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Word Count : 3400

Target : 120 Votes 

Audio Theme : Ae Dil Hai Mushkil  | From Ae Dil Hai Mushkil |

Play it during their scene.

https://youtu.be/NY2gKc17YwI

***

66 | Starved

| 20 May, 2023 |

| Morning |

| 0830 Hours |

Her gaze drifted off to the wall clock affixed to one of the walls of the conference room, just when the door opened and Raghav walked inside with two plastic tumblers filled with coffee, followed by a yawning Rukmini and others. Only Kanwal Dheer and Rukhsaar weren't seen tagging along with the others.

Rukmini yawned again while Patwardhan and Jishu got seated and reposed their respective heads on the conference table to have a quick nap before Kanwal Dheer and Rukhsaar arrived with the forensic and autopsy reports.

Nobody in the room had slept a wink last night, nor had they returned back to their homes or even had a shower.

The faint tap noise of something being placed before her on the table caused her to revert back her attention from the rest.

A familiar looking plastic tumbler filled with hot coffee greeted her visual and olfactory senses. She looked up. Raghav passed a quick smile. "Have it."

She smiled back with a nod. "Thank you."

Just then, her phone vibrated again.

She fished it out from her blazer pocket and switched it on. Tapping on the messaging application icon, she clicked the contact on the top.

Her eyes waded through the bulk of messages from last night, the recent one being the one that she just received.

It's too late now. Where are you?

- M.D.

Ask Gurung. He'll let you know about my location better than I myself.

- You

Alright, when are you returning home from the headquarters?

- M.D.

Can't come tonight; I have work. Take care of Anirudh.

- You

Wait. Are we okay? What's wrong?

- M.D.

What do you mean? Nothing is wrong.

- You

No, it most definitely is. You didn't ask me to have dinner like all the other times when we texted each other when you were at work at night.

- M.D.

Hey? Are you still there?

- M.D.

Hello?

- M.D.

Inu?

- M.D.

Do have something in the cafeteria. Don't work with an empty stomach.

- M.D.

Hinduja sighed and massaged her glabella as her eyes landed on the message from this morning.

We need to talk. I am waiting at the manor.

- M.D.

Just then the conference room door was nudged open. The DGP entered inside and strode straight towards the central chair, followed by Rukhsaar and Kanwal Dheer, each clutching a file in their hands.

Aravind's concerned gaze fell on her form for a split second, and then it shifted towards Raghav.

"The autopsy reports of Inspector Prakash Dubey are here." Rukhsaar announced.

"The forensic analysis of the crime scene too." Chadha added.

"Get started." The DGP tipped his chin.

"Yes, sir."

"The body was obviously found at room temperature." Rukhsaar began. "So, judging from the extent of rigor mortis, livor mortis, and supravital reactions, the time of death is expected to be at some time between four and five a.m. in the morning yesterday."

"This means that they knew that we were suspecting Dubey before even our visit to Vaikunth Patil's home." Raghav figured.

"Yes." Aravind agreed.

"You were saying earlier that you put someone behind Dubey." Hinduja voiced out, meeting Raghav's eyes. "Right?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I did put one of my informers behind him."

"If possible, we need to put that person under witness protection. They have most probably seen your informer tailing Dubey." She replied. "There is a probability of his life being under threat."

"She is right." Aravind added, glancing at Raghav and then shifting back his attention towards Rukhsaar. "Continue, Dr. Fathima."

"Cause of death is decapitation." Rukhsaar resumed. "No other marks of injury, assault, or torture found on the body."

"He was alive when he was beheaded?" Jishu probed, staring at her with a horrified expression marring his visage.

"Very much."

"Goodness gracious." Jishu rubbed his chest. "That's scary. Who could be this cruel? And fearless?"

Hinduja chuckled faintly. "You never know what kind of masked behemoths the world is filled with."

"I did find traces of alcohol and undigested chicken in Dubey's stomach." Rukhsaar voiced out. "He was intoxicated." She flipped a page of the file she was reading from. "The head was severed from the rest of the body at the level of the second and third cervical vertebrae. The cut is clean, hinting towards a steady, precise, and experienced hand. Even the bones were severed very neatly."

"The work of a butcher, as the note says." Rukmini shrugged.

