Pirates of Bollywood

By Dr. Kalyan C. Kankanala

Book 2 of Dr. Kalyan Kankanala's Intellectual Property Novels

Theme: Copyright Piracy and Bollywood Industry

In this action packed novel, Arjun Mamidi goes after pirates in the city of Bollywood, Bombay. Unlike his battle with the pharma industry in 'EPIDEMIC', Arjun's war against the Piracy Mafia is murderous, adventurous and tortuous.

About Arjun Mamidi

Arjun Mamidi is a young IP attorney with a small law practice. Unlike many of his peers, he is honest, forthcoming and fiercely independent. His escapades with powerful adversaries, crafty attorneys and ruthless criminals constitute Dr. Kalyan Kankanala's Arjun Chronicles.

Arjun is blind, but he neither acknowledges it, nor lets it hold him back. He is assisted by Jose, a capable, reliable and lighthearted ally.

About the author

Dr. Kalyan is a novelist and Thai yoga masseur from Bangalore, India. He started his fiction writing with legal thrillers, and is currently writing historical and crime thriller novels. Some of his novels were among best sellers on different stores, and have been listed among the 'must reads' for people interested in the law thriller genre.

He is an IP attorney by profession, and is listed among the top intellectual property minds in India. Dr. Kalyan Kankanala writes extensively on intellectual property issues, and has published highly referenced books and law review articles on the subject.

Dr. Kalyan is also a trained Thai yoga masseur, and provides Thai yoga body work as a hobby. He combines his learnings from psychology, music therapy and body work to offer meditative and relaxing massages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dr. Kalyan C. Kankanala
• Release date: Jan 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463005132

Dr. Kalyan C. Kankanala

Dr. Kalyan Kankanala is a well-known Intellectual Property Attorney and Author. He has published several books and research articles on Intellectual Property, Patent Law, and Accessibility.You may learn more about Dr. Kalyan here – https://www.linkedin.com/in/kalyanckankanala/

Book preview

Prologue

KingFish, the most luxurious Indian ship, surged into the calm waters of the Arabian Sea, towards Mumbai port. Standing on the bridge, Captain Hussain, a 60-year- old veteran, peered through the Steiner 7 x 50 mm marine binoculars for any hint of danger. Having entered the risk zone infested with ruthless pirates, for many of whom killing was akin to playing a video game, he was visibly tense. As he slowly scanned the horizon, the ageing captain involuntarily touched the pistol in his holster, thinking about the celebrities on board. The waters were devoid of any man-made machines, and all he could witness that beautiful, calm morning, were schools of dolphin, leaping in and out of water, flocks of seagull flying in a heart-stock formation and snouts of whales peeping out for air.

It’s a Beautiful Morning, isn't it, captain Hussain said to the young, sleepy chief officer on duty. Yes Captain, the officer replied, yawning, not sharing the captain’s excitement. Shake off your sleep and stay vigilant. Let us pace it up to 40 knots instead of your lazy 15.

Consider it done, Sir, the officer said, as the captain turned around and walked towards his cabin. Neither the vigilant captain nor the sleepy chief officer noticed the approaching object that had just surfaced at the north eastern horizon.

Sitting at his minimalistic, yet comfortable desk, Captain Hussain turned on the video recording of the party his ship had hosted the night before. Superstar Raj Khanna, the self proclaimed baadshah of Bollywood, had chosen the ship to host a grand party to celebrate the extraordinary box office performance of his recent film. Every big name in the industry was on board. Over the years, the captain had interacted with several influential people, but this was his first rendezvous with the film fraternity, and he hated every bit of their pomp, pretense, and pride.  Thoroughly bored by the antics of the elite, he turned the video off in under 10 minutes, and was contemplating getting a much-needed dose of caffeine when he heard a blaring gun shot. Pulling out his old, yet well-oiled pistol, the captain quickly emerged from his cabin and scanned the deck.  What he saw on board stopped him in his tracks, he blinked, and blinked again, to make sure it was not one of his delusional fits. To his disbelief, four masked men, dressed in black, armed with machine guns were forcing a silver haired gentleman, who looked the sanest and the most unpretentious among the guests, towards the railing.

