Oh ji, main keya, hello ji! Here's part 10 of this Surlie FF... with a lot of drama... DISCLAIMER: Back in the game of fiction writing after a decade, so har baar ki tarah expectations low rakhna... Here goes nothing...
AJEEB DASTAAN HAI YE...
CHAPTER 10
As the night wore on, Imlie couldn't help but steal glances at Surya's solemn face. The harsh lights seemed to cast a resolute aura around the wounded man. No, she won't just sit around waiting for the next bullet to find Surya. He might be the cop, but she was now going to be his secret weapon in this investigation.
The next morning, with his arm in a sling and Imlie and Arjun supporting his tall frame, Surya was walking out of the hospital when he received a call from an unknown number. The voice on the other end sent a new wave of chills down his spine. A calm, almost amused voice purred, "Surya, Surya, Surya... Tsk, Tsk. You are such a disappointment!”
"Guru," Surya acknowledged, his voice devoid of emotion. Hearing his name, Imlie and Arjun immediately looked up. Surya signalled Arjun to ask someone to trace the call while giving Imlie a reassuring look.
The voice on the other end slithered in, smooth as oil and laced with a chilling faux-friendliness. "How delightful to know you remember my voice."
Surya gritted his teeth. "Not so delightful for you, I imagine. Considering how we just seized your biggest shipment till date."
"You think this is over? Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Consider this a friendly chat, a concerned old foe offering… advice," A sardonic chuckle escaped Guru.
"Friendly chats don't involve veiled threats, Guru," Surya countered, refusing to be cowed. The memory of their past confrontations in Hyderabad, each laced with thinly veiled threats of violence, failed to break his resolve.
"Threats? My dear, you wound me." Guru Bhai's voice hardened like steel. "I’m merely a concerned citizen offering his perspective. After all, your persistence in this little investigation is becoming… tiresome."
"Tiresome for you, you mean?" Surya shot back, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Your little empire built on misery is finally facing the heat, and you don't like it. Eh?"
"Empire? My, my, you flatter me, Surya. I'm a humble businessman catering to… a specific clientele," Guru retorted, the veneer of innocence slipping. "But even empires crumble. And sometimes, the collateral damage is… unfortunate!"
A cold dread washed over Surya. He knew Guru wasn't above any brutality. The man revelled in chaos, a puppeteer pulling strings in the shadows. "Don't you dare…" Surya growled, the words a low rumble in his throat.
"Dare what?" Guru feigned innocence, but the underlying menace couldn't be masked. "Perhaps mention your charming sister, Sonali? Your lovey-dovey Chacha-Chachi? Or your delightful little nephew Ashu? Accidents happen and people die, wouldn't you agree?"
Surya felt a surge of nausea. Guru knew! The man had eyes and ears everywhere, a spider at the centre of a web of twisted loyalty. Panic threatened to engulf him, a vision of his family’s terrified faces flashing in his mind.
"You touch any of them-" Surya snarled, a desperate edge creeping into his voice.
"Ah, but officer," Guru's voice purred, a predator savouring its prey's fear, "that's the beauty of it. I won't have to touch them. An unfortunate mugging, a stray bullet in the wrong alley… these things happen. But of course, the investigation will lead right back to you. A whistleblower, perhaps? Someone recently disgruntled with your… overzealous methods."
The calculated coldness in Guru's voice sent a shiver down Surya's spine. This wasn't just about threats; it was a twisted game of chess, and Guru was a master manipulating the pieces, preying on his fear to force a retreat.
"You think fear will stop me?" Surya forced out, his voice regaining its strength with each syllable. He wouldn't let Guru win, wouldn't let fear dictate his actions. He'd expose him, dismantle his operations, and ensure justice for Agastya, even if it meant walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers.
A tense silence followed, heavy with unspoken threats and simmering defiance. Finally, Guru spoke, the amusement gone, replaced by a cold, predatory glint. "A pity, then. Consider this a declaration of war. And in war, there are casualties."
The line went dead. Surya stared at the phone, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Fear was there, undeniable, a cold serpent slithering in his gut. But so was a steely resolve.
He wouldn't be intimidated. He wouldn't let Guru win and will fight back with every resource at his disposal. Taking a deep breath, Surya dialled a number."Chowpatty? Surya this side. We need backup. Oh, and meet me back at the mansion. Now!"
The war was on!
