Chapter 5

2 years ago

HereAsMyself

@HereAsMyself

Author’s Note: This is a very, very long chapter. It also comprises a conversation and, while it doesn’t contain anything potentially triggering, the points made during it may not appeal to some of the readers. Please don’t skip it, though. This chapter is pivotal to the idea that there may be different sides to the same story and different ways of looking at things—themes that will be explored as the story develops. The discussion that takes place here will also go on to partly influence Abhijeet’s actions later in the story.

Also, please note that there’s no character bashing in this chapter. Some of KD’s words may look like it, but they aren’t intended that way-- I don’t want to give out spoilers, so let’s just say KD sees and thinks differently from the CID team; in the process, he sets Abhijeet (and others) thinking about things they’d been unable to (or unwilling to) realize before (as with real life, it often takes a third person to put things into perspective). This theme, too, will be explored in forthcoming chapters.

‘Stranger, if  you passing meet me and desire to speak to me,

why should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?’

                                    -Walt Whitman, To You

The book KD’s chosen from Abhijeet’s nightstand is a very interesting political thriller, but he doesn’t allow it to take up all his time. He reads a little of it and then gets to work straightening the coffee table in the living room and cleaning up the broken glass, taking care to check under the furniture for remnants. He makes himself coffee to help him stay awake through the night and sandwiches when he’s hungry. He leaves some of the ingredients in the refrigerator for when Abhijeet wakes up—he hadn’t eaten at night and would be sure to be hungry.

I wonder if I’m taking too many liberties, thinks KD, but soon banishes the thought from his mind. Abhijeet’s a nice person. I’m sure he won’t mind.

Purple night turns into flesh-coloured dawn, then into bright yellow morning. Abhijeet’s still sleeping: for all KD knows he could be getting late for a very important meeting at the bureau, but he doesn’t wake him. Nor doeshe draw back the curtains from the windows in Abhijeet’s windows, not wanting to risk overwhelming his senses when he wakes up.

It’s eight-thirty when Abhijeet finally begins to stir. KD guesses he’ll need some time to get his thoughts together, so he waits just outside his field of vision. Abhijeet’s eyelids flutter, then he presses a fist into his eyes. The movement appears to hurt his injured shoulder, for he hisses and turns his head to look at it. He frowns, then appears to recall the source of the wounds: he closes his eyes briefly, then opens them and raises his head.

He sees KD.

KD doesn’t really react because he doesn’t want to embarrass Abhijeet. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest and, as Abhijeet looks at him, he gives him a small smile. ‘Good morning’.

‘Good morning’. Abhijeet returns his greeting. He looks around the room and sees KD’s blazer draped over the back of the couch. ‘You…were you here all night?’

This is where I begin to proceed carefully, KD thinks. ‘Yes’, he replies, keeping his voice as light as possible. ‘But I made myself comfortable, don’t worry. Good choice of books, by the way’.

It doesn’t work. Abhijeet lowers his eyes and sits up. He has a little difficulty doing it, but KD doesn’t try to help him—now isn’t the time. He stands there, looking, while Abhijeet begins fiddling with his fingers. They’re both quiet for some time before Abhijeet speaks.

‘I’m sorry for yesterday night’, he says. He sounds small and ashamed and refuses to meet KD’s eyes. ‘You must have thought me crazy, lying on glasslike that…’

He doesn’t finish the sentence. KD moves forward and sits at the edge of Abhijeet’s bed so that he’s facing him without being in his personal space. ‘It was a panic attack, Abhijeet’, he says, ‘it could have happened to anybody. Nothing crazy about it’.

Abhijeet doesn’t seem to hear him. ‘I owe you an explanation, KD’, he says, looking down at his hands. ‘You went through so much trouble for me, you wasted so much time…’

He trails off again. KD’s thankful Abhijeet isn’t looking at him because that means Abhijeet can’t see the look of incredulity spreading over his face. He understands Abhijeet is private, he also understands the need to appear cooland collected all of the time—they’re his own traits, too, for better or for worse—but there’s something very disturbing about how Abhijeet sounds…guilty for having had a panic attack.

He’s hurt, and he’s worried he was a source of trouble for me?

‘Listen, Abhijeet’, he says carefully, ‘you don’t owe me any explanation. None at all. I’m glad to have helped. But if you feel like you need to talk, if there’s anything you’d like to share, you can tell me. Or if there’s anyone in particular you want to talk to, I can get them for you’.

Abhijeet simply shakes his head, still looking down. KD isn’t sure what to do or what the other man wants, so he resorts to a different tactic.

