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by MJ
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Detective · #1706844
A detective story with a twist in the 'tale'.
Rahuvir Pratap Singh, in my own humble words is an epitome of
clairvoyance and intuitive intellect. Such, was the magnitude of his
deductive powers that creations like me merely gaped at him blankly as he
delivered his masterstrokes.
It was a cold, dreary and misty January evening. The Delhi winters inspired
an innate feeling of gloom and desolation in me. I was staring
uninterruptedly out of the window of 31-B Siri Fort Road victimized by one
such trance. RP was settled on his favorite armchair comfortably, smoking a
cigarette thoughtfully. The silence was melancholic and droning. Suddenly,
RP’s gruffly voice shattered the suffocating monotony:
“Juneja, your sordid mood is most easily explicable as I am aware of the fact
that my glumness is infectious, especially if you have been on an excursion
to Nehru Park with your friends. Add to that the post-weekend blues and
your hatred for misty winter evenings make a morbid mess of your
otherwise amiable nature,” said RP.
I stared back at him in utter disbelief.
“I see no way how you came to know of my excursion,” said I.
RP chuckled dryly.
“Mate, I was observing your trousers, you were wearing the same pair
yesterday as well. I observe muddy patches along the borders of your
trousers indicating your visit to a park today as yesterday these stains were
absent and the weather has been essentially dry: chances of you getting these
stains from a puddle are miniscule. Your shoes also give ample support to
my theory; you don’t like to wear sport shoes until and unless you actually
indulge in any physical activity. So I deduce that you were playing some
sport with your friends. It was apparent that you were on a picnic as you
came to my place at five sporting this attire, indicating that the whole affair
included lunch and socializing. Nehru Park came up as the natural choice for
you as it was the only venue which would have served all your purposes as
almost all the other picnic spots in our vicinity do not allow sporting
activities,” concluded RP.
“Excellently put!” I cried vehemently
RP exuded sheer delight and bowed his head slightly in appreciation.
The door bell rang shrilly. RP’s eyes became rampantly alert and emanated
excitement.
“I assume we have a case on our hands Juneja! Come in!” He called
ecstatically
A young and attractive woman entered the room. She was well-dressed and
emanated the air of someone who was considerably wealthy. To me, she
looked about twenty five years old. She was shivering a trifle.
“Have a seat, Ma’am,” RP stood up exhibiting his characteristic chivalry.
The woman sat down neatly on an armchair and looked thoroughly
disconcerted. RP then settled himself down and peered at our guest in his
blistering swiftness. I was aware that his mind was keenly accepting details
and making deductions about our visitor.
“I deduce that you are an inhabitant of Defence Colony,” remarked RP
The lady looked stupefied.
“Why, Mr. Singh, how did you come to that conclusion?” inquired our guest
incredulously.
“You, can call me RP, Ma’am, Mr. Singh is exaggeratingly formal,” said
RP. with a distant twinkle in his cold eyes. RP was naturally flirtatious and
had an uncanny knack of gaining a woman’s confidence easily.
“I was observing the spectacle case held by you, it referred to an optician in
Central market, Lajpat Nagar. Secondly, beneath your cardigan, I can see a
Fab-India kurti, which has two showrooms in South Delhi, one in GK-1
market and the other one in Central Market. You bought your kurti from
Central Market-that’s my hypothesis. This blandly indicates that you reside
in vicinity of Lajpat Nagar, as you bought both of your things from Central
Market. Your attire and persona reflects considerable wealth and indicates
that you are from a posh and well to do locality. Naturally, I came to the
conclusion that you are a resident of Defence Colony as it is close to Central
Market and is a haven of wealthy people. I would definitely thank my friend
Juneja for the Fab-India part, as his fiancée is fond of kurtis,”
Quipped RP
The lady was considerably impressed.
“Sir, I’ve heard a lot about you. I am facing a horrendously precarious
situation. Firstly, I’ll give you the necessary details about myself: I am Neha
Kaushik, a resident of Defence Colony as you correctly deduced. I am
twenty four years old and a software engineer by profession. I am from an
orthodox family, and though I was popular in college, I never had a
boyfriend as I respected the compulsions laid down by my family. Just a
couple of months ago, my parents arranged my marriage. Initially, I was
adamantly against it and wanted to chase my ambitions, but on meeting this
guy a few times, I felt incessant attraction and fell more for him every time
we met; I started fantasizing of a household with him. Now, I come to the
part which has imbibed rampant terror in me. Just a week ago, I received an
e-mail from an unknown id. It said:
Your happiness is short-lived. Beware.
