A/N: Hello, everyone. I've come to publish a C.I.D. story of mine. I am big fan of the show but I must confess most of the episodes are quite blunt and unnecessarily slow and dull. I liked the older episodes, and enjoy watching the re-runs of the show when I feel like. Okay, so, I must warn you beforehand before I get the heat from all the fans of characters. I'm not entirely biased towards any character but character development is something that the show lack, we have no ideas of other respective officers past or family—which often irritates me, due to which I thought I should write a fanfiction on it. This may contain a back story and somewhat jumbled point of views, but I'm willing to spare my time building up an arc so haunting and somewhat disturbing and hopefully complex, not to mention a little challenging for the officers to track.
Now, Daya will probably be OOC here, along with everyone, so consider the story as an Alternate Universe story arc. It may portray many characters in negative lights, but I want to add the least of reality in the mix. Okay, so, I don't dislike neither Freddy or Pankaj's characters, they are supposed to be comic relief on the show, but sometimes it gets kind of annoying—the antics, so please I apologize if I hurt anyone sentiments by making some statements. But in order to follow a characters personality I had to think like they think, so many things will probably arise which might offend people.
If you get easily offended, then please: Do Not Read This Story.
I enjoy crime related shows and horror a lot, and I have taken inspirations from few English crime/mystery shows Hannibal, True Detective, Blue Bloods to name a few.
I condemn everything that I've written and which I'll probably write in future. I don't support substance abuse, child abuse, smoking, drinking, nudity, and violence, or any crime to begin with.
Rated: M or 18+
Disclaimer: Show belongs to Sony TV India, and Mr. B. P. Singh.
WARNING: Story contains a lot of violence, gore, and coarse language, and nudity, mentions of drug abuse, child abuse, smoking and alcohol. If you're offended by any of the mentioned things then turn away.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
BLOOD
Chapter 1: Silence
11:27 P.M.
The night life, so amazing—bedazzling and ruckus, when the note hits high and the drugs run through the blood in the veins that is when fun begins. There are people who enjoy them just for the sake of constant orgasmic feeling while there are some who like to get high. An artificial fuel, illegal—substance abuse; well quietly available in India if someone scrutinize at the right places. Generation that feeds on these knows how high they get and how energetic they feel. Careless of the consequences, not caring about the abuse their body undergo through.
The music shakes their very blood, which is when they start to dance, some suggestive, some just let it all out. Few fights occur every now and then, but all partly available to spend the night with the opposite sex. Everything is entertainment, everything is good, and everything is pathetic and everything just sucks when...
"Hey sexy, what do you say? Chalogi ghar khelne ke liye?" Nonchalantly he grabbed a dame's thigh, forcefully tugging her towards his morbidly large torso. Clearly, steroids had run its course on him—as the whole anatomy are bloated with muscles. Somehow he managed to lean further on the petite girl on her twenties, who had no idea what was going through.
Clearly offended by the gesture, she shrugged his hands violently, "Abey chutiye, apne aukaat mein reh. Jyada udd mat, tu janta nahin main kaun hoon."
"Arey toh jaan lenge janemann, itni akkad sehat ke liye achi nahi hai." He forcefully leaned some more to which the young woman shoved the man away, and called for someone. The big guy, in his testosterone induced rage got angrier by seconds.
"What was that bitch?"
"Balls," She replied, and man got more violent as his hands raised, ready to hit the woman but was interrupted by a kick to the stomach. The larger man staggered back, leaning forward to ease the pain. Looking up he saw, a well suited man—bald, and tall. The beard on him looked more intimidating that the teaser's muscles.
"Kaun hai bey tu?" asked the steroid guy enraged he charged, but was grabbed by the throat and slammed into the ground rather vehemently. It knocked the air out of him.
"Bahar chal tujhe batata hun." He yelled through the music unto his year. Tugging on the big guy's Tee he charged through the pile of people dancing to the music with the guy in his tail.
Getting to the south side, a man was there who hurriedly opened the door. The bald man threw the steroid enraged guy outwards towards the alley and followed suit.
"Dhyaan se sun gandu, tu jisse baat kar raha tha who iss jagah ki malkeen hai. Agar agli baar yahaan pe tera saaya bhi dikha, toh haath aur pair, courier se jayega tere maa ke paas. Samjha?" He knelt down before the fallen man, who was breathing hard in rage but was incapable to act learning the threat was real. "Aur tu kar kya raha tha be? Ladki dekhi nahi, ki pant tight? Steroid leta hai na tu? Guess the shrunken balls made you realize you're not man enough for a good girl, so you're here expecting a bad one hmm? Guess what? Tu dono deserve nahi karta."
The man tried to punch the bald guy, but was interrupted when he grabbed his muscular arm mid-way.
"Tere jese logon ki vajaha se badnaam ho rehe hai clubs. Saala aish karo tum, aur police aye toh hum? Chal fut yahaan se." As he walked back, he spit towards the fallen man.
Pride broken, and somewhat still shocked— rage driven, the man picked himself up. Swallowing his ego a little more, he vowed to keep this beating a secret till he was cremated. Means long years ahead to go for a nineteen year old roided up young man like him. As he walked towards the exit of the alley way, he heard quiet choking noises—few yards behind where he was. Curiously and cautiously he walked towards the source…
He reached the spot and saw nothing, concluding it must be his imagination; he dismissed the notion of someone being there with him. Had he taken took much drugs in his system? Perhaps, that might be the reason. Now he needs to get to his hostel somehow. Taking a step back he felt a water droplet fell on upon his shoulder, and the pace was rhythmic. He used his palms to catch the droplets.
