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A thick cloud of grey welcomed the City of dreams into the start of a new week. Office goers grumbled, looking up at the sky which was going to pour inevitably at any minute, school kids rejoiced at a possible early day off from the shackles of dull history and mathematics, while romantics sighed in relief, smiling up and ready to welcome the first burst of monsoon on them, albeit a small faction of the race. There was an extra bounce in their steps as they got up in the morning, adding special doze of energy in their seemingly random works, making skeptics weary and others mash their teeth together.
He noticed the clouds from the window of Raghu sir's house way later in the day.
It was no surprise, forgetting about time, place, or even date on some occassions. Their job tend to stretch their senses and demand all the attention in such a way that it's impossible to care and notice how the world moves around them. For him, it was one step further. If his job is not demanding attention from him, he would be restless. His hand will inevitably reach for a bottle of whiskey hidden in various places in his hotel room, his mind will be filled with horror of past. He fills as drained in the morning thanks to alcohol as he feels in those moments, numb in shock and grief.
And not to forget, hangover. He never really grew up in that area from his teenage days.
So he avoids even getting out of office, his locker overflowing with half of his clothes being transferred there. There is always a case file in front of his eyes and pen in his hand, twirling, keeping him busy. He has no problem recreating a horror happening to seemingly unknown person, in fact, recreating the incident helps him to focus. He had often found clues in those moments.
A weird paradox, that's what he is.
Turning back from the window, he is greeted by the sight of his team mates engaged in various task. Forensics busy looking for swab, investigative officers checking each and every corner of the room. Raghu sir stand near the door of his daughter's bedroom, half of his frame hidden by the mattress resting against the wall which he helped to removed from bed, looking for clues.
Like their Public Relations Manager predicted, they didn't get anything other than spider net and cockroaches.
The aforementioned PR manager, Sakshi Anand, came to stand near him, her usual strong whiff of unknown perfume making him exhale sharply. Her usual expression of furrowed brow remained same as she gave the scene in front of her a last glance before asking him, "What is my statement?"
What he wanted to say was Do I look like I give a damn? But what he said, in his dry uninterested voice was, "Why don't you ask the Director?"
She gave him a look as if he's being dumb, "Arjun, you know what's she gonna say."
That's true, He thought to himself as the Director came to his peripheral vision, who had just arrived in the scene. Standing next to Raghu sir, she called out to him softly, before moving along with him. The look she shot all of them was a stern Fix it!
Before Raghu sir rescued him from a cheap bar halfway across the town and threw him into rehab, with a look which sliced through his masochistic self for the first time in many many years, he had heard about Aisha Kapoor. Who won't, unless the person was sleeping under a rock. The first female IPS officer to ever went upto the rank of DCP in Mumbai circle, then becoming the first ever female Director for prestigious ETF, she evoked respect and curiosity alike. He had heard about the nasty rumours, ranging from how she slept her way through the ladder from promotions to her temper tantrums, and of course there was her closeness with Raghu sir, the Commissioner himself, her mentor since Academy days. Many said he lobbied hard for her position in ETF, but even the almighty Press could not find a single proof which could undermine her achievements. Often come across as stern and workaholic person, Director Kapoor's biggest enemies were, unsurprisingly, red tape and shady powerful people who think the world moves around their phone calls. And media, oh yeah. If he was capable of amusement, he would have laughed whenever Sakshi has to beg the former to go on camera to make an official statement. Attention, good or bad, has found Aisha Kapoor a long time ago, but it was not necessarily welcome.
He turned to the scene in front of him once again, his eyes unconsciously falling to a picture of smiling Sheen Ram. He was not that much close to Commissioner Ram like Madam Director, but it was hard to miss the bubbly 19 year old in the old man's life. Like a burst of cool air Sheen will stroll into her Father's office in seemingly random times, with her bangles and colorful accessories in hair, make subordinates chuckle with her antics and her father roll eyes affectionately. Some people didn't ask for affection, they demanded it. She was one of them.
And it makes no sense why the joyful teenager will leave her house on a early Monday morning, leaving behind everything she owned and a note, stating she was leaving on her own will.