"Which brings me to the next point—" Rukhsaar glanced at Rukmini. "Judging from the signature marks on the severed region and the way and direction in which the head is separated from the body, the head was not sawed away from the body with repeated movements of the weapon used. Rather, it was chopped with one heavy and quick strike, which hints at the fact that the murderer is probably a professional butcher, but the weapon used is not a meat cleaver. Rather, it's a machete. To be precise, I deduce it's a Malaysian Parang Machete."

Raghav's scratched his chin with his index finger. "Parang Machete? As in, Malay Parang?"

"It's mostly found in the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia, but can be found in other countries too, including India. Although its makers are traditionally concentrated in Malaysia."

"Yes." Rukhsaar nodded.

"Malaysia." Hinduja muttered under her breath, her eyes on the table before her, while her slender fingers played with a paperweight.

"Dr. Chadha, can you please help me in connecting to the projector?" Rukhsaar put forward her request.

Kanwal Dheer nodded, connecting her laptop to the projector screen.

Rukhsaar clicked on a folder, eventually maximizing an image of the crime scene from a folder.

Immediately, a picture of a section of wall with blood splattered across it appeared on the screen.

"This is the wall next to the cot on which Inspector Dubey's body was found. Towards the shoulder side of his body." Rukhsaar continued. "When something with flesh, blood, and bones is sawed repeatedly, the pattern of the blood splatter that's left behind is different. But, instead of getting sawed, if the above is severed with heavy and forceful strikes, the pattern of blood splatters is different from the first case too." She pointed at the picture on the screen. "The blood splatter pattern seen on this wall in the crime scene is an example of the latter."

Ramandeep nodded. "That guy from Bhagwantpura had the letters J.B. tattooed on his chest, plus he had that ring around his ring finger." He paused. "So, if Dubey and that guy were working for the same people or person, Dubey must have a tattoo on his chest too? And probably that ring too?"

"Nothing." Rukhsaar chuckled. "We found nothing on the body. Neither a tattoo on the chest nor a ring around the finger."

"That's strange." Gaurav remarked.

"I have a hunch." Hinduja said. "What if the tattoo and the ring are only meant for the closest associates of the leader of the syndicate, to announce their loyalty?" Scratching the back of her neck, she took a sip of the coffee Raghav brought for her. "There is a possibility that Prakash Dubey did work for the leader, but only in helping him with all the information he got after spying on us or in the control room. What if he actually didn't have an idea about what the leader was using the information for? Like, Dubey worked for Patil, but he never probed into the fact that what was the minister doing with that information. Obviously, Patil wanted to know if we were doing our work with diligence or not, but again, his interactions with Dubey were purely transactional. An act done in exchange for money."

"You mean Dubey was not a close associate of the syndicate's leader. He was just a pawn used for spying on us in exchange for money, and he didn't have any idea about what the information he was leaking was being used for. Also, he didn't have any clue that the person he was providing all the details to was actually the leader of a syndicate. Is it?" Raghav questioned, scrunching his brows together faintly.

"Precisely." Hinduja smiled. "And that's the reason Dubey doesn't have any tattoo on his chest or a pillbox ring around his ring finger." Clasping her fingers on the table, she said, "This is just a hunch, though. I am not sure about it."

"The word money reminds me," Aravind fixed his gaze on Ramandeep and Raghav. "Dubey's bank account transaction history and call records; we might find something in them. We will have to look into them."

Raghav nodded. "Already on it, sir. The entire process generally takes some time, and I will try to get it done as soon as possible."

"Good. Do look out for the surveillance camera footages around the police family quarters too, especially the one which is closest to the building in which Prakash Dubey lived. Plus I hope that Praapti and Maninder Ji are questioning the neighbors now?" 

"Yes, sir." Raghav confirmed. "They are still there." 

"Okay." Aravind then looked at Kanwal Dheer. "Dr. Chadha, please begin."

Chadha flipped open the file in his hands. "No signs of any scuffle found in the whole quarter, which hints at two presumed cases—the first one being that the murderer and Dubey probably knew each other. They were well acquainted with each other. He paused, exchanging glances with Rukhsaar. "The second presumption supports the autopsy report. Dubey was intoxicated. I presume that he was not in his proper senses last night, and the murderer must have taken advantage of this very fact to kill him."