Naturally, I ignored it and went about my business as usual. The next day, I
received another e-mail, this time it was from a different id and it said:
You exhibited foolishness yesterday by ignoring my e-mail, perils await
you.
This time fear engulfed me, I sensed malignance in the whole affair. The email
played on my mind for the whole day and made me conspicuously
fearful. However, nothing moved me more then the e-mail I received the
following day, it was from a third id and said:
How can you even think of marrying anyone else?
I understood the basis of the whole affair; naturally it was a malodorous
conspiracy to break my marriage. I am deeply in love with my fiancée, and
cannot even think of parting from him. I naively wondered the sort of perils
this unidentified person could bring to my life, at the same time I waited
desperately for the next day as I received a new e-mail everyday.
The next day’s mail eventually made me come here to take your advice. It
said:
My obsession for you is ravaging. The life of your fiancée is in your own
hands. Ask him to get out of my way.
That evening I met Ajay, oh yeah that’s his name Ajay Trivedi. I thought of
disclosing everything to him, but it occurred to me that his easy going nature
would lead him to laugh the whole matter off. I remained in disconcerting
dilemma. This morning, I got another mail from a fifth id. It said:
If you don’t erase him from your life, I will. Just watch the show Neha.
Cold sweat and palpitation made me almost unconscious. I considered
informing the Police, but I heard of your efficacy and thought that you
would definitely bring some respite to my ominously troubled soul,” The
lady concluded and sighed gravely.
RP and I listened enraptured to the remarkable account.
“A couple of questions for you, Ma’am,” said RP.
“Did you feel in your college life, that someone had an inherent liking for
you, I hope you understand my query,” asked RP.
“Like I said, I got ample male attention in college, but I was never aware of
any particular person having such acute feelings for me,” said the lady
dismissively.
“As of now, are there any male comrades in your social circle?” inquired RP
“I am a bit of an introvert and have a very few intimate friends, all of whom
are women,” said the lady.
“Lastly, was the sender using the same web mail application or was he
cunning enough to change even them?” asked RP.
The lady sighed-“The first mail was from a Hotmail id, the second one from
a Yahoo id, third from a G-mail id, fourth from an Indiatimes id and the last
one from a Rediff id,”
RP swore loudly-“Ingenious and planned with meticulous precision. Very
well Ma’am, I will take up your case, I would advice you to be on scent for
anything unusual, just give me a call in the case you do spot anything out of
order, though we cannot still be sure of the magnitude of threat this whole
episode poses to you,” Said RP conclusively.
The lady took leave.
RP assumed the same stringent expression which was remarkably familiar to
me. He contemplated in silence. I could feel him emanating clairvoyant
vibrations.
“Juneja; Do you sense foul play here?” RP asked me shattering the silence.
“You have put me in a tight spot, RP; I am unable to make anything
concrete out of this right now. It can be a foolish joke or a grotesque affair.
My limited insight into such things makes it impossible for me to continue,”
said I
RP chuckled.
“Juneja, let us not discuss this matter any further. The matter does not incite
me particularly at the moment. Making up theories without facts is a
colossally immature deed to do,” said he.
We had a quiet dinner. RP was a horrible cook. The menu for dinner was
supposed to be Rajma and Rice, but the Rajma was a gross concoction of red
kidney beans, red chilly and an excessive amount of watery gravy. Yet, you
have to gracefully accept whatever your host bestows on you, such is life.
It was about ten, RP was listening to music and I was reading the day’s
newspaper; RP’s phone rang shrilly: “Trrring..Trrring”
RP answered the call, an expression of foreboding etched into the lines of
his thin and gaunt face.
I shot a glance at RP’s direction and observed his expression which assumed
a graver touch as the moments passed.
RP disconnected the line.
“Juneja, the affair is not a mere joke but has malevolence etched into it
deeply,” said RP.
“Was it Neha?” I asked breathlessly
“Yes it was her, and we have to gear up for a late night excursion mate, as
Ajay Trivedi has been attacked, he is grievously injured and fighting for his
life,” whispered RP.
RP’s cell phone rang yet again wrecking the stillness.
“It’s Arora!” said RP
RP was through with the call in ten minutes or so.
“Juneja, the matter now involves police, Arora is on his way and will be our
guest in a few minutes,” said RP.
Twenty minutes elapsed in silence, the doorbell rang and the charismatic and
alert Inspector Arora entered our room.
The inspector shook hands with both of us.
