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Chapter 2 - Dhoom 3

[Ahar's P. O. V.]

"Panditji (Priest), only you can help me, now."

I sat with my hands clasped and eyes shut. I peeked through one eye. The priest wore the traditional outfit--an orange lungi, no shirt, but a shawl around his torso--and sat with his eyes closed. He was praying or muttering something incoherent.

"What do you need help with, child?" he asked, now looking at me.

"Yesterday, I got the news that the man I loved the most is getting married to someone else." I sniffled and took off my glasses. "Then, my mother who was admitted in the hospital leaves without notice. Papa took her to a Chandigardh hospital without telling me. I found out from my aunt. Everyone's angry at me for coming to Haryana. My job sucks. My life sucks. I feel no motivation to keep living. I don't know what to do!"

"Life for a life."

"Huh?"

"Help save someone. Whether it be an animal or human, a man or a woman, a child or an adult--take it upon yourself to save just one person. Your life will change," he assured.

"Save someone," I repeated under my breath. Life for a life. "How do I save someone?" Save from what?

"You'll unlock the answers yourself. My work is to guide you," the priest said calmly. "You'll find someone today who will be with you on this journey. Don't waste your time."

The man stood up, gave me his blessings, and went to the talk to another person.

I put on my glasses and ran down the steps of the temple.

A tired looking man carrying a huge bag was walking by. "Excuse me, do you need any help?" I asked hopefully.

He frowned. "Chori, tu mare se door re (Girl, stay away from me). I don't need more tension in my life with thieves and whatnot." He walked away briskly. I wasn't sure what this Haryanvi guy's problem was. I had only been in this state for a year. The accent of these people always made it seem like they were yelling.

I called over my friend Suman Gupta who had been waiting for me at a shop nearby. Her bright orange bandana today reminded me of a traffic signal. Suman had shoulder-length dark hair and black eyes. I told her what the priest told me.

She laughed.

"Are you serious?" Suman asked.

"Isn't it true that if you do good, then good things happen to you?"

Suman extended her arm and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Nowadays, no."

I shoved away her fake support. "Forget you. I'll help myself."

She called after me, but I told her it was time for my shift at work.

I came to Haryana on the basis of getting my writing published. However, the person who said my books and works would get published turned out to be a fraud. He took my money--saying it was needed for agents and publishing purposes--and ran away.

I had come against my parents' will. My books didn't get published. They got the satisfaction of being right. Now, I was stuck working part-time in an ice-cream shop. I couldn't bring myself to go back. My mother was just diagonosed with skin cancer, so I tried to save as much money as I could for her. She had come here for treatment. I had finally seen her for a day. After that, Papa took her to a different, better hospital in Chandigardh.

"Ahar, can you close alone today?" my boss aka close friend Anchal Singhal asked. Normally, he stopped by to close the shop together because of how late it was. "I have a family function that I'm forced to attend."

"Sure," I smiled.

He threw a "thank you" and walked out. Anchal was a twenty-five year old, college professor. He had helped me out a lot by giving me a job and finding a place to stay.

I worked diligently until closing time. I had no luck finding a life to save in the shop. I set the alarm and closed the place. The weather outside had turned dreary. I saw lightening and then heard the sky roar. Rain rain go away. I need to save somebody today.

Maybe it's in the rain I save someone.

Like they did in Bollywood movies!

I walked down the street in the rain, searching for helpless people. Because of the moisture gathering, I had to take my glasses off.

"Hey!"

I stiffened. Two men sat on bikes. One gestured me to come to them. I ran a hand through my hair. Alone girl in the dark and it's raining. I turned and walked straight. Due to the distance, I had the lead. I ran for it. One of the guys was chasing after me, telling me to stop. My glasses were in my handbag, so I couldn't see properly. I ran as fast as I could. A bright light suddenly blinded me and I realized at the last second that I was in the middle of the road.

If I hadn't been pulled away in time, I would've been a goner.

Breathing heavily from the shock, I turned to my savior.

"Are you insane?" The guy had a foreign accent. Not British. Maybe American. Pulling my glasses out of my bag and putting them on, I met his eyes. The tall guy had water running down his face from the rain. His almond colored eyes intently gazed back. I've seen him before. But where? "If you wanted to commit suicide, this was a bit cliché."

"Really?" He didn't need to be a jerk. "If you wanted to frighten someone, the whole chasing-the-girl-in-the-dark was the epitome of a cliché."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Rather than thanking me, you want to argue?" he mumbled loudly. I didn't say anything. Taking out a photo from his jacket pocket, he held it up in front of my eyes. It was a small cut-out of fashion model. "Have you seen her before?" he asked. I shook my head, clueless. "That's all I wanted to know."

Oh.

I didn't feel the need to argue further. The guy turned and left.

Wait, the priest said I would find someone who will help me save a life.

"Oi! Wait!"

He stopped but kept his back to me. "What?"

"Who's the girl?"

He looked over his shoulder and replied, "My fiancé. She was kidnapped outside your shop, yesterday."

My eyes widened. I had spent yesterday at the hospital with my mother, so Suman covered for me. I had heard about this story. A young couple. One got attacked and the other one kidnapped--or so Anchal explained.

"She needs saving!" I said excitedly. "Can I help?"

I ran and stood in front of him.

He narrowed his eyes at me and ran a hand over his face. "You can't take care of your own self, let alone help me." He moved away, careful not to bump his shoulder into mine.

I followed behind. The rain was pouring. I had finally found what I was looking for all day.

