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Word Count : 3700

Song : Remembrance Slowed Version (Balmorhea)

https://youtu.be/cZlRsQ7Pfrg

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28 | Cold Hands

11th May 2023

|2300 Hrs.|

One truth that was hidden from the world outside yet stayed naked to Mahadevan's eyes was the fact that Hinduja was a heavy sleeper. She tried to keep it as discreet as possible, yet-he noticed it. The way she would set at least six to seven alarms before her specified time of waking up in the morning or the way she would set the audio of the video monitor of Anirudh's baby monitor at the highest possible volume, going as far as to keep it right next to her head on the nightstand beside their bed, gave it all away to him.

For him, that was unnatural because, in his mind, he knew that for someone like his wife, whose senses were alert at all times of the day, the habit of heavy sleeping was not something in line with her other traits.

The position she slept in throughout the night was also a little uncanny for him to surmise-dead straight, with her back aligned against the bed, both of her hands lying next to her torso, with not even a single movement of any part of her body.

As if she were a corpse.

Both of those things felt a bit out of order.

But then again, as out of order they were, both of those traits of hers came to his advantage at night. He was a light sleeper, so on some nights when his nightmares would reach the peak of their evilness, when each droplet of his perspiration would trickle down the angled brows of his facial profile, his eyes would automatically open up. And then, after taking a quick glance at her sleeping form beside him, he would bring both of his hands up, turn around on the bed, press his face tightly against the pillow, and muffle his desperate screams through the dense softness of the satiny headrest.

And that is how, with the years that had passed by, he had mastered the art of wading through his nightmares ....in silence.

In moments like those, his own hands were a source of mystery for him. As cold as ice, yet drenched with sweat at the same time. He had long forsaken the refuge of the healthcare system, so googling the symptoms on his phone would often bring him to the doorstep of two different conditions: Palmar hyperhidrosis or Anemia.

But he suffered from neither of the two.

Yet, the moment he would roll down towards her side of the bed, place his head in the hollow at the base of her neck, and intertwine the slender fingers of her hand with his own, his hands wouldn't feel as chilly as they were before to him.

How? And ...Why?

He had the answer to none.

At the end, he would just stay awake and gaze at her. Her dulcet intake of breaths, the rhythmic up and down movement of her chest, the soft contours of her face, the tiny kite-shaped gold studs in her ears, the delicate black baby hair littered around her forehead and temple, the double eyelids veiling her familiar ebony eyes under their guise, and those fringes of thick and curved lashes at the end of her eyelids-he would observe it all intricately while waiting patiently for the clutches of sleep to consume him whole again.

Shaking his thoughts out of his own woolgathering, he dropped his gaze down to look at his hands. His eyes intently observed a drop of sweat flowing from beneath his index finger and navigating its way along the heart line on his right hand, eventually ending its life at the base of his palm.

Cold and damp. Again.

As cold as the hands of a corpse.

But this time the difference was that she was not present next to him-for him to place his head in the crook of her neck, to entwine his fingers with hers, or ...to make his hands feel warm again.

So, the sweat kept releasing itself out of the pores in his icy-cold hands, while his eyes kept on surveying the inhabitants of his presidential office with a frigid face, waiting patiently for any piece of news about his wife's whereabouts.

Karim left the side of Nandan Wadhva and advanced towards him as the young computer geek kept on stabbing a bunch of keys on the keyboard of his laptop. A tensed expression shrouded his visage as he licked his lips and said, "Sahib, we thought it wouldn't be that demanding for us to get through the website of the Traffic Police and obtain the footage, but it's getting a little difficult now. It might take more time. After the Special Investigation Unit's servers were hacked around a fortnight ago, the force has increased security tenfold."

Mahadevan sighed with his eyes shut.

Tightening his back, he opened them again and turned his head around to look at Nandan. "That kid is still an amateur. I don't trust his skills. Call Gurung right now." He directed.

"But Sahib-"

"I don't care, Karim. Ask him to shove a stopper up his butthole or do whatever he wants! I want him here, right now."

Karim exhaled. "Sure."

All of a sudden, the familiar Brazilian Rosewood door at the entranceway unbolted and dashed violently against the wall it was attached to.

"I am back!" Flashing all 32 of his permanent teeth at his boss and the rest of the occupants of the office, Gurung bellowed.

"What nonsense is this, Amar!?" Karim admonished, "And who called you here?" He asked.

Mahadevan, on the other hand, took notice of the tall and leanly muscular man who stood next to Gurung.

