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Vijendar (February 2021)

“ Vijendar Singh, you are under arrest for kidnapping and extortion. You have the right to refuse to answer our questions—Arre! hold him properly!” Vijendar had stopped listening. The words echoed in the recesses of his mind and he saw, yet again, in vivid detail, the damp, mouldy ceiling of the cell he had spent the last seven years in. No! Not again... Please, not again! The snick of the handcuffs clasping tight against his bulging wrists was deafening. he flinched as if struck by an avalanche. Rough hands grasped his bound ones and pushed him towards the open maw of the police van standing bang in the middle of the street, its red-blue siren caterwauling in the night. “Chala patkan! Fast, fast, we don’t have all night!” someone shouted at him as another pair of hands shoved him from behind. he looked up into the van just as two pairs of hands stretched out of the nothingness to pull him inside. No! No! No! a violent shiver swept all over his body as he screamed and shook off his captors. his hard, muscled shoulder bumped against someone’s mouth and a wild kick made contact with another’s solar plexus. Momentarily free, he turned tail and ran. He had barely taken a few steps when the crack of a bullet rent the air and he crumpled to the ground.

A sharp jolt of pure pain penetrated his left calf; it hurt like hell. he curled up into himself even as a liquid warmth enveloped his rapidly cooling leg and several pairs of hands landed on him. “Aaij havadya! Clinic chala re pahile...we need to take him to the hospital fi rst. Chamayla, overtime bhi nahi milega!” Someone screamed inside Vij endar’s head. Open your eyes! Quickly! his own voice choked with panic and resignation. Take a last look before they bury you again. The voice was so loud, so insistent that his eyelids fl ew open. He looked at the overcast sky and howled. Why couldn’t it have been daytime? What wouldn’t he have given for that one glimpse of a clear, blue sky? The ride to the decrepit, one-storey building that masqueraded as a government hospital was brief and uneventful. The constables had thrust Vij endar into the overfl owing Emergency Room, standing guard as an old, disinterested man wearing a dusty white coat with an equally dusty blue mask had removed the bullet from his calf and stitched him up. nobody had even mentioned anaesthesia. Sore from the beating he had endured during his arrest and limping from the stitches that dug into his muscles more viciously than the bullet, they half dragged, half carried him to the holding cell at Baner Police Chowki. “Maine kuch nahi kiya hai!” he screamed at the retreating f i gure of the constable who had locked him in. “I haven’t done anything!”

The constable, short, rotund, dark and menacing, unlocked the barred door and rushed towards him. Vij endar scooted to the far corner of the dirty, smelly cage. a slap landed on his cheeks, and his eyes smarted. “We know what you’ve done!” the constable barked, spit f l ying from his moustached lips onto Vij endar’s face. “Where is she? Where did you take the Bhatia girl?” “I did not take her!” The constable punched him in the stomach and grabbed his hair, lift ing his head up, forcing Vij endar to look at him. “You’ll remember everything before the night is over,” he hissed. he let go of his hair and stood up, planting a kick in his stomach before he left . Vij endar curled on the fl oor, his restraint giving way to loud, wracking sobs. he didn’t even realise when the sobs turned into screams. “I didn’t kidnap her! I did nothing! I’m... I’m innocent!” Outside the holding cells, the entire police station was abuzz with activity. Constables ran around the space with fi les, folders, steaming glasses of tea, and vada pav. at one end of the station, a small makeshift tracking unit was set up, with one offi cer and one constable staring at the two monitors in front of them. a grainy black and white CCTV footage played on the screen. at the other corner, Inspector Pruthviraj Tawde sat in a chair behind his desk leafi ng through their suspect’s fi le. He was a tall man who looked even taller while sitt ing. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a full dark moustache.

Even his skin was dark, almost golden, that contrasted heavily against his teeth and the whites of his eyes. a man of few words and many expressions, Pruthviraj frowned at the details of their perpetrator’s previous arrests. Financial fraud, thievery, aggravated assault. Was it possible this Singh had evolved to kidnapping and extortion? It wasn’t a big leap from fraud to extortion. The man had just spent seven years behind bars. Released in March 2020. Chances were, he had reverted to the life of crime. The file stated he had already been arrested by the police at least three times since release under suspicion of robbery and another assault. he snapped the folder shut. “athavle!” he yelled in the general direction of the chowki’s primary hall. “Sir!” a stick thin constable with a pallid complexion, large protuberant eyes and a chin as smooth as a baby’s came running into his office, saluted and stood at attention before him. “CCTV cha kay jhala? Tell Gajanan to hurry. We need to move fast.” “Sir, Gajanan sir is still combing through the footage. But we can only see a corner of the car and someone’s feet. It’s not clear who it was. But yes, whoever it was, was wearing that same uniform this Singh is wearing.” “Hmm...” Pruthviraj shuffled the folders on his desk. “Where’s the employment record of our suspect? “Aahe na, sir! I have it. One minute.” The constable almost leapt to the small desk in the hall and returned with the file. “here, sir.” “hmm. how’s our guest doing?” he asked as he looked through the documents. as per the security supervisor at Bhatia Industries, it had been six months since their man had been hired as a bodyguard. “Sir...,” athavle said. “Sir, actually...”

Pruthviraj looked at the boy, an eyebrow arched. “What?” “Sir, he’s asking for a lawyer.” The inspector let out a slow breath through his nose. “Aaijhavadya!” he banged the folder on the desk and stood up. “Saala, lawyer pahije? Did sir ask for AC, too? a nice warm bed? Madarchod. Didn’t think he would need a lawyer before he kidnapped the little girl, did he? Come, I’ll give him a lawyer. The best that Pune Police can afford. He should have the full experience of our hospitality.” Pruthviraj stomped out of the cabin and the young constable followed him, letting out a slow breath, relieved that he wasn’t the one receiving said hospitality.