Where the hell is security, Hussain wondered, as he watched the scene in shock. As if responding to his thoughts, someone opened fire at the masked men from the bridge, but the shots went wide, too wide. One of the masked men returned a fire, shattering glass, and instantly silencing the shooter. Hussain did not move a muscle; he was smart enough to gauge that his pistol didn’t have the muscle to challenge the machine guns the intruders were carrying. Then, to the captain’s incredulity, the masked men effortlessly lifted the man over the railing, and rolled him on two thin cables into what seemed like a cruise boat. Following that, the men used hooks to seamlessly lower themselves into the boat before speeding away. As he gaped at the speeding boat that quickly turned into a speck, he heard someone shouting, Pirates on board! There are pirates on board. They have abducted Chandra Sagar. Call the captain. The captain... Captain Hussain did not move. He stood still watching the speck disappear.

Part I

The Project

Chapter 1

Project Pi is set to go live Mr. Krishnan, the very short, stout and prematurely balding Lamba announced, rolling noisily into the managing partner's office. Good show Lamba! You have certainly done justice to your promotion as partner. What is it initially worth for Krish and Khan, by the way, the silver-haired man enquired, evidently pleased with his subordinate. 50 crores to begin with Sir. Much more later.  Lamba grinned with pride. Excellent! But remember Lamba, this is just the beginning. Don’t let your spirits sag until you reach the much achievable 200 crore target.

Certainly sir, I will not forget. May I take your leave? Just wanted to keep you posted before I officially begin the project.

Of course you may, young man. Keep up the good work and all the best, the very pleased Krishnan said as Lamba left.

Vikas Lamba, a graduate of International School of Management, Bangalore (ISMB), considered himself very fortunate to be in his current position. Having graduated at the bottom one percent of his class, he had no hopes of landing a job, until Krish and Khan came along on day two of the recruitment drive. Specializing in services for media and entertainment sector, Krish and Khan was one of the few famous Indian management consultancy firms that hired regularly from ISMB. Despite his poor grades, Lamba managed to impress Mr. Unni Krishnan, founding partner of the firm, with his shrewd and sly demeanor. Deviousness and pretense were the follies of Lamba's personality, and once he joined the firm, he used those qualities tactfully to build business, deliver complicated projects and scale to the position of a partner faster than anyone in the firm's history. Film production houses and music labels adored Lamba for his ability to expertly execute work of any complexity, which other management firms did not even dare consider.

Walking down the narrow hallway towards his cabin, Lamba thought about the project on hand. It was a project he had been waiting on for three long years, a project that was unprecedented in scale and magnitude, a project that, Lamba knew, could transform the entertainment industry, and above all, a project that could give him everything he yearned, recognition, status, women and most importantly, wealth. As realization of the task's magnitude dawned on him, Lamba's elation first turned to circumspection, then, very soon to trepidation, and before he knew, he was wobbling into his chamber soaked in self-doubt.  Clumsily plopping into his cozy, doubly cushioned, executive chair, Lamba, for the first time in his career, wondered whether he had it in him to see the project through. What bothered Lamba was neither the scale of the project nor its implementation. He was quite confident on those fronts. He was worried that he had no clue who his enemies were, let alone their stature. Though unexpected situations were a part and parcel of his work, threats and warnings were not, never had he received intimidating calls earlier. The calls, threatening him with dangerous consequences if he took up the project, since the very day he pitched for it, in absolute secrecy, or what he thought was absolute secrecy, shook his confidence and sent tremors through his spine. The more he thought about the project, the more he remembered the threatening voice warning him, Lamba, do not stick your head into this, unless you want to lose it.  Wiping away the drops of sweat that made way to his brow, Lamba took a few long breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. It took him 15 long minutes but Lamba’s ambition finally trumped his fear, at least for the time being. Pulling out his newly acquired smart phone, he placed a call to Viren Bhatia, the man, who had seeded the idea of Project Pi in his head.  Viren Bhatia was one of the leading and arguably the most expensive advocates in Mumbai. Though he was in his sixties, Viren was as upbeat as a 20 year old. Very technology savvy, a prolific user of modern tools, the most impressive, and important, thing about Viren, however, was that he was a master of new media, entertainment and intellectual property laws. Being in the same field, Lamba had met Viren at an entertainment conference, and they had immediately struck a symbiotic relationship. Lamba got the astute lawyer he badly needed, and Viren, got the business maker who could open doors to glory. Viren had in fact helped Lamba devise the final edition of Project Pi, with the agreement that he would be hired for its roll out, if and when it went through.

