The Ring of Siraj

The loud sound of the drawing room window glass shattering to pieces woke up Shraboni from her slumber. Hastily she went to check what had happened. She found Pandey Ji looking at the damaged window glass with a quizzical glance. Shraboni asked loudly, “Pandey Ji, Kya hua? How did this happen? Are those guys at it again?” Pandey Ji replied,” Who knows dear, these guys are a nuisance I must say. Why don’t you lodge a police complaint? This is the second instance of attempted burglary or property damage. Don’t you think it is high time that we lodge a formal complaint?”

Shraboni could not help but agree to Pandey Ji’s words. In the last one month, her house in Jorbagh, a posh locality in New Delhi, had been ransacked once when no one was there at the house and now this instance had happened. It had all started with a mysterious phone call around a month back. The landline phone that evening was ringing and Shraboni was surprised as very few people used to call at the landline nowadays, primarily due to mobile phones being the preferred medium. She had picked up the phone and before she could say Hello, a gruff voice over the phone said, “Hand over the metallic case which has the Green Ring to us by putting it over the main gate tonight. We will take it and nothing will happen to you, else we cannot guarantee your safety”. And the phone was hung up immediately.

Obviously Shraboni did not hand over the case and the green ring that night. And so a few days later, these incidents started to happen, presumably to instil a sense of fear. As she was now reminiscing about these incidents, Pandey Ji suddenly spoke, “I do not understand what is so precious about that damned ring. Why don’t you just hand it over to them?” Shraboni replied,” Do you even know the ring’s history? It was worn by the last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar. When he was exiled by the British to Burma in 1858, he gave away many of his personal belongings to his palace courtiers and other staff. My grandfather’s grandfather was a young palace guard in the emperor’s inner chambers. He was close to the Emperor as he had once saved the emperor’s life by thwarting an assassination attempt from one of his courtiers.

And so, before going to Burma, Bahadur Shah Zafar gave this young guard his large green ring. It even has the emperor’s name inscribed on the rim of the ring in Urdu : Siraj-ud-din Muhammad.” Pandey Ji exclaimed, “Now who is this Siraj-ud…whatever”? Shraboni remarked,”Arey Pandey Ji, Siraj-ud-din Muhammad was the emperor’s birth name. Anyways, this ring has now been a part of our family since then, as you know. Baba kept this ring in a specially made metallic case. Please keep it safe in the locker of your bedroom as you are the caretaker of this house. Baba trusted you with this when he left this world 6 months back. I am not in the house most of the times due to my frequent travels. Also, please try to get this window replaced today. Ohh shit, I need to go to the office, it’s getting late. I will try to go the police station to lodge a complaint on my way back.” Pandey Ji said, “Hmm, now I know it’s real history. I always thought the ring belonged to your father. I never knew it had such a royal history”.

Shraboni worked with the Archaelogical Survey of India as a field officer. That evening, she returned late to her home. As she neared her home, she saw the house was pitch dark with none of the lights turned on. She found it strange as Pandey Ji never went out of the house after 5 pm. Being a retired army man, Pandey Ji was very disciplined in his daily routines and never altered them. She opened the main door with her own set of keys and switched on the lights of the hall. Shraboni noticed that the drawing room window was still broken. She could sense a strange calmness in the atmosphere. It actually made her panic. She rushed to Pandey Ji’s room and opened his wardrobe and the mini locker. What she feared the most had happened. There was no sign of the metallic case. The ring of Siraj was gone!

Shraboni was shocked to even imagine what had become of Pandey Ji. Did he resist the attackers and finally give in to them? If so, where was he himself? She dialled his number frantically, but it was out of coverage area. After trying his number a couple of times, she had another more fearful thought. What if the attackers had bribed Pandey Ji this time and actually took away the ring. Otherwise, how did they know the exact location of the ring? Last time, they had ransacked the entire house but could not break this wardrobe’s lock. This time, they must have approached the house again during the day and struck a deal with Pandey Ji. Pandey Ji would have negotiated well as he knew the ring’s importance now, after her conversation about the history of the ring in the morning. There was nothing she could do now. She must go to the police tomorrow morning.

The Inspector at the Jorbagh Police station looked at Shraboni from head to toe 3 times before noting down her complaint finally. Obviously, he could not believe his ears when she had narrated her story at a break neck speed. He assured her that they will do their best to retrieve the ring and nab the thieves as well. He asked her, “By the way, Ms. Roy, how do you know that there was more than one attacker? You are referring to them as if you know there is more than one person involved in this.” Shraboni replied, “I think so because the man who had called me a month back to hand over the ring had remarked that ‘We will take it and nothing will happen to you, else we cannot guarantee your safety’. Hence I and Pandey Ji believed they are a part of a gang. Of course, now I am not even sure of Pandey Ji if he is a part of them or not.” After a few more routine questions, Shraboni took her leave and went dejectedly back to her home.