In response to Karim's question, Gurung grinned even wider and rotated the joints in his neck to fix his gaze on Manoramaa. "Monicaaaaaaa...O my darling!" He sang a tune resembling a song from an old Bollywood movie, pointing his finger at Manoramaa.

"I called him here." Manoramaa trailed, looking at Karim.

Karim sighed in exasperation.

"Good." Mahadevan passed his verdict, glancing at Manoramaa. She bowed.

Then he turned his head around to fix his gaze on Gurung. "I believe that she has already explained the matter to you?"

Gurung nodded. "Yes, Saab Ji."

"Then what are you waiting for? Get to work."

"Yes, Saab Ji!"

Amidst this entire exchange of words, two figures gawked at their surroundings in cluelessness. The first one was Nandan, whose fingers were still dancing vigorously across the keyboard, while the second one was the man who stood next to the door-Bakhtawar Hussain.

Now, along with Mahadevan, Manoramaa and Karim noticed his presence as well. Taking note of the tension building up in the room, Gurung trailed, "This dude was sitting in the reception area. I saw him and asked him to tag along with me. Did you people summon him here?"

"Yes, we did." Karim responded.

"Come in." Mahadevan instructed in a faint voice. Bakhtawar nodded and got in, closing the door behind him as Gurung ambled towards the technology geek perched up behind the system.

Mahadevan witnessed Gurung exchanging places with Nandan and setting up his own equipment in place of Nandan's on the table from his peripheral vision.

He then finally latched his eyes on the man before him.

"Do you know where she is?" He inquired without beating around the bush.

Both he and Karim waited patiently for Bakhtawar's response.

"No." Bakhtawar shook his head. "I don't know where madam is."

Karim rolled his eyes as Mahadevan clenched his teeth and sighed in chagrin. "Listen, Hussain, my wife is missing. Her phone is switched off, and I don't have any idea about her whereabouts. I can't even approach any of her seniors, colleagues, or the SIT headquarters due to reasons that even you must be aware of. So you better hurl out whatever you know about! Because in case I come to know that you were aware of this entire ordeal later on-I. will. finish. you. off!" He seethed.

Bakhtawar licked his lips. "I swear, I don't know where she is." He countered. "I haven't talked to her since yesterday evening."

"What did she talk about last evening?" Karim put forward his question.

"Nothing; just about work."

"Kindly elucidate, sir." Mahadevan commanded in violent whispers.

"Sorry, that's confidential." Bakhtawar answered plainly. "But I can assure you that it's nothing related to her disappearance."

Raking his thick digits through his already unkempt hair, Mahadevan attempted to curb the rage engulfing his rigid frame. "Hussain, don't test my fucking patience!"

"Hell yeah!" Suddenly, all of their attention was snatched by the man sitting behind the system in the left-most corner of the office. "Got the CCTV footage, Saab Ji."

Glancing at each other for one last time, Mahadevan, Karim, and Bakhtawar promptly strode towards him.

Taking a roundabout around the edge of the table, Mahadevan stealthily supported his hands against the table and crouched his body down to look at the footage playing on the screen. Karim, Manoramaa, and Bakhtawar stood behind him, their eyes fixed on the screen as well, while Nandan gawked at all five of them in discomfiture.

Although not that clear, one could still make out through the slightly blurry traffic police surveillance footage that the figure garbed modestly in pale pink Indian wear, getting out of the posh black Rolls-Royce Cullinan parked next to the footpath, was indeed the Matriarch of the Dogra empire. Behind and ahead of the luxury all-terrain automobile were a convoy of Range Rovers aligned symmetrically.

"Saab Ji, madam got out of your car at exactly ten a.m. in the morning today. Here is the footage of that time period." He pointed the tip of his forefinger at Hinduja's frame on the screen.

Mahadevan nodded. "Yes."

After fast-forwarding the surveillance footage by a few minutes, Gurung paused it and continued, "Now look at this. At ten-ten a.m. sharp, this SUV over here---" He directed his finger at the image of a silver Mahindra SUV. "She got into this SUV. The driver is not visible, though."

"Zoom on the number plate. Find out who this SUV belongs to. Now." Mahadevan ordered stringently.

"Yes, Saab Ji."

All of them stood by with bated breaths for the next few minutes as Mahadevan straightened his body and took a stroll next to the table.

"Yes!" Gurung bellowed again.