When more officials and forensics started to crowd the room he stepped out, removing gloves off his hand as he moved toward living room. Mrs. Ram was unconsolable, her face buried in the neck of her husband as her frame shook. In a total contrast to her breakdown the Commissioner looked ready for war, though the exhaustion in his eyes were clear.
"There is no reason for her to . . . " It was obvious that the authenticity of the note left by Sheen (or rather, people that took her) was a subject of question. A part of him was slightly irritated that every one of them was treating this as a possible case of sophisticated of kidnapping, the rest of team following Director's orders blindly. He wanted to go through other possible routes, after they are done here.
"We all know that Sir." Director let the obviously distressed man rant for a while before replying, arms crossed over chest as she sighed. Arjun could actually see the moment a thought striked her as the arms loosen and she leaned slightly, her voice dropping an octave.
"Did you send out the words?"
Raghu sir nodded quickly, "I thought . . . especially the note. It didn't feel logical."
"We might need extra set of eyes." She agreed, whatever this was. Might be a possible contact somewhere, he mused.
There was no way for them to possibly predict the exact amount of time since the 'abduction'. Sadly, people who maintained the security of the Commissioner of Mumbai police's never thought it fit to install a few CCTV cameras around the territory, arrogantly assured about their numbers and skills, thus increasing to the difficulties further.
"Oh, the foolishness of mortals." Exclaimed Senior Inspector Sameer Rathore. shaking his head, patting the head of their inhouse IT guy (and fulltime baby) before resuming to grill the security guards for the umpteeth times. Shree, the latter, adjusted his specks, pursed his lips, then went back to filter nearest highways and wherever it was possible in the city to have a security camera for a trace of the pixie haired girl. It was a tiring work, he will admit. It certainly doesn't help that IT department head is a special kind of bas***d who is often at loggerheads with the Director. Arjun doesn't understand this fascination with the media limelight, those camera flashes and chaos of questioning has an affect on him similar to hangover.
He was standing on the elaborate garden which also serves as a parking lot for Ram family for the majority of time, despite having one on the front. It was nearly evening, but the day gave no indication of the change of time, as dull and sticky since the dawn. He was trying to think of possible ways of abductors dragging out a chubby 19 year old in the presence of, albeit sleeping, but a large number of policemen, when he noticed it.
An intruder, obviously. The securities in crime scenes are laughable, always eager to do favours to a pretty face, overlooking protocols or the fact that it was Press. The lady was crouched down not more than 20 feet away from him, observing something. With a start he realized it was the tire prints of Sheen's car which she was, obviously, trying to photograph, though he could not see any camera or even a phone with her back facing him. Releasing a frustrated breath, he marched ahead, stopping right behind her as he gripped her elbow, making her stand up. He narrowly missed the right hook she threw at him, a breath escaping him in a surprised whoosh. Surprised black eyes met equally surpised brown ones, which gone quickly as fight instincts kicked him. Using the hold on her upper arm, he spun her around, effectively locking both of her wrists in front.
Finally subduing this unknown petite assailant, He was about to ask the basic questions like Who the hell are you, but he had assumed win too early. In a simple move both of her elbows made contact to his ribs sharply, thus freeing her from him armlock. The next second their positions has completly reversed, adding more to it was his wrist pinned behind his back, the hard muscles throbbing painfully under inhuman pressure of her fingers.
A part of him wondered from where does this five foot something woman gather her strength, but he brushed those thoughts aside as quickly as it came. His free arm tried to reach for something blindly, only cool air hitting the finger tips. Gritting his teeth, he struggled against her.
"Ah ah." Her lips brushed his earlobe softly as her breathy voice taunted, "Another move and your wrist won't survive. So think."
As if the situation could not turn bizarre enough, there was a yell of 'Hey!' followed by Sameer Rathore's quick footsteps. By the time he was near them his both hands were pointing a Gun at her. Though in a tight situation (literal and figurative), Arjun knew it was an unnecessary move. His booming voice has also attracted a couple of policemen who were idly chit-chatting till now, comically looking at each other and moving toward them.
