~DEMONSINGH'S CORNER~ CID IPL Special Part 1 (Page 24) - Page 2

An Awesome promo... waiitng ahead for it... Good luck

Wow...!!!

Lovely warning 😆
Interesting promo
Waiting for the story
Hoping to read it soon

@demonstar n shrishti
ist of alll
congrats n gud luck for ur joint production 👍🏼

@demonsingh
cid forum duo 😉
welcum both of u on cid forum 😛
jabardast promo 👏
eagirly waiting for demonsingh's story
gud luck

Interesting promo
Waiting for the story

Demonsingh😆..Nice title😆. Abhi sir is right..naam se hi gunda lagta hai🤣. Waiting for next scene at Khalji market😉😉. Briliant idea👏👏👏Ravi bhaiya, Poorvi di.

Im waiting to read it...

Thanks for your support and enthusiasm, all. 😃

Here's our first joint story, as planned, on the occasion of our dearest Ansha ma'am completing 2 great years in CID. We've kept this a bit simple and focused on the characterization. Hope you all enjoy it. Please let us know your valuable views and suggestions for improvement. 😊

"VENGEANCE"

Written by: poorvisinghcd and DemonStar (aka, DemonSingh)

Chapter 1

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.

Chapter 2

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."

Chapter 3

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.

Chapter 4

The fragment of plastic was no larger than a matchbox. The silvery markings of the circuit board were still discernible on the scarred surface as Abhijeet gently nudged aside the sliver of wiring that had struck to it. He gingerly handed it over to the bomb expert, who had been summoned to the bungalow since. The man eyed it closely with a lens for a few minutes before looking back up.

"Lagta hai ye medium intensity ka hi bomb tha, sir", he said. "IED variety lag rahi hai. Pakka nahin keh sakta par bomb banane waala expert nahin lagta."

"Thanks", said Daya, nodding before turning to Abhijeet. "Boss, mujhe toh lagta hai koi Professor Conrad se aapsi dushmani nikaalna chahta tha. Koi professional bomber hota toh unhe hi kyun chunta? Who toh aise kisi kaam mein involved nahin the."

"Haan Daya, par Professor ne toh ACP sir se kaha ki unhe kisi pe shaq nahin hai", replied Abhijeet thoughtfully. "Kahin se toh shuru karna padega. Pata lagate hain ki ye bomb banane ka saaman kahan se liya gaya."

"Itne chhote parts se kuch pata chal paayega?" asked Daya, shooting the expert a quizzical look.

"Mushkil hai, par hum poori koshish karenge sir", replied the man, tenderly placing the bomb fragment in another of the plastic evidence bags on the table. Other recovered bits of the explosive and packaging had already been sorted into seven different bags on it.

"Theek hai. Baaki samples Dr. Salunkhe ke paas bhej dijiye. Chalo Daya, lagta nahin ab yaha aur kuch milega", said Abhijeet, turning to the door.

*****

As the little taxi scuttled over to the bustling Khalji market, Purvi's mind grew more and more restless, buzzing with questions. Who was this bomber, and why had they targeted an affable person like Professor Conrad? Was this shop in Khalji Market a trap? How did they obtain her number, and why had they messaged her alone? Was it because they knew about her familiarity with the Professor? Were the other would-be victims who she thought they were? Where were they? Most importantly, how would she find them in time?

"Khalji Market, madam", mumbled the driver lazily through a mouthful of paan.

Purvi hurriedly thrust the fare on the passenger seat beside him and dismounted. She walked through the market, trying to remain calm as her eyes sharply flicked from one shop to another, looking for the one in question. It took her barely two minutes to find the general store; reassuringly fingering the butt of her pistol, she took a deep breath and walked up to the counter.

"Mr. Shinde?" she asked the obese shopkeeper. "Kya main jaan sakti hoon ki…"

"Aap sub-inspector Purvi hain kya?" asked the man the second he laid his eyes on her.

"…haan", answered Purvi quietly, her body tensing subtly as she prepared for the worst. "Par ye aapko kaise pata?"

"Koi ye chhod gaya aapke liye", he replied warily, thrusting a small white envelope at her.

