Pursuit (Completed)

One - Part A

The first sight she witnessed was a body hanging from the fan. Not just anybody, the corpse of her once good friend, clad in the baby pink georgette saree she loved wearing with the short sleeved blouse fitted with high neck. She used to joke that wearing such high neck collars would suffocate her friend one day, little did she know it was the thick rope around the neck that was the deal breaker, or rather the soul breaker. The face once lit up this house, her laughter waking up the corners, her voice echoing off the walls making it a home. But all of that was gone - the voice was suppressed, smiles washed off her being, and her face paler than a white sheet.

By her legs laid another body in a crimson pool. The ever crisp white shirt she was so accustomed to seeing on him, was drenched in blood. The spectacles still on the face like they were part of it, instead of an accessory. She wanted to weep at that sight. Two murders in a day of people she interacted with every day.

Instead, she said, "Good job."

---

25 years later

The once happy home was reduced to an old bungalow. The oriental^ furniture was covered in white cotton fabric. Whether it was to prevent spoilage, or out of fear that they would come to life and tell the story of the conspiracy, no one knew. The bungalow^ was enveloped in darkness, as it does the best job in concealing the truth. Precisely at the venue of the crime, two people convened. The light provided by the phone flashlight was too little compared to the murky thoughts playing in their minds

"We have only six months. Do something. Otherwise, if Ayaan gets to know the truth, he will not think twice to kill us." A voice spoke.

"It has been so long. Don't worry; he will not get to know anything. As for the papers, I will take responsibility. He will surely sign." A female answered confidently.

"Just because it didn't happen all these years, we can't rest on our laurels. We must get him to sign the papers and exactly on that day. Be extra careful that he doesn't hurt himself within these six months. His anger is growing like a fire that is out of control. If he gets burnt, we will get nothing. Nothing! Do you get it?" The noises of breaking wall accessories followed.

The female's confident face had cracks of fear, clearly visible now. "I am telling you. I will play such a game that he will not even know what hit him. After that, even if he knows the truth, he can do nothing but burn in his anger."

A shadow was listening to this conversation intently struggling to control the uproar of emotions.

---

Mahanidhi^ was one of those mansions that defined modern luxury. The mansion spanned over eight thousand square feet and three storeys tall with a basement. The entry porch was clad in beige marble with a cantilevered^ slab projecting over the waiting car. Beyond the main door stood a feature wall with huge wall art of Ganesha^ against a black stone backdrop. The feature wall split the entrance - the right entrance was for the staff that would lead to the kitchen on the same floor and stairs to the garden above; the left entrance led into the house.

For a long time now, the residents of the house were not encouraged to use the right entrance. "It was meant for the servants", they were always criticised. The pleasure of breaking norms set the new habit for Ayaan and Dhruv. They noticed the staircase also led to the basement garage. In their teenage years, both of them had set up their gym equipment in a room next to the garage. Consequently, it became their hideout within the mansion. They could shout, they could fight, they could do anything they wanted without disturbing the dignity of the posh interiors of Mahanidhi.

Ayaan Agnihotri was the eldest of the Agnihotri brothers. He was known for his discipline, his ideaologies and his disguised ruthlessness. He preferred to destroy his enemies even before they were warned about him.

However, Ayaan never stood on sidelines when the under privileged were trampled. A trait his parents hated about him but never stopped him. He would hold night parties in the kitchen or movie screenings in the basement garage for the mansion staff.

It was just another day at Mahanidhi. Ayaan was up before the sunrise partly because of his timed lifestyle and partly because he never slept for long hours. Deep sleep invited dreams - Dreams of dark dungeons, screams of death and forgotten shadows of the past. His only reprieve was the harmonica that he always kept with him. He played a short tune watching the sun rise.

The rap on door forced him out of his bed. The morning coffee delivered to his room. He sipped on his morning coffee. The aroma of the freshly ground beans hit his mind a bit too strong. He credited it to the sleepless night he had. He threw on a soft white cotton shirt, picked up the mug and went in search of Dhruv.

In the gym room, jabs and crosses landed heavily on the punching bag. One last jab made the punching bag fly in projectile motion. But a pair of hands held it back in centre. The jabs and kicks continued. The boxer was tiring, yet the bag stayed firm in the middle.

"Ayaan! This is cheating. I was winning until you came."

Ayaan smiled at the grunt. "Dhruv. Anyone can win by their rules. The real winner wins no matter who sets the rules."

"You always set your rules and play by them. What about that?"

"No. I set my game. So whoever plays must do so by my rules."

Dhruv dried his face with a towel as he said, "I wish I can set the game for you one day. Then we can see who wins." Hanging the towel around his neck, he came closer trying to say something.

A knock disturbed their conversation. "Ma-Saab^ has called you both to join her at breakfast table."

"Okay." Dhruv left to have a shower with a last hesitant look at Ayaan.

For most of his life, Ayaan knew he had to babysit his brother. Dhruv denied growing up, preferring the comfort of being young and foolish. But behind the easy exterior hid a soul that absorbed every trivial detail.

"I am also waiting for the day you grow up. Dhruv, you love me too much. You can't see me hurt. So you will set the game for me and, and", he punched the bag hard, "and you will play it for me."

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Here's the first chapter of the Pursuit. How's it?

Any feedback is welcome. Your votes and comments act like fuel to my fingers, so please keep them coming.

^ Refer to Glossary