"Got it, Saab Ji!" He roared out in triumph and spun the laptop around. "DLXXXX67---It's a silver Mahindra SUV registered under the name of Milind Desai."

With a cavernous exhale, Mahadevan stared intently at the particulars reflecting on the screen. Clasping his hands behind his back, he inquired. "The surname is Desai?"

"Yes, Saab Ji." Gurung promptly responded.

"Excellent. Dig out all his details and check if he has a daughter---alright?"

"But why his daughter, Saab Ji?" Gurung asked in perplexity.

"Just do as I say, Gurung!" Mahadevan seethed.

"Alright."

Karim knitted his brows together as something dawned upon him: "Desai? As in---"

Mahadevan glanced at him and nodded his head.

"Here it is, Saab Ji." Clicking on the details of Milind Desai, Gurung continued. "Milind Desai indeed has a daughter, and quite interestingly, she is a member of the same Special Investigation Team that Madam is a part of. Assistant Superintendent of Police Rukmini Desai---Indian Police Service. She is twenty-three."

"It's her." Wetting his lower lip with his tongue, Mahadevan whispered. "The driver of the SUV that Hinduja got into, is Rukmini. Now that I recollect it, I remember Hinduja saying this morning that she would be outside for some work with a colleague. Rukmini is that colleague." Wiping the sweat across his cold hands with a kerchief, he said. "Check all the footage and find out the route through which she drove the SUV after this."

"Already done with it, Saab Ji. Rukmini's SUV entered Indira Marg at ten-twenty a.m."

Karim massaged his glabella and voiced out. "Indira Marg has so many routes connected to it. How will we know which route that officer took after it?! That's just not enough information."

"Gurung, Rukmini's phone number?" Mahadevan questioned.

"Here, Saab Ji." Gurung pointed out at one particular point on the screen where a series of ten numbers flashed in black, creating a contrast with the rest of the white background.

"Manoramaa, call her." Mahadevan connected his eyes with his assistant.

"On it, sir."

He himself tried to contact the officer, but to no avail.

"Sir, her number is showing---out of network coverage area." Manoramaa responded with a heavy sigh.

"Saab Ji!" Gurung called out abruptly.

"Yes?" Mahadevan latched his gaze on him in confusion, the dark cloak of paranoia and anxiety shrouding his being still invisible to the others.

"I tried to track their locations. Madam's phone is switched off, and even Rukmini's phone is out of the network coverage area, but interestingly, the GPS setting on Rukmini's phone is switched on. And from what I can make out, even Madam's phone's GPS location was turned on before her phone was switched off. Look at this---" Projecting his finger at the GPS map on the screen, Gurung said, "Madam's last location was the Episcopacy of the Church of North India."

"Should I head to this location with a search team, sir?" Manoramaa immediately suggested.

"Wait." Mahadevan interrupted while contemplating something. "If the GPS setting on Rukmini's phone is still turned on, that means we can get her live location. Can't we?"

"Exactly, Saab Ji. I am working on tracking her live GPS location now."

"Do it."

"What is an episcopacy, by the way?" Karim asked while Mahadevan noticed how Bakhtawar scrunched his eyebrows together from his peripheral vision.

Clasping his fingers together, Bakhtawar replied, "In Christianity, the Episcopacy is basically the collateral system of church government based on the three orders of their ministry: bishops, priests, and deacons. In simpler terms, it is the office of a bishop."

Both Karim and Mahadevan instantly looked at each other.

"Found it." Gurung interrupted. "Rukmini's current location is five hundred meters away from the Pankhmara Road. In fact, it's moving, which means she is traveling currently."

"Isn't that road quite an isolated location? It's next to a forest." Manoramaa pointed.

"Karim, do the needful." Mahadevan instructed as he strode straight out of the office.

Manoramaa escorted Nandan out of the office as the others followed behind Mahadevan.

***

"It's already twelve o'clock, Rukmini. How long will it take?" Hinduja asked worriedly while examining the dial of her watch.

"I apologize, ma'am, but this was the shortest possible route. We have already crossed the Pankhmara road, and the route ahead, unlike Pankhmara, passes through an open ground with sparse vegetation. It's completely isolated, so there are no chances of traffic as well. It will take us thirty minutes more to reach the highway." Rukmini answered while maneuvering her SUV onto a road with open ground on both sides.

Hinduja sighed and nodded her head. "It's okay."

Time passed as Rukmini drove the car through the road devoid of any human intervention. A few shrubs littered the surroundings around the road, hither and thither.