Viren's phone rang, and kept ringing till it got disconnected without being answered.. It was nine in the evening, way past his working hours, and Lamba knew Viren would be sipping on his routine drink in the solitude of his office.  What got him worried however was that Viren always answered the call within the third ring. Lamba tried again, but the result was the same. On rare occasions, when Viren missed a call, he called back within 10 minutes. Lamba waited for half an hour, but did not get a call or a text from Viren. Lamba called again, but this time Viren’s phone was not reachable. 

Filled with anxiety, Lamba thought of swinging by Viren’s office on his way home. But not inclined to let his fear be Viren’s laughing stock, he decided against it. Lamba was, in fact, lucky to have made that decision. Things were going wrong, very wrong at Viren's end at that very moment.

Chapter 2

It was 8.30PM, time for Viren's drink of the day. Giving him company that evening was Roshan, a 20-something, handsome, tall, heavily-built, young man, aspiring to be a Bollywood star. He had come in that day to Viren’s office for advice on a legal matter and had decided to stay when the former offered him a drink. Viren who generally did not work with junior artistes, made an exception in this case, as Roshan had come with an unusually strong recommendation letter from Shan, a leading producer in Bollywood, and an esteemed client of Viren. While reading the letter redolent with great praise for the young man before him, Viren wondered why Shan had not called him about the man’s visit. But he soon dismissed the thought as he knew that the old man’s habits die hard. Also, having worked on several deal closures with the man, he knew the signature on the letter was authentic.

Shan believes you have the potential to be the next super star, Viren said as he handed a glass of scotch to Roshan and settled back in his leather chair. What is your preferred genre, Roshan?

I like murder mysteries Sir.

Oh! That is wonderful. Very specific, though. Just then Viren's cell phone rang and he predictably answered on the second ring. Do not call me again. I tell you for the very last time, I am not scared of your slimy threats, he shouted, and hung up without waiting for a response. Of late, Viren had been receiving abusive and intimidating phone calls demanding his withdrawal from Project Pi. Though such calls were not alien to a celebrity lawyer like him, there was something eerie about the caller. He somehow knew everything about the project, even the details known only to the core group, and much to Viren’s dismay, he also knew far too much about Viren's personal and professional life. All ok, sir Roshan enquired, looking quite concerned. Sorry, young man. We live in a world of cold and crank calls. Some ambitious bastards are attempting to scare me, Viren said, refilling his glass.

Were they successful? 

Ha! They wish! Viren laughed aloud, hoping the large gulp of scotch would iron out the creases on his forehead.  Unfortunately, though, that didn’t happen. The scene before him only further furrowed his brow. The silenced gun pointed at him spelled only one thing, imminent death. The face of the man before him had transformed from innocence to wolfish cruelty, and Viren knew his fate. But why, he asked, visibly shivering in fear. The only response he got was a wry smile. Just then, as if to diffuse the situation, Viren’s phone rang. Noting from the ring tone that it was Lamba, Viren attempted to reach for it, but he was too late. The first bullet sailed through the air and went right through Viren’s head and lodged in the wall behind him. It was followed by a couple more. Once his job was done, the killer finished his scotch, pocketed the letter he had handed to Viren earlier, and methodically wiped out the finger prints. After finishing the task to his satisfaction, as he was about to leave, Viren's phone rang again. Annoyed with the breach of peace, he smashed the phone with the sole of his shoe, and walked out unhurriedly.

Chapter 3

Warm-up out of the way, she started her morning run at the expansive police parade grounds, adjoining her quarter. This was daily routine for Helen Joseph, the young, energetic and dynamic Assistant Commissioner of Police, who looked more like a super model than a police officer. Having completed half of her scheduled rounds, she picked up her pace, overtaking many young police men, giving them no opportunity whatsoever, of grabbing her attention. She was nicknamed ‘running machine’ not for nothing. Though it was part of her daily routine, fellow runners, few young, few old all consistently sent admiring looks her way, as she rocketed by on the track. For a non-reflexive eye, she was, but a blur.

Acknowledging neither the elderly onlookers, nor the indignant young men, Helen walked straight to the shooting range, after completing her rather extended sprint. Waiting for her at the shooting range was her boss, Shivaji Savarkar, Commissioner of Police, referred to by many as 'SS', a pun on the first letters of his name as well as a corruption for yes, for he never said 'No' to any operation involving action. Modest and humble, though he was, Shivaji was a celebrity cop in Mumbai, loved by the common man for his sincerity and hated by politicians for his incorruptibility. But those were not the qualities that shone the limelight on him. In almost cinematic style, he earned the respect of many fellow policemen after he saved a group of school students from terrorists, valiantly and single-handedly displaying courage and fearlessness in the face of danger. He had unilaterally worked towards finishing the task while senior officers and politicians were busy squabbling about who was in charge. Good morning sir, Helen greeted her role model with a wide smile. Good morning, Helen. Are you ready for the show?

