That day, Sub Inspector Ajay Singh was thoroughly exhausted after investigating the death of Mr. Mohan the whole day. He had spoken with Mr. Mohan's wife, several neighbors, and also a few colleagues, trying to piece together what could have led to such a tragic end.
Surprisingly, almost everyone had something unusual to share about Mr. Mohan’s recent behavior. Some colleagues even vouched for having witnessed Mr. Mohan talking to himself in the teacher's common room. They described him faking anger, laughing abruptly, or sometimes, displaying unexplainable romantic gestures - odd actions for someone alone. Despite these episodes, he, however, had never behaved abnormally towards others, and his teaching record was impeccable. His students adored him, and their parents respected him deeply. His untimely death had ushered in a sense of grief over the entire community.
It struck Ajay as deeply strange. Here was a man who, by all accounts, seemed to suffer from some form of madness when he was alone, yet functioned perfectly in public. Still, Ajay couldn't shake the feeling that Mr. Mohan’s "jump" in front of the lorry wasn’t a mere accident. But without further clues, he feared this case would end up being marked as just that - an accident.
Then, it hit him. The lorry driver had been arrested and his interrogation was overdue.
Later that evening, after freshening up at his quarters, Ajay returned to the police station. It was eerily quiet, with only Lakhan Singh on duty. As usual, Lakhan was in his familiar "yoga mudra" of napping at his post. The sound of Ajay’s footsteps startled Lakhan, who snapped upright with a sheepish expression.
“Lakhan, bring in the lorry driver,” Ajay ordered. “I need to interrogate him.”
A few minutes later, Lakhan returned with the driver - a rough-looking man with a thick, close-cropped beard and bloodshot eyes, likely from lack of sleep. Ajay wasted no time with pleasantries.
“Let’s start. Were you drunk the night your lorry ran over Mr. Mohan?”
“No, Sir. By God, I didn’t take a drop,” the driver stammered.
Ajay leaned forward. “A whole bottle, then?”
The driver’s eyes widened. “No, Sir! I swear - I didn’t drink at all!”
Ajay narrowed his eyes. “Then explain how you managed to run over a man standing by the side of the road. Are you blind?”
The driver, clearly shaken, sputtered, “Sir, my Lord, I didn’t do anything! The man jumped in front of the lorry! I swear, by the time I realized what was happening, it was already too late.”
“Then why didn’t you stop to help?” Ajay’s voice had an edge to it.
The driver hung his head. “I was scared, Sir. If I’d stopped, the crowd would’ve killed me and burned my lorry.”
“And you didn't think it necessary to report to the police either? Why?”
The driver stammered, “I... I was also afraid of the police, Sir.”
Ajay’s patience was wearing thin. “Afraid? Or guilty? You scoundrel, you kill a man and think you can escape punishment?”
Tears welled up in the driver’s eyes, and he clasped his hands together, pleading, “Sir, please! I have a family - two little kids, old parents, and a wife. If I’m jailed or killed, they’ll die too. It wasn’t my fault. It was an accident, I swear!”
Ajay, consumed by frustration, stood up and struck the driver across the face. Blood trickled from the man’s nose as he collapsed, clutching his face in pain.
“You reckless fool!” Ajay thundered. “You drive like a madman, killing people, and then beg for mercy? You couldn’t follow simple traffic rules?”
The driver’s voice trembled, but he persisted, “No, Sir! I wasn’t speeding. The roads were empty - it was past 11 PM. But we were running late for the next trip, so I was going a bit faster than usual. I didn’t expect anyone to jump in front of the lorry.”
Ajay paused, the heat of his anger slowly subsiding. Though the driver’s actions were careless, Ajay realized that the man wasn’t lying, since it matched with the statement of Mr Kantilal, the eye witness. So, the accident hadn’t been a result of reckless driving. There was something more sinister at play here - why had Mr. Mohan, a seemingly rational man, leapt in front of the vehicle? This was the big question before him.
As Ajay sat back in his chair, deep in thought, an unsettling possibility crept into his mind. Could it be that a spirit or some other force had driven Mr. Mohan to his death?
He ordered Lakhan to return the driver to the lockup. Then, as exhaustion overtook him, Ajay slumped back into his chair, trying to make sense of it all. Somewhere between thought and sleep, he drifted off.
Suddenly, Ajay was jolted awake by the distinct sensation of someone calling his name. The voice was soft, almost a whisper, like that of a young woman. He blinked, dismissing it as a trick of his drowsiness. But just as he was about to close his eyes again, there was a loud bang. The electric bulb above his head had shattered, plunging the room into darkness.
Ajay stood up, his nerves on edge. He was about to leave for his quarters when the voice came again, clearer this time.
“Mr. Ajay... Can you hear me?”
(To Continue)
Viswamitra