Few drops later, he scrutinized down and hard, it was red—somewhat gooey, he tasted it and it was salty… like blood. His eyes widened in realization and looked up only to be horrified at what he saw.
A man stripped from skin, stark naked, and his flesh was hooked with the help of motor bike chains between both walls. His gooey blood fell from his gut—intestines hung downwards. Clearly missing his eyes as it had been sewn shut and so were his mouth. His arms wide open and so were his legs, spread apart. The man was breathing steadily slow—weak almost as the life was hanging on a thread, much like him.
Scared, and nauseous all of a sudden the bulky teenager fell on his back, he went to shock and found himself difficult to breathe. Hyperventilating, he crawled backwards still looking at the somewhat 'almost' corpse. Getting back to his feet, he managed to find his footing and soon he ran out of the place—panicked and torn for life. That would definitely leave a mark on his very soul.
…
6:35 A.M.
A man on his early forties swiped his fingers on his annoying phone which had been ringing for past few minutes. Although he had swiped it before, however the offending machine hadn't stopped its cry every 5 minutes. Opening an eye, he realized he had been swiping at snooze, completely missing at stop pattern. He groggily woke up, it was Saturday and he was Tarika's place with his best buddy Abhijeet for a movie. Nevertheless, the movie sucked but the conversation was interesting. The three of them were close, and they talked and joked about everything from the bureau to their forensic, well, more like Abhijeet and Tarika did for most part of their eventful day.
Dost
Growing up, he faced a lot of troubles, and as an orphan it was much difficult since there was no one to guide him; to tell him what was good and bad. He learned it himself, the morals he learnt by being friends with a girl much older than him. He won't deny she was his spiritual tutor growing up. Obviously, she became something more to him; she had about 3 years on him, and she was his first crush. Like many men in the past twenty something year old had done, he kept it hidden. What else would he do when the girl thought of him as a little brother? So he kept quiet.
Her father considered him akin to a boy he didn't had. So he paid for his school fees only for admission, while Daya somehow got scholarships based on his physical prowess throughout his school and college paying his own fees. He joined the Police Force out of curiosity, as he was an exceptional athlete through-out his academic career. The sports reservation got him a respectable job, and the moral teaching he got when he was a child and a motivation to somehow get the girl's attention was overwhelming. Nevertheless, he became a perfect man for any girl to desire, but his own desire got married to someone else.
So he kept it hidden, carrying that little burden with him till now.
He surely was lonely, he wouldn't deny. Now it was too late to be married anyway. If he wanted he could advertise at some matrimonial website and ask for a widowed or a divorced woman. But the thought of getting married was so old for him now and it was frustrating and it was rather embarrassing to do so as well. He was almost in his mid-forties, and within few he'll complete 5th decade after his birth.
Age
No point in finding a girlfriend at 40s anyway. It sounds silly, awful and downright creepy. Perhaps he should get a pet, and few plants maybe he could spend his time gardening on his porch. Least those things might distract from his desperation at getting married. He couldn't help it; the people around him always bothered him asking when he was getting married. If the question were if he wanted to get married then the answer was simple. But the question was when he is getting married? And that made everything complicated.
Half his life he contributed to serve justice, and maintain order within the bureau and the force. And he lost many things along the way, few friends and his love, and of course time. Time made him old, somewhat fat and lonely. He had a brother, Abhijeet but soon he'll be married to Tarika and no matter how the man convinced him that he won't forget about his best-friend, it was still a fact—that he will. Everyone does, and every one will.
Brushing his teeth he saw his own reflection, chubby cheeks concealed within thick stubble. The grey shadows over it made his appearance intimidating and mature, so he decided he'll let it be today. As a senior officer, and an experienced one, he can take any appearance he desire. ACP never scolded anyone of their appearance, the old man only cared about work result, and everything else did not matter to the older wiser man.
His soul was corroding. And he willingly accepted the fact.
He saw the clock on the wall which read 7:00; he went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. This will approximately take 45 minutes to be exact. He ate a lot, oily and ghee and over that his desert was tea, or so he believed. His life had no order, he liked it that way—guess that's what it is for a bachelor for life.
Loner
8:47 A.M.
Daya was now officially ready to go for work. Today he chose a black full-sleeve shirt which was not tucked unto his pants, like he had doing the way for past few weeks completed with matching black jeans. The steel strapped watch was heavy on his large left wrist, while on the write remained a bracelet; his lady loved had gifted him. Getting his boots on, he checked for his Royal Enfield's key, and his helmet. Grabbing both he made his way out of his home. Double locking it, he remembered whether he had kept all his lights off, also water, he finally made it his heavy weight bike.
It roared to life, as Daya kick started and rode it across the route towards his office.
It always took an hour if there was no traffic, the reason he left his home early was to avoid the rush. No particular point—it was not necessary to reach office with a tempered head. Mumbai, which was still hot and somewhat crowded even before 9 always, gets under his skin.
A man suddenly jumped in-front of his speeding bike, and hurriedly Daya clutched his brake, the heavy bike due to the disc brake faltered on the spot.
"Dekh ke gaadi nahi chala saktha toh chalata kyun hai?" the middle aged man who jumped yelled at Daya, unknown of the fact that this 6'2'' giant could crush him right there.
"Subah subah chadhaa ke niklaa hai kya ghar se?" Daya retorted, and kicked his bike on, "Abhi yeh Dosho kilo ki gaadi gand ke upaar se guzar jati toh sayad akal atti."
