One and (done)

It all started with the meeting with the DGP of West zone, Dustin Coelho.

Riya wondered maybe this time she won’t get 8th letter of transfer in the same month, but maybe a commission would be there to ‘investigate’ her. It will be a pity if the department does that, but you never know. She was mentally preparing herself for the meeting, peeling off one groundnut each and sharing them with her trusted co-worker, Inspector Patil.

“Kya re Patil,” She started, “Kya lagta tereko?”

The Man, towering over 6 ft when he stood and had a mass of muscles rather than body which threatened to tear his uniform whenever he moved, shrugged, “Bade logo ka jhol, kya malum Madamji.”

“Haa sahi hai.” She paused, then asked mischievously, “Agar nikal diya to? Royega kya mere jane pe?”

“Kya Madam.” He shook head, “Nikal kaiko denge? Firse fek denge kisi jungle mein. Uski tension nahi leneka.”

As if on cue a female came out to greet them and Riya stood up, handing over the remaining groundnut to him and wiping her hands on her pants. With a mock salute to the Inspector, she went inside.

Dustin Coelho looked strict, never smiled, and probably don’t know how to. 90% of the people in the IPS circle never want to meet him, and Riya thought of herself with pride that she managed to stand here in a mere 3 years time. The man no time in wasting greetings or ‘take a sit’, cutting straight to the chase. 

“How long are you planning to jump here and there?” She rose her brows at the question and let out a sarcastic smile. “Settle hona hai ya nahi? Any plans to have family? Marriage?”

“Ladka dekhne ka time kahan de rahe ho aap log? Thoda settle huye ya nahi, bas transfer ki chitthi ajati hai Sir.” Patil often told Riya she was too blunt with words, so she decided to soften the words with a wide smile and shrug. Not the one to be fooled, Coelho narrowed his eyes.

“How about Mumbai?” At her frown he added, “ETF. It’s fairly new place, not even a decade has passed.”

“I know about ETF.” She said, “I get to pick now?”

“Thought to give a heads up.” He shuffled some files to fetch an envelope to hand over, “You start from Monday. It’s permanent position, no more transfer. Try not to piss off the Chief there, he is a good guy. Will back you up and help in career. 3 saal hogye, ACP banna hai ki ASP hi rehna hai puri zindagi?”

She gave a grin and took the letter, “If I have your permission, may I ask for a favour?”

Once she was out, she grinned like a Cheshire cat at the Inspector as she handed over another white envelope to him, “Bag pack karle Patil, Mumbai jana hai humko. Humesha to rota rehta hai, Aai ke paas jana hai, Aai ke paas jana hai. Chal, abhi udhar hi rehna, permanent. Arre, royega kya?” The other man gave a watery chuckle and sniffed as she took the groundnut from him and started walking, “Main kabhi samundar nahi dekhi, pata hai? Kaisa hai? Mast?”

“Ho Madam, ekdam mast.” He followed her, tucking the paper safely in his pocket.

The conversation with ETF chief Sameer Rathore and Dustin Coelho went like this-

“Another?” He sounded weary, and his face went grim as he read the file, “Why? I . . . the team don’t have any requirement.”

“Didn’t the last two interns leave the organization crying?” Coelho glared, “Also, there is no female. We need representation.”

“Why her?” He closed the file, “I already have Rawte, all thanks to Raghu sir, and don’t really require another rebel doing her own work.”

“Don’t go by her records, Rathore, it’s a good one.” The DGP sat on a corner of the table, “She tried working, you know. Good work, but people didn’t appreciate. And I know you will, ETF will. This can be beneficial for you and your team.”

The ETF chief muttered about having no choice, but gave up with a sigh and prepared himself to welcome the newbie.

Riya found Mumbai hot, humid with lots of noise pollution and dust, but the good part was ETF office was right next to the sea. The view was gorgeous, and chai stall opposite the building was amazing. Patil handed over her chai, as usual wiping the rim with a tissue and shook head as she took a sip, humming at the taste.

“Madamji kaiko peeto ho ye road wali chai? Bina tissue to apse hota nahi. Woh sab piya karo na. . . star . . . star . . . “

“Starbucks?” She finished for him, amused, “Utne paise kidhar, Patil? Ab to quarter bhi nahi mila, iss mahine ka HRA to gaya.” Rolling her eyes, she changed the topic, “Teri Aai to bohut khush hogi, nahi?” At his grin she grinned wider, “Kal se mere liye tiffin, koi bahana nahi. Samjha?”

“Aho Madamji.”

A black colored SUV with ETF logo drove inside and man walked out, everyone inside rising to greet him. 