The late afternoon sunlight slanted through curtains, casting long shadows across the grand living room. Surya winced as he shifted his weight. His normally booming voice was a low rasp, a product of the bullet wound still blooming purple on his chest beneath a bandage. He saw the worried look on his team and Imlie’s faces.
"Alright, you guys, cut the long faces," he grunted, forcing a smile that sent a fresh wave of pain through him. "I got a bullet in me, not a funeral wreath."
Imlie shot him a glare that could curdle milk. "Easy for you to say. We almost lost you."
Tripathy, his brow furrowed, chimed in, "And now he's threatening the family? It's not right, sir. Let us move them to a safe house."
Surya sighed, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. "It's the only play," he muttered, the words laced with frustration. "Guru was never one to bluff. That shipment we seized hit him hard, and now he's cornered."
The name Guru hung heavy in the air. Arjun could almost feel the heat from the warehouse raid again, the echo of gunfire.
Meanwhile, Surya’s gaze drifted towards a framed picture on the mantelpiece – his family’s portrait with Agastya, their faces radiating pure joy. The image brought a fresh pang of worry. He couldn't bear the thought of dragging them into this dark world.
"We'll get them set up at Pagdandiya," Tripathy said, his voice firm. "It's the most secure facility we have in this area."
Surya nodded, with the image of his family refusing to leave him flashing in his mind. "Dadi will fight it, of course. She's got a backbone of steel."
"I can handle her," Imlie offered with a confident smile. "Besides, she wouldn't want to put anyone in danger."
"You know her the best, Imlie," Surya chuckled, a hint of his old warmth returning. "She'll probably try to pack a rolling pin for protection."
A ghost of a smile flickered across Imlie's lips. "Tell you what," she said, her voice softening. "Let your team get them settled in, then after we're done with the case, we'll train her on basic self-defence. How's that?"
The idea brought a genuine laugh from Surya, the pain momentarily forgotten. "Sounds like a plan," he rasped, a wave of relief washing over him. "But she'll probably end up teaching us a thing or two about rolling pin combat."
The room erupted in laughter, the tension momentarily broken. The image of Dadi wielding a rolling pin against Guru's goons was both hilarious and surprisingly believable. She was after all fiercely protective, a trait that was both exasperating and endearing. They knew she wouldn't go down without a fight...
"Alright, enough chatter," Surya said, his voice regaining its authority. "We need to get a move on. Tripathy, I want you to brief the family. Explain them the situation, and assure them that it's temporary. Discreetly, of course."
"On it, sir," Tripathy replied, already reaching for the door.
Once he left, Surya turned to Arjun, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thanks. You guys are really keeping the team together, even with me out of commission."
Arjun met his gaze, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Just get well soon, sir. We need you back in the field. This isn't over. Guru won't just back down after this."
Surya allowed himself a small smile. He knew this was far from over. But he wouldn't let Guru win. He'd get back on his feet, back on the case, and bring that coward to justice. It was a promise he made not just to his family, but to his team. And he wouldn't let anyone down.
***
The air crackled with a tension thicker than the summer heat. Surya had his phone clutched tightly in his hand.
While Imlie sat perched on the edge of the sofa, her gaze flicking from Surya to Sonali, who sat rigid, her back ramrod straight.
"Safe house! Why?" Sonali's voice was laced with ice.
Surya sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Didi, it's not up for debate. Guru made it clear he'll go after anyone close to me. You, Chacha-Chachi, Ashu…" The thought of that innocent child getting caught in the crossfire sent a pang through his heart.
"So you think hiding us away like scared rabbits is the answer?" Sonali shot back, her voice rising. "We’re not leaving you two to face this alone. Especially not with that maniac out there."
Imlie, ever the brave heart, interjected. "Jiji is right. We can't just abandon you. We need to fight fire with fire."
Surya sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "I know you both want to help, but it's too dangerous. Guru has eyes everywhere. You'll be sitting ducks if…"
"Last I checked, I’m still your elder sister, Surya. So, I call the shots! We will face this together." Sonali countered, her voice laced with a quiet fury.
A wave of helplessness washed over Surya. He understood her stance. But he wouldn't want to leave his family defenceless either. The thought of them being collateral damage in his war with Guru was a terrifying prospect, especially when he had just found them.
"There has to be another way," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Imlie, her eyes gleaming with an idea, leaned forward. "What if we send rest of the family to the safe house? While the three of us could stay here, keeping a low profile."
Sonali considered this for a moment, her frown softening slightly."That might actually work!"