The middle aged man ignored and crossed his path. Hearing the cars behind him honking at him, Dayanand Shetty shook his head dejectedly and drove his way towards his office.
He reached five minutes late; the constable guarding their office gate saluted him as he entered the building's parking spot. Locking his handle bar, he dropped his helmet on the mirror and strolled towards the entrance. Posture relaxed, chest up—prideful; making sure his position as a senior inspector would prevail like any other day for their junior officers. No matter how miserable he was in real life, it should not affect how he acted professionally. He was robust, straight-forward, cunning, hot-head and utterly violent with criminals. He deserved respect, and being miserable won't make him a respectable person, so he wore a mask—so unreadable and frustrating for the others to study. Senior Inspector Daya's unreadable persona was much more complicated than Senior Inspector Abhijeet's.
"Sir!" He heard two different voices; a panicky and annoying while the other whiny Freddy/Pankaj. They saluted him and he nodded towards them in response.
"Arrey sir aaj toh aap kaafi ache dikh rahe hai," The whiny one complimented, or was simply kissing a senior officer's behind. Bureaucracy, of course the lower level would try to impress the upper, that's how every office under go through.
"Haan, sir… Daadhi jach rahi hai aapko," Freddy added, competing against each other at everything. Daya wondered why Freddy was still a Sub-Inspector despite joining the CID office even before him and all those years of ass-kissing.
"Kitne baje tum dono yahaan par aate ho?" He knew the answer, fifteen minutes earlier than him. Both of them lived near each other, they were practically neighbors now. Pankaj, the young Sub-Inspector who had a lot of potential is now officially a dim-root in the tree of CID. Freddy's guidance was as good as a worm fighting for its life to a chicken—absolute shit, useless. If Freddy wanted the young man to be absolute pathetic, then sure he was doing a wonderful job.
"9 bajkar 15 minute," they replied in unison. Perfectly aware of every one's timing Daya ignored their universal reply, and further asked.
"Woh report complete kardi hai tumne, Freddy?"
"Unhone toh nahi ki, Sir, mujhe woh filey thama di, Freddy sir ne." Pankaj interrupted.
"Acha beta! Tu toh naya officer hai, toh kuch kaam sikhle mujhse." Freddy clearly offended, he retorted in his usual whiny voice. A vein popped in Daya's temple; there they go—belittling each other.
"Kya sikhega, Freddy? Ki kaise aankh band karke goli chalaai jaye?" It flew out of his mouth like nothing, but seeing the hurt flash in Freddy's eyes, guilt ate his very heart. Daya sighed, and turned his heel towards his cabin, he left the two mulling over at Daya's statement. Though he called out, "Pankaj woh files leke mere paas aa jana."
Person by person and officials entered slowly, crowding their office. By then no one disturbed Daya, as he signed few solved cases on the files provided by Pankaj. Like he expected it had every tiny detail written like a manuscript, the young man had skills—though his detecting ability was top-notch it still need and deserved a few furnishing. And yes, something was needed to be done about his fear of non-existing entities, it tampered with cases.
A potential no one cared about.
Not like Freddy was useless, his information retrieving and connection with informants were really good. But unlike Pankaj, he had no deduction capabilities of a detective or bravado to stand before an alpha criminal. But his tenure as being beside the greatest ACP who was still an ACP made him somewhat of a wall to get a demotion. Daya, tried numerous times to make the senior Sub-Inspector to at-least be brave at complex situations, which may have been a credential in getting ahead, but that was not the case. He was a coward, and a cowardice officer no matter his skills was still useless. The only thing he was good at and full of was gossip.
The most dedicated with a large of amount of potential officer he had ever met was Vivek, dedicated in every cell his physique consisted of, courageous and athletic; he was currently working for the Interpol, already made it to the post of Inspector—like he always desired. And their current line-up the dedicated were Sachin, Nikhil, well he does cry the most amongst them, the women were strong as well, except for Ishita who was fairly new to the job but since Purvi and Shreya were her role models she'll turn up fine. They lived up to his expectation, surely they were all good. Just the bad fish in the pond was Freddy, and he was probably ruining the short young man Pankaj's career preventing him to prevail.
Nikhil arrived near his cabin, and his head peeked through the glass door and said, "Sir, aapko ACP sir bula rahe hai."
Nodding, Daya stood up and walked towards ACP's cabin.
"Aapne bulaya, Sir?" he stood before the table and behind it, sat ACP checking his phone. The older widowed man was an idol for him and everyone. A man who chose his duty—justice over his son, he sacrificed many and asked for none. He was surely an ideal officer, in the whole department.
"Ye dekho Daya," He handed his phone to him looking morose, and slightly anxious somewhat disturbed. Still looking at ACP, he retrieved his boss' phone and was visibly shaken to his very stomach—his urge to vomit was done when he took deep breaths to calm his violent nerves. The picture revealed of a man hooked and hung in between the walls of an alley. Apparently, the bike chains were pierced through one hand to the other which was struck to both sides on the wall. Skin had been peeled off at some places, gutted and fingers chopped off; eyes and lips sewn shut. It was an atrocious scene to see, and somehow the picture made it to the internet, from which ACP was showing him the picture.
"Aaj raat ke 4 baje kisine iske bare mein Vikhroli Chawkey ko call karke bataya, ab dekho subah subah kisine photo khich ke internet pe daal di hai. Yeh already viral ho chuka hai, aur media vale police ke naak mein dum karke rakha hai."
"Par abhi tak hamare pass iske bare mein koi call nahi ayaa hai, Sir."
