“Hello, little sis. How’s everything going? I hope I’m not disturbing you,” the sharp, raspy voice came on the phone.

“You know I hate it when you call me ‘little sis’. Why have you called, Roshan?” Nadia replied, rolling her eyes. It was like her brother to call her at 11 p.m. and say he hoped he wasn’t disturbing her.

“Come on! Don’t be so cranky! So what if you don’t have a boyfriend because men find you emasculating and intimidating? Don’t take it out on the rest of us!” Roshan taunted again.

“Tell me why you have called or I’m going to hang up, Roshan,” Nadia spoke, suppressing an urge to retort to the jibe.

“Relax, sister. I just called to inform you that Daddy has made clear that he’s going to back me for the ACP’s post. Good luck finding a backer of your own,” Roshan replied. Nadia could easily visualize her brother’s face with a sneer spread across his handsome face.

Their sibling rivalry was not just any normal rivalry. It was as dangerous and as hostile as the Cold War between the US and the Soviet Union.

“Good night, Roshan. And in the future, don’t call me so late at night,” Nadia spoke, and hung up without giving him a chance to reply.

She got up from the sofa and went to the fridge to get a beer. Usually she didn’t drink late at night, but that day she felt the need to hit the bottle. She needed to deal with the tumult of emotions within her.

She and her brother both were Senior Inspectors in the CID Crime branch. Their father was the DCP, and the much sought-after post of ACP had recently been vacated- both Roshan and Nadia were top contenders for the post, and the whole office was rife with rumors about who would be finally chosen by the selection committee.

Power equations, when concentrated within a family, have a strange way of playing out, Nadia mused, as she took out a bottle of beer from the bridge. On second thoughts, she took out a plate of half-eaten chocolate cake.

Although eating chocolate late at night was another thing she didn’t do on a normal day. But then those weren’t normal days.

“If Roshan gets the ACP post, I’m seriously going to go mad!” Nadia remembered telling a colleague the other day.

The thought of her brother winning a post to which she was the rightful claimant was not acceptable to Nadia. On top of that, her father supporting Roshan over her was what hurt her even more.

‘CID Senior Inspector Nadia Lal is an Amazon in her own right. She has, in a short span of five years, proved that she is no less efficient than her male colleagues. Highly qualified, driven, tough and devoted to her job, she might just be the youngest woman- and the youngest person- to rise to the post of DCP in the next five years’- a journalist had written about her a few days ago, when the nominations for the post of ACP had just been announced.

Although Nadia was annoyed that the journalist, herself a woman, implied that a woman being as good as her male colleagues was a miracle- she believed all women were as intelligent and efficient as their male counterparts- she agreed with her on the point that Nadia was as good as anyone else on the force, and could be DCP in five years and Commissioner in the next ten after that.

My indignation at Roshan being possibly preferred over me for the post is totally justified, Nadia thought, taking a large bite from the cake, and then a swig from the bottle.

Nadia and Roshan were as opposite as North and South poles.

In their childhood, Nadia was a responsible, studious girl- class topper, leader of the Debate and Literature Club and Head Prefect of the Bombay Scottish High School. Constantly besting both girls and boys in her class, daring, pugnacious and even learnt judo and self-defense to prove her physical acumen.  While Roshan was a delinquent, high school bully, thief and flirt, getting suspended for his shenanigans and reprimanded by the principal, staying among his group of similar delinquent admirers. Once he had almost been expelled for bullying a boy so badly he tried to commit suicide. He was only saved because their father, ACP Vincent Lal, was a man of good standing and the principal yielded to his requests to give Roshan another chance.

‘I can’t believe Roshan is Nadia’s brother, ACP Lal. Your daughter is a shining beacon of excellence, and your son is…nothing but irresponsible and badly behaved. Students like Nadia sustain this school’s good name and prestige. But we’re going to have a problem if we keep on a student like Roshan here,” Nadia remembered the principal telling her dad in his office all those years ago, while she stood over the ACP’s shoulder, looking down. Acting embarrassed on the outside, bursting with pride on the inside.

Roshan struggled through school, somehow managing to each successive grade and passing high school, while Nadia managed to top the 12^th Grade ISC boards, even becoming State topper at the same time.

While Roshan joined some obscure arts college, Nadia got admission to Boston University on a scholarship.

While Roshan was chasing after girls, drinking and lazing around doing nothing, somehow slogging through college, Nadia earned her Bachelors and Masters in Criminal Law.

