Shubho Noboborsho – Ishq aur Investigation
Prologue
Mumbai’s April air carried with it a heady mix of warm breeze, blooming gulmohar trees, and festival spirit. It was that time of the year when Bengali households adorned their entrances with alpana patterns and garlands of shiuli flowers. Sweets lined up in silver trays. Sarees rustled, dhotis swayed, and the melody of Rabindra Sangeet wafted from homes like nostalgic lullabies.
But amidst the crimson-red sindoor and golden zari, the city's shadows still lingered.
Even on Pohela Boishakh, crime didn't take a day off. And neither did ETF.
***
The ETF office was unusually quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be with Shree humming Rabindra Sangeet off-key, trying to match pitch while Chotu laughed with every wrong note.
Riya entered in her usual jeans and tee, a large red envelope in hand.
Riya (grinning ear to ear): “Guys, guess what?”
Shree (smirking): “Tu finally gaana sikhne ja rahi hai?”
Riya (eye roll): “Very funny. No. It’s Pohela Boishakh tomorrow. Maa’s insisted you all come home for lunch. And no excuses.”
She waved the envelope like a wand, dropping it in front of them dramatically.
Chotu (wide-eyed): “Bengali khaana? Are we talking about mishti doi, shorshe ilish, luchi aloor dom...?”
Riya (wagging a finger): “Don’t drool already. Just be there. Saree pehnungi. Tum log bhi dhang ke kapde pehno.”
Shree (mock horror): “Saree? You? Tu toh field mein jeans ke saath pistol chalati hai!”
Riya (deadpan): “Main saree mein bhi thappad achha lagati hoon.”
Just then, Arjun Raute entered. Dark shirt. Rolled-up sleeves. Brooding expression. Eyes like storm clouds. The usual.
Riya (grinning, deliberately sing-song): “Aur ACP saab, aap bhi aayenge kal? Maa specially aapke liye patishapta banayengi.”
He looked up from his file. One brow lifted.
Arjun: “Tumhe lagta hai main poetry aur pastries ke liye mission chhod dunga?”
Riya (hands on hips): “Bengali cuisine mein pastry nahi hota. Aur... maa ne specifically bola—ACP Arjun ko zaroor laana.”
Shree (aside to Chotu): “Unki maa bhi Arjun ko pasand karti hai. Riya se toh ho nahi raha!”
Riya (without turning): “Sun liya maine!”
Arjun smirked subtly. But said nothing.
***
The next day, the ETF team stood outside the Mukherjee household, stunned.
Shree (whistling): “Riya ne bola toh tha saree pehnegi... but damn.”
Riya stood at the doorway, wrapped in a white saree with a red border, her thick hair tied into a messy bun, a small red bindi dotting her forehead. Kohl-lined eyes, a small nose pin, gold bangles... and that smug smile.
Riya (teasing): “Dekhna bandh karo. Nazar lag jaayegi.”
Chotu (grinning): “Mujhe toh pehle se hi doubt tha ki Riya undercover apsara hai.”
Shree: “Arjun sir bhi kuch bolenge ya bas aankhon se scan karte rahenge?”
Arjun (flatly): “Saree mein bhi weapon chhupa sakti ho tum. Impressive.”
Riya (sassy): “Aur main chhupa doongi... sirf tab, jab aap bina sarcasm ke tareef karenge.”
Her mother emerged then, giddy with joy. “Tomra deriye gele keno? Asho, asho!” She greeted the team like they were her children, handing over garlands and shoving trays of sweets into their hands.
Inside, the house was festively decorated with rangoli, garlands of marigolds, and the scent of ghee and incense hung in the air.
***
Lunch turned into a culinary riot.
Riya’s brother, Ronit, a college student and wannabe stand-up comedian, walked in just as Riya was trying to stop Shree from stealing his fifth rosogolla.
Ronit: “Tum log CID waale ho ya khaane wale?”
Riya (mocking): “ETF. Not CID. Dimwit.”
Ronit (winking at Arjun): “Aapka toh naam suna hai, sir. Riya ki diary mein bhi padha hain!”