"Aaya nahi toh aa jayega, tumhe issliye bulaya ki yeh case sayaad abtak ki sabse badi chunauti hogi. Aisa haal kisi criminal ne nahi ki hai abtak. Photo dekh kar lag raha hai ki ye qaatil isko exhibit kar raha hai." ACP got off his chair, and walked towards the window and looked beyond towards the city where he was sworn as an ACP. Pradyuman sincerely loved this city more than anything; he shared memories of the ever changing, ever evolving bureau. A team of new generation stars, ready to replace them ahead in future. Did he ever want to leave his place? He underwent various offers of promotion just for the sake of memories. He wanted to stay right where he was, as a shield against Chitrole, that man will surely destroy the entire team if it weren't for him. As his wife and son both are dead, CID is the only family he had. Just like a father he was here to protect his family against the DCP.
And his sons were Abhijeet and Daya in his little family.
Soon entered, Purvi , distressed and clearly shaken, that is when Daya deducted the reason behind it. It seems they had seen the picture of that man.
"Hum ne dekhi hai, Purvi."
She nodded and said,"Sir, chawkey se call aya tha,who log hamein bula rahe hai."
Pradyuman ordered, "Daya, tum Pankaj aur Freddy ko lekar jao."
"Lekin sir, Freddy wahaan pe ulti-vulti karne lagega." Hearing Daya's response, ACP glared at him. He was perfectly aware of Daya's dismissing behavior towards Freddy; the man always dismissed Freddy's abilities. The man who was with him even before Daya joined the CID. And he had the audacity to question Freddy's skills?
"Jo bola hai woh karo, Daya!" the older man scoffed, "Tumhe yaad dila dun ki CID mein who tumse senior hai."
"But hai toh sub-inspector hi, nahi? Sir, bas purane ho jane se chijo ki keemat hi badhti hain lekin woh kaam nahi atte."
"Bas bahot ho gaya Daya!" He yelled so loud that Purvi cringed, fearing she'll be scolded for eaves dropping she excused herself out from the cabin. But before she left she heard, Daya's own fearless attempt at answering.
"Bas bahot ho gaya sir…" ACP stood motionless at Daya's nonchalantly interruption. Never had he done something like this before, this man was not Daya. He did not display the least of emotion or guilt when he did it. Staying silent he let the large man talk, "…bas bahot hua. Har roz koi na koi dinge sunta rehta hoon usse main, bas ussi mein ustaad hai woh. Aur uske wajah se, Pankaj waisa hi behave karne laga hai. How much case had he solve this year sir? A total of five, and that too he took credit of Pankaj. Mujhe samajh nahi aata woh kis kaam ka hai bureau ke liye? Haan ye man leta hun ki informants uske paas sabse se jyada hai, lekin office mein tikne ke liye sirf informants hi kaafi nahi hoti hai sir. Detecting, courage, deduction all are necessary, which he clearly lacks. Kitni baar usse kaha hai serious ho jaane ke liye lekin woh kabhi sunta hi nahi. Ek responsibility hoti hai senior hone ke baad, lekin usko yeh baat samajh main aati kahan? Ache khase Pankaj ki capabilities to paani mein gayi."
Hearing Daya speak his heart out, ACP closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His wrinkles and charms fading rapidly, but still he had the fire unlike many his age. He observed Daya after a decade, and this time intently, from head to toe. Long gone his athlete figure, now he seemed like a retired body builder with a belly, long gone were the innocence in his face, he looked much matured and intimidating now. Clearly, Pradyuman was aware the man was in his early 40s' and for certain he, being a bachelor till now was affecting him. The changes seemed like he accepted his eternal bachelorhood, it made him grumpy, more arrogant and wild as a boar without anyone to look after him
Yes, perhaps that was the reason behind Daya's temper. He was lonely, and Freddy and Abhijeet were not. He was jealous, and was perhaps not known to the fact. And he was picking on Freddy because he did not consider the married man as his friend. Abhijeet was a different case, he was his best-friend or so the world believed. But understanding an introverted person such like Daya is much difficult. No one knew what he was thinking, and what he might do unless he acts so.
"Acha phir thik hai," ACP looked beyond Daya, his gaze piercing through the glass wall and fell upon Pankaj who was going through a report. "Pankaj ko lekar jao, lekkin dhyaan rakhna, who emotionally aur mentally scarred ho jayega."
Surprised, that ACP did not berate him—Daya folded both his arms in front of his chest—it looked defensive, "Chinta mat kijiye sir, woh itna darpok nahi jitna humlog samajhte hai."
"Toh thik hai, usse leke niklo." Saluting the senior most office, Daya sauntered out of the cabin. He called out Pankaj who was currently typing few things on the computer and walked towards him in his confident stride.
"Tumne woh photo toh dekh hi li hogi," and the young man nodded dumbly, "Aaj tumhara lucky din hai." Hearing the statement from Daya, his eyes widened in disbelief. The young man wondered whether if his senior inspector will take him to a treat; it was quite obvious he was hungry. He always had a bottomless pit of hole, where he shoved down as much food as possible. But he did mention about the picture which had gone viral few hours prior. But looks like that wasn't the case, it was worthless even to think so.
Perhaps, he will finally be considered as a serious officer—it seems the senior Inspector had already did it. Guess it was his lucky day after-all. But, he needed confirmation.
"Main kuch samjha nahi sir,"
And then the senior Inspector smiled, it rather looked intimidating from the beard perspective but it was genuine, "Samajh jaoge, tayaar ho aaj tak ki tumhara sabse chunauti bhara kam ke liye?"
