Hit!

12.30 AM.

I was cruising on my bike over the Anna Flyover. Two movies at a span of six hours were taking a toll on my eyes. Both the bad news and good news were that I watched those movies alone. With no one to speak to, I might drift to sleep any moment. I mean “any moment”. Two roads stared at me. One towards T.Nagar; one towards Nungambakkam. Every time I reach this part of the flyover, I get confused. Both these roads can take me home. Which one to take? Some times, choice is an irritant. I decided on Nungambakkam. I like that steep curve at the end of the Flyover. Somehow, I like driving through it. Those butterflies I get in my stomach when I reach the fag end of the curve. I-pod was trying to wake me up by shouting “Show me how to live”. I don’t want to hear that song. I was in a good mood and I didn’t want to spoil that. “Next time, I won’t give my I-pod to my sister to refresh the library” I decided. From where is she getting so many weird songs like these?


12:10 AM.

“Enna?”(What?)

“Illa sir… velila vara mudiyathu” (No sir… I cannot come out)

He stared at me as if saying the conversation was over.

“This is getting cynical” I thought. I am not going to trade with this guy any more. I can’t believe that I am dealing with this bastard. Had I not been a policeman, I would have cut his tool with a hacksaw. “…. .… he doesn’t deserve to live”. Can you believe that this guy is right in front of me? Yet, I can’t arrest him. The funny part is that he does not even have minister level influence. He is the son-in-law of some former MLA. I mean… why the hell did I become an SI? This bastard raped a school girl on the school grounds right in front of some four girls. These girls testified. By that time, he had absconded. And now, after two weeks of intense search, I caught him at the 100 feet road signal. But Shit! I’ve got to talk to him! TALK! … Talk to the pervert!!!

Not for the first time, I hated what I was wearing.


12:40 AM

She isn’t that much bad. I mean… How else I would have known in this life time that there was a song called “Bol…na Halke”. I’ve always been a Hindi-movie illiterate. The only connection I have with Bollywood is A.R.Rahman. I know only those Hindi songs composed by A.R.Rahman. My sister has some Hindi-speaking friends. So, any good song, she’ll get to know. She would dutifully download it from Limewire and from there to our I-pods. The sad part is that her friends have very bad taste. Once in a while, they’ll suggest a song like “Bol…na Halke”.

“Hey… wait… what is that? I bent down my head to reduce the volume. And then, I hit some one.

“Holy Fuck!!!”

With the speed I was travelling, the hit must have been fatal for that man/woman. I lost control after hitting and skidded on the roads. I must have broken my right hand. I have not felt anything more painful than this. But, I have got some thing more to fear about. What if that person is dead? For the first time, I realized how I would feel if I had been in a jail. A policeman came running towards me.

It was scary.

12:35 AM

“Let this be the last day of my career. I am not leaving this bastard” I decided. I switched off the phone to avoid any calls from my boss. I opened the car door; dragged that bastard out and gave one big punch right on that stomach. The punch I gave was not just for the crime he committed. That punch is for me to vent out my frustration. For what I had become in my life. I was 23 years old when I joined the Police. Till now, after 15 years of my service, I haven’t done anything useful to the public. I felt like crying. “What I have become!” I take bribes for my boss. I take bribes for my juniors. I am doing everything I didn’t want to. Every bit of frustration I had in every nerve of my body came out and hit that pervert’s goddamn stomach.

The bastard fell on the middle of the road. Just then, in a flash, before I could realize what was happening, a splendor hit him. It threw him right on one corner of the road. I ran towards him and looked at his face. He was unconscious. He must be dead!

I felt a strange kind of sensation. I have never felt anything like this. I won’t call it as “happiness”. It was definitely more than that. The feeling was definitely better than what I had when I became a father. I felt this bastard deserved every bit of it.

I neglected him and ran to the rider who hit him.

He was not seriously injured. He started crying. For me, at that moment, this guy looked like GOD. I helped him stand up and noticed that he had broken his hand. I called an auto; gave that guy a few thousand rupees which I had got as a bribe that night. I told him that I will take care of his bike and there is no need to worry. I sent a P.C along with him to the hospital.

I went near the bastard’s body.

I felt proud; I felt like crying.