Watched: Don't Say a word

by Preeti Singh

  “Come on, Milan. Please stop doubting everyone. DIG Uncle has been coming to our house even before I was born. After his wife died, my parents allowed him to come here anytime, Milan. He is like my second father!”Kinjal retorted at Milan, angrily.

  “Hmmm”, Milan was not convinced but didn’t say anything. Amber listening quietly, agreed with Milan for the first time and both had just one thought... all men are dogs and age was no criteria. Something didn’t seem right here but he too kept quiet, not wanting to upset Kinjal further. “And who is Vikash, Ma’am? Please may I know?” Milan asked narrowing his eyes but totally afraid to hear her reply.

  “Vikash is my best friend since medical college and I trust him blindly. He is a doctor and taking care of my father in the Mohali hospital. ” Kinjal said softly but Milan did not miss the slight blush on her cheeks. “But why am I feeling you are interrogating ME, Agent Milan?” she asked, rather irritated.

  “I am just trying to get to the bottom of the truth, Ma’am. I have learnt from you only, never to trust anyone, blindly, so I would request you to do the same.” Milan said with utmost gentleness and protective care. Maybe he didn’t realise, but that instant, he fell in love with Kinjal’s innocence. But Amber noticed. He rolled his eyes and said pyaar tumhe kis modh par le aaaya...ki dil kare haaye ...ab kya hoga!

  Soon Milan left, disturbed. The UnSub was definitely smart, wiping out every possible clue to trace him. Milan was uneasy; it had to be someone who knows everything about the case, he thought as he embarked from his bike, unpacked his laptop and began doing some online research.

  The DIG’s Residence

  Sector 8, Panchkula

  It was dusk when he reached home and settled on his rocking chair in his study. After his wife had died during childbirth, years ago, Dinesh Mahajan, the DIG, found recluse, in this dark, dingy room. After a hard day’s work, he would love to fade into memories of her...her hair...her laughter...her perfume....everything about her, would just rejuvenate his soul, making him alive again.

  No, not memories of his late wife.

  But memories of Mansi Joshi, Kinjal’s mother...... his only love.

  Dinesh recalled, when he first saw her about 40 years back, he instantly fell in love with her. She was the bubbly, outspoken, talkative head girl of their school and he was just one of the non significant students. She had epilepsy, so would often miss school, but her friends would help her cover up and she would still score the results needed to win laurels. He was totally in awe of her and she never knew it.

  Just watching her from his back bench would give him a reason to live each day. And if any boy ogled at her, Dinesh would pick up a trivial fight somehow and manage to bash up the scoundrel. Mansi belonged to him, even if she wasn’t aware of his mere existence.

  He smiled, at his own silly behaviour back then. But then, when is love logical.

  As he sipped his evening coffee, which he loved, he opened up the side drawer and took out her red dupatta.

  Dinesh smiled as he remembered how he had stolen it on the Holi they had played together. After school days were over, he took admission in the same tuition classes she had joined. Her all girls’ college was a no entry for boys, but by joining a computer course, in the evenings, was how he managed to stay close to her. And when they celebrated Holi after the evening classes, he coloured her with his loving hands; but she was so ignorant, she never knew, when he got coloured in her love. She had dropped her colourful dupatta that day carelessly, when she went off with her friends.

  Dropped it for him maybe...and he had not washed it since then. It was kept just like that...with her perfume still intact on it. And then he inhaled her fragrance once again and could feel Mansi around him.

  Dinesh went to his cupboard and took out her favourite silver nail polish. She was a simple girl and it’s that simplicity he had fallen for. With no extra make up, she just wore a slight kajal, a light shade of lipstick and always a silver nail polish...her standard signature.

  He had never paid attention to women’s cosmetics, but after he fell in love with her, he bought all shades of silver and would look at them daily, cleaning the bottles. Every few months he would buy new silver shades and throw away the old, stiff ones. Each weekend, he would put silver nail polish on his own finger nails and wipe them off with a nail polish remover, an hour later. It was his favourite past time, as it was one way he felt connected to his Mansi.