“Your brother is doing nothing, princess. I ask him to look at you and at least try to do something useful,” her father had told her while they Skyped, few years back. While Nadia was earning doctorates in Forensic Sciences and Criminology from Harvard and learning Kung Fu from a Chinese master settled in the U.S.

Nadia even trained with the Boston police, criminal profilers and forensic scientists in Boston before she returned to Mumbai.

She qualified the police exam with high scores on all tests, and to everyone’s surprise, so did Roshan- but his scores were just a little more than the cut-off.

He had turned into a charming, handsome young man, street-smart, cunning and devious, who suddenly seemed to have developed an ambition to become a cop.

“Hi sis. Plenty of degrees, but no boyfriends. How sad. You know most men feel threatened by an intelligent, independent woman, right?” her brother had taunted her at the party held for both their admission into the Police Academy.

“You’re talking about men like you, right bro? Men who whore around, treat women like sex objects and play with their feelings. Correct?” she’d retorted immediately.

Everyone had known from the beginning that Nadia was an independent, indomitable girl who knew her own mind. Who would work very hard to get what she wanted, a rebel, a maverick, a renegade constantly breaking the shackles of asinine societal norms, proving every one of them wrong and hollow.

Nadia didn’t have time to think about a relationship because her career came foremost for her. She had many male friends she shared a good rapport with.

“But I don’t have time for a serious relationship. I don’t want to be that sort of person who flits in and out of failed love affairs, encountering only heartbreaks and unhappiness. Once I find the right man for me, who respects my ambition and my career, I’ll think of settling down. Sleeping around is not my kind of thing,” she had told a girlfriend once in Boston.

Nadia had heard that a lot of men were intimated by women who were more powerful, more qualified and intelligent, and earned more than them- and such relationships ended in divorce due to constant fights and infidelity or domestic violence.

“I don’t need a man to validate my existence or prove my worth. I have enough worth of my own to last me a lifetime. Being alone and happy is better than being with a man who feels ‘emasculated’ by me, or intimidated by my success. I’m waiting patiently for the right guy who supports and understands me,” she remembered telling another friend at a party some years back.

That’s why she didn’t mind Roshan’s constant taunts- she knew he was just jealous because he knew she was better than him.

Roshan was known for spending most of his time brokering power in the corridors of politics. His charm got him in close contact with powerful and well-connected people, both in the police force and political circles. He was regularly seen in their company at high-profile parties and important functions. At the CID HQ, Nadia always saw him chatting, drinking and eating with friends or ass-licking people who could benefit him, leaving the real work to his colleagues and subordinates. Nadia always suspected he was promoted because of his proximity to the powerful. She also suspected he was involved in bribery and corruption cases, but never brought it up.

Knowing their relationship was already based on only mutual hostility, Nadia was sure her questions would lead to World War Three.

While she braved monsoons, winters and rains and summers to put bad guys- rapists, drug peddlers, murderers, robbers, abusive husbands, stalkers and other such scum- behind bars. Her field record was excellent and her performance reports were always brimming with praise and five stars. She had even facilitated collaborations between Boston University and the CID wherein they got computerized databases and suggestions for better forensic labs. She had even written to the State government to organize special stipends for aspiring forensic scientists to go abroad, study and train in forensics.

She had gained the support of many people in the CID, including Gustad Dinshaw, the ACP who was soon to retire, and who was her most loyal and vocal supporter.

“Don’t worry, Inspector Nadia. You have proved yourself worthy of being my successor to this post. I have strongly recommended your name to the committee- they will take one look at your excellent CV and your field record and they’ll know you are the only one fit for the job,” ACP Dinshaw had told her a few days back in his office. He was also a cop known to be honest, fair and devoted to the job.

“But I have heard, sir, my brother seems to have greater leverage than me because of his political connections,” she’d replied.

“Do not worry about that, Inspector. You have done some actual work, while all he has done is suck up to people whom he thinks can be useful to him. There is only so far that politics can get you in this job. If we all shirk actual work and expect to get forward in this job, the police force will fall apart. You don’t need to worry, Inspector Lal. You just keep doing what you’ve been doing,” Dinshaw had replied.

Her success had also, as happens in all these cases, earned her many enemies. Especially among her jealous male colleagues. And the enmity manifested itself in the form of everyday sexist jibes.

Usually Nadia didn’t care for it enough to have to complain to the ACP, or her dad, knowing no one could take away her work, or her perfect CV or her intelligence.

But when things got out of hand, she retorted in equal measure.

She remembered the incident at an after-party of a police function.

“Congratulations, Nadia,” a colleague told her.

“Thanks, Amit. But for what?”

