Author's Note: Hello everyone. Thanks for your kind reviews of the first story I posted here. I'm posting another story I had written a couple of years ago with my sister Srishti. We had posted it at I-F, and I'm re-posting it here. It's centered around Purvi as well, and features her in a tough situation she must face alone. Although this is one of our earlier stories, I hope we've managed to portray her character properly. Will be updating it soon. Looking forward to your views. Thanks!
At last!
The wait was over, and my goal was close! I felt both excitement and terror rise to a crescendo in my heart as I tiptoed through the dark room, silent as a ghost. This would change everything for me. I would make my parents proud and give those who mocked me a fitting reply. My companion's words of warning and admonition still echoed in my mind, but I brushed them aside as I focused on my plan.
Ahead of me, among piles and piles of untidily wrapped cartons and papers, I saw it – a brown box sealed securely with tape. The jackknife glinted in the moonlight as I drew it from my pocket and crouched beside the box. The blade flashed, making no more sound than a stapler, and the slashed seals gave way like severed vines. I reached for the treasure inside with trembling hands, my mind already scheming how to re-seal the box convincingly.
No sooner had I removed a single sheet from the box than the lights flashed on in the room. My heart seemed to jump to my throat as I saw three people slither out from the shadows near the door.
"Range-haathon pakde gaye", said the first of them. He took one look at my face, and his expression changed to one of mingled rage and triumph. "Tum!"
"Ismein chaukne waali kya baat hai, sir?" said the man standing next to him as I stumbled into a pile of cartons, dizzy with horror. "Hamesha back bench pe guppe maarna, class ko disrupt karna, college late aana, har exam mein fail hona – aakhir ye toh inka pesha hai."
"Aisa ghatiya plan banane ke bajaiye aur padhai ki hoti toh ye na hota", said the lady behind them.
"No… no, sir!" I stammered. "Sorry, ma'am! Please, sir!"
"CHUP!" barked the first man. "Another word and I'll give you one tight slap. Ab jo kehna hai, dean se kaho."
Somebody please tell me it's a bad dream! But the stark reality crashed over me as the teacher's hand gripped my arm like an iron pincer and dragged me out of the room. As I was pulled like an animal towards the dean's dreaded office, my companion's words rang in some distant corner of my bedazzled brain.
"Abhi bhi waqt hai – meri baat maano aur bhool jao aise galat kaam. Agar tumne aisa karne ki sochi bhi toh I'll go straight to sir and report you!"
A momentary flash of white-hot hatred eclipsed my terror. For a second, I forgot where I was and what horrors lay ahead as my blood boiled like lava. I knew already that my life was ravaged, that there was no escape from this imminent nightmare. All I knew was that I would never let that filthy backstabber live in peace, come what may.
Eight years later…
It was a bright day. Though it was the monsoon season, after two days of continuous rain, the dark clouds had finally departed from the sky allowing the golden sun to spread its rays and light the city of Bombay. Birds chirped, but of course their pleasant chirping was covered by the rash honking of cars stuck in traffic, a very common sight of Bombay. But at a little distance from this traffic was a tall glass building. Looked quiet from outside, but inside the scenario was completely different.
"Freddy, jhoot mat bolo! Main jaanta hoon chor tum hi ho. Tumne hi churaya hai", a heavy man's voice said loudly.
"Arre Abhijeet sir, aap mujhpe itna bada ilzaam kaise laga sakte hain?" another voice replied.
"Freddy, Abhijeet sahi keh raha hai – tumne hi chori ki hai, isliye accha yahi hoga ki tum apna gunah kubul kar lo", a third voice said.
"Daya sir, aap bhi mujhpe shak kar rahe hain?"
"Daya shak nahi, yakeen se keh raha hai; kyun Daya?"
"Haan boss. Freddy, dekho tum..."
"Sorry sir..." the voice of a young girl interrupted as she literally ran into the beareau. "Sorry sir, woh traffic tha isliye late..."
"Arre nahin nahin Purvi, ACP sir abhi tak nahin aaye aur hum bhi bas kuchi hi der pehle aaye, aur aate hi Freddy ne chura liya", Abhijeet said.
"Kya! Freddy sir?"
"Nahi nahi Purvi, inki baat mat suno", Freddy said.
"Par sir, kya chori hua?" Purvi asked.
"Kuch nahi" Freddy said.
"Arre kuch nahi kya? Isne mera chocolate ka box churaya", Abhijeet said. "Woh main khaas ACP sir ke liye America se mangva kar laya tha!"
