Sunday, September 21, 2014

The Dialogue


Team Name: Writers' Den


Read the previous chapter here


The story continues…

The young girl’s murder was fervently picked up by the media and it had turned into the talk of the town. Duryodhan Desle was busy chewing paan when the phone on his desk rang. He waited till the constable across the room came to pick up the receiver for him. He hurled the first expletive that came to his mind at the poor constable when he came running in to pick the call for his boss.

“Sir, Commissioner saab hain line pe”

“Pehle nahi bata sakta tha? Duryodhan asked his constable condescendingly.

“Sir, I did pick up the call just now, right in front of you”, he pleaded haplessly before running to get a tray for his boss to empty the paan in his mouth.

Picking up the receiver he blurted, “Duryodhan Desle, Sub Inspector reporting sir” his other hand folded in a police salute almost involuntarily.

“Mr. Desle, we have a problem. The murder of the young girl is getting rapid public attention. It can hamper our investigation. What is your team doing about it?”

“Sir, I’m waiting for the forensic reports to come in. I’m sure we will be able to crack it. I will look after the media.”

“I need you to act now”, the commissioner ordered before disconnecting the call.

In a career spread over 30 years, Duryodhan hadn’t progressed much in his job. His arrogance had taken him nowhere and he remained dejected most often. He hurled the choicest of expletives at people and had come to be known for that. No constable was willing to work for him. But this case had come as a pleasant surprise for him. He was mandated as the Investigating Officer. He took this up, hoping this could turn the tables for him and get him that promotion he had been waiting for.

Even as a child, he had always dreamt of becoming a police officer and fighting the goons. Now that he was one, he realized how hard it is to fight them. He had impressed his wife telling tales of his bravery, about how he had fought dacoits and thieves in the hinterlands. His thoughts took a swirl before he could focus on the Commissioner’s orders which had to be complied with.

For now, chewing paan was a more tempting option before doing anything else. He ordered a fresh make of banarasi paan and began thinking…

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“These should mean something. C’mon Cyrus, think!” Cyrus, kept telling this to himself in cell number 308, as he tried to decipher seemingly inchoate things he had collected from the murder spot.

“JJ’s photographs should have helped in linking the clues”, he thought, even as he wondered why had Duryodhan arrested him.

The prison door flung open violently, disturbing his thought flow.

Amidst the thin stream of light there emerged the hefty frame of Duryodhan Desle. “How do you like your new home, Mr. Daruwala?”

“You do recognize that I’m a law student, don’t you? You have put me inside without any evidence and I’ll fight this out. Right now, I have a different set of priorities.”

“Aha, the boy knows a lot of things”, Duryodhan’s sarcasm was in his face.

"You see Mr. Daruwala, you young people think that you know a lot of things, but in reality you don’t. You think you have made a lot of smart moves, but in reality, everything turns out to be…..

Pfffffffffff……… Like a dead Diwali cracker!" He kept making that sound until he ran out of air in his lungs.

Cyrus kept looking down at the floor, unable to comprehend what was happening around him.

Duryodhan continued, “Why do you think I let you pick up the Chocolate wrapper, the blank piece of paper and the thorn from the crime scene? Do you think I’m a fool and you have tricked me into collecting those?”

Cyrus was perplexed. “You knew that?” he couldn’t control asking.

“Of course I knew, Mr. Daruwala!” “Now tell me, why are you interested in this case? Are you conspiring with the murderer?”

“No. You would want to listen to the entire story to get to understand my present situation”, said Cyrus.

"My time is precious Mr. Daruwala. Do not waste it by telling me about your girlfriend. Ah… What was her name? …. Jennifer from Kerala."

Cyrus was stunned. How did this seemingly incapable, expletives hurling police officer know so much?

“But sir, she isn’t my girlfriend.” He pleaded.

“Young people these days…” he stopped short of completing his sentence.

“Now listen, Mr. Daruwalla I have to go see the Commissioner now. Tell me who the girl is and how did you come to know about the death.”


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Read the next chapter of the story here


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