“Sir,” he said settling himself down, “I assume Neha Kaushik has already
given you an insight into the whole affair. However, the sinister and bizarre
‘accident’ of Ajay Trivedi definitely requires you at your wittiest self. This
guy had a vociferous struggle with an individual and was attacked finally by
some heavy object. He bled profusely for a while before medical attention
was bestowed on him. The fellow seems gravely critical. A crime committed
in passion undoubtedly?” inquired Arora RP furrowed his brow and seemed
absorbed in a reverie.
Arora awaited his reply.
“Yes, most certainly, please proceed with your narrative” said RP bluntly
“Yes sir, the crime was committed in an uncanny and preposterous way; the
victim was on a motorbike and was heading back home: he usually goes to
work in his car, but some times takes his motorbike due to his inherent
fondness for two-wheelers: it’s overwhelmingly amazing that the assassin
was aware of the fact that the victim was taking his bike to work today.
Apparently, the gentleman was halted first and then attacked. He was found
lying besides his bike on Nelson Mandela Marg; obviously he was going
towards Vasant Kunj-the place where he resides,” said Arora dismissively
“Is that all?” inquired RP
“Yes sir,” said Arora and peered at my friend eagerly.
RP sighed and remarked-“Arora, I’ll need to have a look at the scene of
crime now, the rest of my investigation will resume tomorrow, see you at
NMM in forty five minutes” said RP
It was nearly twelve when we left 31-B Siri Fort Road. Dense fog enveloped
the city and gave it a precariously ghastly look. The lights of our cab pierced
the blatant obscurity of the mist effectively. The cabbie slowly but surely
took us towards our destination.
Nearly an hour had elapsed; we stepped out of the cab and Arora was
standing near the motorbike on the dreary road.
RP characteristically scanned the area, his meticulous nature was irritating
me as the cold seared into my insides and made me numb.
After thirty long and shivery minutes, RP dismissed Arora and beckoned me.
“Let’s leave Juneja, it’s getting very late,” he said coldly.
I was in an inquisitive mood on our way back, so I started putting my
queries forward.
“RP, any luck?” I chanced.
RP looked thoughtful and sighed deeply-“Unfortunately, I have not been
able to unleash anything concrete except for the fact that the assassin was
huge and of colossal build. My usual methods made me jump to these
conclusions. Rest of my inferences will be at your disposal after we have a
chat with the aggrieved lady tomorrow,”
“But, what about the mails? Isn’t it possible to connect the e-mails with the
attack?” I asked
“Juneja, I’ll be definitely working on all those lines but before getting access
to those mails, I cannot brew up theories; for which we’ll definitely have to
set our troubled minds to rest until tomorrow morning,” said RP.
We reached our place in forty-odd minutes.
It was over half-past two and I was immensely fatigued.
I lied down and closed my eyes, sleep immediately overpowered me.
My cell phone rang shrilly-“Woh pehli baar jab hum mile”. It had to be
Tanya; that ring tone was meant for her. Tanya being an early riser had this
annoying habit of calling me before sunrise.
I answered the call in half sleep -“Hello!”
“Good Morning!” a bright farm fresh voice greeted me
“Morning Tanya” I groaned
“What’s the matter Raj? Did I wake you up?” inquired Tanya
Even though I was furious at her at that moment, yet talking hotly to your
fiancée is something which should not be in one’s disposition. I put myself
back together and replied gathering an overwhelming air of placidity-
“Actually you did, had a strenuous night Tanya. Slept at three,”
“Aww poor thing…., ah… Raj I want to meet you today,” she groaned.
Now, meeting Tanya was something that was always extraneously important
to me, but RP always notched up a case and put me in wavering dilemma.
“Listen Tanya-” I began,
“I know its RP, why don’t you end up marrying him?” she snarled and
disconnected the line.
I swore loudly, it was a horrendous start to a day.
I checked my watch-it was five thirty. I expected RP to be awake, but a
surprise awaited me here as well, it seemed that he slept for the whole nightthis
was something out of the usual order as my friend hardly slept when he
was working on a case.
Clumsily I got ready for work. RP woke up after an hour.
“Juneja, why don’t you call Tanya and try to mend things by asking her for a
date today? Stop exhibiting your sordid display of misery and wretchedness
and take her to a place that’s a touch more expensive,” said RP.
I gaped back at him incredulously.
“Never mind how I deduced the same; in any case you need to go to work
today and won’t be able to join me before evening. Its better that you spend
some amiable moments with your fiancée and join me afterwards?”
concluded RP
After an hour and a half or so, I started for work.