"Secondly, no jewelry, cash, or gadgets like laptops and computers were found in the quarter. Surprisingly, not even Dubey's phone." He breathed in.

"Yes." Raghav sighed. "It's switched off, and the SIM card has been taken off too. We can't trace it now."

"Great, the murderer took away Dubey's phone too." Aravind joked. "His phone must have contained something really precious. We really need to get our hands on his call records. I have a feeling that we will find what we are searching for, in them for sure."

"Sir, there is something I need to show you all." Chadha butted in.

"Please go ahead." The DGP tipped his chin.

"It might sound very absurd, but the style of executing the process of decapitation, I mean the way in which the head has been severed off from the body, it's quite similar to someone else's method of decapitation from our past criminal records." He explained.

"What?!"

"Who?!" Raghav probed, his brows barely leaving any space between them while the others looked on in shock.

Hinduja stared at the screen, impassively. "Who?" She whispered.

Dr. Chadha tapped his index finger on the trackpad, and the image on the projector screen switched to a different one.

"What the actual fuck!" Ramandeep hollered out.

"You can't be serious, Chadha!" SI Daleep Bedi almost shot up from his wheelchair, despite his injured limb.

Chadha clenched his jaw, glancing at Daleep. "I hope you do remember the fact that I am your super senior."

"Oy, senior ke pakode tal tu!"

("Hey, you make fritters out of your senior!")

"Enough!" Aravind banged his palm on the table.

He then focused his eyes on the senior forensic analyst. "I hope you know whose picture you are showing us, Dr. Chadha." He hurled out sternly.

"That's Jagannath Singh." Raghav announced. "The most wanted criminal of the late 1980s, owner of a family-owned butcher shop. A psychopath who single-handedly massacred his whole family and beheaded twenty of his neighbors with a meat cleaver, just because 'he felt the urge to smell human flesh instead of animal flesh.' That's the reason he gave in court back then." He paused, averting his gaze to the projector screen. "He is dead. He was hanged to death in December 1990 itself!"

On the screen was the black-and-white picture of a tall and burly young man who looked as if he was in his mid-twenties, dressed in prison uniform. The picture was not that clear and was almost dark yellowish in appearance due to how aged it was, but that did nothing to hide the sinister look in his eyes, as if he were peeking right into their souls while sporting a harrowing wide smile.

"How can a dead person come alive and kill someone, Dr. Chadha?" Aravind sighed. "Moreover, the weapon that Jagannath used to use was a meat cleaver, not a Malay parang."

Kanwal Dheer shrugged. "I said what I said. I know the weapons used are different, but the modus operandi is similar. No ordinary criminal can decapitate someone with one strike of a machete, but Jagannath Singh can." He paused. "Rest everything is your decision to make."

***

"So, they were at Vaikunth Patil's residence before going to that inspector's place and finding his body?"

"Yes, Saab ji." Gurung bowed.

"You can take your leave now." Mahadevan waved off his hand.

Gurung promptly left the Dogra patriarch's office, shutting the door close behind him.

Mahadevan drummed his fingers on the antique wooden workspace while reposing his head on the soft top rail of the presidential desk chair, his eyes staring at the chandelier above, affixed to the ceiling.

He was well aware of all the things that were transpiring and were about to transpire in the due course of time, as they were both inching closer to the time of the war.

The choice was hers to make from here onwards.

Either to trust the words falling on her ears or to trust the images unfolding before her eyes.

Or, to trust nothing at all—neither the voice nor the vision.

And he, for sure, had no say in it.

Suddenly, the intercom rang. He picked it up, pressing it to his left ear.

"Madam is here?"

The response he received caused him to speak further. "Tell her that I am in my office."

Four minutes down the line, he heard two soft yet firm knocks rapping against the door.

"I am here." He got up from his chair, strolling towards the door slowly.

The doorknob rotated as she unbolted the wooden barrier and stepped inside.

"Close the door." His eyes scanned her sylphlike frame from top to bottom. She was still dressed in the ironed black formals from yesterday, although now they bore a few creases hither and thither. "We need to talk."

"Say it." She scratched her forehead and avoided meeting his eyes.