‘How about this’, he says. ‘I’ll ask you a question and you can decide if you want to answer or not. There’s no compulsion—if you can’t or don’t want to, just keep quiet. All right?’

Abhijeet still doesn’t answer—the silence is beginning to unnerve me, it’s like I’m talking to myself—so KD decides to bit the bullet. ‘Okay, first question: are you hungry? I don’t think you ate yesterday night’.

The atmosphere is the room in thick and heavy with the weight of unspoken words, but KD’s ludicrously mundane question about food catches Abhijeet off guard. He looks at KD and smiles in spite of himself. ‘Are you? I don’t recall having asked you to eat dinner last night’.

KD smiles at the joke. ‘Don’t worry, I helped myself. I’ve also saved some for you, if you want it’.

Abhijeet’s smile fades and he shakes his head. ‘No. I’m not hungry’.

It’s a simple enough answer. But, from the way he says it, it doesn’t  sound like he’s talking just about yesterday night. KD catches on to it. ‘Is it because of the panic attack?’ he asks. ‘Or you don’t feel like eating much these days?’

The moment the words leave his lips he knows he’s touched a nerve. Abhijeet raises his head and looks at him so quickly KD’s worried he’ll get whiplash. The lost, sad look is gone for the moment, replaced by Senior Inspector Abhijeet’s incisive gaze. ‘May I ask you a question, KD?’ he says. KD nods.

‘Why are you so concerned?’

Despite knowing that Abhijeet’s looking at him, KD’s unable to prevent the incredulous look from spreading across his face again. ‘Why wouldn’t I be, Abhijeet?’ he replies, hoping he doesn’t sound as surprised as he feels. Abhijeet doesn’t appear to have an answer to his question, because he looks away.

There’s something very wrong here, KD thinks. Let me see if I can get to the bottom of it. He doesn’t intend to pry but, after last night and this morning’s (ongoing) conversation, he’s worried Abhijeet’s safety is at stake.

‘Look, Abhijeet’, he says, his voice honest and open, ‘I don’t claim to be your friend or demand you have to think of me as such, but we’ve known each other for some time, we’ve worked together occasionally, and I have a lot of respect and admiration for you. You’re a good, brave man’. He stops. Abhijeet still isn’t looking at him, but it’s clear he’s listening intently. ‘I don’t want to interfere in your personal life. But I do care if something is troubling you, and I would like to help with it if I can and if you’ll let me.’ He stops again. ‘After all, I’m sure you’d do the same for me or for anyone who needs it’.

‘Other people don’t seem to think so’, Abhijeet says. His voice is wobbly and he sounds like he’s holding back tears. KD isn’t sure what is talking about, so he asks, ‘Who doesn’t? What do you mean?’

Abhijeet doesn’t want to defame his team or the people he’s considered family for a good many years. He’s not sure he’d have heart-to-heart conversations like this with even Tarika or Daya. But he’s so, so tired, and KD sounds so genuinely concerned, that he can’t help himself: the story of the past two weeks spills out of him, to the point where he wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he’d wanted to. He describes his very public arrest and concludes with what caused his attack last night. ‘I don’t remember much of the attack to be honest’, he says. ‘Just bits and pieces. If you hadn’t come, I’d probably have spent the night lying on broken glass’.

KD’s been listening silently, letting Abhijeet talk without interruptions or questions. He’s quiet even after Abhijeet is done speaking and, when he does speak, it’s with the air of a man who’s choosing his words very carefully.

‘I’m a man of law, Abhijeet, and I’ve defended you, DCP Chitrole and Inspector Dave in court, so I’ll begin with that side of things’, he says. ‘I’m sure it must have been a shock to all of you at the time, but I fail to see how your trousers stained with Daya’s blood could have been considered conclusive proof that it was you who hurt him. It didn’t look good for you, I agree, but it definitely didn’t prove you guilty’.

‘Our department has to be above reproach to be credible, KD’, Abhijeet says. At this point it’s become second nature to him to defend his team, come hell or high water, regardless of whether they deserve it. ‘We can’t be seen as protecting one of our own’.

‘Innocent until proven guilty,’ KD counters. ‘And to acknowledge that that applies to CID officers isn’t protecting one of your own. You do know that part of not being above the law means you have the same right to due procedure as any other citizen, right?’