"Seriously?" Came the incredulous reply from behind. He wanted to say it would be better for her to free him, but it was useless given the current circumstances.
"Put your hand where I can see them. Do it!" His saviour, Arjun thought sarcastically. He heard the impatient sigh from behind and suddenly found himself free. Stopping himself from rubbing his throbbing wrist, he looked at the lady properly for the first time as people around them encircled them, as if trapping this unknown unnamed person. Her expression to all these chaos created by her was a disbelieving eyeroll which slowly turned to a curl of her lips in amusement. Her eyes faked seriousness as she took a couple of steps back, jet black locks falling over them which could not be contained in her ponytail. Intertwined fingers of both hands were hidden behind her head as she put her arms, her posture relaxed. Her figure laden in crisp white shirt and black pants stood in an odd contrast to the grey atmosphere, bright and sharp, shattering the dull sky and sombre tone of the day and bringing back focus.
From the corner of his eyes, Arjun saw Director Kapoor rushing to their sides with an urgency he had only seen after arriving here, behind her Sakshi's eyes were narrowed in curiosity, seemingly untroubled by the fact that someone has broken into a heavily guarded bunglow of a high ranking IPS officer and a crime scene. Although a PR manager, she will always be a journalist first, curiosity before skepticism. He shifted his eyes.
"Sameer Rathore, you will put the Gun down right away." She thundered as she stopped near them. Rest of the policemen scrambled away, not wanting to get any tongue lashing from ETF Director herself. The former didn't follow order, but turned to her quizzically.
"But . . . "
"Do as I said, or God help me . . . "
"Interesting welcome." Their heads collectively turned to the voice of the unknown female.
"I will send you bandage later." Director replied not missing a beat, evoking surprise in her subordinates, "Sameer Rathore . . . "
This time, he lowered the Gun, "Put it away and use it on people who actually deserves that." Turning to the other lady, she spoke hotly, "Could not you just, I don't know, grace us with your presence inside the house?"
The lady in question shrugged, "I was about to, but then your loyal Dog," lowering her hand she read aloud "ACP Arjun S. Rawte" from a paper which he realized, was his ID card, "attacked me. You train them well." She threw a smirk at him, but he was too busy to get affended at her comment or the fact that she pickpocketed him at some point during their fight. Uselessly he frisked his pockets, then scrambled to catch the ID card she threw at his way.
"Let's get in." Director spoke to all of them, but only the former followed. Sakshi made way for the ladies to move past her, then walked upto to the men with the unanswered question which lurked in all of their heads.
"Who is she?"
***
(Way later in his life, when half of his hair is filled with little grey ones and his muscles are not as strong as they used to be several decades ago, he will look back and think this is where it all started. If he could go back in time, if he could witness his old self with his own eyes and touch, he would have made a fist of his fragile shaking fingers and smacked him on the back of head. Too many wasted opportunities, too many moment passed in foolish self loathing and anger at the world. Sometimes younger people do know better than old grey ones, You Only Live Once.
And yet, he won't change a thing.)
***
He was again in her vicinity 40 hours later in an old abandoned shipyard, drenching in light rain as he clenched his jaw at the 'Babysit' duty, determined not to look at her. Not that she was faring well, if the tapping of foot is anything to go by.
Then there was a voice in their bluetooths. A part of him wanted to go ahead and help in the team's obvious danger and Raghu sir's possible endangered life, but then he looked at her and growled internally. Director would eat him alive if he left.
A sharp intake of breath came from her, followed by, "Stupid, idiot old man and fatherly feels."
And then she was running. And obviously, he had to follow.
"Hey!"
***
On the 5th day (which, to be honest, felt like a lifetime), after crazy stuffs like Anti-socials using Sheen as a live bomb to blow up Department office and a bullet to the head of the guy who was boasting about the perfect plan (stupid) that came out of nowhere (nobody from them could fire it. Later he would check the body and will find out it was a work of a possible sniper fired from at least 100 ft distance), he would be standing in the veranda to watch the rain, a probable anti-climatic moment of this case. Rain would block out everything except for the conversation between Her and Raghu sir.
