DRIVE — part III

I thought of putting the entire remaining portion in this post as it’s only one episode remaining now. But, then it would have really long and tedious post for you to read, it’s already quite lengthy. So, I am breaking it into two parts… I just hope I am able to hold your interests till here…

A year back…

Abhigyaan had been waiting to see Priyani ever since the moment he had appeared at the spot. As the survivor hostages rushed out of the hotel under police security, he scanned them, madly searching for his wife ' forgetting that he wasn't an ordinary citizen but a gold medallist IPS officer.

It had been almost 24 hours after his arrival that he finally saw her. She was dressed in a blue chiffon sari he had gifted on their first marriage anniversary, looking as ethereal as his wedding night bride draped in benarasi and adorned in simple jewellery. 'You look perfect even when you wake up,' Abhimanyu used to complain fondly, 'this is bad. I suffer from inferiority complex.' However, this time around, Priyani Banerjee was lifeless.

The bullets had battered her body at six different places, seemingly rampaged as a mark of cruelty and terror. The frozen blood and pallor on her face made it evident that her dead body had been lying unattended for quite some time. However, there was not even a tinge of fear on her face. Priya was always braver than me, Abhi told himself and smiled painfully yet proudly.

'She is my wife,' Abhigyaan could hear himself speak with voice choked with anguish, while Priyani was being transferred on a stretcher to the ambulance kept awaiting.

A child ran up to him as Abhi moved towards the stretcher. He was barely twelve years old, presumably of American origin, clad in a blue t-shirt and red slacks. 'Are you Abimenu?' the child pulled him by the arm, 'she saved my life from the terrorists and kept calling your name in her final moments. I would be thankful to her all my life.'

As if he was not defeated already, Abhi had to hear this. For a moment, he could visualise Priyani lying in a pool of blood somewhere on the hotel floor, battered with bullets and calling his name. Suddenly, Abhi felt her voice reach his ears, as she muttered her name while heaving with pain. She wanted him to come and save her from the inevitable, from the terror, from the death she was fighting. After all, he had always been her hero.

And on the panic-stricken Mumbai street, Abhimanyu held the arm of a foreigner guy who was perhaps one-third of his age, and burst out crying ' howling in pain and anger.

A year later…

Abhi stood out on the open streets, looking blankly, radiant eyes soaked with grief. Srijit adjusted the gear, stopped the engine and opened his door. And almost instantly a motorbike crashed into him. Abhigyaan hadn't taken notice of the bike when it had sailed past him but the screeching sound of the bike and shriek of his friend and a girl compelled him to take notice.

As he turned, Srijit sank down on his knees while the pair riding the bike rushed down it.

'I am really sorry,' the guy explained while they bent to attend the lower shin where Srijit seemed to be hurt, 'I was about to take the left turn, so was driving on the left.'

'It's okay,' Srijit nodded his head.

Abhigyaan walked rapidly towards the place and held his friend by the arm.

'Are you okay?' he asked, 'how did it happen?'

'Actually I didn't realise that Sir was about to come out,' the guy clarified in a tensed voice, 'I was about to take left turn and crashed into him unintentionally.'

'It's okay,' Srijit wreathed, 'I should have put the indicator on as well.'

Abhigyaan opened the driver's door and made his friend sit comfortably on the driver's seat. Srijit slowly pushed himself over and stretched his leg to reduce the pain.

As Abhigyaan turned to talk to the couple, he finally caught notice of their appearances. The boy was around 6 feet tall, fair, sharp features with a rough cheek skin spotted with shaved beard marks and black hair highlighted with streaks of almond. He wore an olive green waist-length kurta, stonewashed dark brown jeans and a black leather jacket. The girl was much better looking in comparison to him. She was fairer than the guy, about 5'4" in height, clad in white salwar-kameez with the dupatta worn over her head, neatly done make up, well matched oxidised accessories and a black oversized vanity bag hanging from one shoulder.

'I am really sorry,' the guy repeated and the lady joined her, 'yes sir, indeed.'

'Not an issue,' Abhigyaan nodded, 'I think you should go now. It's not safe driving a bike with a lady so late at night.'

'Thanks,' the pair acknowledged together.

They strolled back and got on the bike. The guy started the engine, raised his hand to his head and wished the strangers 'Khuda Hafiz.' Unknowingly, he spoilt all his hopes to reach home safely that night.