A nod was a sign of approval despite how dumb or idiotic it may be— it was still an approval. Knowing this Daya walked towards the vehicle parking, followed by Pankaj—who stole a glance at Purvi who returned his gaze curiously and then at Freddy who hid his face behind the monitor but perfectly aware of his presence; two of his good friends one last time and was got out of the scene.
…
A man had his time, present only to himself. However, drinking at working hour can lead to a hectic and somewhat awful day. But Arjun Kesav Narang had nothing to live up-to, a job—none, family, yes—a sister. And when someone is going through a serious memory lapse problem can be dangerous to live in a city like a Mumbai. The fragments of his deeds can never stay imprinted on his memory, and neither does pain.
His inability to feel pain caused a lot of annoyance to his abusive father, whose face he cannot remember for some days now unless he was reminded of. His sister had tried many times to remove the tag—the surname of Narang for ages, but it was a mark of shame—and apparently it cannot be washed through any means. Not even the holy river could do it so, which turned him a non-believer.
How old was he anyway? All he was aware of was the fact of being younger than his sister, Manju—his stability, his ability to understand humanity. But, alas, he did not know. He feared nothing, as he could hear nothing. No one feared him, as he could not speak anything—not even a word. He was a mute for as long he could remember.
Son of a notorious pedophile who was not only beaten to death by the locals in their village; but was also was castrated publicly and hung to a tree with the help of few bike chains for public viewing. Making the point that he will become a monster like him, like father like son—he was supposed to be killed, but was saved by his ferocious sister. Well, he cannot recall, the thoughts were gifted by his sister, whom he cared a lot for. And apparently for her, he had murdered and mutilated few peoples too.
But the memory regrettably, was obscured, it might be his imagination. He did not know, he wasn't even aware of the time. It appeared to be night, where was he even to begin with?
His skeletal fingers tapped on the floor board on the bar where he visited for a drink or two. Soon he gestured with his fingers to the bar tender for payment. A kid no less 12 asked for money somehow broke into the little bar. So, he tipped him a good fifty rupees, he wasn't aware where it came from but luckily he had something to give to that poor fellow. Thanking him heartily, the kid moves to the other person—who apparently was not as amiable as him. In his fierce mood of the morning he kicked the poor fellow feet away.
It missed Arjun's perception of sound, but he did wake up from his seat and walked towards the man who seemed like the owner and paid him. And walked straight towards the gate, but feeling a hand on his shoulder he stopped. He saw the exact same man whom he met few days ago berating a woman, and hitting a kid. The man was about 5'9'' slightly shorter than him, and had the swagger of a monarch and temper of a wild boar. He was talking to him.
"Baaki ke tees rupay? Jagaah kya tera Baap ka hai bhootnike, ki joh jee mein aya piyaa aur pure paise die bagair nikal jayega?"
Arjun simply studied the man; he was trying to read the lips but was unable to do so. Instead his eyes fell on a child crying in the middle of the bar, and everyone seemed to ignore him. The kid's clothes were ruggedly worn, and there seem to be blood coming out of his mouth. Feeling sorry and wanting to know who did this to him, he walked towards the kid.
It was the same kid whom he tipped.
Arjun tried to brush the bruises which formed on the head, and a lump was about to grow there. He was able to hush to the child, he was mute but he could still breathe. He never felt physical pain, but emotional he sure did. His sister's angry scold, and sometimes straight-up beating—even though he couldn't feel pain he still could see the anger, and that hurt him. If physical agony was similar to emotional then surely he can understand what the kid must be going through.
So, he took out his purse and gave him another fifty rupees, kissed his head and motioned the poor kid to go out, and the kid went out. He stood up and came face to face with that landlord. Who scowled his anger visible.
"Saale, daru pine ke baad paise nahi the, lekin ek bhikari ko dia toh 100? Laa nikaal paise," he grabbed Arjun's collar and began pushing him backwards.
First, Arjun was confused why this man was becoming violent. The man despite being of short stature carried a lot of strength as he kept pushing him until the back of his head collided with something solid behind him. It struck, he felt the pressure—but pain, none.
"Bhosdike—tune kya socha tujhe aise hi jaane dunga?"
His curious eye fell upon the people who were crowding only as individual observant; no one interfered as he was being bullied. He was slapped, and still no pain. He could hardly hear the angry man, who looked like he was screaming at him.
Reaching behind his head, he touched the back and brought the hand before his eyes to see the blood. Okay, his sister might kill him knowing he got hurt again. He needed to get back to her as soon as possible. That is what she had told him, to come back to her whenever he bled.
But this man was not budging. So Arjun used his left hand to grab a finger of the short man and twisted it hard. The person struggled, opening his mouth wide and leaned side-ways, twisting his own body to ease the pain but it was agonizing still. A knee met the ear of landlord, which knocked him out cold.
Three men came running towards Arjun who looked like goons belonging to the fallen man. They looked like they were here to attack him. Feeling threatened, Arjun grabbed a beer bottle nearby and struck a man in the head. The bottle shattered, but the edges remained. And he perfectly used it to scratch and stab the other men. Someone came from behind and stabbed Arjun from the side. But somehow the wound wasn't deep since Arjun attempted to put his hand before the knife prior as the blade met his stomach. The knife was penetrated his right hand, and got an inch inside the belly.
