There had been piles of cases lying on my desk, a few aligned to a legible orientation while many lying in no position at all; abstract art I used to call them when my girlfriend, sorry ex, complained about how shabby my desk was.
“Welcome to my shit hole, Welcome to your paradise”, the board outside called out the same that went a little further and read out the only few things that mattered and I cared about, Detective Rajbir Singh, Ex-Intelligence Bureau (2012-2016).
Alas! How quick the time seems to pass? It feels like only yesterday when she slammed the door on my face, leaving the beautiful tulips THAT I HAD BROUGHT FOR HER, crushed in between. 24 days 15 hours 31 minutes, to be precise, the difference between that yesterday and today. Don’t start judging me for accuracy; I am not stalking anyone, I am just good with numbers. Maybe I am only good with them, may be that’s why she left me because I wasn’t able to satisfy her needs and desires, maybe it was that manager of hers who seemed to have an eye on her, may be not. Okay I need to fucking stop this! This raucous flow of thoughts isn’t helping me solve this case. Focus Rajbir, focus, this isn’t your crying testament, this is your work journal and you need to goddamn concentrate.
Document 5. A daylight robbery, blah blah blah, pizza van, blah blah blah, gunfire, blah blah, one casualty and five severely injured, and I stopped all of a sudden with beads of sweat forming in quick succession over my forehead while the case file slipped out of my sweaty palms on to the ground. Wait, is it the same bank? I hope not, I hope not, I whispered as I picked up the case file.
“Jomon Bank Private Limited”. I frowned as I re-read the name on the case file. It is the same bank, the same fucking bank that started all of this in the first place.
It was a peculiar case that had happened a couple of years ago, I was only a rookie in the detective circuit and this case landed on my desk after record 40 detectives in the city had refused to solve it. Daylight robbery, pizza van, gunfire, two people injured, that’s all I had. Out of the two, one was severely injured and was shifted to the ICU while the other one was Meenakshi, my current ex, the woman who had left me 24 days blah blah minutes ago. I had met her for the first time to discuss the case and to gather her testimonial against the robbers but all it ended up was a coffee date at the infirmary cafeteria. But that’s a story for some other day. Today, it was about the robbers who stole 7 crore rupees in 2016, doing it all over again with one casualty already to their name. The irony of matter stayed, the one which made me frown at the possibility, the one where I knew who the robbers were and how they got loose the last time around. Only if I hadn’t compromised then the little girl would have been alive, only if I hadn’t budged that fateful day. 25 December, 2016. The bloody Christmas day at Saket, New Delhi.