DIAL D FOR DIAMONDS
By Neel Anil Panicker
JaAyesh Amitesh Bhai Shah looked forward to his early mornings. They were the same everywhere, be it Ahmedabad, his birthplace; Surat, his work place; or Arthur Road Jail, Mumbai, his current temporary address.
At this still born hour, when the moon had just about reluctantly bidden goodbye and the sun was lumbering up to say hello, as Shah peered through the iron bars of the lone window in his bare boned prison cell, he could see the clouds, quaint sepia tinged images that seemed to pop out of one of those long forgotten dust laden black and white photographs of yore, a mind numbing anachronism in todays’ digital era.
Craning his neck upwards, he soaked in the small little blotches of deep steel blue greys, a muted shade like the ever dimming lights of a soon to be dead light bulb.
Suddenly, his eyes turned misty as a flotilla of childhood images flirted past his mindscape.
Each shone__bright and shiny__like the burning orb of the most sparkling summer sun, it’s skein of silver rays warming the earth and its merry denizens.
‘Where and how quickly did the good times end’, wondered the silver haired, silver tongued man the world knew as the Diamond Kind of India.
The metronomic chine of the prison clock extricated him from his morbid thoughts as he slowly got up to join the line of prisoners off to their first shift.
From cutting multi-million dollar deals and racing around the globe in his de luxe private jet to making spherical papads was a massive comedown.
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