“Lagta hai Head hoyega.” Patil said.

“Hmm sahi. Dekha kaise sablog salam thok rahe. Shakal achi hai.” Finishing the remaining tea with a big gulp, she stood up, “Chal, time hogaya apun logo ke entry ka.”

ACP Sameer Rathore got to know just last night that in place of one, two officers would be joining. One inspector and other ASP. He spoke to the duo separately and wearily observed the ASP to find any trace of similarity with Rawte. She was polite, smiled as she speak and generally respectful, and he sighed in relief, hoping this won’t turn out like Rawte’s entry.

Outside, Riya gushed about the new Boss to Patil, “Kya dikhta hai. Muchad hai, par chalega.”

He shook head, “Kya madamji, Chief ko line marogi?”

“Ae!” She protested, “Line wine nahi marti main. Woh magajmari mein padneka hi nahi mereko. Bas dur se dekhneka, ahe bhadne ka.” He let out a laugh at that, but it was cut short as they both bumped into a curly haired bespectacled man. After introduction, they found out he is going to be their new colleague, Shreekant Sen. He handles the tech side of the team.

“Thank god we got two more people here, or else main to mar hi raha tha har din.” Shree made a show of shooting a quick prayer towards the small Ganesha idol in the hallway as the trio walked inside the meeting room. 

“Why? Chief is that much strict?”

“Arre nahi nahi, woh to devta hai. Chillate hai, pad ake sorry bolte hai. Socho, kon karta hoga aise.” He looked at Patil who nodded at the comment, “Problem to Arjun sir hai. Itna kaam karwate hai.” His face grimed at the pain as he twisted his back, the duo wincing at the bones cracking.

“Arjun?” Patil asked.

“Rawte. Suna nahi kya? Woh MLA ko thappad marne wala?” The inspector looked at her who’s mood had soured, both of them remembering the conversation they had few months ago on the ACP.

It was a blistering hot afternoon in Kanta, Chattisgarh, so much so that not even a Dog was outside. In her new place of transfer, Riya had met this Inspector who looked like the angel of death but could not even hurt an ant, and both of them have stirred up good friendship. The best part of Patil was he could cook, and from the second day onwards he would bring Tiffin for her. She was munching on the food as they sat inside police jeep doing an impromptu stake out in the middle of nowhere to catch a gang famous for illegal liquor. Patil was reading from Google news about the MLA slapping incident and Riya made a sound with mouthful of food.

“Aise, aise log hi police ka naam kharab karte.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as Patil handed over a water bottle.

“Kaiko madamji? Acha hai na, aise kamino ko ek laafa marna hi chahiye.”

“Aur fayda? Ghanta. Kuch nahi.” She rolled eyes, gulping water, “Usne kuch galat kiya, andar dalo. Agar kuch saboot nahi hai to chup baitho. Aise singham banne se kuch nahi hoga. Career jayega so alag.” Then she remembered something, “Arre haan, iska to kuch hoga bhi nahi.”

“Kaiko?”

“Woh Mumbai commissioner, ispe kaafi meherbaan. Uski ladki ka kidnapping hua tha na, mahino pehle? Isne kaafi madad ki. Tabse bohut meherbani chal rahi suna hai.” She shrugged, seemingly over the topic just as quickly she started, “Humko kya, bol Patil? Ghis ghis ke zindagi gujaarne ka. Naukri bachaneka.”

He replied with a teasing smile, “Phir bhi to Madamji panga leti ho bohut aap.”

“Ab kya kare.” She gave a helpless grin in return, “Par zyada nahi. Limit mein rehneka. Rules.”

“Bohut chillate hai. Bohut kaam karwate hai. If there was something called extra overtime, woh karate hai Arjun sir.” Shree kept complaining as the other two kept sharing looks. Work won’t be an issue, but the yelling, well. . . 

As if on cue, the room shook with the sound on oncoming footsteps and the man himself, ACP Arjun Suryakant Rawte entered. He barely acknowledged the two new faces, sat in the farthest corner in the table, grabbed a red file and immediately started reading it, his poker face intact. Shree gave a look to others as if to say ‘here we go’ and the other two watched warily.

Then the Chief entered.

It made sense why Shree complained so much about the work condition. The tension between the two alpha male was obvious. To Riya, the issue was not blatant disregard of the Chief, it was that Arjun Rawte cared about none’s voice other than his own. If the Chief did not agree, he would threaten to go away and work alone, and most likely it was not even a threat, this man will go. There is a sense of misplaced justice that only he can give, short and quick. It’s either his way or highway.