It was nearly ten, when I reached the doorstep of 31-B Siri Fort Road; the
scenario which greeted me was overwhelmingly familiar. The room was
filled with smoke up to the brim and in its sweltering atmosphere; I could
see the dark and mystic figure of my friend.
“Let me open the window,” I gasped.
“Yeah, do so if you can brave the cold,” said RP coolly.
“Fresh cold air is better than your….. RP can you please cut down the
tobacco, it suffocates me,” said I
“I am apologetic mate,” said RP and threw away his cigarette.
“Now, will you give me the details as to how the case is shaping up” I asked
with some urgency.
“Juneja, the case is of tremendous interest. I will give you the details point
by point. Firstly, Ajay Trivedi is now out of danger, this news certainly
brought the smile back to the face of our dear client. Proceeding further, I
checked the mails received by the lady and they seem quite untraceable. I
searched the net for almost a couple of hours today for some sort of a way to
trace an e-mail to its location. I found some helpful articles but those were
only applicable if the sender uses application software like Outlook. For
web-based mail applications there is practically no way to trace the e-mail.
Now, coming to the attack-I am now absolutely sure that the assassin was a
huge and intimidating personality. The lady doesn’t know of any such
person. I met all of her intimate friends and gathered that they were a well
knit social group, I found nothing unusual there. We have to wait for further
happenings; I just can’t form a theory. If we assume that the assassin is the
obsessive lover, it is not possible to search for him in the sheer vastness of
this city unless he strikes again. What I feel that the assassin was hired to
commit the crime. Ajay himself is a person who is over six feet tall and
trained in martial arts, so I feel the assassin was specifically hired to tackle
him. I have asked the lady to keep me posted on anything unusual though,”
said RP.
I thought he looked in haywire and emanated disconcertion.
We had dinner silently, with Mohammad Rafi’s melodramatic tunes playing
on RP’s cell phone simultaneously.
I was feeling drowsy but something told me that I won’t be able to sleep a
wink that night as well.
I powered my laptop on as I had some official chores on hand.
RP was characteristically mesmerized by the music.
The doorbell rang and it literally gave me goose bumps.
Neha Kaushik and Inspector Arora entered our room.
“Sir, I have got another e-mail!” said Neha excitedly.
“Excellent! What does it say?” cried RP
The lady had brought her laptop in sleep mode and immediately put it on.
The mail was open.
It was yet again from a hotmail id, but the user name was different. The mail
went like this:
Sheer luck saved your fiancée’s life. He won’t remain alive for long.
RP was exulted.
“Ma’am, this impostor has finally given us a clue, he is definitely someone
from your close friends, as he is someone who is aware of every happening.
Remember, Arora what you said about the motorbike and the assassin being
aware of the fact that Ajay Trivedi took his motorbike to work, this blandly
indicates the proximity of the impostor to Miss Kaushik,” said RP.
“Absolutely sir!” cried Arora triumphantly
“Secondly, Miss Kaushik all the mails sent before this one had quite a few
misspellings indicating that they were composed hurriedly. This one has no
misspelling and has its punctuation spot-on. This can point to one conclusion
that this mail has been composed by the person from his place. I know that
sounds absurd but that can be taken as a working hypothesis. I have an
innate feeling that this e-mail has originated from Outlook, which gives me a
chance to trace its location,” said RP quickly, his hollow cheeks reddened
with excitement.
The suspense created in the room was overpowering and the three of us
looked at RP in nervous excitement.
RP stared fixedly at the laptop screen.
The man himself was absolutely ignorant of the fact that the three of us were
peering at him in searing anticipation.
Ten minutes passed in silence and Raghuvir Pratap Singh continued to
exhibit his infuriating ignorance.
In an infinitesimal instant, he woke up from his reverie.
“Oh! I am extremely sorry to keep you at bay folks, give me ample time to
make something fructuous out of this,” he exclaimed
“Ma’am you’ll have to leave your laptop here,” he added insolently.
Arora heaved a dejected sigh, even the lady emanated disappointment.
“Right sir, we take leave, I am familiar with your methods,” winked Arora
RP acknowledged their leave with a curt nod.
I meanwhile was feeling drowsiness in colossal proportions. I bade ‘Good
Night’ to my friend and headed for the room.
My alarm clock devastated the comforting silence and I woke up half
heartedly. I checked my cell-phone- it was half past six. Leaving your quilt
on a January morning for work is a daunting task. Delhi winters plummet an
eerie concoction of gloom and laziness in my insides.
