Chapter 10: Iongantas
iongantas /ĩə̃Ndəs/: Gaelic word for astonishment, surprise, wonder or, even curiosity (No, not the Mars robot, the word!). Used to explain unexplained turns of events.
Psychic spies from China
Try to steal your mind's elation
Little girls from Sweden
Dream of silver screen quotations
And if you want these kind of dreams
It's Californication
He had the sleeves of his chequered shirt rolled up, patiently going over the financial accounts of the vic over and over again, bobbing his head to Red Hot Chili Peppers, while the Accountant-like black rimmed glasses danced on the sharp arch of his nose, wobbling now and then. Aman was good at what he did, simply because of his sometimes seemingly endless supply of patience. He had been studying the autopsy report as well. In plain English - there was nothing there. Aman Mathur didn’t believe in ghosts and unless one returned from the dead to take revenge on Soni for some nameless sins, there was something they were missing out on. If needed, he would go over the crime scene with a fine toothed comb over and over again until they found something - except, he trusted Payal enough to know she wouldn’t miss out on anything. So that meant, waiting. He would wait until she found something and she would and he would go through the clues at hand until something popped up.
It's the edge of the world
And all of western civilization
The sun may rise in the East
At least it settles in the final location
It's understood that Hollywood
Sells Californication
He bobbed his head, while looking. Concentrating. Adding the numbers up in his head. There was something about the books that made him think that the accounts had been cooked. the numbers were just too conservative. Too pat. Aman smiled, reaching for a Kings beer. His brother had just come back from Goa and it had been his present to Aman - a case of beautiful smoky malted beer that is only brewed there. Aman smiled, taking a sip. There was a lot of memories attached to Goa; funny how a drink can bring it all back. For now though, he smiled - the past would stay where it belonged and Aman would continue looking at the books and try placing a respectable government official with Y-crystals because his gut told him that was all it was about - nothing else. Soni was neck deep in chemistry. It was Aman’s job to find out the where and the how of the whiff in question.
First born unicorn
Hard core soft porn
Dream of Californication
Dream of Californication
Aman knew how fast trails could go cold and he knew how fast he would need to work to counteract that. There would be times when he didn’t eat properly or meet and even talk to his own family for weeks at a time but that was just the part and parcel of the job in question. Aman knew the risks - he never did anything being uninformed. Now only if he knew how Soni was moving the glass; the street slang for Y-crystals, Aman knew he’d have half the case in his hand but that would be asking too much. Plus, he was now looking forward to the case, somewhat. Reaching out he took a swig of the smoky malted liquid and smiled - he was certainly looking forward to some time spent with the doll masquerading as the new assistant head of customs, certainly. Ms. Lavanya Kashyap.
Destruction leads to a very rough road
But it also breeds creation
And earthquakes are to a girl's guitar
They're just another good vibration
And tidal waves couldn't save the world
From Californication
Of course it could just be that Ms. Kashyap was knee deep in all this. Dirty to her pretty fingertips. Aman would then make certain that she got what was coming to her. Until then, where was the harm in a little cat-mouse game? He was smiling still, studying the books when the phone rang. He smiled some more when he put it down. Some rich teenager was caught with nearly a month’s supply of Glass. Stoned out of her mind. Aman didn’t believe in prosecuting the young. She would no doubt get a slap on the wrist because of daddy’s money and unlike other cops Aman had no problem with that. As long as they caught the supplier. Her supplier. Grinning, he straightened his glasses. No doubt he’d have to step out now. He couldn’t help but wish that the delectable Ms. Kashyap would be around again. Just because. For now, he had a spoiled teen to scare. Aman stripped off his casual shirt, pulling on a well ironed blue one. He never believed in mixing his private life with his public one. While he stripped of his jeans and pulled on formal slacks, he thought - the clothes sometimes really did make the man. While his boss, ASR ran from formals as far as he could - no doubt scarred from his stifling upbringing, Aman wore his - embracing them - to forget his own. Straightening his time, he walked out. Work, he knew, would wait for no one.
First born unicorn
Hard core soft porn
Dream of Californication
“You look incredibly trashy! Go up and change your dress right now!” it had slipped out of his astonished mouth. NK hadn’t meant for something like this to come out - at least not when his sister - half-sister, sister, what’s the difference? - had her birthday coming up in a few days and her mother was out of town, living it up in Corsica. Their father - the source of their shared DNA too couldn’t be bothered about the 17 year old starving with a full stomach. So, he had asked NK to move in for the time being, to keep a perfunctory eye on his sister. He had, not because of the incentive his father had promised him but because he was genuinely concerned - worried about her. He remembered himself at that age. NK wouldn’t want any sister of his to get into shit like that if he could help it. He hadn’t meant to say something so offensive either. His years with women and Khushi had taught him that talking to women requires a second and a third thought before opening your mouth and yet, one look at his sister-the polite stranger he barely knew in that trashy pink dress right out of a Euro-Trash club somewhere had him saying something like that. It was cowl necked, shiny, backless and a horrible pepto bismol pink dress that barely reached her mid thighs. The material looked cheap and he was horrified that his sister would wear something so trashy. She had teamed up her overtly made up face with diamonds with as much style as a glass would have. Where was the class? NK had stared - unable to believe that her mother would let her out like that.
