6

A dimly lit room set the stage for a dangerous game. A woman walked in, her every movement exuding allure. Sitting across from her was a man in his 50s, his eyes trailing her figure with drunken greed.

She sauntered over, settling herself onto his lap. Her fingers grazed his collar as she whispered sweet nothings, her voice like honey dripping into poison. The man chuckled drunkenly, leaning forward to bite and kiss her neck, intoxicated by desire.

Moments later, his laughter turned to choking gasps. Blood gushed from his neck, staining his shirt, as his life slipped away. The woman's face, splattered with crimson, twisted into a sinister smile. Her laughter echoed through the room, cold and merciless.

The next morning, I woke up at 6 a.m., ready for the day. After kissing my wife Kiran's cheek, I left for the station. The routine tasks kept me busy until my phone rang.

It was Kiran.

"Kiran, I'm working. Can we talk later?" I asked, but her trembling voice interrupted me.

"N-No, listen! It's Mamaji..." she broke down, crying.

Panic gripped me. "Kiran, Mamaji? What happened?"

"Turn on the news," she sobbed.

I quickly switched to Aaj Tak.

"Breaking news," the reporter announced, "Himanshu Ghosh was brutally murdered last night. A note found at the scene reads: You shouldn't have messed with me SP Kartikeya. Who is this individual targeting SP Kartikeya?"

The words echoed in my mind. The phone slipped from my hand. My knees buckled as I screamed, "MAMAJI!"

Before I could gather my thoughts, Kiran's voice pulled me back. "I'm coming, ji!" she said before cutting the call.

Grief engulfed me, rendering me silent. I collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down my face. Time blurred, but the sound of footsteps and Kiran's comforting voice reached me. She cradled me as darkness claimed me.

I woke up in a hospital bed, disoriented. Kiran was beside me, her eyes red from crying. The moment I tried to sit up, she hugged me tightly, kissing my forehead.

"Mamaji..." The thought of his death slammed into me, and I broke down again.

My mother and the doctor entered, concern etched on their faces. Maa rushed to my side, wrapping me in her embrace. The doctor assured us I was fine and had fainted due to stress.

Kiran and Maa brought me home, laying me gently on the bed. Memories of Mamaji flooded my mind—the laughter we shared, his guidance through my youth, and his unwavering support.

FLASHBACK

A warm afternoon sun bathed the courtyard of my childhood home. I was ten, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Mamaji beside me, teaching me how to tie a tie.

"Hold this end," he instructed, his hands guiding mine with patience. "Now loop it here. See? It's simple!"

"Mamaji, why do I even need to learn this? You'll always be there to help me," I said, pouting.

He chuckled, ruffling my hair. "Because, beta, one day you'll grow up and be someone important—an officer maybe—and you'll need to know these things. But don't worry, I'll always be around to guide you."

I looked at him, his face glowing with pride. At that moment, I believed him. Mamaji was my hero, the man who made everything seem possible.

Another memory surfaced—one from my teenage years. I had failed a math test and came home ashamed. While my parents scolded me, Mamaji sat beside me in my room later that night.

"Kartikeya, do you think failure defines you?" he asked gently.

I shook my head, too embarrassed to look at him.

"Good. Because it doesn't. You're smart, and I know you'll ace the next test. Now, let's figure out where you went wrong." He stayed up late with me that night, going over each problem until I understood.

Mamaji was always my biggest cheerleader, whether it was my school exams, my first job application, or the day I told him I wanted to join the police force.

"Be brave, beta," he had said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "But don't lose your kindness. The world needs more officers like you."

The flashback faded, and I was pulled back to the present. Tears streamed down my face as I lay in bed. Mamaji's words echoed in my mind, a painful reminder of the void his death had left in my heart.

Kiran held my hand and Maa held my other hand. They both hugged me while I cried my heart out.

TO BE CONTINUED

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