The next couple of days were spent with hopelessness and turmoil. She called up the Inspector twice a day, always to hear the same old assurance. Matters did not seem to progress. After a week from this incident, she was asked to go to Mussourie from her office to prepare a report on a newly found relic spot of a medieval temple. So after informing the police inspector, she boarded the Dehradun Shatabdi the next morning. She had a couple of friends down in Mussourie as well, so it might serve her well to discuss the case of the lost ring with them. She decided on a whim, as she got off the Shatabdi at Dehradun that while in Mussoorie, she was not going to bond with Ruskin. With James maybe, but definitely not with Ruskin.

She arrived at the official ASI travel lodge in Mussourie around 1.30 pm on a chilly Saturday afternoon. After getting refreshed, she took a walk around the lodge along its zig-zag roads. She walked to the Mall road, a busy market place. As she went by many stores, she suddenly spotted an antique store called, “Jashn-e-Mughal”. Intrigued by the name, she entered the store. A young boy around the age of 14-15 was at the counter. He asked, ”What can I show you madam? We have showpieces of the Taj Mahal, The Red Fort, Fatehpur Sikri, Humayun’s Tomb etc. We have paintings on the battles of Panipat, Mumtaz Begum and Noor Jehan. We also sell and buy old stuff like anklets, jewellery items etc.” Shraboni looked around the store and was immersed in its myriad stuff and got lost in the splendour of the antique items she saw. It seemed to her that she had been transported 400 years back and time had frozen there. She was suddenly transported back to her present situation when the boy shook her by her left arm.

Shraboni said, “Oh sorry, you do have a very beautiful shop. I was just looking around. You won’t believe but actually I had a ring with me which belonged to Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar. Here is a photo of it.” She showed the ring’s photo on her mobile phone to the boy. The boy remarked, “Subhan Allah! What a gorgeous ring! Do you want to sell it?” Shraboni replied, “Unfortunately I don’t have it with me now. It was stolen a week back from my home in Delhi.” The boy replied, “Oh that is so sad. Listen, take my card. My name is Aslam and this is my contact number. If you get back the ring and wish to sell it, please contact me. I will get you a good price for it.” Shraboni took the card listlessly and walked out of the shop in a daze.

She was still lost in her thoughts as she crossed the road. She stopped for eating Momos at a famous joint, just opposite to “Jashn-e-Mughal”. After ordering Pan fried chicken momos, she sat down on a chair and looked down over the road. People were thronging on the streets and the shops. As her gaze shifted back to “Jashn-e-Mughal”, she saw a big 6-feet man enter the antique store along with a shorter man. For some unknown reason, Shraboni was suddenly on alert. She waited for them to come out of the shop. After around 10 minutes, she saw both of them coming out and quickly walking the other way. Shraboni paid for the food and picked up her bag. She came out of the eatery joint and crossed the road to enter the antique shop again. She headed straight towards the counter and asked Aslam, “Hey, what were the 2 men asking you, the ones who just went out?” Aslam replied,” They wandered around the shop looking at different items.

They have a few antique items which they want to sell but they don’t want to bring it with them in the market, as the items are heavy. They have asked me to come to their house tomorrow around 11 am. Why are you asking”? Shraboni explained the whole history to Aslam about the ring of Siraj and the burglary at her home a few weeks back. She further said, “I don’t know but I have a feeling I have seen that tall man somewhere. I have a strange hunch that he is one of those vandals who broke the glass of my house a few days back. Listen Aslam, you have got to help me with this. When you go to their house tomorrow, I will come with you. I will get down near the house. You will go inside and look at what they have to sell. Keep a look out of a brown metallic case. If you happen to notice it, you must bring it back with you, without them noticing it. You are my only option of retrieving the ring. God has given this wonderful opportunity to get it back. I can hardly believe that this is happening on the very day I have come here. Please help me.” Aslam promised to pick her up at 10.30 am from her lodge the next morning.