Not surprised, or feeling any pain, the broken bottle which Arjun held within his left hand met the neck of the man who managed to stab Arjun. He fell down screaming, and holding his bleeding neck. The tall and lean man, Arjun, curiously starred at the fallen men wondering what pain feels like, before making his way out the door. He cut through the wave of terrified people, when he took out the knife which was still in his palms. His blood gushed out from the gash which had already made a hole, he could see. So people were there who fearfully watched the man who couldn't feel any pain throughout the struggle. He didn't uttered a single word neither did paid attention to the kid who was smiling watching him go.
…
The body was already seized, and had been sent for post-mortem followed by a procedure to undergo through their specialized Forensic team since it was a murder. Senior Inspector Daya along with Sub-Inspector Pankaj of C.I.D. reached the crime scene, which had been sealed with a yellow tape. Pankaj took the lead making way for the senior officer; he cut through the wave of crowd who were trying to steal a glimpse at police work, and may probably complain later at Internet for making slow progress. The giant Daya strides faster than he normally does, into the yellow seal. As both entered, the crime scene, they were welcomed by the senior Sub-Inspector of the nearby Police post who shook hands with Daya, and then to his equivalent Pankaj.
"Sub-Inspector Rajvir here, sir." He looked about thirty, and confidently he spoke. Daya nodded, and charged towards the place where the corpse was hung.
"Yeh, kuch pattaa chala. Yahaan kya hua tha?" He asked pointing between the walls, and began verbally assaulting the inspector with questions, "Itni innovative yet somewhat copied khoon hua aur kisiko pata bhi nahi chala? Yeh, night club hai na? Puch tach ki hai aap logo ne unke saath?"
But,the man did not smile, his assurance unwavering, "Ji sir, Deepti Chauhan, iss club ki maalkin hai, ji nahi—humne sub logo se puch tach karli par kisiko nahi maloom yeh sab kaise hua. Jisne photo khichi thi, usko humne puchtach ke liye bulayaa hai. Abhi woh station mein hai, aap chahen toh usse sawaal jawaab kar sakte hai."
While they were conversing, Pankaj looked at the surrounding. Even though the local police had probably checked it, it's always for trust that he should double look at things. Who knows he might get a clue or anything. Wearing his white latex gloves, he walked around the alley. His eyes followed every corner from top to bottom and to every corner. But his gaze lingered on the thick blood on the floor which had been dried—well mostly, it still had traces of gooey substance. The reek of urine on the walls was so overwhelming that he had to use his handkerchief to close his nostril. He stood straight up from his crouching position and looked up.
There were few holes in the walls.
"Yeh sab…" He called out towards the Sub-Inspector who walked towards and saw where Pankaj was pointing at, "Deewar mein…" and he understood.
"Badi kile thoki gayi thi, kaise, yeh maloom nahi. Aur kisine yahaa per kisiko aate hue nahi dekha hai, yahaan tak ki club walo ko bhi iskie bare mein kuch maloom nahi."
"Kya naam kaha aapne malkin ka?" Pankaj asked.
"Deepti Chauhan."
Pankaj kept quiet, and looked at his senior officer to take the lead, but he was longingly looking at the traces of blood. All of Daya's attention fell upon a fragment of white colored filament. He had seen it before, somewhere—elsewhere. Yes, enteral tapes, the passageway for the waste.
His intent gaze made the world disappear around him, as all he could see the piece of filament. Closing his eyes—the noises became louder and he could hear the thumping footsteps, and clicking of heelsalong with the soft murmurs of the bystanders.
"Yeh khoon sochi samjhi thi lekin qaatil chahta tha ki isse log dekhe." He spoke in his usual monotone, "Par, yeh club ko kuch na kuch toh maloom hi hoga, Pankaj—tum jaake mil lo uss aurat se—malkin se puch tach karlo"
"Sir, main…" Clumsy and novice, he was being doubtful of his own abilities. One thing Daya did notice that Pankaj was not acting stupid or idiotic without Freddy's presence; he somehow managed to grace maturity, a young officer who was pretending to be a grown up.
"Haan tum, jao aur puch tach karlo, yeh pura case tumhe hi solve karni hogi, main toh sirf supervising officer hoon. Agar kuch complication nikla toh mujhe bula lena." Making his point, and bluntly stating his thoughts—Daya walked out looking at every faces.
"It's your first time?" Rajvir asked Pankaj still looking at retreating Daya, the giant cop.
"Not really, but haan. Yeh pehli baar hua hi sir ne pura bojh mujh par daal di hai."
"Well, toh phir good luck. Aise cases mein ek senior officer ke bagair kuch bhi ho sakta hai, dhyaan rakhna khud ka. Aur haan, woh malkin thodi sanki type ki hai. Sambhal ke baat karna." Pankaj was offended, he sure was. And the heat from the sun burned his eyes. So, the sunglasses which Pankaj kept on his shirt's breast pocket were retrieved by him. He wore it, and looked at the police officer from head to toe. Smiling arrogantly, he spoke,
"Yahi toh fark hai, tum mein aur mujh mein. C.I.D. aur local police mein. Tum jab aankh band karte ho toh hum seena taan kar khade ho jaate hai." Tapping the Sub-Inspector on the shoulder he walked towards the club's back door which was opened by a guard. Taking a deep breath, he followed suit.
"Chutiya kahinka." Pankaj smiled, when he heard the voice of the fuming officer.
Entering the club from the south side, he was surprised to see no crowd. There was not a single life, not even people who usually drink at this time of the day. His eyes fell upon two men wearing black suits behind the booth where drinks were usually served, and a woman before it, smoking a costly cig, Davidoff. Now, Pankaj was surely a naughty and feisty man, goofy and idiotic he may be, but living a life can only be learned from him. He was jovial, and extrovert— he had lots of friends.