Perplexed, Purvi gently took the envelope from him and held it against the sun. It was light, and there seemed to be nothing but a fold of paper inside. She looked sharply at the shopkeeper.

"Kisne diya ye tumhe?" she demanded.

"Koi banda tha, ji", answered the man. "Topi-scarf lagaye tha. Lifafa pakdake bola aap aaogi toh hum ye de dein. Bas phir phatt se nikal gaya."

"Aur kuch nahin dekha tumne?" pressed Purvi.

"Nahin ji. Hum ye puliss-vuliss ke maamlon mein nahin padna chahte", said the man tersely.

"Theek hai, thanks", sighed Purvi, rolling her eyes.

She went aside and tore open the envelope, pulling out the paper from within and unfolded it. Scrawled upon it was another frightfully simple message.

7th March, 1998. Tournament against the Francians. Kuch yaad aaya? Ab dikha kya seekha hai CID mein. Apni ma'am ko bacha sakti hai toh bacha le. Aur apne saathiyon se kuch bolne ki sochna bhi mat."

Purvi felt a sudden stab of mingled horror and confusion. This came like a bolt from the blue. She found herself sinking back into her memories, fifteen years ago, to that unforgettable day…

*****

She felt like a coward. She couldn't believe that she had actually been desperate for a timeout. The match had gone from aggressive to downright ruthless. The players of the Francis Engineering College had been leaving no spaces open as the ball passed from one of them to another and through the hoop with the speed of lightning. Her teammates could barely touch it and she had already bruised her knee due to a bad fall minutes ago. All her splendorous performances during the training session suddenly felt empty. She felt like a rookie in a war zone as all hell broke loose. The whistle finally blew, and the pitched battle on the court subsided.

As she sat dejectedly on the bench, tending to her injured knee, the sports teacher walked up next to her. She automatically sprung up respectfully, but the other put a firm hand on her shoulder and eased her back down.

"I'm sorry, Lisa ma'am", she said quietly. "I failed you. Aap sab ki kitni ummedein thi mujhse, par ab…"

"What are you apologizing for, Purvi?" asked Lisa ma'am. "Match toh abhi bhi chal raha hai!"

She looked up. Her teacher wasn't looking sad at all; in fact, her face showed nothing but determination. It only added to her misery. "Yes, ma'am, but aapne dekha ki woh log kaise khel rahe hain. Score 3-26 hai. Nobody in our team seems fast enough, and…"

"You're only weak if you think you are", interrupted Lisa ma'am. "Batao, Purvi, what's the difference between your state of mind before a training session and this final match?"

Purvi stared; the question seemed almost absurd. "Astronomically big difference, ma'am. We're relaxed in a training session, par idhar toh…"

"I know", interrupted her teacher again. "Aur woh kyun hai? Is it not because you're afraid of losing here? Don't you see how fixating on the results alone saps you of all power? Apna talent yaad karo, Purvi. Just think of everything you've done in inter-house matches. Toh phir idhar wohi kyun nahin kar sakti?"

Purvi shook her head helplessly. "But ma'am, dekhiye unn Francians ko. They're taller and faster, and so much more experienced, and…"

"Even the toughest chain has a weak link, my child", said Lisa ma'am quietly. "I'll give you my views, but only you can take it further. I can only say I believe in you."

She gave her brief strategic advice, softly patted her head and left. The timeout was over; the coach's whistle blew. Purvi hardly heard it as she got to her feet and re-entered that battlefield of a basketball court; her mind was suddenly clear and echoing with what her teacher had just said. She was no longer worrying about to the future; her full focus was on her present, there and then.

The circle was formed. The ball was tossed and visible for a nanosecond before the wall of players pounced upon it like sharks on blood. She was no longer being recklessly aggressive, but her eyes followed every movement of her opponents as though in slow motion. She observed their offense and defense. Putting all her experience to test, she entered the fray and, within a minute, had scored three goals all by herself. The full development of the strategy with her teammates ended in them winning the match 56-32.

*****

Her triumph wasn't in the trophy won; it was in the race run. It literally was victory from the jaws of defeat, and she had become a firm believer in the power of "now" – fixating on the present rather than fretting over the results. It was that attitude which had enabled her to earn a position in the CID team as well. And it would never have been possible without Lisa ma'am's life-changing advice.

