The Walls of Delhi Read Free Page B

clean it, explaining to Ramnivas that rich people and their kids went there every day to lose weight.
    The gym had every exercise machine imaginable: one for the waistline, another for the stomach muscles, and another for the whole body. The prosperous residents of Saket and their families went there in the mornings and evenings, spending hour after hour busy on the machines. A beauty salon and massage parlour occupied the first floor. Middle-aged men of means would go for a massage and, occasionally, take some of the massage girls back to their car and drive away. Ramnivas had seen policemen and politicians frequent the place.
    Govind’s chai stall was right outside, and he told Ramnivasthat a girl named Sunila earned five thousand for accompanying gentlemen outside the massage parlour. ‘Who knows what these fucking big shots do with themselves in there,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen them throw after-hours parties, boys and girls right from this neighbourhood.’ Govind did well during the late-night parties since the drinkers and partyers sent out for Pepsi and soda all night long. Indeed, while cleaning the bathrooms, Ramnivas sometimes stumbled on the kind of nasty stuff that suggested that someone had had a good time, and it wasn’t much fun to clean up.
    What a life these high-flyers have, Ramnivas thought to himself. They eat so much they can’t lose weight. And look at me! One kid dies from eating fish caught from the sewer, and the other is just hanging on, thanks to the medicine. Then he remembered Sushma, that she’d be waiting for him at two at Sanjay’s, and he set his mind to finishing up work.
    As he was sweeping the floor of the big gym, the rope on the handle of the whisk broom that fastened the bristles together began to unravel, and he couldn’t sweep properly. Annoyed, Ramnivas banged the head of the broom against the wall to try and right the bristles. What was that? Sensing something strange, he again banged it against the wall. This time, he was sure. Instead of the hard thud of a thick wall, he heard something like an echo. It was hollow, a quick layer of plaster had been applied, but what could be behind it? Ramnivas wondered. A table and chairs, and a couple of burlap sacks stood between him and the wall. Ramnivas moved them to make space. Then he hammered the head of the broom into the wall, hard.
    It was just as he suspected. A few cracks began to show in the plaster, which soon crumbled away, exposing the inside. Thestrong smell of phenyl or DDT escaped. Ramnivas peeked in through the hole he’d opened, and his breath stopped short. He went numb. Holy cow! The wall was filled with cash, stacks and stacks of five-hundreds and hundreds.
    He drew his face flush with the hole, and took a good look. The hollow was pretty big, like a long tunnel carved out on the inside of the wall. Nothing but stacks of cash, as far as he could see, all the way on either side until the light failed and the money was lost in the dark. Ramnivas’ heart raced. His fear began to rise and he kept glancing around to see if anyone was there.
    There was no one, only him, completely alone. Before him stood the wall in the big gym, at A-11/DX 33, Saket, against which he’d banged his broom and opened up a hollow, hidden space filled with a cache of bills.
    â€˜Dirty money ... dirty money ... dirty, dirty, dirty!’ came the words, like a voice whispering into his ear. His hair stood on end. Here he was, face-to-face, an arm’s length away from the kind of fantasy he’d only heard about from others. But this was no dream, no fairy tale, but the real deal. He’d stumbled on it, and here it was, right before his very eyes.
    Ramnivas didn’t move for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, he grabbed his bag from the table in the corner and, peering around to make sure there wasn’t anyone watching, took two stacks of five-hundred rupee bills