  But a moment later, Dinesh wore a frown when he recalled, how fate had cruelly changed his life, dreams and aspirations.

  He had begun speaking to Mansi in the tuition classes and they would hang out together. Till one day, he introduced his childhood friend, Gautam Joshi, to her. It didn’t take long for Mansi and Gautam to develop a connection and he could feel her slipping away into Gautam’s charm. But Dinesh never showed it. He carried a good reputation amongst his peer group, though he would die within daily.

  Instead, Dinesh decided to take Gautam away from Mansi, by both friends together enrolling in the Police services and making their career. Once he would wear a uniform, Dinesh would ask her to marry him.

  He felt happy; Mansi was away from his charming friend. But he never knew Gautam and Mansi were always in touch through love letters, occasional phone calls and secretive meetings on weekends.

  Whenever he got time, Dinesh would meet Mansi outside her college and have coffee with her six close friends, drive them around, be their chauffeur, click their snaps in various poses and do every possible thing to be close to Mansi. He even spoke to his family about marrying her but they were against him marrying an epileptic; no way!

  But he had decided to elope with her if need be, defy his family, the society and give her the life he had planned for her. He loved her like mad and Mansi was only his, since school days. He would do anything and everything to get her in his arms and life. Just about anything.

  But fate had other plans. Mansi never let him into her heart, which she had already surrendered to Gautam.

  And soon enough, the duo announced their wedding plans.

  Dinesh was shattered; but quietly swallowed his pride, anger, resentment and reconciled with a simple friendship with them. At least, that way he could see her often.

  With time, buckling under his parents’ pressure, he also married a girl of their choice and began life, reluctantly. Though often meeting Mansi at Gautam’s house, was the little happiness he got.

  The phone rang shaking him out of his reverie. It was Kinjal, updating him about the day’s events.

  Kinjal Joshi. The DIG smiled. The young girl, who was just the replica of her lovely mother; the same hair, the same gait and the same flawless skin. Each time Kinjal hugged him warmly, he felt it was Mansi around him and his day was made.

  Ohhhhhh pretty little Kinjal, the image of his Mansi, he thought, as he smiled, gently caressing his love’s dupatta and took his evening nap, lost in beautiful memories.

  Paraplegic Rehabilitation Centre

  Mohali, Chandigarh

  Vikash injected the medicine in Kinjal’s father’s vein and watched quietly as the old man slipped in deep sleep. Gautam Joshi quivered a bit, with a sudden jerk and then slept when Vikash gently tapped his hands...two taps gently....just like Kinjal always did.

  Vikash then drew the curtains, tucked the old man in his bed, checked his vitals and quietly left the room towards his own living quarters.

  He quickly changed his clothes and sat to eat his favourite Dominoes pizza and coffee. With irregular hours, Vikash always missed the hospital food timings, so the ward boy was given the duty to get a pizza for the doctor daily. Topped with creamy cheese, olives and mushrooms, Vikash relished each bite he sunk into. Since childhood, the Dominoes pizza was his favourite and now with coffee, his latest passion, he enjoyed his meal, daily.

  Vikash then washed his hands before opening his cupboard, which held his priceless gems within it. Each evening, he would look at them, embrace their essence and rejuvenate hims
elf to step further towards his goal. They were his motivational pushes to grab what he had aimed to achieve, long ago.

  There were four frames nailed in his cupboard, above his clothes. The first one was empty and under it Vikash had written ‘Father’. He looked at the empty frame. He longed to meet his father, hug him, hold him and ask him why he was abandoned as a baby. But so far, the only communication he had with his father was postal letters, along with a cheque, which promptly arrived on the first of every month.

  Vikash did not even know his father’s name but he knew he was an influential man’s son. How he longed for the postman each month. Each letter poured out his father’s emotions, his love, his angst, his unfulfilled dreams and his inability to raise his son as a single parent.

  Vikash was hungrier for the letters rather than the crisp cheque of 50k. Each letter was written in a beautiful handwriting and each letter was signed as ‘Father’. Though it was the email era, it seemed his father still believed in the postal system. Vikash still loved the warmth in the personal letters, as that was the only legacy he had from his father.

