The Ex – Creative Director of Bollywood gave us all hint that how Baby Penguin killed Sushant Singh Rajput (SSR). ‘Eray Mridula Cather’ who was a Creative Director in Bollywood and worked with all top A-Listers exposed the whole Bollywood mafia and drug cartel. He talked about his personal experience that how politicians and Bollywood people tried to kill him when he wanted to leave from their trap. Eray Mridula Cather’ mentioned the code name of Bollywood actors and politician.
Here what Eray Mridula Cather’ wrote about his own incident and hint of how Baby Penguin killed SSR?
” Sushant Singh Rajput. The name that has been all over for the last few months. It’s touched, everyone. Hmm. For me, it’s like living his life every single day in the last two months — either he lived my life, or I lived his life. When details of his chilling end started erupting, it started taking me back to a very dark time of my life. Am still in shock over the similarities between events in his life and events in my life. Am unable to carry this burden anymore, and it needs to be told. It needs to be told right away without any further delay.
I’ve divided it into three parts — THE TRAP, THE PSYCHO and THE EXIT.
THE TRAP —
It all started when Mr. X Singh entered my life. I was madly in love with my job as a Creative Director for a Digital Advertising Agency. One fine day Mr. X Singh (X from now on) comes to us with a digital promotions project for a film. The project was delivered fantastically, and naturally being the CD I do have to interact with clients, and him being no exception. X literally started stalking me, about 10 calls per day, admiring my work, and how the so-called “superstar” of that film absolutely loved the work, and that I should come work with him. He was absolutely shameless, and wouldn’t understand ‘NO’, or boundaries. It all stopped finally, and I even forgot about X.
About a month later Ms. Y Becca (Y from now on) connected with me via social media. Her profile was everything I would like. Meditation and Yoga became our main talking points. Chats went on for over a month, and finally, I invited her to Bombay. She lived in Goa. We met, and it was as if a garden of love was created. Right from the first date, I discovered myself in a whole new light! Emotions flowed like crazy, happiness was all over. Suddenly time became a blur! I thought it was love! Hmmm, well, it was MDMA! I was to know about it much later, much much later.
Then began parties. Nonstop parties. Within just a month she was everywhere in my life. I was a weekend party maker before, but now it was everyday. She knew everyone at every club, every happening place of Bombay, and the party never stopped. She would always say, “This is the last moment of our lives. So make it the best!” I was madly, deeply in love with her.
There was no limit. Everything was limitless. But one thing suffered majorly — my work. My schedules went haywire, projects started getting delayed. Sometimes I would show up at work on a Sunday, thinking it’s a Monday. Time was just a blur. Just a beautiful blur, or that’s what I thought. My boss politely texted me one day to take a break, as he felt there is something not right in my life. I took the text in a whole different way. Every emotion in me had become extreme. Sadness would be extreme, happiness would be extreme. Everything was amplified. I stopped going to office. But the partying needed money. It went on till all the money was blown.
One day Y told me there is somebody whom I must meet. She would always tell me about that somebody, how that somebody is such a nice person, how he is spiritually inclined… in short, how amazing that somebody was! After creating all that suspense, finally she introduced me to Mr. X Singh! My earlier perception about X was completely whiped off, and I remember: a whole sea of emotions flowed out of me when I saw X. I was apologetic for misjudging him earlier! The circle was complete. I was out of my job! And X was back in my life. X had a gigantic studio. Let’s call it “Bungalow No. 11” right in the centre of the cream of the film industry. He asked me to do whatever I feel with that studio, and set up an amazing digital agency for films.
In a day I was in front of that very same “superstar”, discussing a new project. Projects happened, big projects happened. X, Y and me formed a company. X had the studio, Y was the front and I was the creative brain. Money rolled in. In crores. My appointments diary had most A list superstars, producers and studios — a normal day would be hectic, but extremely creatively satisfying. And nights were still full of parties.
My love for Y had gone from earth to the moon. Y had completely taken over everything of me, literally EVERYTHING. Days I would be away from Y, I would feel restless. I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Body would ache badly. I always cut short my trips at family events. I would immediately want to come back to Y.
