"I did not expect Shefali to suddenly return from America like this. I thought it would take at least two years for her to come back, and by then, I would have made all the necessary arrangements."
"Has she gotten married?"
"Not yet."
"Then the situation is still in your hands for now."
"But you forget that the real authority to manage the property belonged to my father, not me."
"Well, there's no point in getting tangled up in legal complications. The main issue here is that you have embezzled fifty lakh rupees. If Shefali finds out about it upon her return, she can have you thrown straight into jail."
"I'm a lawyer; I know that much. That's why I called you here."
"So, what solution have you thought of to get out of this mess?"
"Ever since I received her letter about coming back, my mind has stopped working. You tell me—how do I get out of this trouble?"
"Let me think," Kulwant said, picking up the colorful photograph again.
After staring at it for a while, he downed his drink in one gulp and placed the empty glass in front of Sujan. "Pour me another."
Sujan poured the whiskey.
"You said this girl left for America at the age of eight or nine to live with her uncle and aunt?"
"Yes."
"And she hasn't returned to India since then?"
"No. She left then and is only coming back now."
"That means no one here knows what she looks like now? No one can recognize her?"
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Why not make the girl disappear as soon as she steps out of the airport and replace her with someone else? That girl will act as Shefali for show, but behind the scenes, you will remain the true owner of all the wealth for life."
"But where will we find such a girl?"
"I'll take care of that."
"But there's a problem with this plan."
"What problem?"
"If Shefali's uncle and aunt ever come from America to meet her, they will immediately recognize that she is not the real Shefali. The whole scheme will be exposed."
"That's true," Kulwant said, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. "If only those damn uncle and aunt were dead, things would be so much easier. Well, let's think of something else."
After some time, Kulwant devised another plan.
"As soon as she steps out of the airport, we will kidnap her along with her maid. Then, instead of replacing her, we will demand a ransom for her release. The property is slipping out of your hands anyway, but with this plan, you can at least make a few crores."
"What if the police suspect me?"
"Why would they suspect you? You won't be directly involved, and neither will I. The work will be done by others. Of course, they will need to be paid—several lakhs..."
"If the job is done cleanly, I'll pay whatever is necessary."
The two of them sat together, conspiring.
"Alright, I should get going now," Kulwant suddenly said, standing up with a jerk.
"Already? We haven't even finished half the bottle yet."
"The girl is arriving on a flight at four in the morning. I need to make all the arrangements before then," Kulwant said as he took his leave.
Outside the door, Rahmat Mian had been eavesdropping on their entire conversation. Hearing footsteps approaching the door, he quickly stepped away.
Sujan Singh went to see Kulwant off at his car, while Rahmat entered the room to clear up. He picked up everything except a single glass and the bottle left on the table.
After placing the items in the kitchen, he returned and said to Sujan, "If there's no more work, shall I go to the market to get some tobacco?"
"You didn't remember your tobacco all day, and now you want to go out at night to get it?"
"It's not that late yet. It's only seven. I'll just go and be back quickly."
"Come back soon," Sujan said dismissively and walked inside.
Rahmat Mian went to his small room, took out some money, threw an old shawl over his tattered coat, and stepped out into the cold December night.
The winter chill made his aging bones tremble, but he quickened his pace and walked off in a certain direction.
Not far from the mansion, there was a telephone booth. He stepped inside, picked up the receiver, and slowly dialed a number with his wrinkled fingers.
When someone answered on the other end, he gripped the receiver tightly with both hands and whispered into the mouthpiece in a hushed, mysterious voice, "Who... Manager Uma Babu... It's me, Rahmat Mian..."