Meenal Baghel, editor of the Mumbai Mirror, uncovers the true story of the sensational Neeraj Grover murder case in her book 'Death in Mumbai'. The author has been following the trial closely, using exclusive interviews with the police, the friends and families of the victim and the accused, Kannada actress Maria Susairaj for her book. Bhagel draws a riveting picture of one of the most gruesome crime cases in recent times.
Susairaj and her partner Emile Jerome were accused in the murder of young naval officer Grover in Mumbai. The verdict of the case was delivered earlier this year and Susairaj was sentenced to three years in jail. She walked free for having served the time behind bars while the trial was on. Jerome got a 10-year jail term.
Here's an extract from Meenal Bhagel's book 'Death in Mumbai':
Chapter 1: The Killing
'You, lady, are my number one suspect.' - Rakesh Maria, Head of the Mumbai Crime Branch, to Maria Susairaj
The heart of Oshiwara lies on land reclaimed from slushy backwaters in the late seventies. Large swathes of Mumbai have been 'reclaimed', as if the sea were an encroacher against whom a case had been filed and won. When Ekta Kapoor moved here in 2000 to set up Balaji Telefilms, Oshiwara was in her words, a 'dump'. 'I was quite horrified at having landed in such a rotten place. All you ever saw were arty-type people with big bindis.' Television's most famous backroom girl wears her hair stylishly cut, and is dressed on a working day in a tracksuit. It hints as much to her get-up-and-go attitude, as it does to her preoccupation with her weight.
In the decade since Ekta's arrival, this North Mumbai district has become the nerve centre of the entertainment industry, renewing Mumbai's sagging energy after most of its manufacturing industries moved to other parts of India, offering cheaper real estate and investor-friendly policies.
In reality, the nation's popular culture filtered out from just one unremarkable, potholed back alley of the Shah Industrial Estate, where Balaji Telefilms and the Yash Raj Films (YRF) studios stand at right angles, surrounded by a foundry, a derelict warehouse, and an unkempt ground that is hired out for receptions during the wedding season.
While the snooty guards at YRF shoo away aspiring stars for daydreaming at its impenetrable gates, Balaji, in keeping with the more democratic nature of its medium, has a notice at the door that spells hope: 'Leave two photographs with the watchman, if we like them we will get back in two days.'
Aside from the shiny, glass-fronted buildings that have mushroomed on the marshes, there has also been a sartorial sea change from those big bindi days that so horrified Ekta. Now the neighbourhood was full of mini-skirted brides flaunting their choodas along with their stilettos, and men in distressed jeans and sleeveless ganjis baring bench-press biceps and showing off fake tattoos. In India's capital of make-believe, even rebellion is a 'look'. On a sullen, clammy April evening in 2008, television executive Deepak Kumar was sitting at the coffee shop at Fun Republic, a one-stop entertainment centre, a few yards away from these dream factories. He sprawled into a steel and rattan chair and ran a hand over his buzz-cut as he discreetly observed the ladies. He was waiting for the rest of his gang to arrive.
The 'Coffee House Nomads', as the group called itself, met at this Café Coffee Day each evening after work. The waiter knew their preferences, and the café offered them a chance to sit under the open sky, escape the dingy sets and frigid editing suites. Here, they could pretend that the great Mumbai obsession, 'time pass', was a legitimate pursuit. Deepak Kumar and his closest friends, Nishant Lal and Neeraj Grover, were in their twenties and had come to Mumbai within a few years of each other, united in their ambition to work in television. They had a common link to Delhi-they shared its Hindi heartland sensibilities, and also a camaraderie that is particular to young bachelors. Deepak Kumar worked with a television production house, Shreya Creations, steadily rising to become an executive producer. Neeraj, the lean and hungry hop-skipjump man, had just quit Balaji Telefilms and joined Cinevista as creative producer, but was already in talks with Synergie Adlabs; while Nishant, the long-haired leader of their group, was his own boss, conceptualizing shows for different channels.
Neeraj had been the last to join the Coffee House Nomads, a year ago, in 2007. He had stood out in the Fun Republic foyer for his good looks, talking up a storm as he paced around the flyweight tables, nervously transferring an unlit cigarette from his fingers to his lips and back, making loud references to working with Amitabh Bachchan, for whoever cared to listen.
Nishant, blowing smoke rings in the air, his large, gentle eyes missing nothing, had watched the boy with amusement. Neeraj had turned up again the next day, approached their table for a light, and introduced himself. A Kanpuria!
As they had suspected, Neeraj had landed in Mumbai just a few months ago. He was working on a Kannada ad film for Dabur with the superstar. The three young men got talking. Neeraj turned out to be a jolly, witty boy who got all the jokes. Nishant, who had been working on a show called Aaghaz, urgently needed an actor for a day and Neeraj, with his clean-cut good looks and lean frame, fit the bill. The three began to hang out after the shoot, revelling in the warm flush of sudden and deep friendship.
No topic was exempt from their boisterous discussions: movies, sport, cars, bikes, Vijay Mallya (whose lifestyle they aspired to), parents, friends, travel, gizmos, and- with Neeraj around-inevitably, women. With the awe that is characteristic of ordinary monogamous mortals, Deepak Kumar watched a succession of young women sashay into their lives, offering him vague, glassy-eyed hellos before transforming into animated, honeydew goddesses around Neeraj. 'Mere hisse ki ladkiyan bhi tumhare hisse mein rehti hain!' (Your lot includes my share of women too), the thickset young man often grumbled good-naturedly, by now resigned to taking vicarious pleasure in his friend's amorous triumphs. Though sometimes these could get him into trouble. Neeraj had recently violated the sacred code-don't dip your nib in the office ink-by getting involved with a young woman who worked with him at Balaji, and who was a part of their gang. When he turned his charms on her and presented her with a bauble as a 'pretend' engagement ring, she hadn't been able to resist his proposal, risking her relationship with her steady boyfriend.
When Neeraj got bored after a couple of months and moved on, the jilted woman, sullen, hurt and angry, had blamed Deepak for not warning her about the new girl. But he really hadn't known. Neeraj made his moves faster than Vishwanathan Anand did playing speed chess. For the last few days, Neeraj had been talking about an actress from Bangalore called Maria Susairaj. He had helped her audition for Balaji's big upcoming show, Mahabharat, that March. The two had met earlier in 2007 and had recognized the spark of attraction between them- but before it could blossom into something deeper, Maria had shifted back to Bangalore to work on a Kannada film, Ekdant. After they reconnected for the Mahabharat audition, they kept in touch regularly over the phone. Maria, Neeraj told his friends, was coming back to Mumbai in the last week of April, and today's coffee house discussion was devoted to Neeraj's opening gambit.
Book: Death In Mumbai; Author: Meenal Baghel; Publisher :Random House Publishing Group; Pages: 248
(For updates you can share with your friends, follow IBNLive on Facebook, Twitter, Google+ and Pinterest)
More on IBNLive Right Now
TOP NEWS
MOST SHARED
PHOTOGALLERY