Sameer Rathore rubbed his temple once he was done with the new case meeting and the team was ready to go, and honestly Riya felt the same. The chai downstairs seemed like a great idea then.

“Before you leave,” He stopped the team just as the rebel ACP was near the door, “let me introduce to the new members. ASP Riya Mukherjee, Inspector Chandrakant Patil. Welcome to the team.” He gave a smile. Shree gave a smile, a mixture of ‘welcome to hell’ and ‘thank god I am not alone now’. ACP Rawte barely glanced, turned his back and walked out of the room.

Some welcome it was, Riya mused. But it’s fine. The Chief is not bad to look at. The fellow colleague was nice. She can ignore the white elephant in the room. 

It was a murder scene from a movie. A beautiful teenager’s mutilated body in bright red dress fallen over a smashed Audi. Reporters around like hawks. Police trying to push them using force and raised voices. 

Since ACP Rawte decided the main crime scene was not the ground, but 9th floor terrace from where the girl fell, the team proceeded to move there.

“Kya re Patil,” Riya whispered on their way up, “inka koi CSI nahi. Forensic wala kidhar hai?”

“Independent lab se karate Madamji, Shree bol raha tha.” She gave an irritated look at the answer and he shrugged. This was ridiculous, almost a decade and these people couldn’t hire a Forensic expert.  And then she saw ACP Rawte doing his investigation by looking closely into the terrace wall and then down, as if scanning the premises with his microscopic eyes. She suppressed a giggle at that, and whispered to Patil, “Ini se karana chahiye tha CSI.”

Shree cried out beside them, “Arre, idea mat do. Mujhse part time photography to karate hi hai, ye hua to sar pe baith jayenge, bolenege Shree blood report nikalo. Do I look like walking talking lab?” 

The two snorted, but recovered quickly as Chief Rathore motioned them to join. There was a party going on in the building’s 5th floor, arranged by a guy for his group of friends on the eve of their passing out from college. Nobody saw the girl vanishing. It was only when the Audi started beeping loudly then they saw the body and called police. 

“The girl can’t commit suicide.” ACP Rawte declared just as they were discussing. Beside them Rathore frowned.

“Why would you say that, Rawte?”

He had that bored look like he can’t be bothered by the pesky questions of mortals, but decided to indulge the Chief anyway, “Look at her dress, Rathore.” And walked away again. And somehow, magically, he pulled out a shade from inside his shirt and put it on. 

The trio moved near the terrace railing and saw the body below. Riya understood what the ACP meant, the dress was too short and tight for the girl to get up here and jump. 

“Deva,” Patil moved away almost immediately, holding his head, “Uchai aur main, na baba na.” Then he turned to Riya, “Madamji, Sir ko kaise pata konsi dress mein jump ho sakta hai, aur konsi mein nahi?”

Shree started laughing which he moulded to a cough as she patted his back, “Puch lo na unse. Arre haan, sachi. Jao.” At the Inspector’s sceptical look she indulged, Shree nodding behind. Satisfied with the encouragement, the Inspector turned and walked in hurry to catch up to the ACP.

“Ah, I am going to love this place.” Riya finally laughed and the duo shared a hi5.

ETF had shortage of staff, and core team had to work a lot. Riya had been to small places where things did not really happen, she rarely extended past 8pm unless she has taken some personal mission to mess up big shot criminal’s life, or setting up new ideas to improve her new work place. Usually the first thing resulted in transfer, resulting in the incompletion of the second one. Those things hurt like a bitch, but she has learnt quickly this is how things are going to be for her career wise. Once she accepted things, it didn’t sting that bad.

It was almost 10pm after going through the interrogation of kids, parents, witnesses, first responders, making notes, setting up the murder board in the glass wall next to the meeting table, preparing suspect lists, co-ordinating with lab for results, sending mails for permission to trace data. Usually ETF doesn’t need permission; Shree informed them that in crisis situations they can go ahead with minor things like tracing GPS or call monitoring. But Rathore Sir liked to keep things clean. Someone like Riya who abides by rules, albeit in her own way, admired that quality.

She also wondered where does that guilt comes from when he lets the other ACP roar over him, and lets him go without much damage. There is some unresolved tension in there, but that doesn’t need her concern. If time permits, it will be revealed.

The duo were discussing how Patil’s conversation with ACP Rawte went regarding the dead girl’s dress when Riya handed the two coffee, herself settling with chai she got from downstairs. Only three in the room, hence conversation and laughter flew free. As usual, Riya wiped the rim of the glass with tissue and sensing eyes on her, observed from the opposite side of the meeting room there was an adjacent cabin. Arjun Rawte was noticing her actions with an inscrutable look. Internally rolling eyes, she turned to the boys.

