Trixy and The Crescent Of Rana

CHAPTER 30 : IDENTITY

She stood there transfixed, clutching hard the peculiar dollar of the antagonist till her hands bled red. How much she wished the pain was in her palms.

It was a staggering struggle for her to keep sober. Sarat, too, was appalled but somehow was sedate enough to call for the ambulance. But she was totally wrecked. She couldn't move a muscle of her body. Her entire cognizance had been deployed only to dam in the waters that might break out anytime.

The ambulance arrived, with a Healer, who did her best to stop the bleeding and tether his life to his body while they rode on to the nearest hospital, as fast as the engine would permit. Within an hour of admittance, the Surgeon came out, declaring he had done his job, to the best he can. But no one could tell for sure when Maahir will wake up, or even if he will ever. Oh, how much he loathed stalemates?

She couldn't measure time anymore, or anything else for that matter. Many others came and went. Some talked to her. Some gave condolences and some assurances. Some asked questions which didn't quite reach her ears and some answered the questions themselves. She only remembered crying on someone's shoulders, Vikasa perhaps, but mostly she was left alone, and blank. She was not present in the present.

Maahir's parents too rushed in immediately and she realized, not without anguish, it was her first time meeting them in person. She couldn't bear to sit there and watch the mother weep for her son. She ran away to the rest room as quick as her legs would carry her. She was even more afraid of them taking out their indignation on her, for she felt more guilt than anyone could condescend her to.

Fourteen hours passed with no further updates. He was as stable and vegetative as he had been after the first hour. She sat on the slick black chair outside solemnly and took a peek at him every five minutes, fearing every time it would be the last time. Yet, the ritual was somewhere and somehow comforting. It gave her a false assurance of doing something for him, which she knew deep down she wasn't.

She had never been so afraid of even her own death. But his - it seemed like the end; the end. She could not simply see beyond it. She could only imagine a dark null void that would suck her, and everything else of hers, into its black nothingness. The future looked darker, than bleaker.

Each second that passed made her resolution to do a certain thing stronger. She knew she might not be able to do it if he gains consciousness. Once she had mustered enough determination, she exited the hospital brusquely, without a word to any one – not even Quiroshi, lest they should change her mind.

She hired an auto, asked for their office, and didn't care to bargain. She ran up the stairs, in aimless haste, to find, like she wanted to, the Chief's room lit in its usual white fluorescence. She contemplated severely, though for not more than a few seconds, before knocking.

"Come in," he said, in his usual voice, but was visibly astonished at the visit. He offered her a glass of water and made her sit down. He asked no questions but stared at her silently, and continually until she could talk on her own.

"I want to resign, Chief," she said, with apparent coldness and indifference.
He could not help but notice the twirling toes under the desk. All that he did was raise his brows up in further astonishment.

"May I ask why?" he said, betraying no emotion, if there was any.

She gulped.

"First of all, I want to apologize, Chief on his behalf too, for lying, though he might say we didn't technically lie. I'm not what we said I am. Or rather I'm more than what we said I am," she said, her voice shaking fervently.

She went on to narrate the entire course of things, as objectively as her conscience would allow. She regarded it a difficult and wretched business altogether. It wasn't so hard when she didn't bear so much remorse over his condition and he was sitting beside her.

"I suppose there was a little justification, Chief, for what we did but I think I should leave the judgment to your own scruples. Maahir firmly believed you wouldn't consider me for the job if we had told of my entire disposition the very first day. But now, I believe we ought to have. It was a blunder to let me in.

I'm certain the sword which the killer has is the one I sneaked in with me when I set foot in Vinpur. I foolishly lost it in a lodge I was staying and now it is in the possession of a madman. Even if I hadn't lost it, it would've ended up in bad hands anyway. Even if I'm wrong about it's being mine, it must be one of the kinds. Even if I don't have a direct role in this crime, like he said, I might be connected to several others throughout the country. It would be highly unscrupulous of me, and you, to let me continue in a job like this. Let me quietly get out while I can."

Chief listened to her in all sobriety but did not utter a reply. Like always, she could not dare to imagine what he was thinking, but this time she wasn't even trying. All she wanted to do was throw up everything she had withheld and flee the building for once and for ever. She believed, at least, that would give her peace and penance she longed for. She just wanted to make sure she had completed all formalities of her resignation before that. That was funny. When did she begin to care about formalities?

After a few seconds of determined silence, he opened one of his drawers and started probing in. He then hurled a rectangular card on the table. She eyed it suspiciously for some time until, on his hinting to take it, she picked up and examined it curiously.

To her utmost surprise, it was a new Trixy ID with her name, Ezhil Arasi, freshly printed and laminated in neat white italics against the black background. She gasped a few times trying to say something.

"Wh-What is this, Chief?"

"Your identity card. You are a permanent member of Squad 5 now. Your trial period is over. You can join duty as soon as Maahir gets well. And as for the resignation, I don't accept the oral ones. You will have to submit a letter. You can ask Maahir to teach you how to write a resignation letter later. You can ask others too but I don't think anyone will be in the mood, not until he opens his eyes. Just avoid Dan. He didn't finish schooling."

She stared in wonder for a few moments. "But we-we did – what we did-"

"What you did was thoroughly and absolutely silly," he said, "It was childish of you to think I would recruit you without knowing half of you. I have always known. And I always believed you would one day tell me the truth and I would promote you to permanence then. But for that day to be this day is a bit unfortunate. I would have been glad to give Maahir a piece of my mind too. Looks like it should wait."

She began to sob effusively now.

"Maahir is a tough nut, Ezhil. Ninety nine percent of deaths of officers occur before they reach the hospital. Maahir is as good as up. Believe me, you will be counting him in your team by the next Saturday."

"Hijeam," she sniffed.

"What?"

"His team, not mine."

He laughed. "Very well, his team then. I'm rather hungry right now. Want to join Dinner at Jo's?"

"No, I think I should return to the hospital before I change my mind about learning to write letters. And I have no appetite anyway."

"Okay then. Ah, I'd better warn you now itself. It would do good to you to come clean with other members too, while Maahir is bedridden. They might not be as forgiving as I am."

She smirked slyly, in spite of herself, in reply while her eyes continued to pump water out. It was his turn to be surprised.

"They already know, don't they?" he said, and smiled in wry amusement.

She grinned back, her cheeks puffed and eyes red.