Abhijeet is silent. KD wonders if he’s speaking out of turn but decides to go on. If I don’t speak out and say what I want to, now, it’ll make me a terrible lawyer as well as a terrible human being. ‘And this whole business of your memory being unreliable’, he says, ‘I’m sure you were checked and cleared by a medical board before you were pronounced fit for duty all those years ago. If ACP Sir still has his doubts about it, why did he let you rejoin CID in the first place? And if he did, whatever the reason, I don’t think he ought to hold it over your head like that.’

KD doesn’t know it, but he repeats Tarika’s phrase from when Abhijeet invited her over to lunch. It’s so unexpected that Abhijeet wonders whether the two have met and it's Tarika who's sent KD to look in on him. A look at KD’s face, however, convinces him it’s just a coincidence. He opens his mouth to refute the argument the way he did with Tarika, but the words come out differently than he intended. ‘It’s not a big deal, KD. I don’t know why I’m behaving like this, it’s not the first time’.

He’d meant to diffuse the situation, but his words appear to have the opposite effect as a dangerous gleam comes into KD’s eyes and his face hardens. ‘What?’ I know about Zoraver, but there's more?

KD’s protective concern is so refreshing, so redeeming, so moving after days of having to pretend unaffectedness and forced cheerfulness that, once again, Abhijeet’s defenses slip and he starts to talk. He speaks of Purvi, Daya’s ex-girlfriend who’d accused him of killing her brother, of the time when he thought he’s killed a man in the past and didn’t know what to do about it or who to talk to. He’s coughing by the time he finishes talking and KD fetches him a glass of water. He drinks it in one go.

‘I must seem rather petulant to you, KD’, he says, trying to smile. ‘I’ve been complaining since I woke up’.

KD slowly shakes his head, not so much in rebuttal of Abhijeet’s statement as an effort to convince himself that he is really hearing what he is and it isn’t all a cruel joke.

‘Have you ever spoken about all this to anybody else?’ he asks.

Abhijeet shakes his head tiredly. ‘I don’t want to trouble anyone,’ he says. ‘It’s not so bad, really. I don’t know why I am behaving the way I am’.  He sighs. ‘There’s also—well—frankly, I have my doubts whether I’ll be taken seriously and how much’.

That’s it, KD thinks. That’s the reason. That last line.

His jaw tightens. There’s a great many things he wants to say right now, but it isn’t the right place or time and it isn’t for him to say— he knows he’s right, but he doubts Abhijeet would want to hear them and, anyway, it would be better if Abhijeet came to realize them himself.

But I can’t let this go, either, he thinks. He’s always had something of a selfless, philanthropic streak: his sole reason for wanting to study law was to be able to help people—to help punish the guilty, to help defend the innocent—and he’s never wavered from it, not once. He’s gone, if anything, far and above his line of duty. Abhijeet’s problems aren’t strictly legal, but he’s damned if he’s going to sit and watch this good, brave man slowly break—bit by bit—while putting on a brave face and do nothing about it. There’s also the fact that Abhijeet’s treatment by his team whenever there’s the slightest hint of trouble is disturbingly like harassment. KD knows it’s not—at this point I’m just being melodramatic-- but it definitely feels like it is, given the number of times it has happened and the way everyone appears to have taken for granted that Abhijeet would be all right without actually making sure he is.

He sits quietly for a while, deciding on his next line of approach and what he would bring up in it. He knows Abhijeet is fond and very protective of his junior officers—possibly because he sees in them something of his own young, earnest self—and decides to work on that.

‘Abhijeet’, he says, ‘you’re fond of your younger officers, isn’t it? I’m sure you must be—you must have mentored so many of them, you said just now you’ve tried to shield them whenever possible.’

‘Oh yes’, Abhijeet replies, wondering where this conversation’s going.

KD decides to go for the jugular. ‘Then it surprises me that you set such a bad example for them’.

He gets what he was hoping for—Abhijeet sits up straight, a sudden flash of anger in his eyes. ‘What?’

‘I’m surprised you don’t see it’, KD replies, sounding gentle yet as assertive as he can while not being pushy or intimidating, ‘you defend your juniors, but you never stand up for yourself. You don’t speak up for yourself when you feel you’re being wronged or being imposed upon: you just go back to behaving as if it’s perfectly all right to treat you like dirt and that you’re not hurt or disturbed by it at all. I understand yours is a dangerous job, but I don’t think letting everyone walk over you and then toss you to the side is part of that danger, or one that is inevitable and that you cannot avoid.

