Read Part 1 - here
Read Part 2 - here
Read Part 3 - here
Read Part 4 - here
Read Part 5 - here
Read Part 6 - here
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The sky seemed to be peeling off in a detonation of deafening thunder that evening.
Pavil never thought much of rains, especially ones during winter, but even he had to agree that it accorded a befitting background track to the gruesome solemnity that was slowly enveloping the mood of this small town.
It had been only two days, but they were riddled with an angry chatter of hostility towards the police; at least Pavil thought so.
A steady barrage of press and their godforsaken trucks equipped with satellites and radios, cameramen and journalists almost grabbing at the throat of every policeman who walked in or out of the station, asking for updates, information and their non engaging silence judged by a presiding team of self professed judicial press as failure on police’s part.
The sensational spice added with appalling insensitivity to this grisly incident in order to grease dwindling news channels ratings was macabre.
The murder of a thirteen-year-old explained in lurid details, slandering the school’s name in their every sentence and passing verdicts through fictitious recreations of crime scene made it hard for Pavil to maintain a straight face, but glancing over at Khar’s inscrutable expressions as he addressed the media that evening somehow imparted enough strength and apathy to maintain a sense of calm while in the face of a sea of reporters.
Khar had refused to divulge any details and he wasn’t harassed nearly as fanatically as others and slowly his silent exasperation at being questioned incessantly began seeping into the throng of journalists who looked intimidated by Khar’s increasingly dour face and saturnine voice.
The deluge of rain worked as an excuse in the background making it easier for the press to retreat; a welcome respite for Khar and Pavil who made towards the grand Sinhal residency.
Unrelenting explosions of infinitesimal intensity wracked the car’s roof, and so deafening did they become that it was almost comforting to kill the noisy silence between them.
It had been two days and they found themselves without solid leads, without too many proofs, few shreds of evidence and little hope.
The digital and DNA forensic analysis was still over a week away, and without any of that, there was little to go ahead with.
Perhaps Pavil was being unnecessarily pessimistic because Khar was an expressionless monument.
But then again it had been only two days after all.
But a child was murdered in his own school. It had been two long days indeed.
He tried taking his mind off by trying to think of better thoughts, like Nehar Sinhal. Her dulcet soft voice, her smooth poetic laughter, her scent that always reminded him of something personal, an old memory, a lost awareness that wanted to be remembered but he could never quite put his finger on it.
Pavil was resolved to behave more appropriately, not that he was ever inappropriate, but he’d let the stoic stance of Khar’s inspire his own bearings while they questioned Tejan.
Some part of him was oddly excited to meet Veda Sinhal as well, not that he could be of much help, but still, a man of such high repute and political clout. A person of grave importance and father to a child who’d just lost his best friend.
Perhaps he’d have something to say.
Tonight, Pavil was glad they weren’t detained at the entrance gate by the security, except for the mandatory car inspection and weapon check. It had been a smooth sailing up until now and he let himself feel optimistic for a second.
This was the second time in almost twenty-four hours that Khar found himself sitting in the same room of Sinhal residence.
It had a rather relaxed office like demeanour, with crisp white walls and square furniture.
Minimal lightings on the ceiling and plenty of lamps and shades and an overly large official-looking wooden table with a large glass top, two neatly arranged boxes stamped ‘incoming’ and ‘outgoing’ and a stash of vertically aligned pens in holders.
How does one work in a comfortable office? he thought as he look around this beautiful place that was speckled with elegant house plants and yet something about this office room made it look unused, unloved even.
Could be owing to the fact that Mr Sinhal was usually away on official trips, being a high ranked foreign affairs diplomat accorded him nary a free time and that could be one of the reason and yet..
A quick glance from the corner of his eye showed Pavil’s face suddenly changing colour and Khar instantly knew that Nehar was in the room.
Why did he find it tedious to look at her and make even the slightest bit of conversation no matter how official? She looked much too angelic to be true; her diabetes inducing smile that had the chameleonic ability to change into a quick smirk before returning back to that saccharine sweetness made it difficult for Khar to trust her.
An inherent dishonesty dwelling within that charitable facade that somehow went unnoticed by almost everyone, especially Pavil who was now standing up sporting a crimson face and a fuzzy expression he tried correcting, looking rather silly in his endeavour.
Talking to her second time today could prove exhausting, but thankfully she wasn’t alone.
Tejan slowly trudged into the room followed by Nehar, and without as much as glancing up, sat in a comfortable chair and fiddled with a small paperweight.
Pavil’s expertise on kids and children, in general, was elementary at most, but even he could discern Tejan’s sadness.
Kicking mournfully at the corner of a carpet, his eyes were downcast with an anguish most heartbreaking.
His pain, Pavil could see running a lot deeper than usual childish tantrums or hurt. He was grieving in miserable hopelessness and being a child had no idea how to deal with the loss of his best friend.
No amounts of Nehar’s cooing coddles could persuade Tejan to look up and speak to them.
‘You can help us find the person who hurt your friend, Tejan’ Khar’s voice came out uncharacteristically soft and mellow. ‘if you talk to us for five minutes and tell us all that you remember’
Tejan was spinning the small paperweight on his palm and Khar dragged a chair next to him and sat quietly.
The sudden silence in the room was cloying at Pavil and he wished someone would say something, but wishes, he knew rarely ever came true.
Perhaps Khar sensed it too because at that very moment his voice assumed a rather polite yet stern inflection ‘Mrs Sinhal, could we please have a few moments alone with Tejan’ he said delicately.
Nehar raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and looked at Pavil. On seeing no reaction coming her way from either of the police officers she grudgingly excused herself.
Khar folded his hands on his lap and sat quietly watching Tejan fiddle with the paperweight.
‘What’s your favourite sport, Tejan’ Khar asked cheerfully, snatching a small paperweight from the able and flinging it in the air before catching it.
At this gesture, Tejan looked up and saw the scary policeman play with a paperweight.
‘It’s made of glass’ Tejan finally spoke. ‘It will shatter if it falls to the ground’
‘Oh,’ Khar exclaimed rather frightened and almost dropped the paperweight.
A hint of a small smile almost passed through Tejan’s face.
‘Bet you like volleyball’ Khar said amicably.
Tejan shook his head. ‘I don’t like sports.’
Khar looked surprised ‘No?’ what it is then? music?’ he sounded curious.
‘Drama’ Tejan replied flatly.
‘Ah!’ Exclaimed Khar. ‘Is that what you were practising for on Sunday?’ he asked rather inquisitively.
‘Yes. A play.’ Tejan looked sad
‘Was Majid a part of your play?’ Khar put a hand on Tejan’s shoulder.
‘N..No. He was doing announcements for the first half of the function. We were at the school for practice. I..I don’t understand’ and Tejan loudly sobbed.
‘Would you like to help your friend, Tejan?’ asked Khar.
A silent nod and Tejan began talking.
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