The not-so-curious phenomenon called Bhai

I woke up on Wednesday and found my wife glued to the television. Salman Khan’s verdict will be delivered today, she said. Which case, I asked. The hit and run one, she replied. So early? How vindictive of the judicial process, I said.

As I got busy making coffee, my wife described the scene outside Salman Bhai’s house in Bandra and outside the session’s court. Both places had more reporters than the combined number of guests at our wedding and reception, she exclaimed. Now I don’t mind my wife occasionally disrespecting me but disrespecting Bhai is as good as contempt of court in my book. The trouble with educated women, I told my wife, was that they would never understand the cultural and social implications of a Salman Khan movie, a Salman Khan quote, or a Salman Khan anecdote. “Well, everyone is equal before the law,” my wife quipped. Bhai jaan is the law, I wanted to tell her but I knew she would not understand.  

Like my wife, everyone on TV had some sort of agenda against Bhai. Someone said: If you have big money you can hire a big lawyer who can delay a court case for years. What a stupid thing to say! I was stunned. Bhai had so much money, yet his lawyers could manage only 13 years? That’s not even a decade and a half. Is that what you get for ‘being human’? I wanted to break the TV but my wife would not allow it. In protest I went back to sleep. A little after noon my wife shook me awake: Bhai had been convicted and sentenced for five years. I lost faith in the Indian judiciary. I hit the bottle.

Four beers later I finally heard someone talking sense on TV. It was the forgotten singer Abhijeet. He highlighted the suicidal tendencies of non-farming poor people who choose to sleep on pavements, knowing full well how their actions can damage someone’s car. I was ordering another case of beer when I heard that the Bombay high Court would hear Bhai’s bail plea and perhaps he won’t go to jail. Hands folded in prayer I had trouble paying for the beer when it was delivered. My prayers were answered. The high court granted interim relief to Bhai. His case would now come up for hearing on Friday May 8. I could not sleep all night.

On Thursday, outside Galaxy apartment, as I watched star after star pay Bhai a visit, the film industry resembled the family from the Godfather trilogy. Every silent face that stepped out of an SUV seemed to be asking the same questions: How can anyone but the box office judge Salman Bhai? What about the lives he saved, the lives he transformed?

I woke up on Friday with trepidation. Thankfully, there was alcohol within reach to calm my nerves. My timeline on twitter was exploding with schadenfreude. All those film reporters who never got an interview with Bhai were tweeting with glee. Wife read them with pleasure. 

Having lost my faith in the judiciary, I switched on the TV expecting the worst. But the worst did not happen. The high court granted Bhai bail. Like all of Bollywood, my faith in the judiciary and in well-paid lawyers was restored. Drunk and teary eyed, surrounded by Salman Bhai’s fans outside his house, I felt safe in the knowledge that justice may be delayed, but it is never denied, at least not in India.