‘What you’re doing is basically do as I say, not as I do, Abhijeet. You’re making yourself at least partly responsible for a toxic work culture in your bureau. To an outsider—to me—it appears you people are allowed to get away with abusing colleagues if you can convince yourself—and others—that you’re doing it in the name of duty’. The look of anger comes into Abhijeet’s eyes again, but KD doesn’t stop. ‘You’re one of CID’s biggest names’, he goes on. ‘The whole department—even the public—looks up to you. Have you ever thought about the impression you’re giving them, about what they might be picking up from how you treat not only others but also yourself? If you had been one of my clients, I would have told you to resign and to sue your department for mental harassment a long time ago, if only to set an example of how to deal with bullying in the workplace’.

The last line sounds dramatic to KD’s own ears (it’s true, though—he isn’t really sympathetic to workplace harassment) and he fears he has overplayed his hand. I wonder if I’m about to be thrown out, never to return. Abhijeet looks lost in thought and, when he finally speaks, he says, ‘I never thought of it like that’.

KD keeps quiet, guessing correctly that Abhijeet is pondering over what he just said, twisting the words turning them over in his mind. ‘Tell me, KD’, he says after a pause, ‘you’ve been framed too, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, quite a few times’, KD says. ‘I represented myself in court’.

‘How did Varun take it? Your secretary, Mrs. Billimoria?’

KD smiles, not so much in reminiscence as in gratitude. ‘They never doubted me for a second’, he says. ‘Billie brought food for me. Varun came to meet me twice every day, often thrice. I often wonder whether I would have got through the worst of it if they hadn’t been there for me’.

Abhijeet looks at KD, his eyes soft at the tenderness and the enthusiasm in KD’s voice. KD thinks there’s a look of wistfulness—and is that envy?—in his eyes, but it’s gone so quickly that he wonders if he imagined it. He debates whether to say something more to drive home his idea, but decides against it. I’m glad I told him what I did, but enough of this unexpected pep talk. He moves on to something else.

‘I got Dr. Rastogi to look at your wounds’, he says. ‘He’ll keep things to himself—don’t worry about that—but he did say you’d be better taking a couple of days off.’

‘I don’t know about that’, Abhijeet says. ‘ACP Sir’s in Delhi, and as the second in command I’m supposed to be in charge of things at the bureau’. A sudden thought strikes him. ‘Working while injured, against the doctor’s orders—these ,too, are part of what you call toxic work culture?’ he asks. He sounds like he’s jesting, but KD can tell he really isn’t.

‘Yes’, he replies, firmly. It’s hypocritical—KD who once went to court after being buried alive, after being left to die with a noose around his neck, KD who refuses police protection even when threatened with death—but he doesn’t care. When you’re trying to take the high moral ground, he thinks, hypocrisy often comes with the territory.

‘I won’t deny it, I could do with a break’, Abhijeet says, passing a hand over his face. ‘But I don’t want to shirk my responsibilities. I also don’t want to have to explain to ACP Sir why I’m applying for leave and to answer a thousand questions’.

It’s the closest Abhijeet’s ever got to criticizing ACP Sir in front of him, and KD wonders if his words are already beginning to take effect. He’s careful, however, not to get his hopes too high too quickly.

‘I could talk to DCP Sir, Abhijeet, if you’d like’, he suggests, ‘I could tell him I need you help with one of my cases and to spare you for a couple of days’. He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It’s very unconventional, yes, but I dare say he’d agree. DCP Sir’s fond of me’.

Abhijeet looks at KD and smiles. Then his smile slowly widens, and he laughs. It’s a very welcome sound after last night (and today morning). ‘I wouldn’t be surprised, KD’, he says. His eyes soften. ‘It’s difficult not be fond of you’.

KD’s pleasantly surprised and more than a little delighted at the unexpected compliment and at Abhijeet’s returning humour. Abhijeet’s reply isn’t quite a yes, but it also isn’t a no, and KD decides to consider it an answer in the affirmative. He’s about to say something when Abhijeet catches a glimpse of the clock and nearly jumps out of bed—as well, at least, as he can with his injured arm and shoulder. ‘Good God, look at the time! Don’t you have to go to court?’

‘Today? Not before twelve’, KD says.

‘Wait, then, I’ll make us breakfast’, Abhijeet says, getting up from his bed and brushing aside KD’s offers to do it. ‘While I’m at it I’ll make lunch, too. You’re not going to have time to eat if you have to go to your office from my house and to the court from there’.

He sounds a lot like the familiar Senior Inspector Abhijeet as he walks out of the room. My good deed for the day, KD thinks as he watches at him go. He stands up and follows Abhijeet.

Let me go and see if I can help him, this time with kitchen work.

To be continued…