Paakhi

F I F T E E N

Shantanu took a sip of the hot milk tea on his worn-out desk at work, as he absently typed a report of the latest case he had closed with his team. It had been a brutal murder, in one of the busier streets in the city. A gang war turned sour; it had taken them almost seven months to close.

His was the Detective Department in the Kolkata Police. Even within this department, were multiple squads and sections. And he worked in the Homicide Squad.

Shaan didn't pride himself to be a very neat person; his desk spoke that for him. There were old case files, reports and other documents astray all over his table. For some reason, he liked his table this way- chaotic and upturned. He knew exactly where which document was buried and peeking out from, and right now, he had a couple of close shots of the brutal knife wounds on both the victims in the case he logged in.

It was a gruesome sight, and as a young officer, his stomach had often twisted with nausea. But over the years, he had learnt to go over every case with a quiet detachment. He had convinced himself that this was simply a job that had to be done- just like a chef cooks you a meal as per your palette, a pilot flies you to the destination you need to get to irrespective of where he needs to be and a banker gives you a loan whether or not he himself is in the financial position. The very same way, he was a cop in the homicide squad. He literally made money from murders in the city.

Despite the advancement in technology, certain specific types of police reports were still long, manual and drearily detailed. It was also the one part of his job he absolutely hated.

As he mechanically ticked multiple boxes on the standard form, he stopped at one particular box briefly- Date of Crime: 16.12.20xx

It was a very, very familiar date. A date he couldn't forget even if he wanted to. It was the day he had cleared his UPSC Mains. Over the years, every little detail of that day had remained etched into his memory like not a day had passed. He was already getting flashes of small snippets of his conversation with Vandana that evening.

His whole being reflexively started to push the thoughts away. But as he did so, something within him told him that this was an important memory, something he needed to go back to in order to figure out how to understand Vandana.

He sighed, taking a big gulp of whatever remained of his tea and walked over to the window by his seat. He was no longer putting on a fight with the nostalgia, and now, the memories came thick and fast, as though he were flipping through an old scrap book or photo album, his eyes catching but a quick glance at the pictures till he found any relevant memory he wanted to stop at.

One particular moment stood out for him. It was the moment when he had boldly intertwined his fingers with Vandana's on the beach, and they had walked side by side in quiet companionship almost a decade ago...

"I didn't intend on ruining your day like this, you know." She said after several moments of silence.

Shantanu shook his head vehemently, "You didn't ruin my day."

Vandana looked surprised, her normally reserved and controlled self; showed overwhelming vulnerability today. He had always cared for her, always wanted to protect her. But today, it took every last ounce of his strength to not say something he would later regret.

He looked down at their intertwined fingers and sighed, "You're literally my closest friend here, Vandana. I see your problem as my problem."

She stopped on her tracks, her eyes glistening with an emotion he couldn't quite place. He stopped too, waiting, watching, wondering if this would finally be the moment where she would open up to him.

"Why do you care so much?"

Shantanu shrugged, "Do I have to have a reason?"

She didn't say anything for the longest time, as though deep in thought. And then, her cheeks began to flush and she looked away. Her grip on his hand had tightened, as though she were holding onto him for her dear life.