RP was not there in the living room. He had smoked a dozen cigarettes last
night and was presumably listening to music.
However, his absence astonished me immensely.
After forty five minutes or so, RP entered unobtrusively through the main
door. He was sporting bizarre attire-A ‘puma’ t-shirt with checkered shorts.
He was puffing profusely.
“RP are you insane? Do you know how cold it is out there?” I screamed
vehemently.
“Juneja, nothing vitalizes you more than a tedious morning jog. The cold has
now seared extravagantly into my insides and hence I won’t feel it for the
whole day,” he reasoned absurdly.
My friend never ceased to expose his ludicrous eccentricities.
“By the way Juneja, how desperately does your workplace need you today?”
inquired RP.
“I am always looking for excuses to skip work, a leave is surely on the
cards” I replied
“Excellent, phone your boss and beg for his pardon, its time we took our
investigation to the next level,” quipped my friend
We sat discussing the matter over breakfast.
“So any luck with the mail?” asked I masticating my burnt toast.
It was one of RP’s wayward and whimsical theories which forced me to burn
our toasts every morning. According to him, burnt toasts infused Carbon into
the body which was an excellent anti-oxidant. His gigantic bookish
knowledge and grandeur made me accept all his dispositions.
“My dear Juneja, the mail was sent from the email-id:
buildersatwork@hotmail.com. This is the only e-mail id which makes some
sort of sense, the rest ones being like: abfg@gmail.com,
pqrs@rediffmail.com etc. Naturally, all the other e-mail ids were make-shift
ones. Hence, the ‘buildersatwork’ id is the personal id of the imposter. I
have already given my views on why this e-mail was composed from the
residence of the imposter. Now, what we need is a trifle amount of luck, if
the mail was sent using Outlook I’ll be able to trace it. I went through the
article given on one of the web pages to trace such mails. The process will
give us the IP address which will merely indicate the locality from which the
mail originated. That is undoubtedly going to be sufficient as the residence
of the imposter would be known to the lady. Remember-it’s someone really
close to her,” said RP sipping his tea thoughtfully.
We hurriedly finished our breakfast and RP powered the laptop on.
Step by step he followed the article. It consisted of a series of cumbersome
steps which involved opening the DOS command prompt at least twenty
times. The whole thing swayed in obscurity for me, but RP was an unsung
master at this as well.
Finally, after a span of twenty minutes an IP address flashed at the DOS
prompt.
“There you go Juneja, this article asks for the people who actually managed
to trace a mail using the above steps, I’ll put my name there and commence
a list,” he winked amicably.
The IP address on the screen was:
122.21.111.143
“Juneja, you know what, this result enlightens the matter further. Though I
am not an expert but the ‘122’ in the first octet of the address indicates that it
is a person using Airtel broadband. A ‘59’ in the first octet would have
pointed to an MTNL IP. We can expect better service from the Airtel guys,
thank god we were saved from the clutches of the sluggish MTNL guys,” he
chuckled dryly.
“Now, it would be the responsibility of our adorable comrade Arora to trace
the location of the IP address-Pardon me for a minute I’ll give him the
details,” said he.
He joined me back in five minutes and said-“I presume we have a free
morning, would you mind a visit to the Café Coffee Day on this road. It’s
been an obnoxiously long time since we discussed matters over a
cappuccino,”
RP ordered for a couple of cappuccinos and a chocolate doughnut.
He then sat observing a group of boys jabbering away incessantly on topics
ranging from girls-their boyfriends, bikes and cricket.
“You know what Juneja, women are inadvertently blamed for being
excessively loquacious-Men are by no means light-years behind,” quipped
my friend
“I think you are right, Tanya however is a touch too talkative. At times I feel
that I have not uttered a word and she has done a ten thousand” sighed I.
“Juneja, mocking a woman behind her back is extremely immature and
imprudent,” snapped RP.
“I was not making a mockery of her; I was just giving you an insight into her
character and behavior,” replied I offended.
RP looked thoughtful.
Our coffees were served to us by a young boy.
“I presume, you’ve recently been acknowledged for good work by the
management,” RP asked the boy.
The boy looked taken aback.
“Yes sir, I was declared as the employee of the month for December, but it’s
not even displayed on the notice board, how did you come to know?”