Meanwhile the studio was now an absolute private club at nights. A dance floor, a VIP lounge… and what not! From superstars to politicians, from media tycoons to top bureaucrats, from India’s top DJs to who’s who of fashion industry — everyone would show up at those parties. One such party I was angry and shocked to see heaps of coke! I had a big fight with X and Y, and then Y told me I’ve been on MD since months. That how she put MD even in my water!
That the secret of all my sudden beautiful energy was MDMA! Big fight followed! And with that even followed extreme body aches, severe aches in jaws, insomnia, and absolute restlessness. As if the world was ending. But well, love. Love, mixed with MDMA. I went back to Y just in 2 days. I couldn’t imagine a world without her. Now I was an addict. I’ve seen those people at the parties after coke! They’re totally different monsters! Totally different personalities! High on ego, paranoid, and as if they’re the gods! I never wanted to be that. So my addiction was limited to MD. While I always read articles on how to get rid of it.
The money was rolling, the team was placed, the company was doing very well. Parties too were happening very well. I was trying to get out of the addiction, with positive thoughts, and focussing on good work and projects I loved, but by night I was the same. I started working on a script. Y was still looking after the front side, X was looking after the parties. The cocaine flow is what I wanted to stop. But it wasn’t easy.
I was ready to give it the time. But. Well, a big BUT. Hmmm. But, because now entered Mr. Z, a 6.5 feet tall, strong, baritone-voiced, stone-like personality. I don’t remember how and when he became a constant at our parties. Maybe when I wasn’t at the parties he made an entry into our lives. Or maybe he was always there, but since I was neck-deep into MD I never noticed. But Mr. Z was there. Therewith all his might, and everything lethal to destroy lives, kill people, and maybe even change the political scenario of a state.
No, no, and he’s not the Psycho. Mr. Z had everything on him, acid, coke, MD, hash… name it and he had it. And well, well, well, not in grams, he had in kilos. Slowly he was in control of X and Y. X and Y had totally become different people. Absolutely different people. Or maybe they always were that way. Or else why would somebody use Y as a honey trap to make me an addict, later working with them!
It was all a trap right from the beginning. But silly me. Am a fool for sure to still not able to figure it all out. Maybe these were their real faces. A voice always kept telling, “Eray get out of this” or “Talk to mom”, and another voice too was always there, “Do you want to lose all of this? What about your film? You’ve made it till here, you’ll go ahead too from here. So just hang on!”
Mr. Z was now even forcing us to take projects he wanted to, they were bogus projects. Now the parties also started seeing the presence of top CEOs of major international studios, and almost all top bureaucrats from the then Information Ministry. Absolute nonsense contracts were made with Doordarshan worth crores. Nothing to be delivered. Just contracts on paper. Pornstars and Playboy models were always around when these ministry people showed up at the parties. Coke flowed literally like the sea. Orgies, extreme orgies… and much more was a daily constant now.
The new projects apart of those bogus projects were organizing secret trips for the pornstars to Bombay, or booking connected rooms for a mega “superstar” whenever he has a concert or events like IIFA abroad. The doors of those connected rooms must only open for a certain actress. Mr. Z would never travel, but he was able to manage an unlimited supply of coke, acid, MD, and all in any part of the world.
“Eray, they take it once, they’re your slaves forever. This is the same fucking shit that Hollywood does, it’s exactly that same fucking shit!” He always said this. Mr. Z was ex-DEA, plus a lot of LAPD cops too were on his payroll. “Nothing can touch me in Maharashtra”, he would always say. In fact, most of his delivery partners were top officers from Mumbai Police. And well, no, not constables. The high ranking officers. This was all happening right in front of me. Nothing was hidden. No code words, nothing. Everything right in the open. There was a reason for that. The BIGGEST reason. Till now what I said is nothing compared to what am about to say. It’s darker than the darkest side a human mind can have. Dirty is not even a word to describe that.
The BIGGEST reason was Mr. Psycho. Let’s call him Baby P.A young heir to a powerful political dynasty. The last hope of the dynasty. Baby P is a living monster. From child pornography to live rapes, from cannibalism to extreme drug abuse — I can’t even write a few things. It’s disgusting. He is addicted to it all. How do I know this? Once X and Y were absolutely puppets of Mr. Z, his next target was me. What did he need from me? Absolute untraceable access to the darknet. The dirty side of the internet. He thought being all things digital, I may find him a way to that. And not that he wasn’t aware of it. He already had a whole private VPN setup, along with all the latest tech, cameras for live streaming, even drones and spy level cameras, and sound bugs.