'Excuse me,' Abhigyaan's reaction came faster than he might have anticipated himself.

The guy looked back and smiled, 'Yes?'

'May I know your name?'

Srijit looked at his friend, alarmed by the tone, sceptical of what lay ahead.

'Riyaaz Ahmed.'

'And her?' Abhigyaan asked.

'Why do you want to know?' the guy was displeased by the questions.

Abhigyaan didn't respond to his question but brought out his identity card from the jeans hip pocket. 'DCP Abhimnayu Banerjee,' he flashed the card, 'you want to ask something else?'

'Salma sir,' the lady added trying to avert the trouble, 'we are husband-wife. Both of us work in a call centre. We are returning home after our shift.'

Abhigyaan nodded weakly, rubbing his finger-tips, a signal Srijit knew as a tendency his friend displayed had whenever he was unsure or attempted at conjuring any explanation. In most probability, things were not shaping up favourably. Abhi pondered for the next line and finally figured what he wanted to ask.

'Why are you not wearing a helmet?' Abhi pointed out, 'please get down from the bike.'

Riyaaz and Salma couldn't figure out that the reluctant stranger they had met a few moments back was slowly turning into a monster. Riyaaz turned off the bike's engine as they stepped off the bike, unaware that their nightmare hadn't yet started.

'We are sorry Sir,' Salma initiated the apology with a smile, 'as the streets are vacant, we thought we would cherish the cold wind.'

'May I see your driving license please?' Abhigyaan pointed.

Riyaaz handed over his driving license, unwillingly, and observed the cop. Abhi scanned the license and kept in his hand.

'Please step back from the bike,' he ordered Riyaaz in a no-nonsense tone.

'Why?' the young guy was flummoxed.

'Is there something wrong,' Srijit asked.

But there was no response to Srijit's question.

'Do as I say,' Abhigyaan brought out his service revolver tucked under his belt, 'please step aside and co-operate.'

Salma almost freaked out at the sight of the gun. 'What is this going on?'

'Routine enquiry Ma'am,' Abhigyaan remarked, 'please ask your husband not to compel the police and oblige peacefully.'

Salma looked pleadingly at her husband, and Riyaaz nodded.

'May I know what are you carrying in your bag Ma'am?' Abhigyaan diverted the attention.

'My bag?' Salma looked confused, 'Why?'

'Well I doubt it contains explosives or related materials,' Abhigyaan's face could have hardly revealed to any stranger that he was making all this up. Perhaps he had practised all of this many times to gain that expertise. And this was the night for execution.

'Bomb?' Salma was on the verge of tears.

'Well,' Abhigyaan swallowed, 'perhaps. Or any other not so congenial for the society.'

'Abhi,' Srijit spoke out, 'what's wrong? Is there any reason for your doubt?'

'Our first reason for scrutiny is personal doubt,' Abhigyaan looked at his friend, 'first level analysis to prevent anti-social activists and activism.'

'Why do we seem anti-socials to you?' Riyaaz blurted from his position.

'Doubt Mr. Ahmed,' Abhigyaan smirked, 'there's no logical reason to doubt.' He turned to face Salma, 'May I now please see the contents of your bag?'

Salma wiped the tears which had betrayed her restraint. She zipped open the bag and showed it to the investigator.

'Turn it and drop all the contents on the ground,' Abhigyaan ordered.

Salma didn't ask any other question. She turned her bag upside down and shook all the components on the ground. Her cosmetics, money, sunglass, notepad, pens and keys ' everything lay scattered on the street, while she drooped her head in embarrassment and grief and her husband looked on helplessly, unable to protest.

Srijit knew he had to budge in, but he was sceptical if Abhigyaan had any feasible reason to doubt the couple. After all, his friend had been an expert in this field for years.

'Ok, it's clear,' Abhigyaan smiled. Everyone else gasped in relief, hardly realising that the torment was far away from over.

'Sir,' Abhi turned towards Riyaaz, 'it's your turn now.'

Riyaaz emptied his pockets and poured his wallet's contents on the ground. After he finished, he looked up said, 'Anything else?'

The DCP smiled and said, 'You haven't yet started.'

'I'm sorry,' the frown on his face expressing his confusion as he saw the other two onlookers and faced back the cop, 'I didn't get you.'

'Well, I need to check your clothes,' Abhigyaan ordered, 'Strip.'

To be continued in the 4th and last part… Will be posted in one more day…