A car honked loudly nearby and Purvi was drawn back to the horror of her present. The fact was undeniable – this mysterious man was after her college teachers. And he knew her well enough to be familiar with this match. But who was it, going to this length to obtain revenge for an unknown offense? She had always been an amiable and friendly person in college, never picking fights or getting into arguments. And yet, somebody obviously bore a grudge against her or her teachers, or both. She had to do something.

Was her phone being tapped? She had no idea who this man was or how far his influence stretched. She wanted to inform her teammates… but what if the enemy found out and killed the lady? Making her decision, she strode into the general store and, ignoring the shopkeeper's protest, slipped into a corner from where the market street was not visible.

"Ye aap kya kar rahi ho, ji?" blurted the man. "Main aapko bola na, puliss-vuliss ke maamlon mein…"

"Ye Samsung Galaxy S3 hai na. Ismein Internet connection hai?" whispered Purvi, pointing to his phone and sharply gesturing him to speak quietly.

"Ji", answered the man, uncomfortable but wary.

"Dekho, mujhe bas 1 minute ka kaam hai. Tumhe kuch bhi nahin hoga", she said, holding her hand out for the phone.

Perhaps her expression was more aggressive than intended, because the man silently handed her the phone with a visible gulp. She browsed and found the phone number of her college. She called the college office and managed to find Mrs. Lisa's landline and mobile numbers. She called the mobile, only to find out that it was in some repair shop. She called the landline and a servant answered, informing her that Lisa ma'am was out shopping.

"Kya? Kahan pe?" asked Purvi tensely.

"Deluxe Mall mein, madam", answered the servant. "Bus pakad ke gayi thi do ghante pehle."

"Kaunsi bus, kuch pata hai?" said Purvi desperately.

"Woh toh hamesha uss neeli bus mein aati hain, hare stripe waali", came the reply.

Purvi knew this blue bus with a green stripe, Bus 301, having boarded it several times herself. She called the Bus Station and confirmed that the bus had indeed picked up passengers from the Deluxe Mall earlier. Unfortunately, the station manager was not able to contact the driver or conductor to stop the bus. Purvi disconnected, returned the perplexed shopkeeper's phone with a hasty thanks and left the shop, keeping an eye out for anybody watching her. How would she get to the bus now? Before she could think further, her mobile beeped again. It was another SMS; a cold one-liner.

Teri jaankaari ke liye, bas 15 minutes bache hain.

Purvi dearly wished she could get this number tapped and find out who this creep was. But it was far too risky and time was short – saving Lisa ma'am was her priority. Everything else could be done after that. She walked over to a lone motorbike in the corner on which sat a man chatting away on his phone.

"Officer Purvi, CID", she said firmly, showing him her badge. The guy sprang up at once and began nervously stammering something about a court case, but she waved it away and continued. "Dekhiye, logon ki jaann khatre mein hai. Mujhe issi waqt aapki bike chahiye. Kaam hone ke baad wapas de dungi."

"Jaan khatre mein?" repeated the man blankly.

"Haan. Koi nuksaan hua toh aapko compensation mil jaayega. Please!" she said, hopping over onto the seat and holding her hand out for the keys.

"Par… theek hai, ma'am", said the man meekly, handing over his keys. She nodded and pulled his helmet over her head; her long black hair glistened silkily in the sunlight as she tossed it back.

Chapter 5

"Kismat acchi thi jo woh bach gaye", said Daya, staring ahead as he drove. "Warna aisa bomb toh…"

"Ek minute, Daya", said Abhijeet sharply, pointing out of the window at the market. "Woh Purvi hai na?"

Daya pulled over the Qualis, and both of them looked over at the girl on a parked motorbike taking keys from a nervous-looking man and pulling on the helmet.

"Haan boss, Purvi hi hai", said Daya incredulously. "Par ye toh ACP sir aur Freddy ke saath thi na? Phir yahaan kya kar rahi hai? Aur ye iski bike kyun le rahi hai?"

"Poochna padega", said Abhijeet firmly, dismounting and walking into the market. "Purvi! PURVI!"