“If you control the coke, you control Bombay”, was his favorite line. If all the cartons of coke, and all I saw all this time were put in a truck, there would be several trucks full of it. Top producers, politicians, actors — all were his regulars. But, well, Baby P. Hmm. Baby P was in the center of it all. “No” was not an option for Baby P. The addiction was so severe on him, he would even physically abuse his father. Baby P had made a group. A group of his close friends, which included a few superstars and nepo-kids. Nepo-kids, well, they believe they’re the rightful owners of the city. Nobody else mattered to them. What they want, they want. And they would go to any length to get it.
Mr. Z felt he is in control of Baby P, and via him, he could do anything. The delivery would always happen by a Rolls Royce, or it’s equivalent. Mumbai Police was always aware of the movement, and at times even provided a security cover to the Rolls.
Be it Cannes Film Festival, India Pavilion especially, Mr. Z’s products were freely available. There was no limit to this supply. Everyone, I repeat, EVERYONE — not just top of Bollywood, but even heads of all major production houses, PR companies, social media companies, tech companies, and obviously the top bureaucrats — all were given this unlimited supply. Some pay, some provide steady return favors. But the show must go on!
By this time Mr. Z had figured it all for Baby P. The darkest bottom of the darknet. He bugged everything in the studio, hidden cams were everywhere. My phone, WiFi, and house were bugged as well. Nothing went unrecorded. All the threesomes, and foursomes, and snorts, and orgies were recorded. I badly wanted to get out of this. I badly wanted to raise my voice, and stop all this. Still, wonder what kind of absolute scums would those people be who live stream rapes of minors, and even bigger scums are ones who watch it. Baby P being one of them. The minor victims were always from countries like Kenya, Philippines, Cambodia or Vietnam. These few I remember. As I said, there are things I can’t even describe. Even the slightest thought of such things can make a normal person’s entire life go seriously crazy.
X and Y were absolutely following whatever Mr. Z used to tell them. For them, the goal was to gain maximum power, by replacing Mr. Z and becoming Baby P’s closest in such things. But coke. Coke puts you on a path of self-destruction. X and Y had a major fallout, and Y went missing. All the love I had for her gone the day I saw her totally involved with Mr. Z. It was chaos from there.
The beginning of the end of my dream of making that film I was writing. It all started from that chaos. Since Y wasn’t there now, Mr. Z told me there are only two ways I can get out of this. Either go the DB (Divya Bharti) route or **** (name of the grandfather of Baby P) route. The Psycho group knew how to perfectly plan a cardiac arrest on a person. Or kill a person by suicide, or create such a scenario that the person only has the option to kill himself. There was a strong rumor among them, that Baby P did the same with his grandfather.
This was the only thing that scared Mr. Z. Baby P can’t be controlled. He was not just high on drugs of all kinds, but even a power trip. Imagine coke mixed with power. One of the worst things coke does to a person apart from putting them high up near god is paranoia. They always think somebody is planning and plotting against them. Any small change in a person’s behavior can make them turn into their enemies.
Everything fell apart when Mr. Z organized a meeting with some people from Al Jazeera. They wanted me to set up a media company. A media company with strict guidelines from them. Those guidelines were disgusting. I hated even being in that meeting. It was the last straw. I had it enough! I don’t know what happened to me that day, I just stormed out of the meeting, didn’t even greet those Al Jazeera heads nicely.
On the top of my voice, I told Mr. Z and X that I just want to get out of this shit. Noway am ever going to help create something that was only created to malign India, spark riots everywhere, and it was just absolute SHIT. Period. Mr. Z was such a person, he would never raise his voice. Always smiling and calm. He told me very politely, it’s all fixed by Baby P. So they anyway will have to go ahead, with me or without me. I told them to do whatever and left.
Hmmm. A few days later I was told police will be raiding my home. A Marathi speaking man came to my home, with a live call from Mr. Z, told me there is no time to ask much, and that police will come here any moment, and that I must give him all my documents and all phones and laptops and everything. I told him I don’t have anything there except work stuff. But he was persistent. Mr. Z said even X has given all his stuff and they both will be unreachable for a few days. I handed the man all the stuff. He warned me to not step out at all. This all was happening way too fast. Somewhere deep I worried for Y as well. I was told she went back to Goa. Hmmm.
