE LEDGER - chapter 4
He was still in Bombay.
Hidden among the crowded streets of the city, surrounded by thousands of ordinary people, he was living under another name and working another job.
From the outside, he was a bank employee.
But in reality—
he was a police inspector.
As part of a secret investigation connected with the Intelligence Bureau, he was working as a Data Entry Operator in a large bank in the city.
He was following the trail of suspicious money passing through the bank.
Sometimes the money went into hawala networks.
Sometimes it went to the UAE.
Sometimes it went to another country.
But for the past two or three months, something else had also caught Aravind's attention.
Some local criminal gangs in Bombay.
Especially those operating around certain bus routes in the city.
---
That evening, after finishing his work at the bank, Aravind was on his way home.
He never used a car or a police vehicle.
To protect his undercover identity, he had to travel like an ordinary passenger.
So he got on a private bus.
The bus was crowded.
The driver was driving at high speed.
Even the way the conductor spoke to the passengers carried a threatening tone.
“Move inside!”
“Take your ticket!”
“Those getting down at the next stop, come to the front!”
Whenever anyone objected, he immediately shouted at them.
Aravind said nothing.
He watched everything carefully.
The bus number.
The driver's face.
The conductor's build.
The people getting on and off the bus.
Their clothes.
Their behaviour.
Aravind felt that some of them were not ordinary bus employees.
---
The bus stopped at a traffic signal.
The light turned green.
Just as the driver was about to move, two women came running from the side of the road.
“Stop!”
The driver applied the brakes.
The door opened.
At the same time, Aravind's stop arrived.
He moved towards the door.
But the women were trying to get in, so there was no space.
Aravind could not get down.
The women could not get in.
The conductor angrily closed the door.
The bus started moving again.
Aravind calmly said,
“Stop at the next stop.”
The conductor turned around.
He was a big man.
“You said you wanted to get down here, didn't you?”
“Yes.”
“You can't get down now.”
“Then let me get down at the next stop.”
The conductor said nothing.
After travelling a little further, the bus stopped on the side of the road.
Aravind walked towards the door.
“Open the door.”
The conductor did not open it.
“Open the door.”
He said it again.
The conductor looked at him and smiled.
“Wait for two minutes.”
“I need to get down.”
“I told you to wait.”
Aravind's eyes changed.
But he did nothing.
Right now, he was just an ordinary passenger.
Not Inspector Aravind.
Not an Intelligence Bureau officer.
Just an ordinary man.
After another two or three minutes, the door finally opened.
Aravind got down.
He turned back.
“Is this how you treat passengers?”
The conductor immediately got down from the bus.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“If you were in such a hurry to get down, you should have told me earlier.”
“I already told you.”
They began arguing.
The conductor abused Aravind.
Aravind answered him back.
But he did not raise his hand.
Because the man must not know who he really was.
After a few moments, the driver honked.
The conductor got back on the bus.
The bus left.
Aravind stood alone on the road.
There was anger on his face.
But another thought was running through his mind.
“Where do these men get this much courage from?”
---
Aravind decided to walk home.
The evening in Bombay was slowly turning into night.
Small shops lined the roads.
Tea stalls.
Paan shops.
Pav bhaji.
Vada pav.
Pani puri.
Among the crowd, a small pani puri cart caught Aravind's attention.
Behind the cart stood a man of about fifty.
He had a thick moustache.
He was wearing a white shirt with a towel over his shoulder.
He was preparing the pani puri masala.
Aravind walked towards him.
“One plate, please.”
“Of course, sir.”
The man prepared the pani puri.
While eating, Aravind asked,
“What is the problem with these buses around here?”
The man looked at Aravind.
He smiled.
“Are you new to this area?”
“No.”
“Then you don't know about this?”
“Know what?”
The man looked around.
Then he spoke quietly.
“My name is Ramesh Shinde.”
He held out his hand.
Aravind shook it.
“Aravind.”
Ramesh looked at him for a moment.
“Aravind...”
“Yes.”
“You work at the bank, don't you?”
Aravind's hand stopped.
“How do you know?”
Ramesh smiled.
“Sir, how can we run a business here without knowing who works where?”
Aravind said nothing.
Ramesh slowly continued.
“The bus you just got off... it's not just a bus.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some of the drivers and conductors are part of a big gang.”
Aravind's eyes fixed on Ramesh.
“Which gang?”
Before answering, Ramesh looked around.
“I can't say the name.”
“Why?”
“If I say their name, my cart may not be here tomorrow.”
Aravind remained silent.
Ramesh continued.
“There are several pubs and bars in this area.”
“I know.”
“Some of the people who go there are not looking only for entertainment.”
He lowered his voice.
“Cannabis... MDMA... other drugs...”
There was a slight change in Aravind's expression.
“What does this have to do with the buses?”
Ramesh smiled.
“A bus is the easiest cover.”
Aravind listened carefully.
“Do you know where the packets come from?”
Ramesh shook his head.
“I don't know everything.”
“But?”
“Some buses regularly stop near certain pubs.”
“For the bus stop?”
“No.”
Ramesh looked directly into Aravind's eyes.
“For people.”
Aravind said nothing.
Ramesh continued.
“Some of the employees on those buses are criminals. They have connections with the local police.”
“How close are those connections?”
“Very close.”
“How?”
Ramesh looked around again.
“Some buses are connected to the names of police officers. Some are registered in the names of their relatives. Others are in the names of their people.”
A suspicion formed in Aravind's mind.
An ordinary bus route...
A bar...
A pub...
A criminal gang...
The local police...
Drugs...
Were all these things connected to the same network?
Ramesh spoke again.
“Sir... you work at the bank, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then this may be connected to your work.”
Aravind was surprised.
“What did you say?”
Ramesh spoke slowly.
“Do you know where the drug money goes?”
Aravind looked at him.
Ramesh answered,
“To the banks.”
Aravind's expression became serious.
Ramesh added one more thing.
“Sir, the criminals you see here are only small players.”
“Then who is above them?”
Ramesh remained silent for a few moments.
Then he said,
“Many people in Bombay know the people sitting above them.”
“Their name?”
Ramesh shook his head.
“I'm afraid to say it.”
Aravind stood up.
He paid the man.
Before leaving, Ramesh called him.
“Aravind sir...”
Aravind turned around.
Ramesh spoke quietly.
“The conductor on the bus you took today... he isn't just a conductor.”
“Then what is he?”
Ramesh's face became serious.
“He is someone who carries money for someone.”
Aravind said nothing.
He slowly started walking.
The numbers from the bank appeared in his mind again.
Certain accounts.
Certain small transactions.
Certain pubs.
Certain bus routes.
Certain criminals.
There was only one thing left to connect them all.
Money.
Aravind took out his phone.
Some of the account numbers he had seen at the bank came back to his mind.
He stopped.
He thought for a moment.
Then he said to himself,
“This isn't just a drug mafia.”
His eyes became dark.
“Someone has built another world of crime on top of the money flowing through this city.”
Aravind started walking again.
He did not know—
that the five minutes he had spent talking to Ramesh Shinde
would completely change the direction of his investigation.
More importantly—
from that night onward, someone had started watching Aravind.
🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
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