Riya (choking on air): “WHAT?!”
Arjun raised a brow, hiding a chuckle.
Arjun (mock serious): “Tum diary likhti ho, Riya?”
Riya (glaring): “Ronit, ek aur lafz bola na, toh yeh dhoti tumhare gale mein lapet dungi.”
As laughter bubbled around, a neighbor burst into the courtyard. Panic-stricken.
Neighbor (panting): “Riya beta… woh, Rinku… humare building se… woh gayab hai!”
Riya’s expression changed. So did Arjun’s.
Arjun (instantly alert): “Kabse?”
Neighbor: “Subah se. Phone bhi off hai. Aur kal kisi ajeeb aadmi se baat kar rahi thi woh...”
And just like that, ETF was back on duty. Sarees and shorshe forgotten.
***
Within twenty minutes, the team traced Rinku’s last known location—a nearby café. CCTV footage showed her being approached by a man in a mask pretending to offer modeling contracts.
Riya (grim): “It’s the same MO as the modeling racket from last month. Girls go missing. Found two days later... dead.”
Arjun (gritting his jaw): “Yehi toh kaha tha... crime festivals nahi manta.”
Shree tapped away at his laptop. “Sir, us aadmi ka face partially dikha hai. Zoom kar raha hoon.”
Chotu found Rinku’s dupatta behind the café. Fresh.
Riya (steely): “He’s close. He’s watching.”
Arjun (without looking): “Aur tabse hi, tum pe nazar rakhe hue hai.”
She turned to him. Something sharp in her gaze.
Riya (low voice): “Mujhpe ya hum sab par?”
Arjun (just as low): “Tumhare liye concern... tum par nazar... dono alag cheezein hain, Riya.”
There was no time to react. A call came in—Rinku’s phone had pinged from an abandoned flat nearby.
***
They raided the flat.
It was booby trapped.
Arjun pulled Riya back just as a tripwire nearly snapped. She fell into him. Face to face. Saree pallu brushing against his shirt.
Arjun (softly): “Itna passion crime ke liye rakhogi toh kya bachaogi mere liye?”
Riya (heart pounding): “Aapke liye toh... jaan bhi de sakti hoon.”
Silence. Tense. Intimate.
Then a bullet rang out.
Chotu tackled the shooter. Shree chased the second suspect.
Rinku was found, drugged but alive.
Case closed. Saree—bloodstained, but pride intact.
***
Epilogue
Back at the Mukherjee home, post chaos, the team finally sat down for leftover sweets.
Riya (mocking tone): “Dekha Maa? Crime bhi aapka cooking compete nahi kar saka.”
Maa (teasing): “ACP babu ke liye patishapta bacha ke rakha. Khub bhalo chhele.”
Arjun (eating): “Aur badi dangerous beti bhi.”
Ronit (to Shree): “Aap log toh detective ho, batao… ye dono kab shaadi kar rahe hain?”
Riya choked again.
Shree (grinning): “Jab Arjun sir thoda romantic hone lagenge.”
Arjun (dry): “Matlab kabhi nahi.”
Riya (grinning sweetly): “Maa, ek bar aur invitation chahiye. Is baar… engagement ke liye.”
Everyone fell silent.
Arjun looked up.
She winked.
***
Bonus
That evening, post dessert and dhunuchi dance, Riya stood on the rooftop, barefoot, looking up at the moon.
Arjun joined her, hands in pockets.
Arjun (softly): “You risked your life again today.”
Riya (quiet): “Aap bhi toh... har din karte ho. Hum sab karte hain.”
He stepped closer. “Difference hai. Tumhare liye... dil ghabrata hai.”
Riya turned. Eyes moist.
Riya: “Aur mere liye, aap ho... mere har naya saal, har naye din ka resolution.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
Arjun (whispered): “Shubho Noboborsho, Riya.”
And then—finally—he kissed her forehead. Lingering. Intense. Silent promises.
~THE END~
(Or maybe... just the beginning?)
Happy Bengali New Year 
Everyone!
Arre yeh sirf prologue nahi, 
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