But she was out of earshot, and had already started up the motorbike. His calls were clearly no longer audible over its engine. She kicked back the pedals and drove off towards the opposite street. Abhijeet ran to the spot where she was, but she'd sped out of sight.

"Kyun li usne aapki bike?" said Daya to the owner, catching up from behind.

"Woh boli ki CID officer hai, logon ki jaan khatre mein hai", said the bewildered man. "Kya sa'ab, kahin woh ladki chor toh…"

"Nahin nahin, hai woh officer hi", said Abhijeet distractedly, turning to Daya. "Par Daya, ye chakkar kya hai? Kiski jaan khatre mein hai? Usne humein bataya kyun nahin?"

"Ussi se poochna padega, Abhijeet", said Daya, pulling out his phone and dialing. He persisted and gave up after three tries. "Phone nahin utha rahi hai!"

"Gadbad hai, Daya", said Abhijeet darkly. "ACP sir se bolna padega."

*****

Purvi sped through the city onto the Carson road, a desolate forested area. She guessed that the network coverage was weak here, reason why the bus driver and conductor were unable to be reached. Her phone vibrated; she knew it must be Daya sir again. With a heavy heart, she ignored it another time. She knew she was on the correct route; now it was a question of finding the bus and stopping it. She glanced at her watch – ten minutes left. She cranked the speed up to 90 and whizzed down the road.

A few minutes later, the blue form of the bus materialized in front of her. She accelerated until the bike had caught up with it, and sped up to the driver's window.

"Hey! Roko bus ko!" she yelled at him.

The man squinted at her, folk music blaring from the stereo inside. "Toh jaa na? Dekh kyun rahi hai?"

"Kya?" screamed Purvi. "Arre main keh rahi hoon BUS KO ROKO!"

"Arre peeche likha hai na, haaran bajaane ka!" drawled the man, pulling up his window.

He was clearly too engrossed in his music to understand anything. She wanted to pound the door, but had no way to do so. She yelled out again; this time, the conductor appeared and briefly pulled down the window.

"Hey ladki, khaali road matlab ye nahin ki racing shuru kar degi!" he bellowed before she could say anything. "Ab nikal le warna police ko bulaunga!" Ignoring her protest, he pulled up the window again. Purvi could see passengers looking at her curiously out of the windows.

She glanced at her watch again – six minutes to go. Ab yahi karna padega, she thought. She decelerated until her bike was level with the rear door of the bus. She pulled off her helmet and threw it back without a second look. She steered until the door's handles came within her reach and, steeling herself, lunged out to grab it with her left hand. The bike swerved violently, but she held on a moment longer before gritting her teeth and letting go completely to seize the door with both hands. With a great push, she pulled herself over as the motorbike slipped away from under her legs and went crashing into the undergrowth to the left.

She pounded the door furiously until it was finally opened and several hands ushered her in. Only now did she become aware of people screaming and gasping; passengers, conductor and even the driver were looking at her with a mixture of confusion, shock and anger. She also became aware of a throbbing pain in her right wrist and ankle.

"Paagal ho gayi hai kya?" breathed the conductor. "Kaun hai tu, aur kya…"

"Sub-inspector Purvi, CID", interrupted Purvi loudly. "Turant bus roko - aap sab ki jaan khatre mein hai." Ignoring their collective gasp of horror, she called out loudly, "Lisa ma'am! Aap hain yahan?"

"Purvi?" called out a lady from the far left, moving towards her for a closer look. "Oh God… my child, tum yahan?"

"Sorry ma'am, I need to check that", said Purvi without preamble, walking over and holding a hand out for her bag.

Her teacher handed it over with a look of confusion and fear. Purvi ruffled through the groceries and cans inside until her hand found a large tin of what apparently was canned fruit, except that it was twice as heavy. She pulled it out and examined it. Now that the bus had been pulled over and its engine stopped, a faint ticking was audible upon putting the can to her ear.

"Aap sab log peeche hat jaaiye", she commanded, moving through them and out of the door. She glanced at her watch – 45 seconds left. Without looking back, she ran off into the jungle, looking for any safe spot to dispose of the bomb. Time was running out. Her mind was clear; she needed to get back alive, there were others in need of her. As this thought entered her mind, she saw an old abandoned well materialize in the foliage ahead of her.