The raven haired woman saw his approach with narrowed eyes. Pankaj was positive that he might get something out from the landlady, maybe from the body guards.
"Hello, behenji." Pankaj spoke out loud, in his usual boyish charm.
"Behenji?" Her voice was high-pitched, not serene or seductive at all. Despite the gorgeous face and voluptuous figure, he was clearly convinced the lady cannot be easily charmed by his boyish appearance. He needed a different way.
"Ah sorry, woh aaj chasma nahi pehni hai na. Sorry, ma'am." The woman shrugged, and took a drag out of the expensive smoke, "Aap yahan ki maalkin hai? Kaafi acha club hai aapka? Aapne ne design ki hogi sayad"
"Kaise paata chala?" She was suddenly intrigued now; as her eyes were completely open observing Pankaj intently.
"Aapke choice ki cigarette, aur who saari saraab aur wines sab high quality ke hain, toh be saq agar woh aapki choice hai toh definitely yeh club ki design bhi aap hi ki hogi." Taking a seat beside her; he ordered a drink cabernet Shiraz for himself, and gestured if he could buy her one, "Aap ke liye? Payment… aap ke yahaan card swipe karti hai?"
She shook her head in denial, "Saayad kuch honge mere paas, par itne nahi hai ki dono drinks ki payment ho jaye."
"Well since you seem like a gentleman, it's on the house, Inspector." She sultrily spoke, and suddenly her voice sounder matured—like a woman with the knowledge of thousand. Inwardly, Pankaj cheered as he somehow broke through the walls of a rumored crazy woman. She further asked taking a good look at him, "Waise aap ki choice bhi kaafi achi hai."
"Well, thank you very much." His drink was prepared by her apparent body guard, who were conversing among themselves, leaving them be the way they were.
"Toh aap puch tach karne aye hai?" she asked leaning back into the bar table, seeing him nod her eyes narrowed once more. But it was not suspicious, now successfully Pankaj made his best game face of not looking suspicious and the woman bought it legit.
"Main C.I.D. se hun." He truthfully confessed, to gain trust further.
"Tabhi main sochu ki aap ko kahin pe dekha hai, NEWS mein kabhi kabhaar aapki jhalak mil hi jaati hai."
"Toh yeh case ab C.I.D. sambhalegi?" He nodded a yes, but his attention was on the drink which was served to him. The guard simply excused and walked back towards his friend.
"Toh phir thik hai, yahaan ki Police itni achi nahi jaise ki darsate hai. Kam se kam woh laash ke bare mein aap kuch kar sakte hai—aur woh bhi jaldi."
"Aapko kuch maloom nahi hogi saayad?"
"Ji, main kal raat ke 12 baje ghar chali gayi thi, agar aap chahen toh CCTV pe aap dekh sakte hai."
"Nahi, mujhe yakeen hai aapki baton pe." He interrupted, "Par aapke jane ke baad, kuch hua tha kya?"
"Ji nahi, mere jane ke baad, Shekhar aur Mukesh—mere do body guards iss jagah ki rakhwali karte hai. Aur 2 baje tak sab ke jane ke baad band karlete hain."
"Woh dono?" Pankaj pointed towards the tall men who were occasionally stealing a glance towards them. The woman nodded and called those men.
"Yes, ma'am?" The bald among the both asked, he was also taller than the other.
"Yahaan pe madam ke jaane ke baad kuch hua tha kya?"
"Ji nahi kuch nahi, back door hamesa closed hi rahta hai. Haan lekin agar kuch maar-pit hoti hai club mein, toh uss door se hume uun logon ko bahar phekna padta hai. Parso hi toh ek ko pheka tha maine"
"Kyun?"
"Ched raha tha ladkiyon ko."
"Acha,"
"Toh tum kitne baje normally club open karte ho?" Pankaj asked, studying the surrounding and stealing glances at the lady next to him.
"Dopahar ko, woh aaj Police Station se call aaya tha toh hume aana pada."
"Toh parso raat ko jab tumne uss aadmi ko pheka tha toh tumne kuch nahi dekha?"
"Nahi sir,"
That is all he needed to see, the weight of answer. The man's resolve was unshakeable, and his face did not show anxiousness, if he had seen something then clearly he couldn't keep it hidden. Nevertheless the bald man, whose name was Shekhar — did look creepy,
'Must be the beard.' Pankaj concluded on his thoughts.
"Aap apna number denge? Agar kuch maloom hoga toh aapko contact zaroor karungi." The woman had other ideas that she wanted to speak about. Pankaj was perfectly aware of her pondering, so he made an escape. She had no idea of the conspiracy, perhaps she just wanted to be friends.
"Ji zaroor, aap bureau ke number pe contact kar sakte hai. Haan par facebook pe aapko friend request zaroor bhej sakta hoon. Agar manjoori mile toh." Hearing this she was slightly disappointed, but looked completely unfazed.
The woman stared him for few seconds before nodding, and then Pankaj took a gamble, "I'm sorry, but what is your name? So I can send a request."
"Deepti Chauhan,"
"Pankaj Nagrath." He offered his hand for a hand-shake, and shook it lightly when the woman returned the gesture. If she understood him then she cannot expect a request from him, not at all. Though he was now assured that this woman needs a different type of approach, more direct and no nonsense. She was a strong woman after-all, and if he sent a request then it will probably display the negative light from him. He did not wanted to look desperate, he wasn't. If she feels like being friends then he could surely pull some strings. "Sorry, but I've to get back to the office."
