Scene 25 - The Genius of Vikas

Vikas had not been happy with life. His life had not been really going anywhere managing the garment business. Hard work and difficult markets to cater to. The idiot he reported to couldn’t figure out the semantics of the market in US and Europe. Always pointed US profitability to rip him apart in every meeting. “Look at number of people operating in US and the revenue per person!” He had been busting his backside for absolutely no recognition, absolutely no rewards. Frustrated he decided to get to Goa in the company of two bimbettes. He needed to release his stress. Ofcourse apart from everything else, there was a nice quantity of high quality Afghan hasish to enjoy as well.

He remembered the evening very well, when he stumbled upon an ingenious invention. It was September 11th 2001. Around 730pm. The bimbettes were asleep already, very tired. They would wake up around 9pm after which the partying will start all over again, into the wee hours of the morning. As he enjoyed a self made smoke, the images of the WTC bombing started filtering in. Horrific images. It was clear who was behind this. He thought of the ramifications. Airlines will collapse. America will wake up. It had been nothing short of a tight slap in the face by the terrorists. They would now go underground for a while. There would be a crack-down by US and other governments on illegal front companies that received funds post 9/11 had been a big boon for him. Terrorist activities depended on funds. Large funds. When money couldn’t be moved directly, they had to look at other means and avenues to generate the money from within whichever country they operated in. And narcotic drugs were money spinners anywhere.

The constant bickering on quality by his European customers had made Vikas study the various aspects of even cloth manufacturing. He had been so totally dedicated only to get the short end of the stick. He felt sore. As his eyes were fixed on the images flowing through CNN, his mind ticked away. And he smiled.

Hashish consists of the tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) rich resinous material of the cannabis plant, which is collected, dried, and then compressed into a variety of forms, such as balls, cakes, or cookie-like sheets. Hashish, or hash, is made by taking the resin from the leaves and flowers of the marijuana plant and pressing it into cakes or slabs. Hash is usually stronger than crude marijuana and may contain five to ten times as much THC. What if this could be blended with fabric? If this resinous material could blend with clothing fabric he could make garments that would pass through any airport security. The sniffer dogs will definitely figure out hash. They would kick an alarm. The traveler will be apprehended. A search of bags will happen. They would even strip search the traveler. But who looked at the clothes that a person wore? Inner garments, shirts, trousers and suits made of hash blended garments? Vikas smiled again. It should work. Security in any case was a joke in most places. They never knew where to look or what to look for. They allowed liquor bottles while they made a fuss over nail-clippers, not realizing how dangerous a glass bottle or liquor can be on a flight! Idiots.

It took him another five months to work on his plan. Finally he had the products ready. Inner and outer garments. He had ensured the smell of hash wasn’t a give away. Visits to Kashmir helped establish contacts. They were thrilled with the idea. But to make sure it worked they had wanted him to travel using what he created. Vikas weighed the risks. In a worst case scenario he can always plead ignorance about the clothes. He would buy exactly the same items from a reputed department store, and make sure he retained the bills. And that finally took him to Madrid. It worked! It worked wonderfully. He used different ports to enter Spain multiple times. Funding the Madrid bombings was the high point of his new career.

Now another call had come. The “raw material” for the suit had to be collected personally. He had covered his tracks well all the while. Never make calls. The only calls he got were the calls ordering for ‘suits’. And many people called him for that. He drove down to his contact, and quickly gave him the specifications. He will now need to meet Musten personally. He drove to the airport to take the flight to Bangalore. The mule had to be informed about the operation. He smiled happily as he boarded the flight.

And in the crummy jail at Bangalore, the trio of JJ, Lamesh and Vince were not aware of a life changing event that was coming their way. Vince had decided to learn English and Lamesh had been helping him with the alphabets. He recited, moronically. A for Aiiyoo!! B for Bindaas!! C for Chaaku!! D for Drama!!! JJ moved about agitated. He was very upset. He had been yelling all day, grabbing the bars and pressing his face against it. He was there again, yelling at the Head Constable.

“SSSSSSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!! What is this saaaar!!! Life imprisonment!!! Leave me out saaaar, my milk is boiling saar!!!!!”

The HC looked at him again. This guy went on and on like a ‘do-loop’ in a buggy software program. He had to contact PDSC and check what to do!!! Sarkar was not contactable at all. PDSC always had solutions.

As he called PDSC, JJ bawled aloud again! “Boooillllinggggg saarr!! My milk is boiling saaar!!!!”