A flicker of hope ignited in Surya's eyes. "You think you can handle this?" he asked the stubborn ladies.
Imlie flashed a confident smile. "Between your skills as a cop, Sonali jiji’s sharp mind, and my… well... persuasive skills, Guru has no escape!"
Surya let out a relieved chuckle. Imlie always seemed to find a way. He looked at Sonali, his gaze pleading. "What do you say, Didi?"
Sonali met his gaze, a determined glint in her eyes. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
A ghost of a smile touched Surya's lips. With his sister and Imlie by his side, he wasn't afraid. They will face Guru together, and they will win.
***
The crimson tide rose again, relentless and suffocating. Surya thrashed in his sleep-soaked sheets, the white linen a stark contrast to the blood he could taste, metallic and thick. His chest, recently a canvas of sutures and throbbing pain, was on fire.
He gasped, a strangled cry escaping his lips. The grand four-poster bed loomed over him, its ornate carvings blurring at the edges of his vision. His heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs, mirroring the relentless rhythm of the nightmare.
In the dream, the warehouse glimmered, a distorted reflection of the one he’d chased Guru’s men in. Gunshots echoed, the air thick with the acrid tang of gunpowder. He stumbled, a searing pain erupting in his chest, stealing his breath.
A strangled cry soon escaped his lips, morphing into a name – "Agastya."His dead brother's face, a heartbreaking tapestry of grief and worry, swam in his vision. Then darkness.
A gentle hand on his shoulder jolted him awake. Disoriented, he blinked rapidly, the grandeur of his room swimming back into focus. Imlie, in a simple white cotton saree, with her long braid a cascade of black against her pale skin, eyes wide with concern, stood beside the bed.
"Surya? You alright?" Her voice, a familiar melody, cut through the haze of terror clinging to him.
He tried to answer, but his throat felt raw, sandpaper against his tongue. He managed a weak nod, the movement sending a fresh jolt of pain through his chest. He winced, a guttural groan escaping his lips.
Imlie’s concern deepened. She fluffed his pillows, propping him up against the headboard. She held a glass of cold water to his lips, her touch light and cool against his burning skin.
He sipped gratefully, the water a small comfort in the desert of his terror. Slowly, his ragged breathing subsided, replaced by shallow gasps. The crimson tide in his dream receded, leaving behind a dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of his recent brush with mortality.
"Nightmare?" Imlie asked softly, her voice laced with empathy.
He looked at her, his dark eyes reflecting the vulnerability he wanted to keep hidden. She’d now seen him at his worst, his bravado stripped bare by the searing pain. Yet, she seemed to remain a pillar of strength, a silent anchor in the storm of his recovery.
Imlie sat on the edge of the bed, the plush mattress dipping slightly. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable; it held a shared understanding, a bond forged in the crucible of his injury.
She reached out, her cool hand resting on his forehead. It was a gesture of comfort, a silent promise that she was there, that he wasn't alone in the battle against his demons.
"It's okay, Surya," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "You're strong, you'll get through this."
He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. They were a lifeline, a flicker of hope in the darkness. He knew she was right. He was Surya Pratap Reddy after all. He wouldn't let a nightmare break him.
Squeezing her hand weakly, he dredged up a semblance of a smile. "Thanks, Imlie."
She smiled back, a genuine warmth radiating from her eyes. "Anytime, Surya. Anytime."
A hesitant silence stretched between them. Surya stole a glance at Imlie. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast her face in a warm light, highlighting the slight crinkle on her long nose — a detail he hadn't noticed before. He felt a jolt in his chest, but this time, it wasn't the dull ache of the wound.
"I… I should go," she stammered, breaking the eye contact, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink.
"Wait," Surya blurted out, the sharp word surprising even himself. He cleared his throat, the sound rough. "Can you… stay a bit longer?"
Imlie nodded hesitantly, perched on the edge of the bed, a safe distance away.
The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the rasp of Surya's breath. The terror of the nightmare receded further, replaced by a strange sense of peace with Imlie by his side.
An unspoken understanding bloomed between them, a shared vulnerability that transcended the awkwardness. It was a fragile thing, this nascent bond, tinged with grief for Agastya but laced with a hesitant hope for something more.
As dawn painted the sky a pale gold, casting long shadows across the room, Surya drifted back to sleep. This time, his dreams were devoid of nightmares, filled instead with the soft rustle of Imlie's braid and the faint scent of roses that clung to her. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in his life, a flicker of hope, fragile yet persistent, warmed his heart.