"No need to see the footage, the police might already have a copy of it. Daya sir should be there."
He exactly knew where he should go.
…
Dayanand Shetty had taken a seat as he was watching the Chawkey's Inspector interrogating a young man about 18 intently. Apparently he was said to be the one who took the picture and uploaded it to hs facebook from where it went viral. Sahil Udaynath, his name, was a 1st year engineering student from a well respected college.
His headache was getting worse, as the Inspector seemingly was asking the same question over and over again. And the answer was similar as well,
"Ji maine kaha na aapko, ki main guzaar raha tha wahaan se aur tabhi wahaan se baas ayi, jab dekha toh wahaan pe woh laash mili."
And then Daya had enough of everyone and everything. He got up from his seat and slowly walked towards the student, who had been evading the questions by repeating his answer—clearly. Seeing his monstrous form the young man visibily tensed, much like Daya's teeth grind within his closed mouth. Daya slapped the back of the young man's head, which made the guy quench.
"Hum sabko kya chutiya samajh rakha hai bhootnike? Kab se ek hi baath ki rat lagaye betha hai, sidhe sidhe kehne ki kabiliyat Baap ne nahi sikhai?" Daya was getting angrier by second, and if the kid won't be speaking soon then he might use his fist soon. Perhaps that will open his mouth.
"Yeh.. ye aap aise kaise baat kar sakte hai?" Stammering, the guy was cornered in his little chair when Daya towered over him. Seeing Daya angry, the chief inspector backed off.
"Main kuch bhi kar sakta hun, tere naam ka case bhi khol sakta hoon, bas ek ungli ghumane ki der hai aur tu chori aur blackmail ki case mein andaar jayega. Ghumaun, ungli ghumaun?"
"Aap.. aa… jante nahi main kiska… bb…beta hoon…" The guy glared, but everyone in the post knew Daya had already cornered him—successfully. Hearing this Daya laughed sardonically.
"Tum engineering wale, bakland bhosad chod—samajhte kya ho apne aap ko? Raeez Baap ka aulad hai, maloom hai humein, aur tere baap ka kundli bhi maloom hai. Tu bulaega apne baap ko, aur dono ko saath mein andar daal denge. Toh gandmarna band kar aur bolna suru kar."
The young man just stared, and seeing the ire, he imagined an impending doom commencing upon him, if he didn't speak. Daya pinched the bridge of his nose, and suddenly grabbed the collar and lifted the weightless. Panicked the inspector along with Rajvir who was there went there to disentangle him from the almost victim of police brutality. The yelling and muscling took place, but the younger man couldn't shake off the vice like grip, and neither could the police.
"Bol… bol… bol raha hun, jane do,"And Daya dropped him to the floor, and got back to his chair. Raising his right leg, he placed the right ankle on the left leg's knee, and observed. The headache was worsening.
"Raat ke 1 baje saayad, mera roommate— Vikram ghabrate hue ayaa. Jese ki koi bhut dekh li ho. Woh raat-raat bhar bahar rehta hai, kabhi kabhi room ko hi nahi aata, par iss baar baat alag thi. He was panicked and pale—scarred to his bone. Paseene se nahaye hue, woh pagalo ki baat kar raha tha. Pure ekk ghante lage usse yeh maloom hone mein ki hostel mein hai. Aur jab usne kaha ki usne laash dekhi thi wahaan pe, toh maine…"
"…Toh socha ki chalo chalke dekh lete he, aur photo khich ke internet pe dal dete hai, aur nationwide logon ko panic kar dete hai, nahi? Agar, ekk mare hue insaan ko izzat dena nahi aata toh apne aap ki kaise karoge? Kisi din tumhare parents ki yaa tumhare dost ki aisi tasveer khich ke koi internet pe daal de toh kaise lagega?" Daya scolded, but this time it wasn't threatening but realizing. He further told, "Do minute ke fame ke liye tumne ekk murdered victim ki izzat ki dhajiya udaa di."
"I'm sorry, sir." Disgusted at the young man's confession, the Inspector was about to say something but was interrupted by the C.I.D. officer.
"Usse jane dijiye, Inspector Anurag, haan bas uske saath jaiye aur uss ladke Vikram ko laakar puch tach kijiye. Kuch mile toh inform kar dena." He said and walked out from the Station.
To Be Continued
A/N: So, this is it. The first chapter.
I am sincerely happy to read your reviews. But one thing bothered me, so let me clarify the notion. As you reviewers spent your quality time reading all of this, I've to inform you that I'm relatively- a new writer. I've written a total of three stories each belonging to their own category. One, I've already published, The Blacklist. I'm not claiming that my story will be the best, I'm not Anurag Kashyap, I'm not aiming for the best. But I'm attempting a different approach- trying a different style- more edgier style, it's a vision, which I definitely want to see in CID. They kind of avoid writing stories which might take people to a nightmarish place, no I'm not implying the horror special episodes, but something that could make people cringe. The shock factor, the ugly truth that's what I want to see. But we know it might never happen, so I'm writing this fiction. I am writing just for the sake of writing, I don't expect it to be the best, but really, genuinely, I hope the story to be decent enough to read.
I'm just going with the flow, and one thing, I like to write long chapters. And updating this story may take longer, since I've to write other stories too which are yet to be published and one which is in the line waiting to be updated. Oh and my Hindi isn't particularly good, I'm not a native Hindi speaker, so please pardon my Hindi. :P
Once more, I apologize if I hurt anyone's feeling.
Till then, off~