I was still not completely off MD. Once that Marathi speaking man left there was an endless loop. There was no MD. No phone, no internet. No laptop. Those were the disgusting 8 days of my life. No matter what I still trusted X, so I did what I was told. On the 8th day, X came to meet me. It was such a relief to see a known face. There were questions. But before I could think few more men barged into the house, they all pushed me to the bedroom.
One of them tied a rope to the fan, and they all started beating me up. Yes, even X. This was the shock of my life. I do understand Marathi, so I could understand what they were talking. They were upset that I didn’t commit suicide even after 8 days without MD. My mind was numb. Everything was flashing in front of me.
I needed to just get out of there no matter what. I pushed them back, hit them hard on their balls, and wherever else I could. Also, hit X very hard. I don’t know what just came into me. But I had to get out. I just kicked, punched, hit them with whatever came in my hands. The struggle was only until I reach the main door of the house.
The moment I was out of the house, they won’t chase me outside, I knew it. It was at about 10 pm. Lots of people on the road. In just shorts and a Tee, and slippers I ran till the Chowpatty beach. Till the end of that jogger’s stretch, near Trident. Climbed down on the stones, went down till the last stone touching the sea. I felt as if I was literally born again. I stayed there until about 4 am. When I saw morning walkers and joggers, I borrowed a phone from a kind gentleman. The only number I remember was of mom. Hmmmmm. I called her. Managed to reach a close relative’s place. Hmm.
Moment details of Sushant’s end kept emerging, I was constantly going back to this chapter of my life. I strongly feel he was in a similar situation as me. Love is the strongest weapon as well. When love is mix with MD, it’s potent. MD is not just a recreational drug. It’s like truth serum. You feel so happy, you drop down all your guards. If somebody asks you your banking password, you’d happily give it to them. The guard of trust drops down that much.
Last few days I was also tracing X and Y. Y is in a rehab in Canada and X is absconding somewhere in Europe, due to other cases of fraud on him. So that leaves Mr. Z and Baby P. Baby P has now become even more powerful. Maybe they’ve done this several times and nobody spoke or raised their voice so they kept on doing it. I feel guilty for not speaking out earlier. It’s been 3 years now, but I still can’t trust new people. Even can’t get into a relationship, because deep somewhere I don’t let all my guards go ever, especially trusting a new woman. Hmmmmm. The effects of MD too lasted for over a year on me. The withdrawal process was even harder, But now it gone.
Every night I feel the guilt of not opening up about this earlier. It’s a powerful corporate now. They’re all much powerful now. Do you think they really care for Marathi pride or the city? The demolishing of Kangana’s office was political suicide. They knew it but still did it. Also, it’s not a distraction. It’s a clear message. Message to people like me who know so much. The message that we will come to you and destroy you. I was close to being killed once. But here I am. Still alive. Am not afraid now. Am ready to give out the names to the right people, who can actually put an end to this.
It may look like I was quiet all this while, but no. I wasn’t quiet. I felt exactly what Sushant might have felt. Two stories. But some substances, same traps, and different exits. Maybe I was their first experiment, maybe not. Maybe they’ve done this many times, maybe not.
The irony is some people, some of them were so f*ck up with powdered noses. The same “some of them” who were dancing naked to the tunes of the other “f*cked up” people are crying patriarchy today. And standing with the possible honey that trapped Sushant to the end! A certain powerful Mrs for example! I was like why is she doing this! But then, oh, her so powerful hubby is the head of one of the corporate mafia! The circle is so clear and complete. Until it was only about Sushant and Rhea, they were quiet. Absolute silence. Moment coke entered the scene, they suddenly discovered patriarchy and a strong voice!
The ones who arrested are not even the tip of the iceberg. It goes way high up, way high. The roots are everywhere. Much deep. Much deeper. It’s not just the drugs. It’s a trip beyond that. It will come out. It will for sure.”
In this whole article, Eray Mridula Cather the creative director in Bollywood shared his personal experience and concludes that How Baby Penguin killed Sushant (SSR). Can anyone solve the puzzle of those code names that he mentioned in his article?
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