“Khadoos sala. Aise ghura mereko woh.” Patil was muttering as Shree removed his glasses to wipe away tears of laughter, then he turned to Riya, “Aisa mazak nakko, Madamji. Heart attack hi ajata apunko aaj.”

She smiled in return but chose to say nothing. Shree put back his glasses, “Sahi, sahi bola Chandrakant. Khadoos hai woh, Khadoos.” Then grimaced, “Ye kaisa bada naam hai re tumhara? Koi short form hai kya?”

“Chotu.” Riya piped in as Patil gave a look of horror, “Chotu bulao.”

Shree started laughing again, “Sahi hai. Ironical name.”  to which Patil glared at the two, no malice in his expression, which soften quickly as Rathore entered, surprised that the newbie stretched. He permitted them to leave and then walked away towards his own cabin, obvious he is not leaving anytime soon. As the trio walked towards the elevator, Shree wondered when was the last time he got to leave around 10 in the night.

The next few days passed in blur. It was hectic with the murder case and overwork, but Riya enjoyed, her major source of entertainment being her Patil and Shree being iconic duos sharing jokes and supplying her unlimited supply of downstairs chai. Shree was easy-going, a fellow bengali, and they will irritate Patil whenever they will have their small conversations in bengali right infront of the Inspector, who in turn will rant in Marathi, making the duo burst out in laughter. The three mixed so well as if they had been friends for years. 

On the other side, Rathore Rawte fights don’t make her curious anymore. It’s the same pattern, and frankly she is bored. The khadoos ACP had observant eyes, if she can credit him for that, but he shares no thought of his and adamant to make others follow what he sees. The Chief shouts and glares alot, but always indulges him and follows his words. If she did not remember DGP Coelho telling her to behave, she would have rolled her eyes in front of the two men during their fights.

It was the 5th day of investigation of the dead teenager’s case and ACP Rawte had a theory, or rather, a hunch. He suspected the guy who organized the party pushed the girl off the terrace after various witness statements and circumstancial evidences. There was a long argument between the RR duo about bringing the guy for questioning and coercing him to tell the truth, which ended in Chief storming off with a warning ‘No dirty tricks, Rawte!’ and the other guy giving a poker faced expression, then turning to Patil to bring the guy, Nitin, for questioning. Riya brooded for a while once the room quietened, finally done with this BS. If the ACP could find a way, there had to be another. Better. Non headache inducing. And she is going to work for that.

But before that . . .

Sameer Rathore was rubbing his temple and looking for headache medicines in his desk drawers when he heard a soft knock and saw the new ASP, Riya, entering with a mug of steaming coffee. He mumbled a thank you as she pushed the mug with a smile.

“I also put a tablet for the headache.”

“How do you know?” He asked and immediately winced internally, closing his eyes. The everyday show he and Rawte puts up is enough to make people insane. Of course she has noticed, “Never mind. I apologize for the scene outside.”

“There is no need.” She was quick to dismiss, “You are a good chief to acknowledge your staff. Mere sare ex seniors to orders mein believe karte the.”

He chuckled, “Tumhe lagta hai ki Rawte orders manta hoga?” Then sobered, “Thank you for this. I really needed it.”

She gave a shrug with a small smile, then stood straight, “I had a permission to seek, if I may.” At his cautious frown she added, “Will you be interested in another theory for the case?”

1 hour later, she was back in the terrace with Patil beside her, a binocular in her hands as she looked around the buildings. Patil held a half-eaten apple in his hand, clueless at her actions. She put the device down, took the apple from him and took a bite, looking thoughtful.

“Madamji kuch to batao.” He whined, “Tabse khade hai. Kya chahiye apko, bolo mereko main arrange karta hoon.”

“Tumse to kaam karwaungi hi.” She smiled, “But theory prove honi chahiye.”

“Kya theory.”

“Ki Khadoos ki theory ki bhi alternate theory hogi.” She murmured, which he couldn’t hear and frowned. Finally taking pity on him, she explained, “Ek idea hai, thoda ajaab hai but try kar sakte hai.”

He sighed, “Batao to Madamji.”

She looked around the building where they stood, other apartment towers encircling them. She had a theory that someone had to see something that night. There were thousands of people surrounding them, there were teenagers partying. Someone did see something, but didn’t come forward.

“Agar kisine dekha bhi hoga,” Patil mused, “pata kaise chalega?”