“It’s a Vivienne Westwood Red Label Foil dress!” she had half screeched, nose in the air. Surprised, almost as much as he was by her non-interfering, stranger of a half-brother piping in about anything in her life. Her overly glossy pink lips opening and closing like a hungry fish’s.
The words that came out of her mouth shocked NK dumb for almost a minute. “Nose the fuck out of my business, will you? Just because Dad told you to keep an eye on me, doesn’t mean I’m going to take your shit.”
How the hell had his little sister learnt to talk like that? The girl he’d always brought home pretty Barbies for, before they’d lost touch? “Now, wait just a minute...” he almost stammered, when she turned on her heel and stormed out of the Living Hall and into the foyer.
NK started seeing red. Where did she get off talking to him like that? Hell, he was almost 12 years older in age and decades older in experience where the little brat was concerned. “Alright, that’s it.” He’d caught her painfully thin arm (Had the child even heard the word ‘food’? How did her mother allow her to live like this?) in his hand and escorted her squirming and screeching back into the house.
“I forbid you to step out of this house looking like,” he looked her over once again and barely refrained from saying exactly what she looked like, lest he be impolite, “this. Go upstairs, change into something that’s respectable- not trashy- and I’ll drive you to your friend’s house. Am I clear?”
“You know all about trash don’t you, Bhai?” NK was taken aback at the scorn in her narrowed gaze. “Of course you do! What with that slut hanging around you all the bloody time! So, tell me Bhai its okay that you play with trash but when it comes to me, you think of your outdated patriarchal values first? Fuck that!”
NK was the affable sort. Usually. He hardly lost his temper and with it the vein of cold running through him - those were parts of him he hardly ever let out, until today. “Not. Another. Word.” He could have sworn he felt steam coming out of his ears as the unknown, hoarse voice shot out of his throat like pressurized steam. “Go to your room, you’re not allowed to go outside tonight. In fact, I’m grounding you, till your Mother gets back.”
Any other person would have seen his pale face, clenched fists and red ears- and heard that cold biting voice- and obeyed him at once. Not Anika Raina, though. No. She stuck her tiny, pointed nose in the air and proceeded to hike his anger up to previously unseen heights. “Fuck you!” she hissed. “Like I would ever listen to you! We are nothing but strangers with half of the same DNA. So fucking what? You’re the golden child and I’m the afterthought. I owe you nothing.” And with that, the little idiot had stormed out of the house, past him and into the car. What was she even doing, driving a Car? She was not even 18 yet! Then, ironically mirroring his actions at the same age, she had driven off in a cloud of dust. The only difference? He had never left behind another person worried sick about him. She, he was surprised to notice at that time, mattered. Not like a pet belonging to a member of the family, as he had grown into a habit of thinking - she mattered.
And here he was now. Called down to the fucking Police Station, because his barely 17 year old half-sister had been caught in possession of drugs. He groaned again, letting his head fall back into his hands, as Khushi lightly patted his shoulder, while she navigated the car one handed. Drugs, of all the crimes to get involved in, the little idiot had gotten high. Goddamnit, would his Father never Learn?!
Arnav stood outside the hospital room while the spoiled little meth-head threw a tantrum inside at having been placed in police custody. Hard to believe that she was NK’s half sister. That they share any sort of DNA at all. Where NK was affable, this one was spoiled. NK was a thrill seeker, while Anika was lost in her own bubble and where NK loathed drugs (no doubt for his own reasons) and his stance on them was notoriously rigid, yet Anika was packing more Glass than any teenagers or dealers he had encountered lately. This placed the loathsome teenager in his legal clutches - through her, he had a handle on NK Raina and through him - Billoo Rani. Raina would be a means to an end. Arnav had used enough of those to know that it wouldn’t be the first time his conscience would twitch guiltily but needs must. Instincts were barely wrong and his said, she’d know. To paraphrase Heroes, find the Butterfly, find the drug lord.
2 comments
1) WELOME BACK!!!! I can not tell you how great it is to see an update from the two of you! The writing world is totally incomplete without you! <3
ReplyDelete2) I knew the drugged up spoiled brat Aman got called in for would end up being NK's sister, the second she came down in that pepto bismol dress! (Which by the way, thank you for always giving a vivid description of the couture, I am always able to google and find the exact dress you mention!)
3) I love the way you guys enter a scene with a character ensconced in their work and then give us a glimpse of their past lives, just a touch, leaving us wanting more! (ie: Aman reminiscing about Goa, NK and his hate for drugs, etc.)
And man, Arnav has got it bad. Any means necessary to get to his Billoo Rani/Butterfly.
Off to read the next part!!
Mojo power!
So now we get to see snide NK's family and it is a mess. How well you have shown at people who supposedly have everything have nothing. NK is seeing his younger self reflected in his sister. She had opened the door to ASR....wow. He now has a way to get to Khushi.
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