  The next frame was also empty. Under it, Vikash had scribbled ‘Late Mom’. From his father’s letters he had learnt that his mother had died when he was born, but once again he had not seen her, known her or even felt her. He was waiting to meet Father and ask him all about the lady whose features, genes and blood was in him. May God give her peace, wherever she maybe, he prayed silently.

  The next frame held a pretty picture of Kinjal, with her deep, seductive dimples. Vikash just stood there with folded arms, looking at her intently. She was an integral part of his goal and he was aware of how much she loved him. He enjoyed the attention she gave him, pampered him and revealed each bit about her life. But did he love her too? That was a question he refused to answer to himself. Rather he ran away from it. For him, Kinjal was just a means to an end...or was he fooling himself? He really didn’t know his feelings for her, he realised.

  The fourth frame held a snap of a beautiful woman in her 40s. Vikash gently caressed the snap. She was his ‘Maa’, the lady he doted on; the one who went through hardships and raised him single handed, to become a worthy doctor. She had been a hard working woman with only one love in her life. She had a few friends too, but they had lost touch after her accident. But Vikash was now taking care of her. How he loved his ‘Maa’.

  The sound of a glass breaking alerted him and he rushed to the adjoining room. Broken pieces of glass lay shattered on the floor but Vikash was not perturbed; he was used to it. He gathered the glass fragments and put them aside.

  She had again tried her best to drink water on her own and had dropped the glass. His ‘Maa’ was sitting on a wheelchair and looking at him helplessly.

  Vikash gently wiped his mother’s drooling saliva. Her eyes just looked at him with utmost love and she smiled wryly but that’s all she could manage to do. An accident had paralysed her entire body, leaving her lifeless like a vegetable.

  Vikash then sang her favourite song to help her sleep….a song she sang with her college friends and would laugh a lot those days.

  “Hush little baby,...don’t say a word...

  Papa’s gonna buy you a little mocking bird...

  And if the mocking bird won’t sing...

  Papa will get you a little diamond ring..

  She slept instantly, when Vikash, gently tapped her palm two times…in regular intervals.

  Vikash watched her and as she slept, he remembered that their chowkidaar had told him that his Father would come to meet his ‘Maa’ when he was away at school. It always pained him why his father never met him. But after Maa’s accident, slowly his father stopped coming too, though his letters and cheques were regularly on time.

  From childhood to youth, Vikash just wanted to meet his father once and ask him why he never wanted to meet his son. He also understood that Gautam Joshi, who was posted in Dehradun long back, was largely responsible for his mother’s accident. Slowly, venom took birth in his heart for the Joshi family.

  But fate had come back full circle when Gautam Joshi himself was crippled and was now under Vikash’s care. But Kinjal had no clue about Vikash’s past life and it was best that way, he felt. She had just left her father in her trusted friend’s care and she was worry free, solving her cases.

  But was Vikash really caring for her father or ensuring he never gets cured again? Only Vikash and Gautam Joshi knew the truth, he smiled slyly.

  He sat by her chair till she slipped into deep sleep.

  His loving, brave Maa, Pinky Bindra Shrivastava.

  He was proud of his Pinky Mom and he would ensure her each wound, her each pain, her each tear would get justice. She would smile again, even if it’s the last thing he would do, Vikash swore to himself, as he watched her all night, while she slept peacefully.

  CHAPTER 6

  When Doubts Rule

  Joshis’ Villa

  Sector 12 Panchkula

  “But, Ma’am, please listen to me at least once; I am talking sense”, Milan said, trying to convince Kinjal to give him a patient hearing. All night he had sat up, trying to connect the dots and had found some vital points, which he felt Kinjal should know. But she was adamant.

  “Milan, I have repeatedly told you, I will not hear anything against DIG Uncle. And mind you, he is your senior; you should be focussing your energy in finding the killer , rather than digging up the past of a noble soul, a senior police official and a family friend ”, Kinjal said angrily, hurriedly gulping her breakfast.