The next morning, as she was going with Aslam in his old Alto car, she kept wondering about what would happen next. Will Aslam be able to get the ring back? Will the thieves know about their plan? After driving for around 25 minutes, Aslam stopped the car near a bend of a road and said, “Please get down here, their house is 5 houses away from here. I will come back in a while and pick you up near this bend.” As Shraboni got down, she prayed to the Lord fervently. After around 45 minutes, she saw the car coming her way. She immediately jumped inside the car when Aslam stopped for her. “Come on, did you get it”? she asked excitedly. Aslam said, ”Here it is! Shaan – e-shaandaar, the ring of the emperor.” He gave a metallic case to her. She pulled out the green ring instantly and shouted, “We have done it. We have got it back. Look, it even has the name of the emperor along its rim.” As Aslam saw the rim of the ring, he asked, “What was the name of the emperor, Mansoor and Bashir”? Shraboni said, “Why, it is written in Urdu. Can’t you read it? I thought you can read Urdu, if not me. It is Siraj-ud-din Muhammad”. Aslam put the brakes on the car suddenly and remarked, “Then madam, this is not your ring. The name mentioned here is Mansoor and Bashir.”

Shraboni and Aslam sat at the antique store with dejected faces. Aslam had bought a portrait of Jahangir from Mansoor’s house. While waiting at their drawing room, Mansoor had left the room for some time to get more antiques from the basement. Quickly, Aslam had searched the room for its contents and had found this case with the green ring in one of the drawers. He had put it inside his own bag very swiftly, before anyone noticed him. Now they realized that this ring was a fake one, made as a replica of the original ring and the original one was somewhere locked up safely. Obviously, how can someone keep such an expensive ring in a drawer in one’s drawing room? They were made to feel like complete fools. How to get back the original ring? Slowly they came up with a plan to recover the lost ring.

The next day, Aslam called Mansoor to his shop to show some new stuff. Mansoor and Bashir turned up around 1 pm. Aslam showed them many things like a miniature of the famous peacock throne, a copy of the Akbar-e-Nama, a lamp from the Diwan-e-Khas of Shah Jehan etc. Mansoor saw on the shelf a very beautiful golden ring. When asked about it, Aslam told them that it was the golden ring of Akbar, embossed on its rim, “Baadshah-e-Hindustan” in Persian. Mansoor and Bashir were awestruck when they saw this golden dazzling ring. They asked him the price for this but Aslam flatly refused to sell it. He said that this is not for sale. Again and again, both of them tried to convince Aslam that they can pay whatever price he wants for the ring. Finally, Aslam said, “Ok, only on one condition. I want an equivalent item in return. Do you have anything which you can give me which is as resplendent as this ring?” Mansoor and Bashir whispered amongst themselves for a while. Finally Mansoor said, “Wait for a few minutes. We have something to give you.” He called up someone and instructed him to bring a certain ring. After around 40 minutes, a man came to Aslam’s shop and gave a box to Mansoor and went away.

Mansoor showed the large green ring to Aslam and said, “This is the ring worn by our ancestor, the last emperor of India, Bahadur Shah Zafar. We can give you this, in exchange of the golden ring of Akbar. Look, it even has the emperor’s birth name embossed on it.” Aslam quickly checked the rim and confirmed the same that it was Siraj, nothing else. Full of playacting, Aslam remarked, “Dil toh nahi maan raha, par rakh leta hu yeh. Aap log yeh wala rakh lijiye.” And the exchange was complete. Mansoor and Bashir went out of the shop happily. As soon as they were gone, the inside door of the shop opened and Shraboni leaped inside. “Oh my God, how did you manage this Aslam?” Aslam remarked, “I have lots of rings with me which I got from Chor Bazaar near the Red fort last year when I went to Delhi. This golden ring is worth only 500 bucks. I just embossed “Baadshah-e-Hindustan” on it and put another round of golden color around it to make it look more sparkling. By the time these guys find out about the fake ring, they would be inside the jail. Let’s inform the police immediately here and in Delhi as well. These guys have a lot of fake items at their house which they sell in the market. It’s high time the police caught this gang. Descendants of the Mughals, my foot! Their story is as fake as the items they sell!”

One week later, Shraboni was inside the Red Fort archives to meet a senior government official. Last week, the Mussourie police had raided Mansoor’s house and caught both of them. They had confiscated all their stuff as well. The Delhi police had awarded Aslam with Rs 1 lakh in helping them to catch this notorious gang. Shraboni had completed her tour and returned to Delhi. The official looked up at Shraboni after listening to her and asked, “Do you really want to do this?” Shraboni replied, “I am quite sure that Baba would have done the same, had he been alive. This ring is now the property of the Government of India and as such should be a part of the national archives. This is where it belongs, not at my home.” The official took the brown metallic case from her, smiled and thanked her. After completing a few more formalities, Shraboni walked out of the Red Fort, smiling and feeling relieved at what she had done. She still did not know what had become of Pandey Ji, but that was the job of police, not hers. She had done what she was supposed to do. The ring of Siraj was now with its rightful owner.

                                                                               THE END