| :: | I'll Look After Thy Heart | :: |
It was a late autumn morning when the second in command of CID Mumbai department got an official envelope lying innocently in his post box.
As per his usual routine, he woke up, finished his morning rituals, made himself a mug of steaming, strong black coffee sans any sugar - c'mon, a guy likes to keep himself fit and sugar doesn't help in that quest - and he was going to his terrace to enjoy his coffee in the early morning breeze when the doorbell indicated that he'd got mails. So he thought of sorting the mails first. After finding the envelope in the pile of letters he really wished he didn't though.
Official mails were NEVER good news. It's either someone's been suspended, or got transferred, and in rare occasions someone got promoted. Though the key word was 'rare' in the sentence.
He sighed and shaking his head slightly put his mug on the small kitchen table. He pulled a chair out with a scraping noise and sat on it. Tearing the guilty piece of enclosure he brought the letter out. A few minutes passed as he read the letter. Through the open window of his kitchen cold flurry of wind blew in the house he called home and blew his hair. He felt the rush of it against his skin.
He was stilled for a while after he was finished reading whatever that was written on the piece of paper.
Not this. Not now. Not yet.
It hadn't been even three months after that nervewracking incident took place. He wasn't ready yet damn it. He couldn't do what they wanted, needed him to do. At least not yet. He couldn't very much look at his gun for the past months without flinching.
The irony of the situation. He was known to be the best shooter they had in the Mumbai CID department but here he was, shuddering at the thought of holding a gun and shooting bullets at the targets.
He scrapped back his chair and stood up. Went to the window and closed the glass window of the kitchen. He took his coffee mug to find the coffee long coldened. So he threw the leftover coffee in the sink and rinsed the mug and after drying it with the cloth, he put it neatly in place.
Deciding that his perfect morning was already ruined, he went to his room to have a bit of a lie down.
He woke up a couple of hours later by the doorbell ringing. He groaned and sat up. He yawned and stretched his limbs. The doorbell rang again. He scowled and huffed in annoyance.
When he opened the door, there stood his best mate for as long as he could remember. Daya.
"Hey mate. You were sleeping at this hour?" Daya observed entering himself in his friend's house.
"Yeah. Until you so rudely woke me up by ringing the bell like a lunatic," Abhijeet grumbled. "What do you want Daya?" he asked stifling a yawn.
"What? Can't I visit my best mate anytime I want?" Daya asked, his voice was dripping with amusement.
"Not when you're on duty and I'm not," he said blandly, making his way towards the kitchen to make tea for the both of them.
"C'mon Abhijeet. Don't be like this," Daya said reaching for the kitchen counter and leaning against it. "It was you who decided to take a time off."
"With good reason," he shot back. "Why are you really here Daya? Is it about the letter I received this morning?"
Daya sighed and nodded reluctantly.
"Well I can handle this myself. I don't need anyone to mollycoddle me," Abhijeet's snapped.
"No need to get snappy there. I came because I care, we care. Abhijeet you've shut everyone out for the past couple of months. Tarika is beside herself. She wanted to come today," at this Abhijeet's eyes softened but Daya continued, "- but I knew that she'd reach her breaking point if you push her away anymore than you've already done. So I decided to come instead and drill some sense into that thick head of yours."
Daya stopped two seconds to breath and said in a softer tone, "What happened was an accident. Don't let that one accident drive away everything good that you have. It's not your fault that Purvi got shot when you tried to shoot Jaggi. She's fit as ever, and she doesn't blame you, you know?" At this Abhijeet looked at his best mate sharply, but Daya could see the vulnerablility behind his hard facade. "I do hope you'll represent our team in the Shooting Competition. You're the best we've got."
Daya thumped on his mate's back lightly and saw himself out. But before leaving he said over his shoulder, "And Abhijeet, your Tarikaji might pop by after work today. Clean up a bit, yeah? You look like a mess."
Days left Abhijeet in the kitchen to ponder over the things that he'd said.
Daya was right. He did push the people closest to him away after the incident that shook him from within. The incident that broke his confidence.
They were running after the criminal who was moving fast towards the edge of the cliff. Purvi, Rajat, Vineet along with himself were moving as fast as they could. Suddenly he noticed that Purvi wasn't with them. Abhijeet thought she might be lagging behind but in actuality she had found a shortcut and soon she was ahead of them and at the tail of Jaggi.
As she reached closer to Jaggi, abruptly he stopped running and got a hold of her. He snatched her gun and twisted both her arms behind her and held her hostage.
The other officers slowed down their pace as Jaggi held his gun at Purvi's neck and ordered them to back off. He told them to put their guns on the ground and let him go. But Abhijeet had something else in his mind.
He bent forward and pretended to put his gun down on the ground. As he did it, he signed Purvi that he has a plan. Abhijeet lingered a moment longer in his position when Purvi kicked Jaggi in his guts and Abhijeet shot.
Once...Twice...Thrice
Purvi let out a shrill the officers ran to get a hold of the culprit. Rajat went to Purvi to help her get up. He didn't realise for a few minutes that one of those bullets passed through Purvi's stomach. As soon as they heard her ragged breath and pained whimpers the others rushed towards her as well and took her to the hospital.
Abhijeet jerked up from his slumber due to his nightmare, eyes darting back and forth. He didn't realise when he fell asleep on the couch. He rubbed his face with the heels of his palm and yawned.
He looked at the clock. It was ten past six. He sighed.
What am I gonna do now? Should I talk to someone..Tarika? Should I talk to her? Daya is right. I shouldn't let this one incident break all my ties with the people I love and the people that love me.
Deciding what he needed to do, Abhijeet got up and went to his room to get dressed.
After selecting his clothes, he went into the washroom and stood in from of the mirror. There stood a beard man with ruffled hair and a defeated look.
Daya was right about another thing, he thought with an eyeroll.
He ran his fingers through his hair and let out another long suffering sigh which had been escaping him one too many times for the past few months.
Abhijeet took the razor that was lying on the edge of the countertop and scraped the long-bladed razor across the stubble on his cheek.
Soon he looked very much like the Abhijeet from three months earlier. He got clothed and left the house. He was going to fix everything. He was going to apologise for his unreasonable behaviour to everyone. But first he needed to apologise to Tarika.
A/N : The plot is basically a dream that I had about Abhijeet and Tarika a few days back. The idea of the shooting competition came from AS Anjaana and I thank her for her idea.
Hope you all enjoy. Do leave a review if you liked it even a tinsy bit. Constructive criticisms are welcomed.
Love X