“I am a regular visitor to this outlet and have been served by you twice, you
have been the most jovial and swiftest among all your comrades, however
today I noticed you to be indolent. It is my belief that a negative impact on
one’s performance can happen when he is either blasted or given an
appraisal. The former was not possible in your case, so I rooted for the latter.
Appraisals should only encourage you to do better, they should not inspire
complacency,” remarked RP.
The boy gave a low bow in my friend’s direction
“RP, you are impossible!” said I incredulously.
We cherished the tranquil ambience for an hour or so before RP’s phone
rang shrilly.
RP answered the call.
“High time, Arora: What news have you got for us?” RP inquired rather
beseechingly.
The phone call was concluded in ten minutes. It comprised of a couple of
‘Yeses’ and ‘Nos’ and was concluded by an ecstatic ‘Excellent’.
We were walking back to 31-B Siri Fort Road and RP explained everything
to me.
“The IP address has been traced to Saket. The residential address of the user
couldn’t be traced as dynamic IP addresses are employed nowadays. These
addresses change for every session, but the ISP assigns the second octet of
the IP address to the location of the user and the last two octets are variable.
We now head to Batra Hospital where we meet Miss Neha Kaushik, let’s
take her laptop and head to the hospital,” said RP.
We reached Batra Hospital in twenty five minutes or so.
Neha Kaushik was nursing her fiancée. The man had a malignant wound on
his head which was bandaged completely. He was asleep.
On our entering the room, the lady stood up instantaneously and shook
hands with both of us.
Her face feigned intense eagerness and foreboding.
“Sir, anything new?” she asked RP.
“Yes Ma’am. The e-mail has been traced successfully and is sent from the
areas near Saket. I would now be asking you a couple of questions, please
answer them to the best of your knowledge,” said RP definitively
But the lady exhibited rampant delirium at the news. When she spoke, her
voice quivered with excitement.
“Sir, it’s got to be Yogesh Mishra. He’s one of the most intimate friends of
Ajay. He resides in Saket and was here whole of yesterday and also visited
Ajay’s place regularly,” exclaimed Neha.
“How many times have you met this person?” inquired RP.
“A couple of times” replied the other.
“Did you at any point of time feel that he is getting attracted to you?”
continued RP.
“As to that I am not sure,” replied the lady.
“But then why not ask Ajay if this is the e-mail id of his friend or not”
interjected I
“The doctors have advised Ajay to not to put any sort of pressure on his
thinking, it could result in a hemorrhage,” Neha supplied.
RP looked extremely thoughtful, after a droning silence of ten minutes, he
continued his interrogation session.
“Ma’am, a couple of questions for you: What does Ajay do?” asked RP
“He’s a builder primarily. He is also an avid investor in real estate and stock
markets,” said Neha.
“And what does Yogesh Mishra do for a living?” RP asked yet again.
“He and Ajay have been intimate friends right from their college days, he
works for a multinational I guess,” came her bland reply.
RP feigned a look of disconcertion. It seemed that this piece of news came
as an unwelcome revelation to him.
“Lastly, is there anyone else you know who resides in Saket?” asked RP
“Yes, I have an extremely close friend residing there. Her name is Jayati
Gambhir,” said Neha thoughtfully.
“Ma’am, give me the addresses of both these individuals. I will interrogate
them personally, and by the way this is your laptop and be on alert for any
new e-mails” said RP.
We exited from the hospital.
“Are you suggesting that the woman-Jayati has a hand in this?” ejaculated I
“My dear Juneja, the laws of nature are openly flouted these days,” said RP.
his cold eyes twinkled slightly.
“Oh, this is surely not the time for grotesque jokes,” said I ruefully.
We reached J-18 Saket (the residence of Yogesh Mishra) in half an hour or
so, my stomach grumbled ominously and demanded food as it was already
past lunch time. However, putting forward this demand before RP was an
obnoxiously imprudent thing to do.
But unfortunately, Mr. Mishra was not at home at that instant.
RP swore loudly.
“Darn, I guess we’ll have to eat something first and then try visiting the
gentleman again, pity we didn’t ask for his cell number,” said RP.
I was immensely relieved at the thought of food.
We had just settled ourselves down at Mc Donald’s of Anupam market,
when RP’s phone rang loudly.
I groaned, innately dreading some other mishap. Ringing of RP’s phone was
almost a bad omen nowadays.
RP answered the phone-call. I studied his gaunt features for indications.
However, his features slowly but surely emanated cold fury and agitation.
After a minute, he announced:
“We’ll have to rush back to the hospital, someone tried to finish off Ajay
and make his hospital bed his death bed,”
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