*****

The passengers had gotten out of the bus, worried faces all pointed towards the forest into which their savior had disappeared. None of them noticed the man who stood hidden several feet away behind a thick banyan tree, his black motorbike parked against it. It hadn't gone as planned, but the situation was under control. He could shoot the sports teacher once Purvi had been eliminated. He glanced at his watch. Three… two… one…

There was a great, muffled blast from the forest. A grin lit up his lank lips; primary target down. The passengers were all crying out with horror and shock; the teacher had walked out to the edge of the forest and looked on the verge of hysteria. All the better, he thought as he silently pulled his silenced 9mm pistol out of the holster. Before he could equip it, there was a collective gasp and small cheer from the crowd. He looked at the forest and did a double-take. Purvi was walking out it, looking almost completely unhurt except for a slight limp.

He couldn't believe it. Hastily he drew his phone and dialed a number.

"Boss, woh toh bach gayi", he said once his call was answered. "Yahan toh hero bana diya hai use."

The line was silent, but he could almost sense his boss seething in silent rage and bitterness.

"Dono ko uda do, abhi", came the answer.

"Ho jaayega, boss", he smiled, disconnecting and preparing his weapon for assault.

Chapter 6

Meanwhile, in the forensic lab…

"Salunkhe, kuch pata chala?" the ACP asked as he entered the lab, assisted by two of his officers.

"Boss, itna hi samajh aaya hai ki ye kaafi low intensity ka bomb tha", the forensic expert replied as he adjusted his glasses.

"Arre Salunkhe sir, ye baat hume uss bomb expert ne bata di thi. Aap kuch naya batiye na!"

"Yaar Freddy, kuch hona bhi toh chahiye na. Philal itna kuch malum nahi pada hai, lekin haan iss bomb ke upar se mujhe mujhe jala hua polythene mila hai, aur iss bomb ko banane mein polythene ka istemaal nahi hua hai ye mein keh sakta hoon kyunki woh polythene bomb ke upri hisson mein scattered hai."

"Yaani Salunkhe, ye bomb kisi polythene ke cheez ke andar tha?"

"Haan, lag toh yahi raha hai, Pradyuman."

"Sir, ek baat toh saaf hai ki blast karne waala inhe maarna nahi chahta tha, warna itne low intensity ka bomb kyun rakhta?", the third officer spoke.

"Haan Shreya, magar kyun? Aur yaad hai, uss bomb expert ne kaha tha ki bomb banane waala koi bada gyaani nahi hai uss field mein", the ACP said.

"Par sir, kissi ki proffesor se kya dushmani hai?"

"Woh toh blast karne waala hi batayega, Freddy."

"ACP sir!" Senior inspectors Abhijeet and Daya entered the lab.

"Haan Abhijeet, Daya… kuch pata chala?"

"Sir, philal itna kuch malum toh nahi hua, lekin..."

"Kya hua Daya?"

"Sir, woh Purvi..."

"Kya hua Purvi ko???" The ACP asked anxiously.

"Sir, pata nahi usse kya ho gaya. Humaari aankhon ke saamne usne ek aadmi ki bike li aur uspe chali gayi. Aur phir humne usse call karne ki koshish ki toh phone nahi utha rahi hai", Daya said.

"Kya!! Purvi uss admi ki bike leke chali gayi aur tum logon ka phone bhi nahi uthaya?" The ACP repeated curiously.

"Haan sir, magar ek baat samajh nahi aayi – woh aap logon ke saath thi toh Khalji Market kyun aayi?"

"Kya, Khalji Market? Par Abhijeet, woh toh mujhse ye kehke gayi thi ki uske Papa ki tabyat kharab hai, toh ghar jaa rahi hai!" The ACP exclaimed. Everyone was silent for a moment, in deep thought regarding their officer's strange behaviour.

"Sir!" Inspector Shreya interrupted the silence. "Main Purvi ke ghar mein call karke dekhun ki uske pita theekh hai ki..."