  “Ma’am, just hear me out once!” Milan said a bit sternly as he held her by the shoulders. He had never touched her even once and this first time electricity went through him. Yet, he stayed calm but remained firm. He had to make her see reality, for her safety.

  Kinjal also stiffened, never expecting Milan to react this way. She sobered down and let him talk. If he was so persistent, there must be something vital he wanted to tell her.

  Milan opened his laptop, while Kinjal heard him patiently and Amber peeped over her shoulder, not wanting to miss any clue.

  “Ma’am, I did some research about DIG Sir and found some details which made me a bit uneasy. According to his profile, his wife died at childbirth but where is the child, remains a question mark?”Milan said quietly.

  Kinjal was silent. She was not going to believe him blindly. “How did you get the info, Milan? I am sure such old records won’t be available online?” she enquired.

  “Yes, Ma’am, you are right. But I had a word with the DIG’s gardener, who has been serving him since the last 30 years. With a little bribe, of course, he dropped his loyalty and revealed details. He said the DIG’s wife delivered the child at home and died immediately. Her funeral was a hushed up affair, without any family members. And next day, the DIG took the baby and vanished for a few months or so.”, Milan continued.

  “Means?” asked Amber.

  “Means, the fact, that his wife’s death was, a hushed up affair, has raised my doubts about him, Ma’am,” Milan said thoughtfully.

  “You said his wife died at childbirth. Then where is his child? Since I have known DIG Uncle, he never mentioned anything about a child to me or my family.” Kinjal now was tense and paced up and down.

  Milan must have made some mistake; DIG Uncle was her Godfather, but the fact that his wife’s cremation was so mysterious and there was no clue about the child, was a mystery to her as well. She recalled that her mother’s funeral was also quietly done and rather quickly. She kept quiet and decided to investigate herself, to be double sure.

  “Ma’am, I am trying to find out the whereabouts of the child but it’s been so long ago, that any clue may seem impossible. But please, let’s not wipe the DIG out of our suspect zone. Please remember, Ma’am, he also has access to your home and he knows every angle of the case. Could there be anything about his past that you are unaware of and maybe your father can tell us? Any clue?” Milan asked curiously.

 
“No”, Kinjal replied curtly. She did not like what she was hearing about DIG Uncle. Her cold attitude was enough to give Milan the shut up call and he retreated, silently hoping she will understand the gravity of the situation. He excused himself to the washroom.

  Kinjal was restless and feeling uneasy within. Though she hated to admit it, Milan was not wrong. Her mind said to believe him, but her heart was not willing to listen. DIG Uncle? Not possible. But she wanted to erase her doubts by finding out for herself, she decided, as she put the final touches to her kajal. In the mirror, she could see the reflection of Milan’s open laptop.

  Kinjal froze.

  All the documents he had opened earlier were shut down and now his desktop was clearly visible. It was a snap of Kinjal sprawled lazily on her bed.

  She cringed, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought that Milan had captured her in this pose. With him still in the washroom, she quickly scrolled through his desktop and found a folder of all her snaps. Kinjal sat there, shocked. Each snap of hers, taken from different angles was speaking volumes about his obsession for her. Now, she was truly nervous.

  She shut down the laptop quickly as she heard Milan coming back in the room. Pretending all was normal, she offered him juice, while she picked up her revolver and got ready to leave for the day.

  Amber had seen the snaps too and watched Milan carefully as they left. Amber was equally confused. It seemed he himself could only trust Kinjal and Maggie, the rest of these men are real dogs, he grumbled to himself, watching the duo leave. Kinjal seemed preoccupied and had not even given him a goodbye peck, but its okay, Amber felt; love meant to forgive little things after all, he stretched his limbs and sat in grim thought about Milan, his new suspect.

  ***

  Kinjal was quiet as she drove to meet her father at Mohali. It was Tuesday again, but today she needed some answers from Dad. She honestly didn’t know who to trust now, DIG Uncle or Milan. She dropped him on the way, as he requested, but now she saw Milan with doubtful eyes. She never knew he seemed keen on her and was watching her. It suddenly felt creepy.