He slowly wended his way towards her, entering her personal space. "What's wrong?" He whispered, diving his nose into the crook of her neck. "Tell me." He breathed out softly.

She sighed, stepping away from him, evading his touch. "Nothing."

His body rigidified for a moment as the gap between his eyebrows narrowed.

Within in a second, taking control of his emotions, he continued. "No, something is definitely wrong." He minimized the gap between their bodies again and positioned his palm on her mouth, trying to feather his lips against the back of his palm in order to kiss her indirectly, just like the way she had done last night.

In response, she held his wrist and heaved his hand away from her mouth. She then treaded further away from him, dodging his touch and the feeling of his warm body next to hers.

Ripples of stinging pain coursed through his eyes. "Why are—" He gulped and let out a soft sigh. "-You doing this to me?"

"Prakash Dubey was spying on the Special Investigation Team for Vaikunth Patil and someone else." She paused, finally meeting his agonized gaze. She didn't let it affect her, though. "You were aware of this? Yes or no?"

"So, this is what it is all about." He simpered.

"Yes or no?" She asked curtly, looking at him with a poker face.

"Yes."

Immediately, ducking her head down, she chuckled mirthlessly. "If only, if only you had told me about this the moment you came to know about it, Dubey would have been alive today."

"He was involved in corruption!" He hurled out, his eyes red. "He got what he deserved!"

"And who are you to decide that?" Her eyes widened. "The supreme lawmaker of the country?"

"He. got. what. he. deserved." Mahadevan seethed. "End. of. the. discussion."

"He was not a rapist! He was not a murderer! He was not a serial killer! He was not someone from the underworld!" She shouted in an equally loud voice. "He was a corruptionist! Yes, he deserved punishment! But the most amount of punishment he deserved was a long jail term and termination from his service, not the loss of his life!"

"So?" He shrugged.

"What do you mean by 'so'?" She looked even more enraged by now. "Dubey was a single man, Dogra Sahib. And the way in which he was killed, God forbid, if he had a family, they would have been in danger too! He was found with his head chopped off from his body!"

Something stirred in him as his eyes turned clearer, and she knew that she had hit the nail at the correct spot.

"You know the person behind everything that is happening, right?" She probed.

Instead, he chuckled mirthlessly. "You did that on purpose, didn't you? You said the word 'chopped' on purpose."

She gulped. "I just said what I saw."

He sensed slight hints of regret flashing in her eyes.

"You know," he trailed softly, "It's surprising how easy it is for you to hurt me. On the other hand, I can't even imagine doing that to you. I will never do that."

"I don't deserve this." He swallowed heavily.

"You know everything." She announced instead. "You know about everything that is transpiring around us—both the causes and the consequences. Absolutely everything. Yet, why is it that you are not doing anything?"

"Because I am waiting. Because I can't do anything without taking proper precautions. Because I am cursed." He whispered, in affliction. "Cursed with the surname Dogra."

"Whether it's your anger, disappointment, your harsh words, or anything for that matter, whether it is positive or negative, anything that comes from you—" he rubbed his palm over his face. "I will take it all. You know why?"

Her hands shivered. "Why?"

"Because people who are starved eat absolutely anything and everything given to them, to fill up their stomachs." He simpered.

"I am begging you." His lips quivered feebly, barely visible to even her. "Don't starve me to death again."

She stilled but maintained her calm. "I didn't get it."

"You did. You did get everything." He swirled his tongue over his upper lip. "Please don't do this to me. I am begging you."

"Answer me." He breathed in, "The day before yesterday, you told me that I am precious and that you prayed for me." And, in the next moment, his voice faltered. "Then why am I feeling so worthless in front of you in this moment? As if I don't have any value in your eyes? As if I am not precious anymore?"

His eyes teared up. "As if I am not worthy enough of your prayers anymore?"

"I need time."

A soft whisper echoed within the confines of the Dogra Patriarch's office as the matriarch turned around and strode straight out of his office, shutting the door close behind her, leaving him alone in the dense silence.

He stared at the bolted door and empty room around him as tears made their way out of the corners of his eyes.

After all this, I don't know how our story will end.

But for sure, I am certain of of my own reality.

After all this,

Either

She and I end up together.

Or

She and I, end together.

For, it's either I end up with her.

Or,

I end with her.

Forever. 

- Him

***