"Haan Shreya", a worried ACP said. "Pehle ye pichla case aur ab Purvi ka ye ajeeb vyavahar. Kuch toh gadbad hai."

*****

This was the first time in her life that Inspector Purvi had handled a bomb and saved so many lives all by herself. Though she felt great from inside, she also shivered slightly with the shock of the near-deathly event which had just taken place. As all the passengers cheered and applauded her, she looked up and smiled at her college professor.

"Aap theek hain, Lisa ma'am?" she asked feebly.

Lisa touched her student's face, and looking at her with tears in her eyes said, "Haan, my child, tumhaare kaaran".

On one hand a happy student-teacher reunion was taking place, while just a few meters away a man hidden behind the bushes was taking aim at the two. With a notorious smile, he placed his arm on the trigger of his pistol. He was just about to pull it when suddenly his phone buzzed. He put his weapon down and pulled out his phone. The word "BOSS" blinked on the screen. He hastily answered it.

"Haan boss!"

"Tumne unhe uda diya?"

"Ah…woh...abhi karne hi vaala thi k…ki aapka phone aa gya", he stammered, quickly stepping back behind the tree in case anybody noticed him.

"Ah, accha kiya. Unhe mat maaro abhi. Uss Purvi ko agar abhi mar daala to usse mukti mil jaayegi. Main usse itni jaldi, itni asaani se mukt nahi hone dungi! Tadpa tadpa ke marungi. Itna tadpaungi, itna bhagaungi ki usse afsos hoga apne ateet mein kiye gaye uss karm pe", the boss said, followed by a loud peal of laughter.

"Toh ab kya karna hai, boss?" asked the bewildered man.

"Tu bas uska peecha karta reh, aur mujhe updated rakh. Tab tak main usse thoda aur bhagati hoon. Ek kaam kar, main abhi jaisa batati hoon ek SMS bhej."

The man holstered his weapon and, suppressing a grunt of impatience, did as told. He was getting sick of this woman's fickle-mindedness. Yet, he couldn't complain – he had been hired to do her biddings.

*****

"Lisa ma'am…" Purvi said softly again as she held her teacher's hand.

"I am proud of you, my child. Main jaanti thi ki ek din tum zarur kuch badi banogi", her teacher interrupted.

"Thank you soo much, ma'am. Bas aapki madat se."

"Ye tum kya keh rahi ho, my child? Maine kya kiya hai? Tum jo bhi ho aapne bal par ho."

"Nahi ma'am, agar aapne uss din mujhe positive sochna nahi sikhaya hota toh main shayad ye nahi hoti. Par ma'am, philhaal aapki jaan ko khatra hai. Mein aapko ghar le chalti hun."

Just then her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and read the text.

Shaabash, wah! Dhoom dekhke aayi hai kya? Bada hi mast stunt karti ho. Badhaaiyan, apni Lisa ma'am ki jaan jo bacha li. Ab jab tune unhe unke ghar tak chodne ka vaada kar diya hai toh chal, aachi baachi ki tarah promise pura kar le aur saans bhi le le. Bohot hi jald tujhe ek aur SMS milega, lekin iss beech – I repeat – apne teammates se dur reh, aur kisi aur ko kuch bhi bola to sab ke sab marenge. Tu bhi, aur tere teachers bhi!

"Kya hai, Purvi?" asked Lisa, looking curiously at her.

"Oh… kuch nahin, ma'am", said Purvi, stowing away her phone and arranging her expression into a composed one. Her heart was seething with fury; she had had enough of this game. She walked back to the passengers and asked, "Yahan aas-paas koi taxi milegi kya?"

"Yes, ma'am – idhar se half kilometre door ek stand hai", said one of them.

"Thanks", replied Purvi as she quietly scanned the entire area sharply. She could see the tiniest portion of a black motorbike leaning behind a tall tree several feet away. As she watched, for the briefest second, she glimpsed two dark eyes watching her from behind the thick bush at the roots. She looked away casually, as though she hadn't noticed, but her cogs were whirring. A plan was in motion.

Chapter 7

"Sir!" Inspector Shreya said as she returned the forensic lab which she had left in order to make the phone call.