“You have introduced so many reforms in the CID since you came. ACP Dinshaw has never been so supportive of any new recruit before. I mean, you have risen through the ranks so quickly- and persuaded him to effect these reforms. I wonder how you did this,” Amit replied, grinning.

“What do you mean, Amit?”

“I mean, I’m wondering what ACP Dinshaw is getting in return for the favors he’s been granting you. No one else has been able to get him to be so supportive of them.”

The party hall resounded with the sound of a tight slap that Nadia gave Amit.

The kicks and punches that followed a prone Amit on the floor caused him to emit shrieks and ask Nadia for forgiveness.

“What is going on here?” the ACP had come roaring.

After Nadia told him, he went ballistic on Amit in front of everyone.

Her father, also present at the party, didn’t comment. But the sly smile he gave her the rest of the evening told her she’d earned his approval.

Nadia had quite a complicated relationship with her parents.

Her father was always distant because of his hectic work schedule, so Nadia had never known what he thought of her. They talked very superficially, never going deeper than the basic conversational necessities.

Her relationship with her mother Sonia was even more superficial. She was always busy with cocktail parties, dinners, sitting on the boards of charity organizations and cultural committees. She had tried to make Nadia into a high society, phony, perpetually overdressed and bitchy butterfly. But when Nadia refused to do what she referred to as ‘dumbing down my intellect’, her mother grew cold and stone-like.

The ACP had placed Amit on a month’s unpaid leave as punishment. No other male colleague had messed with Nadia since.

Nadia realized she had finished both the bottle of beer and the chocolate cake.

Sighing, she got up from the kitchen table, threw the bottle in the trash can and put the plate in the sink.

She had lived alone in the Kandivali East flat for five long years.

This flat had been her only sanctuary - where she could spend time alone with her books, her music and herself.

Nadia looked at the wall clock.

It was already 11.45 p.m.

Nadia walked to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. She plugged earphones into her IPod and putting the buds in the ears, closed her eyes and tried to coax herself into sleep.

Two days were left for the Committee to announce their decision.

Would it be ACP Roshan Lal or ACP Nadia Lal?

                                                **********

Two days later, at the CID HQ

“I am happy to announce the name of my successor for the post of Assistant Commissioner of Police. One of the youngest officers in this institution, but one of the most brilliant, tenacious, dedicated and brave, and with one of most excellent records in the fields. The next ACP of the CID Crime branch is going to be- Nadia Lal.”

ACP Dinshaw’s words were followed with a loud round of applause.

Afterwards there was a dinner in honor of the new recruits.

Nadia was receiving congratulations left and right- Roshan was conspicuous by his absence, and also because he didn’t congratulate his sister. She also hadn’t seen her father since the announcement.

Nadia finally excused herself and went to a corner of the room, where drinks and refreshments were kept. Breathing deeply, she picked up a glass of wine from the tray.

“Congratulations, ACP Nadia Lal. Welcome to the fold.”

Nadia turned around to find her father standing there, tall and imposing, beaming.

“Dad?”

“Yes Nadia. Why are you so shocked, my child? I’m just congratulating you. You deserve this position,” her father replied.

“But…I thought…you supported Roshan…” Nadia stammered, unable to believe her ears.

“Not really. I was just pretending to support him to see how you would rise to the challenge. I mean are you kidding me, child? I have always known how brilliant and capable you are. I have been keeping a hawk’s eye on you ever since you joined the CID. I know the hard work you’ve put in all these years- Gustad has told me everything. I knew this post had to go to you- because you earned it with your merit and hard work, and not by any politics or favoritism. I know how hollow and lazy Roshan is…and I know where he’s going to end up at the fag end of his career,” Vincent Lal replied.

“So…you…actually supported me all this time, Dad?”

“Yes. I even gave a strong reference in your favor, from my side, to the Committee. Some people might think this is favoritism, but I don’t care. If there is one person who deserves to become the DCP after me in the next five years…and then CP in the ten after that, it’s you, Nadia.”

“Thank you…thank you, Dad,” Nadia spoke, her eyes brimming with tears.

“No need to thank me, child. You deserve every bit of backing you have ever received. And I’m sorry I never told you how much I admire your tenacity, your independence, your devotion and dedication to your job. Forgive me for being insensitive all these years. You have made me very proud today, my child. In fact, you’ve always made me proud. You are, in a true sense, your father’s daughter,” Vincent replied.

Nadia, unmindful of the other people, hugged her father tightly, and he hugged her back.

“Come on, let me introduce you to some friends. They are close to me…and they might be of help to you in the future.”

Saying this, Nadia was led by her father to a group of people standing across the room.