"But I insist," I said.

"I insist you to mind your own business," he said. We were back to where the other guy sat on a bike. "Bhaiya (brother), she doesn't know either," the guy with the accent told his partner. His bhaiya (older brother) groaned.

"We spent the whole day asking around," the brother said. I noticed once a little closer that he had very pretty light green eyes. His hair was brownish-blackish mixture, wet from the rain. "These people notice nothing!" he said frustrated.

"Can I be of any help?" I inquired again. The older one raised an eyebrow. The brothers exchanged a look. "I'm Ahar Virdee."

"We don't care. Leave," the rude, younger one said.

"No," I said stubbornly. "I really want to help."

"Why?" the older one asked.

Because I need to save a life. "Why not?" I responded. "I'm a writer. I'll find a story to write."

Bonus! I'll save the girl's life, get rewarded for that, write a story on it, publish it, and make money! I received a suspicious stare from the older, green-eyes brother. Maybe I looked too excited.

"Will you give Shravan and I a moment?" he asked me.

Shravan. That's grumpy's name.

I nodded. He took his younger brother and stepped to the side.

[Shravan's P. O. V.]

I didn't understand what this girl's problem was. What point of no did she not understand? On top of that, Arun bhaiya (brother) was acting insane.

"Let her help," he said once we steeped away from Ms. Ahar Virdee.

"Why?" I asked perplexed. "She's not someone who can help. Typical woman. I've seen her almost every day since I've been here." That got his attention. I explained about the shop incident where she was crying over someone she loved getting married. Then, we had both seen her in the hospital.

"We should definitely let her join us then!" he said. "No one just gets up and helps other people. Even if she is a writer. You've met her twice already. She could be a potential suspect." I started shaking my head when he said, "She could have a motive. Writers don't make a lot of money. She works at that ice cream shop. You and Sanya are in new in town. From America. Kidnapping equals money. She wasn't even working when you went to the ice cream shop."

What a lawyer.

His reasoning made full sense. I looked over at her. She was rubbing her arms, trying to warm herself. The rain had completely drenched us all. She looks innocent.

But you never know.

"Why's she persistent on helping us then?" I asked.

"Probably so she can keep an eye at what measures we're taking," my brother guessed. "I'm only estimating from what I've been opened to so far. Actually, you know, in Dhoom 3 (Bollywood movie), Aamir Khan purposely goes to help the cops and finds out their entire plan to catch the criminal. Aamir Khan was the criminal, himself! He fooled them well."

"That's only a movie."

"But it makes sense."

True. "Alright, fine. She could be a suspect," I said finally.

No one is generous. People in the world were selfish. There was always a reason behind free help.

"Exactly," he said. "We should let her help. That way, we can keep an eye out on her as well as other potential suspects."

I should've taken law than business.

My brother always knew what to do.

We went back to the writer girl. She impatiently waited for our decision.

"You're in. Meet us here at ten, tomorrow morning," bhaiya (bro) told her.

She beamed at us, revealing small dimples. Looks can be deceiving. I sat down on the bike, ignoring her further. If this stranger was behind Sanya's kidnapping, she was going to regret it big time.

"Sounds like a plan. Goodnight, then."

She walked away, clutching her handbag.

***

[Ahar's P. O. V.]

I could finally do something to mend my hopeless life.

I went to my rented apartment. Suman, my friend, was also my room mate. However, she wasn't home yet. Probably out with her boyfriend. Her parents lived in Mumbai. Suman came here due to education reasons. She was majoring in fashion designing and had gotten a scholarship to a good college here in Haryana. In college, she said she recently found a good boyfriend. I had yet to meet him.

I went straight to bed, excited for tomorrow.

***

"So, your older brother backed out?"

"Arun bhaiya has to go to court hearings. Unlike you, my brother has an established profession."

So rude.

I had come on time to meet Shravan and his older brother, Arun. However, he told me that his brother was in the middle of a court case. Arun needed a week to finish it. He was in another part of Haryana with his clients, now.

Moral of the story: I was stuck alone with Shravan.

"You're the one to judge," I commented. "What's your job?"

"I own a fashion company in America," he said arrogantly.

Rich people.

"You don't happen to be friends with any book publishing companies, do you?" I asked hesitantly.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Is that your motive behind helping me?" I shook my head. "Then, come on." He gestured for me to get on the bike. If he was so rich, why didn't he own a car? He sat down on the bike. I reluctantly got on the back. "If you touch me, I'll kill you," he warned.

If I didn't have to save a life, I would've ditched him.

"Where are we going?"

"Police Station. Check the CCTV footage," he tersely replied and started the bike. I held onto the back part and sat stiffly.

The things I had to do to improve my life.

_____________________

How was the chapter?

The boys think Ahar is a suspect. Agree or disagree?

Shravan is mean: agree or disagree?

Ahar's not a detective because . . . a 17 year old, ignorant adolescent is writing this story. My first mystery type-ish story ever. I would need a lot of experience to pull off the detective nature. I went a bit more Bajrangi Bhaijaan with the story. He was helping return Shahida to her family because it was the right thing. Ahar is helping Shravan, so she can improve her life. People do believe in pandits. My Papa (a police officer) goes to pandits and believes them. Its hilarious and ridiculous.

Happy belated janamashtami to those who celebrate it!(My mom calls Lord Krishna the "Original bad boy" lol).
Happy Labor day to my fellow people living in America.

Please vote, comment, and share! <3

--Kiran