He knew he couldn't erase the love she had for his brother, he wouldn’t wish to either. But perhaps, with time, there could be space for something different... with him.
He wasn't sure what the future held, but as sleep finally claimed him, a single thought echoed in his mind – maybe, just maybe, her healing could come in the form of something new with him.
***
A week later...
Surya’s phone rang, shattering the peaceful silence of his moonlit room. Imlie, who had just walked in to check on him, shuffled towards it, barefoot, trying not to wake him up. She picked the call and before she could utter a word, the impatient caller started speaking.
"Sir ji, it's Tripathy," a gruff voice boomed through the receiver. Imlie flinched. He never called this late since the injury. This must be important.
"We got a tip," Tripathy continued, oblivious to the fact that it was Imlie on the other end, not Surya. "Guru Bhai's goons were spotted at the tavern a few hours back. Someone there might cough up something useful if we had the right… persuasion."
Imlie's breath hitched. Guru! A name that sent shivers down her spine. But Tripathy had mentioned the bar... a place she hadn't set foot in, since almost a year now. The stale scent of spilled alcohol and cheap cigarettes, the leers from patrons clinging to cheap thrills – it was a world she'd escaped all thanks to her Babu. Back then, she'd been lost in a fight for survival, singing her nights away at the bar. Agastya had been the one who'd pulled her out, and offered her a lifeline when she didn't even know she needed one.
"Sir, you still there?" Tripathy's voice boomed again.
"Y-yes," Imlie said faking a deep voice, a spark of recklessness igniting within her. This could be her chance to finally help Surya and get justice for Babu.
Tripathy laid out a plan to infiltrate the bar with an undercover cop. Imlie listened intently, her mind already racing. An undercover cop wouldn't stand a chance in that den. They needed someone who could blend in, someone the goons wouldn't suspect. Someone like the old Imlie, the seductress who knew how to navigate the fires of that hell while not getting burned, and how to play every angle.
"Actually," Imlie blurted out, surprising even herself. "Maybe we don't need an undercover cop."
Tripathy sputtered on the other end. "What are you-?"
"It's Imlie, Tripathy ji," she interrupted, finally revealing herself. "I know exactly how to get information out of those scumbags."
Silence, thick and heavy, stretched for what felt like an eternity. Then, a slow chuckle rumbled through the receiver.
"Kya madam aap bhi na! Ye kaisa mazaak kar rahi hain aap?"
Imlie was baffled. Surely the village couldn’t have forgotten the sultry bar singer she used to be. The woman who could hold a room captive with her voice. She forced a lightness into her voice, "You must know my past? I can still belt out a tune or two if that'll help find Guru."
"Arre nahin, madam ji. Please don’t even think of it. If sir ji finds out, I’ll be dead meat." Tripathy stuttered. "Also, this is way too risky. After two failed attempts to nab you, Guru is like a cornered animal right now. He might-" he said, his voice gruff with concern.
Imlie’s eyes flashing defiance. "I understand the situation. But trust me, only I can do this."
Imlie spent the next ten minutes convincing Tripathy to keep this mission a secret from Surya and his ever-faithful Arjun, and outlining her daring scheme. She'd head down to the tavern, posing as tonight’s singer as she still had friends there. With her past reputation and a sprinkle of desperation in front of the owner, she was sure to get a hearing.
Once in, she'd use her charm to find someone who knew Guru’s whereabouts. It was a risky plan, one that could backfire spectacularly. But Imlie wasn't afraid of a little risk. She owed Agastya and now even Surya that much.
"Alright, Imlie madam," Tripathy finally said. "This is crazy but it might just work."
"Also, I’ll send two officers in civvies. They'll be watching your every move," he said firmly. "Imlie ji, you understand what this means, right?"
A shiver danced down Imlie's spine, but she steeled herself. She'd faced danger before, she still remembered the masked killer’s cold, calculating eyes boring into hers. This time, however, fear will be her weapon, to hide the cold determination simmering beneath.
"I can do this," Imlie said, her voice surprisingly steady.
"That's the spirit, madam ji. We'll turn the tables on that son of a-" Tripathy said.
"It's time for the show to begin," she said. "Let's catch this monster, once and for all."
'Tonight, I wouldn't be the hunted,' she thought. 'I would be the hunter, the bait leading the tiger to its cage. It was a gamble, a dance on the edge of a knife, but the stakes couldn't be higher.'