"Where were you?" He would ask.
"Obviously on the planet." She would make the old man huff and Him frown. Does she deliberately has to be this much vague?
"What are you doing next?"
"Have not decided." She would answer after a long time, just when he was about to give up.
(She will do that a lot, living upto his expectations and shattering his prejudices at once)
"She ruffled some tough feathers today." Raghu sir would look at rain while speaking, his uncomfortable expression matching both the topic and the rain. It was no secret that the man hates monsoon.
"She did." A quiet affirmation, and dare he can say, worry and pride mixing together.
"Somebody got to watch her back."
"You are here."
"I got a job." He would raise an eyebrow, and Arjun will think who these two are fooling and why. It was obvious what was going on. "Besides, she doesn't like someone to babysit her."
"And?"
"She listens to you."
"A lot of time has passed." She would say it slowly, as if her words has some other meaning other than the obvious.
"It has. And yet, you two are a team in yourself. God help me," He would sigh, "this couple of days has been hell, but one thing that came out good was this solid knowledge." She would not say anything and he will carry on after a while, "I don't know where you are staying, so come tomorrow and take your rejoining letter."
"Tomorrow?" She would be surprised.
"What, you need more holidays?" He would roll eyes, "It started to rain. You sure you don't need an umbrella?"
She would smirk at the palpable discomfort on his face, "It's just rain, not bolt of lightning."
He would shrug and leave.
She would start to walk away, rain immediately covering her like cloak and relishing in the act of soaking her. For the life of him he won't know what made him to call out 'Hey' and make her stop. She would come to him, retracing her steps, curious to get an address from the stoic man she hardly interacted.
(He would remember the time Director introduced her to others, her rude "Can't it wait? Not that I am sticking around." and the former's sigh or irritation followed by "Team, Riya, she will assist us. Riya, team. Now go.")
"Looks like you are sticking around." He would use her own words, and then extend his hand in the rain for a handshake. She would shake it immediately but won't let go.
"Arjun S. Rawte." She would stress slowly, with the never fading glint in her eyes, "What is S in your name? Sushil? Satyanath? Shoshan?"
He would be part irritated at her words and part think how dare she talks to him like that, when even acquaintences don't converse with each other in this manner, "I don't want to talk about it."
"Ooh, that bad?" At his huff she would let go of his hand, her smirk widening, and she would walk backwards. He will remember a similar action from her (when Director has asked her what are the chances are Sheen's survival as she walked away and she threw back, "Doesn't matter, because she won't be a statistics.")
"Until next time." His mouth would run ahead of his head.
"You bet." She would reply in a rising voice, but it will lower when she will speak his name again, "Arjun Rawte."
(And she would take his name many times, with the surname and S which she never figured out. Not that it stopped her from speculating with hillarious and frustrating results. It will be in amusement, in surprise, in sarcasm, in pride, in happiness. And he would figure out the funny thing that happened inside him when she took his name for the first time and why his mouth ran ahead of him. Nobody uttered his name like that. Nobody.
Not even the woman he had swore revenge on behalf of.)
Hello to the people who have survived this giant thing. I am not new in this forum though I have never interacted to you all, and this is me being stupid to post something (prologue? Chapter?) without any head or tail. I apologize if there's any confusion about it, so it will be best if I clarified a few things.
I am a big fan of anything role reversed, and this idea won't leave me behind where Riya is the one tough/hell bent on revenge person while Arjun is calm, sensible one. But taking away the revenge angle will be similar to taking away a big chunk of his personality which didn't seem right so here is my take on it, may not be anything unique. Along with the ride it turned totally upside down, like Aisha being ETF head, Sameer is just an officer while Sakshi is PR officer (let's face it, a journalist shadowing ETF never made sense). Like the first episode Raghu sir is the one seeking assistance of Riya's, and I know some parts feel totally out of place. Maybe if people are interested I will elaborate further?
Do let me know your thoughts about it. I don't have anyone in one buddy list so spread the word if any of your friend is interested in reading something new, I hope? And ignore the title, I am hopeless trying to come up with a decent title.
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