"Ohh, ACP sir ke liye, ein?" Daya said in a taunting tone.
"Haan aur nai to kya." Abhijeet said defensively.
"Purvi, tumhe lagta hai maine churaya?"
"Nahin Freddy sir, aap..."
"Hein? Yaani hum jhooth bol rahe hain?" Daya said.
"Nahin nahin, sir!"
"Toh tum Freddy ko sahi kyun boli?" Abhijeet said.
"Sir, woh main toh bas.."
"Kya ho raha hai yahan?" ACP Pradyuman said, entering the bureau.
"Sir, Purvi Freddy ko sahi aur humein jhootha bol rahi hai!" Abhijeet said.
"Kya! Purvi, kya ho gaya hai tumhe?"
"Sir, woh main... sir...woh…"
"Sir, Abhijeet sir aur Daya sir keh rahe hain mene unka chocolate churaya aur Purvi bas meri side le rahi thi", Freddy said.
"Matlab tumne nahi churai?" Abhijeet said.
"Nahin sir!"
"To kahan gaayi, ein? Mein yahin table pe rakhke gaya tha!" Abhijeet said.
"Aacha to agar tumne nahin churai to zara mooh kholo."
"Nahin sir! Kyun?"
"Arre humein bhi tassali ho jaayegi aur tumhaari begunahi bhi saabit ho jaayegi!"
"Arre sir, aap..."
Just then the phone rang. Inspector Purvi answered it.
"Hello, CID bureau... kya kaha? Oh! Hmmm… hum pohonchte hain."
"Kya hua, Purvi?" the ACP asked.
"Sir, Khalji Market ke paas ek bungalow mein bomb blast hua. Kuch log zakhmi huey aur kismat se koi mara nahi. Humein bulaya hai."
Granite and pebbles cracked under the Qualis' tires as it sped on its way through the Khalji market. The normally crowded area seemed hardly different than usual. A few policemen who stood by saluted the officers as they drove past. They saw the bungalow in question up ahead, outside which a couple media vans stood alongside police cars.
"Lagta hai media mein baat abhi faili nahin hai, sir", remarked Freddy.
"Faili bhi ho, Freddy, toh utni sansani bhi toh nahin hai", remarked the ACP sarcastically.
They parked the Qualis near the gate, where one of the policemen turned up to greet them. "Sir, blast kareeb ek ghante pehle hua upper floor mein. Ye ek crowded area hai, toh abhi humne isse ek gas leak bataya taaki logon mein khauf na fail jaaye."
"Accha kiya", said the ACP. "Hum dekhte hain ki aakhir hua kya."
They strolled past the pushing and shoving media-persons through the brazen gates leading to the bungalow. Another police inspector greeted them outside.
"Blast mein idhar do logon ko injuries hui hain, sir", said he. "Unhe City Hospital le jaaya gaya hai. Ab woh khatre se bahar hain."
"Thank goodness", said the ACP. "Daya, Abhijeet – tum dono ek baar bungalow mein uss room ki phir se talaashi lo jahan blast hua, aur aas-paas ke logon se poochtaach karo. Main, Purvi aur Freddy jaakar hospital mein un dono se milte hain."
"Yes, sir", said the intrepid duo at once.
The atmosphere outside the City Hospital was considerably calmer, though they could see a few constables and reporters moving outside. Parking the car in the lot, the ACP, Purvi and Fredericks entered the hospital premises and were led by a doctor to a ward where they saw the two victims on beds – a lanky man in village attire and a bearded man with silver hair, both of them bruised, burned and bandaged. They looked up as the cops entered, anxiousness and terror still apparent in their expressions.
"Please, lete rahiye", said the ACP gently, gesturing them to do the same. "Ab aapko kuch nahin hoga. Aaram se humein bataiye ki ye kaise hua."
Before anybody could speak, the silver-haired man looked at somebody behind the ACP and sat up higher, looking astonished. "Purvi?" he exclaimed.
Everybody turned to look at Purvi, who was standing still, looking equally surprised. "Conrad sir, aap?"
The ACP looked from the victim to Purvi. "Tum jaanti ho inhe, Purvi?" he asked.
"Haan, sir", said Purvi quietly. "Ye college mein mere Maths ke professor the."