Justice, for her, for her August Babu, for the entire family, hinged majorly on this one night. Imlie straightened her back, a new kind of courage blooming in her chest – the courage of a victor.
"Just remember," Tripathy continued, "if things get hairy, get the hell out of there and let us handle the situation."
"I will," Imlie promised, a steely resolve settling in her gut. She hung up the phone, a nervous flutter in her stomach.
Moonlight, pale and watchful, streamed through the window, illuminating the neglected corners of the tiny storeroom. ‘Tonight, sorrow would be her cloak,’ Imlie thought, ‘and vengeance her perfume.’
With trembling fingers, she unlatched the largest trunk, its brass fittings catching the moonlight like glinting eyes. Inside, nestled in layers of faded silk, lay a riot of colour – a blood red lehenga and black choli with glittering gold embroidery, the fabric that once shimmered under the stage lights. It was the same outfit she was wearing when her August Babu first met her at the bar and taunted her.
Anger, a white-hot coal in her chest, fuelled her movements. She slipped into the lehenga, the rough but silky caress a stark contrast to the soft cotton sarees she'd worn since Agastya’s passing. The choli, with its plunging neckline, numerous doris and shimmering sequins, felt alien on her skin, a costume for a woman she barely recognised. It wasn't the comfortable embrace of her old stage wear, but a weapon... a shield woven from a forgotten past.
Next came the jewellery, each piece a tiny shard of memory, a fragment of a life she'd left behind. The heavy gold jhumkas, their delicate filigree whispering against her skin. The intricately carved bangles, the emeralds glinting a malevolent green in the moonlight. The silver payals chiming softly as she moved. The dainty body chains clinging to her like a warrior’s shield.
Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her reflection in the large mirror. But she blinked them back with a ferocity that surprised even her. Tonight wasn't for tears. It was for retribution.
With practiced ease, honed from years of captivating audiences with her voice, Imlie kohl-lined her eyes, the black of it a stark contrast to the pale moonlight on her face. It wasn't the coquettish stroke of a performer, but a deliberate hardening of her features, a mask to hide the vulnerability beneath.
As she applied the kohl, a memory flickered – Agastya, his eyes sparkling with love as he helped her get ready for Chutki’s wedding. A sob caught in her throat, but she quelled it ruthlessly. Grief was a luxury she couldn't afford right now.
A final touch – a veil of red chiffon, the edges embroidered with golden lace that shimmered like water during sunrise, to hide the face Guru’s men could recognise. As she draped the veil over her head, Imlie felt a transformation taking place.
The woman staring back from the mirror was no longer the grieving widow. The vibrant colours of the lehenga, the glint of the jewellery, the veiled mystery – they all conspired to create a forgotten stranger, a creature of fire and silk, with eyes that glinted with a dangerous mix of vengeance and fury.
She was a songbird with broken wings, but tonight, those broken wings would take her soaring, into the heart of darkness, ready to lure her prey into a deadly melody.
Imlie wasn't naive. The tavern reeked of danger, a place where shadows danced with secrets and violence simmered just beneath the surface. But she clung to her anger, a shield against the encroaching darkness.
Before leaving for this mission, she needed to do something. Surya deserved to know and so, she sat by the piano and quickly penned down a letter for him explaining her actions, which she left on the side table by his bed.
Clutching a worn brown shawl around herself, a final shield against the world she was about to enter, Imlie stepped out into the cool night air.
As she approached the tavern, a familiar stench, a miasma of stale beer, sweat, and something more sinister, hit her like a physical blow. But tonight, it wasn't repulsive. For right now, it was the smell of opportunity, of revenge served cold, with a sultry song on the side.
As she entered the establishment, the flickering neon sign that cast an unsettling yellow glow on the street seemed to wink at her, a morbid invitation to a performance unlike any she'd ever given.
Imlie squared her shoulders, her heart a drumbeat of defiance. The stage awaited, and she was ready to play her part...
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So that's it for part 10... The next update won't be up for next two weeks as I'll be travelling! See you with more detectivegiri and dhak dhaks after that... Ande-tamatar ki varsha shuru ki jaaye...
With love,
Shree
Edited by Mrs_Darcy_Shree - 1 years ago
I can actually visualise Surya and Imlie as I read this.
Bade Achche Lagte Hain Naya Season
Kabhi Neem Neem Kabhi Shahad Shahad
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Pati Patni Aur Panga