Yes Sir. You lead the way, she nodded, picking up her helmet.

Shivaji mounted his horse and got going as soon as the time keeper blew the whistle. By the time his horse gained speed and reached full gallop of 40 kmph, his gun was out and leveled. Eyes darting between alternating targets, he fired 10 times before his horse completed 100 meters race. 11 seconds, sir, the time keeper announced. How many shots?

All hit the targets, sir. But only 2 in the bull's eye.  Without dismounting his horse, Shivaji turned around and watched Helen take her position.

Helen's white horse started on the wrong foot and took six seconds to reach its full speed. Though she urged her horse loudly, her hands followed her eyes, which moved from target to target, with rapt attention. She had barely taken three shots, when her horse jerked and suddenly increased its pace. The next two shots went wide while she adjusted to the speed and regained balance. With her horse running mad, Helen took aim at what she felt were her targets, rather than what she could clearly see. On passing the finish line, she had to work very hard to get the horse back to sanity. If not for Shivaji's presence of mind in moving out of the way, her horse would have collided head on with his horse. 9.5 seconds, 7 shots and 5 in the bull’s eye, the time keeper declared, as Helen slowly walked her horse towards Shivaji.  Congratulations, Helen! That was a breath-taking performance.  Unable to believe the results, Helen replied, Thank you Sir. The way this went, my next stop should be the lottery store!

Helen, I have always told you about your special ability to thrive under pressure. Everyone knows that, including your horse, except, of course, you. 

But, sir  ...

He cut her off, Let’s get going before you start being self deprecatory again. See you in office.

Alright, sir. Bye.

Jogging towards her quarters, Helen thought about the puzzle she had been trying to put together for too long a time. For more than a month, she had been trying to establish links and patterns between certain online and offline terrorist activities. Though Shivaji and Helen were part of the Anti Terrorist Squad of Mumbai police, whose primary responsibility was to prevent and fight terrorism, they also had the additional responsibility of handling intellectual property and cyber crimes. The evolution of cyber terrorism, and the linkages between film piracy and terrorism had been giving her sleepless nights. On reaching her apartment, Helen went straight to the study table and checked her cell phone. The phone indicated ten missed calls from inspector Atre, her sub-ordinate. She called back, and he answered on the first ring. Atre gave her a message, which sent her hurrying to get wherever it was she needed to go.

Chapter 4

Smiling as always, Inspector Atre was waiting for Helen, when she arrived at Viren's place. The most resourceful officer in the cell, Vijay Prashant Atre was the master of public relations, but knew very little about either intellectual property, or the cyber world, supposedly the primary focus of his work. He miraculously forgot everything he was taught, however good the teacher was, and was perennially challenged with the smart device technology. As far as Atre was concerned, they were alien devices, not meant for his 55-year-old, rusting mind.  Despite his drawbacks, Atre was considered an integral part of the team, and was respected by one and all for his unparalleled knowledge of Mumbai geography and connections, something he acquired over the years with hard work and consistent effort.

Good morning, Madam, Atre wished Helen, taking off his police cap, revealing his smooth, shining pate. Morning, Atre. How long have you been holding them off, Helen enquired, referring to the crime branch officers at the scene, as they walked towards Viren's office. About an hour, but don’t worry, it’s not a problem. They are not in a hurry. I informed them that we have been watching him for some time and that it is important for you to inspect the scene, before they start their work.

Excellent.  Did you get to have a look?

No Madam, Atre said guiltily. I was really hungry. I went to get breakfast. As you know, my diabetes does not let me delay food.

Ok. Who is the officer in charge? 

Inspector Simran is at the scene. She is expecting you. Thanking her stars that the troublesome deputy commissioner Shailesh Mane, had not yet arrived, Helen greeted Simran as she entered Viren's office. 

What do you think? she asked moving towards Viren's limp body on the chair.

Just a couple of observations, Madam. The room is clean, no finger prints and two shots at point blank range. Nothing seems to be disturbed in the room, the air-conditioner was running, and there is no sign of a break in. Looks like a professional hit. The television was on, but muted, when we came in. The cell phone has been crushed, we pulled out the SIM card. Fortunately, it is intact. 

"OK. Can you