"Haan, shreya?" The ACP asked curiously.

"Sir, Purvi ke pita puri tarah se theekh hain, aur unhone na toh Purvi ko call kiya, na hi Purvi apne ghar gayi!" Shreya said heavily.

"Kya! Ye tum kya keh rahi ho, Shreya? Purvi ne mujhse jhooth bola!" exclaimed the ACP.

"Haan sir, aisa hi lagta hai", Shreya said.

"Sir, par woh aisa kyun kar rahi hai?" Abhijeet asked.

"Boss, ye to wohi batayegi, par phone utha hi nahi rahi hai", Daya said.

"Boss, ye Purvi badi kamaal ki ladki hai. Hamesha aise hi gayab ho jaati hai aur baad mein pata chalta hai ki vo kidnapped... boss vo kidnapped to nahi?" Dr. Salunkhe asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Arre nahi nahi, Dr. sa'ab. Humne Purvi ko iss admi ke bike pe bhagte hue dekha!" Abhijeet said.

"Purvi kuch chupa rahi hai, sir", Freddy said.

"Sir, kahin woh kisi musibat mein to nahin?" Shreya said quietly.

The ACP raised his eyebrow. "Ho sakta hai!"

*****

The cops were all in the bureau having a warm cup of tea to freshen their minds as well as discussing about the case.

"Yaar Daya, Purvi ka ye ajeeb bartaav aur uske professor ke ghar pe blast ka kuch toh sambhand hai zarur", remarked Abhijeet, sipping his drink thoughtfully.

"Haan Abhijeet, mujhe bhi aisa hi lagta hai. Par kya?" Daya said.

"Daya, par ye Purvi aakhir kahan gayi hai?" said the ACP exasperatedly.

"Sir!" Freddy said, entering.

"Haan Freddy?"

"Sir, Purvi ke phone ko trace kiya toh malum pada ki woh abhi Luni road mein hai. Signal weak hai, par confirmed hai."

"Accha? Sir, Luni road chalein kya?" Abhijeet said.

Before the ACP could reply, Shreya entered.

"Sir!"

"Haan Shreya?"

"Sir, abhi thodi der pehle Carson road pe ek bomb blast hua tha!"

"Kya?" the ACP exclaimed.

"Haan sir. Abhi abhi police se report aayi hai. Aur sir, aap yakin nahi karenge, uss blast ke gavahon ne kaha ki officer Purvi ne unhe bachaya!" Shreya said, her eyes wide.

"Kya! Purvi ne?" Daya sir exclaimed, springing to his feet.

"Haan sir."

"Shreya, blast kitne baje hua tha??" Freddy asked.

"Sir, aaj dopeher 1:00 baje."

"Sir, 1:00 baje Purvi ka phone bhi Carson road pe hi tha!" Freddy said.

"Kya? My god, Purvi ko malum tha ki vahan blast hone wala hai par hume nahi bataya! Kyun??" The ACP said loudly.

"Sir, kahin Purvi ki koi majburi to nahin?" Abhijeet said.

"Kuch samajh nahi aa raha, Abhijeet, ho kya raha hai."

"Aur sir", Shreya continued, "Woh bomb kisi Lisa ke bag mein se nikla tha, aur ek gavah ne kaha ki Purvi usse maam-maam keh rahi thi!"

"Sir, kahin ye bhi Purvi ki koi teacher to nahin?" remarked Daya.

"Haan Daya, mil gaya sambandh; lagta hai ye joi koi bhi hai jo blast kar raha hai, Purvi ke hi teachers ko target kar raha hai."

"Par sir, Purvi humse kyun bhag rahi hai?" Daya wondered.

Just then, the ACP's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.

"ACP Pradyuman here", he said regally.

"Hello ACP ji, namaste. Kaise hain aap?" said a plain female voice.

"Huh? Kaun ho tum?" said the ACP.

"Sir, mere baare mein nahi, Purvi ke baare mein sochiye", said the woman with a tone measured in calmness and malice. The ACP immediately put the phone on speaker as she continued. "Aapko samajh na aaya ho toh main ye keh rahi hoon ki Purvi mere paas hai."