“Yehi.” She replied, dejected, the remaining piece of apple hovering in front of her.

“Usko to heart attack hi agaya hoga jisne murder dekha hoga.” He continued, and Riya smiled at his words, something clicking in her head. Turning to him suddenly that he almost stumbled backwards, she gave a sugary smile.

“You are a genius?”

“Ho?”

“Chal, kaam pe lagte hai.” They proceeded to leave the premises.

Riya and Patil entered the ETF building with a shivering old man in tow just as Rawte was going on with his grilling session with Nitin for 3 three hour straight. She took permission from Rathore who nodded, behind him Rawte looking on, his poker face intact, observing everything but choosing to say nothing. The man, a old bored resident in one of the opposite tower confessed rather quickly in front of a stoic Rathore sir that he saw the boy and someone else from his group misbehaving with the girl, before pushing her off the terrace- that too, through binoculars which he uses frequently to spy on others. Some more follow up questions revealed the other boy’s name, and within the next few hours they had wrapped the case quickly, sent the boys to jail and finished it with neat proper paperwork. Pleased with herself and the day, Riya gave a bright smile to Patil and shared a hi fi with the Tech expert, who praised her idea. And of course, the cherry on top- the Chief was happy. 

But then, happiness was an unreliable friend. 

In the last few days the trio took one SUV to reach home as they left around the same time. Today Patil left a bit early, Shree in tow and hence she was left behind. She was just booking an Uber when she heard a honk, and there was a SUV. Inside the SUV was ACP Khadoos. 

Internally sighing at the ruined mood, she pasted a pleasant expression, “Hello Sir. Goodnight.”

“Get in.”

“Oh, no need. I am booking an Uber.” She showed her phone. Ignoring it, he kept staring at her, and then unlocked the door on her side.

“Andar aao.” 

No choice left, she got in, readying herself for an uncomfortable ride. 2 mins into the ride, she was squirming.

If none noticed it before, Riya loved to talk. She would talk for hours with Patil who would indulge her in her sensible and senseless talks by staying silent; she would talk to herself in head, uncaring of others. When she was bored or happy or alone, she hummed. Her calls usually went for an hour. She wasn’t much for phone, except for music. She looked inside her bag, and as usual she has forgotten her earphones. ETF wasn’t a place where you can utilize them, work kept her too busy. 

She turned toward her right and the man sat straight, looking ahead, as usual face devoid of any emotion. Riya thought to herself maybe he was born that way, with one single expression. Does not his jaw hurt with all the clenching? Also, this man does go home. All other days she saw him staying back in office and most probably saw in the same shirt he wore yesterday. Her nose wrinkled at the thought. Ew.

“Mera chehra achanak itna interesting hogaya hai kya?” His dry sarcasm made her look at him, “Why the staring?” 

She leaned back to the headrest with a smile, not a bit embarrassed at being caught, “The silence is not me.” and gave a look at the radio, “May I?”

He neither agreed nor discouraged, hence she went ahead and turned it on. There was a Bengali song and she hummed to it, feeling his eyes on her but ignoring it as she looked out. 

“Your place?” He asked after a while, and she informed the address.

“No Police quarter?”

“Nahi Sir.” She gave a smile again, this time sarcastic, “Jinko milta hai, woh rehte nahi. Jinko nahi milta, unko HRA spent karna padta hai.” It was meant to be a jibe- she has heard from Shree ACP Rawte lives in some hotel in the middle of city. When government providing a place, why not use that? Waste of resources is something she hates. Her place arrived after a while and she got down, thanked him for the ride to which, again, he reacted nothing, upped the window and drove away.

Riya rolled eyes to herself, turned and walked towards her apartment, relieved to be away from the suffocating SUV ride.

2 days later, the Chief had summoned her in the middle of the day and handed over a white envelope. Riya wondered what she had done to get a transfer that soon, again, and then thought to herself that DGP’s words probably meant nothing. Weary, she took the paper.

“Your quarter.” He informed, looking quite surprised himself, and then added as if he could not help himself, “Rawte had something to do with it.” He phrased the sentence as a question. Riya laughed internally even as she faked innocence.

“I had mentioned him in passing. Thanks for his generosity, I guess?”

His brows shot up, “He gave up his allotted quarter for you.” The two shared looks just to judge the other, and Rathore gave up, not really wanting to know the other ACP’s mind works, “Anyways, do you need off to shift?”

She brushed it aside with a casual shrug, “No need, Sir. Zyada kuch hai nahi. I will manage.” 

She walked out with extra bounce in her steps, humming a song under her breath.