She slowly walked forwards towards the professor, and the expression of dread on his somewhat wizened face was slowly broken with a small smile. "Har exam mein top marks, basketball team ki vice captain, scholarship winner, graduated with an aggregate of 94%. I'm not surprised that you've earned a glorious place in the elite CID team, my child."
Purvi shook her head with a shy smile, and reached out to shake his hand placidly. "It's all thanks to God's Grace and your blessings, sir."
The professor beamed. "Your humility is an ornament, Purvi. I'm sure aap sab bhi mujhse sehmat hain?" he asked her teammates, smiling benignly at them too.
"Hum sab ko Purvi par garv hai, professor", beamed the ACP, eyeing his valiant and beautiful officer with pride as everyone smiled back. He grew serious once again. "Ab aap zara bataiye, aapke ghar mein exactly hua kya?"
Professor Conrad explained that the owner of the bungalow was on holiday in Goa and he was a tenant there. Earlier that day, the other victim – his servant – found a wrapped parcel addressed to the professor in the mailbox. Since the professor often received journals from his peers, they didn't take this with suspicion. They were saved purely by dumb luck – just as the professor had unwrapped the parcel and had half-opened it, wind through the open window knocked over a prized vase of his and, dejected, the two of them went over to clear the mess. The bomb went off seconds after that. Had they been a few inches closer, survival would've been out of question.
"Uss parcel pe mere puraane education board ka address tha, aur DTS Couriers ka stamp", continued the professor. "Police ne pata lagaya ko woh dono nakli the."
As he finished, Purvi's phone vibrated in her hands and she went aside to attend to it. Fredericks spoke up. "Sir, hamlawar ne kaafi soch-samajh kar ye arrangement ki, taaki kisi ko parcel pe shaq na ho."
"Haan, Freddy", said the ACP quietly. "Lagta hai usne ye karne se pehle professor ke baare mein kaafi kuch pata lagaya." He turned to Conrad. "Aapko kisi pe shaq hai? Koi jhagda, dushman ya rival?"
"Thodi bahut rivalry toh thi sir, par unmein se koi mera khoon kyun karega?" blurted the professor.
The ACP considered this. "Theek hai. Aapko kuch aur samajh mein aaye to humein bataiyega." He turned to the others. "Waapas bungalow chalkar uss bomb ke baare mein pata lagaate hain. Purvi, tum chaho toh apne sir ke saath thodi der ruk sakti ho."
Everyone prepared to leave, except Purvi. There was no response from her. She was standing as though frozen, her eyes fixed on her phone, her expression growing more and more terrified every second.
The ACP eyed her queerly. "Purvi? Tum theek toh ho?"
No avail. Purvi seemed barely aware that the room was dead silent and every eye was on her.
"Purvi!" called the ACP more loudly, and she abruptly looked up, pale and clearly disturbed. "Kya hua? Kiska phone tha?"
Purvi's eyes flickered from her phone to her senior before she spoke in a voice of forced calm. "Kuch… kuch nahin, sir. Woh… mere dad ka message tha, unhone jaldi ghar bulaya hai. Pata… pata nahin kya hua. K… kya main jaaun, sir?"
"Oh!" said the ACP, looking alarmed. "Accha… theek hai, tum jaa sakti ho Purvi." As Purvi slowly nodded and started to rush out of the room, he called out again. "Tumhe ghar chhod dein?"
"No... no thanks, sir. Main chali jaaungi", breathed Purvi, barely slowing to look at him as she darted out of the ward. Her teammates and professor looked on, confused and concerned.
Purvi rushed out of the hospital in increasingly edgy strides, her heart hammering in fear. She barely noticed the local constables shooting her quizzical looks or a couple of eager reporters thrusting their mikes at her. Her conscience chided her for having lied to her senior, but she had no choice. She could only hear her own breath coming in ragged gasps as she paced towards the street, the imprint of that dreadful SMS still hovering ahead of her eyes. It consisted of a few simple lines, each of them colder than the other.
Accha laga boodhe ki haalat dekh ke? Kismat acchi thi jo bach gaya. Ab baakiyon ki baari hai. Unki jaan pyaari hai toh chup-chaap Khalji Market mein Shinde General Store par pahucho. Kisi se kuch kaha toh sab ke sab maare jaayenge.
Somebody was targeting them? Why? There was no choice; she could take no risk. She had to do this herself. Steeling herself, she waved down a taxi and hurled herself inside. "Khalji Market chalo, abhi!"
At a distance, a gloved hand drummed its fingers on a black motorbike's handle with savage pleasure as the taxi sped away.