"Kya bakwaas kar rahi ho?" retorted the ACP as the others exchanged shocked looks.

"Kya sir, aapko sach bhi bakwaas lag raha hai?" she jeered with a harsh snort of laughter.

"Seedhe-seedhe baat karo. Purvi kahan hai?"

"Bola na mere paas hai, sir. Uski aawaz sunni hai?"

There was a brief pause, followed by a light breath and faint footsteps.

"Hello, sir", came a weighty, yet dulcet tone from the other end. "Sir, mujhe please bacha lijiye sir…"

"Purvi!!" exclaimed the ACP. Behind him, Shreya's mouth fell open. Abhijeet and Daya frightfully eyed each other. "Tum... ye log kaun hain? Tum kahan…"

"Bas, ACP!" snarled the caller's voice. "Apni Purvi ki awaaz dobara sunni hai toh apne team ke saath Mount Chelsea pohcho 6:00 baje tak! Agar nahi aaye toh Purvi ki laash bhijva dungi tere bureau. Ek minute bhi late hoge toh ye nahin bachegi. Koi chal chali, ya koi hoshiyaari dikhaayi di toh Purvi ki laash bhi nahi milegi! Aap sab usse bohot pyaar karte hain na? Toh phir main jaanti hoon ki aap zarur aayengey. See you there!" Saying, so she disconnected.

ACP looked up to see all his oficers exchanging more nervous and uncertain glances.

"Sir, ab kya karein?" Daya said

ACP eyed each of his officers in turn, and then closed his eyes.

"Mujhe toh gadbad lag rahi hai, sir", said Abhijeet darkly. "Purvi koi bacchi hai kya ki aise hi kidnap kar lenge? Aur aakhir ye lady thi kaun?"

"Sir", Freddy said, "Ye koi bohot badi chaal lagti hai."

"Par Freddy sir, hume Purvi ki jaan ke saath khilvaad nahi karni chahiye!" Shreya said. "Hum usse marne nahi de sakte –"

'Purvi ek CID officer, Shreya", interrupted the ACP, his eyes still closed. "Maut usse kabhi bhi embrace kar sakti hai, aur hum sab ye jaante hain!"

The bureau was silent as a grave. Every eye was fixed on the senior as he slowly opened his eyes and turned to face them. His expression was as unfathomably stern as they had ever seen it, and yet Abhijeet and Daya had felt the tiniest crack in his voice as he spoke.

"Par sir", said Shreya pleadingly, "Jab humaare paas mauka hai toh –"

"Mauka?" repeated the ACP loudly. "Shreya, CID kisi mujrim ke saath bas aise hi deal nahin karti. Aakhir isne humein Mt. Chelsea bulaya hi kyun?"

"Shayad attack karne ke liye", said Shreya angrily. "Toh phir hum bhi ladenge. Par sir, agar hum nahin gaye toh… aapne suna Purvi kaise madad ke liye –"

"Wohi toh", said Daya quietly. "Tumne pehle kabhi Purvi ko aise madad ke liye bheek maangte suna? Chahe woh kitni bhi musibat mein ho?"

"Nahin, sir", said Freddy, "par aawaz to bilkul Purvi ki hi lag rahi thi..."

"Par Daya ki baat bhi sach hai, Freddy", said the ACP darkly. "Purvi jaanti hai what the stakes are. Pehle uska woh bartaav aur gayab hona, aur ab ye phone call, kuch hazam nahi ho raha."

"Yaani sir, hum nahi jaayengey?" Abhijeet asked quietly.

"Abhijeet, jaana toh padega hi. Hum koi risk nahin le sakte hain. Purvi dusron ki jaan bachaate shaheed ho jaaye to mujhe garv hoga, par agar woh aise ek criminal ke haathon mar jaati hai toh main khud ko kabhi maaf nahi karunga. Hum zarur jaayenge, baad mein jo hoga vo dekha jaayega!"

All of them nodded slowly, apprehensively but firmly.

"Par abhi 6:00 bajne mein 30 minutes hain. Freddy, pata lagao ye phone kahaan se aaya tha", said the ACP firmly. "Shreya – pata karo Purvi Luni road pe kahan hai."

(Continued in the next post.)