Suddenly, something weird caught both of their attention.

A series of flash lights moved towards them from the other direction, the only source of illumination in the bleak darkness of the isolated route aside from the flashlights of the SUV there were in.

"Cars." Rukmini muttered.

"Fuck!" In a flash, she cussed. "Could they be dacoits?"

Hinduja remained quiet as her sharp eyes observed the models and designs of the cars advancing towards them with the help of the illumination caused by the flashlights from both sides.

"Dacoits don't drive luxury sedans and Range Rovers, Rukmini." She faintly whispered through the silence of the night. "Stop the car. I think I know what this is."

"But ma'am--"

"Do you trust me, Rukmini?" Hinduja interrupted her with a question while fixing her dupatta with her right hand.

"Yes, ma'am." Came a quick reply.

"Then, stop the car."

The wind blew vehemently as a set of dark, raging clouds shadowed the night sky, all set for a furious downpour. Rukmini pulled over her SUV on the left side of the road and keyed out of the ignition.

The very next second, a convoy of Range Rovers pulled up directly in front of the SUV on the left side of the road as a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom ceased its movement right beside the SUV on the right side of the road.

The doors of all the Range Rovers unbolted at once to reveal around five to fifty-five men in professional security gear, along with the familiar figures of two men and the unknown frame of a woman in civil clothes.

"Really?" Hinduja muttered under her breath in irritation as she saw Bakhtawar and Gurung advancing towards the vehicle she was sitting in. Though she didn't recognize the woman walking beside them, it still felt as if she had seen her somewhere.

"What the fuck is happening?! And why the fuck are they all dressed in black? Even the cars are black. Some ultra-modern dacoits these people are, I must say!" Rukmini squeaked out in fret.

"They are not dacoits, Rukmini. Let's get out of the car first." Saying so, she unlocked the passenger side door and stepped out. Rukmini followed suit in hesitation.

Instantly, the doors of the luxury sedan parked beside Rukmini's SUV unbolted. Two masculine figures stepped out of it, one taller and much more heavily built than the other.

Hinduja's eyes clashed against her husband's cognac ones. He quietly walked towards her as Karim followed behind him.

Five people surrounded her and Rukmini in a second---four males and one female.

"Ma'am, what is happening? And why does this man seem so familiar?" She heard Rukmini whispering next to her right ear while discreetly pointing her finger at Mahadevan.

"Wait." Came a short response.

"Where were you, madam?" Bakhtawar began with the interrogation.

"What are you doing with them, Bakhtawar?" Hinduja asked instead.

But instead of getting answers, Hinduja was bestowed with a downpour of more questions, yet that one man before her possessing a set of cognac pools---her husband---maintained silence throughout. The other person who abstained from uttering any words was the 'unfamiliar yet familiar' woman who stood next to Karim.

Suddenly, Gurung intervened while scratching the crown of his head. "If you people don't mind, can we please continue our game of 'Kaun Banega Crorepati' with madam tomorrow? The thing is, even though my loose motions have stopped after the medications I took, my butthole is burning a lot due to the spicy chutney I had along with the momos. It feels as if I will shit out an inferno at any moment."

Bakhtawar scrunched his nose as the rest of them grimaced. Hinduja and Mahadevan maintained their calm while Rukmini looked on at the scene unfolding in front of her, completely clueless. "Applying an ice pack alleviates the burning sensation a lot." She mumbled involuntarily.

"It does?" Gurung asked with a renewed sense of hope.

Rukmini faintly nodded. "Yes. My cousin uses this method."

"Thank you so much, sister!" Gurung grinned and then turned around to look at his boss. "Saab Ji, we have got madam all safe and sound, so can we all leave for our respective homes now? My butthole is still burning; I need to apply an ice pack."

Heaving a sigh, Mahadevan finally said. "Okay. You people can leave." Turning his visage towards Karim, he commanded. "Ask the security personnel to disperse as well."

Karim nodded.

Gurung grinned like a Cheshire cat and then faced Karim, "Karim Bhai, can I please use your toilet for tonight? Mine is clogged."

"Fuck!"

Five minutes later, as the rest of them left, three people stood facing each other. Rukmini kept on staring at the intimidating man before her, trying to remember who he was, when it suddenly hit her like a speedily accelerating arrow from a bow. Her eyes widened immediately.

"Mahadevan Dogra?" Her words came out in bare whispers as blatant disbelief clouded her countenance.

Hinduja clicked her tongue. What she had feared the most was occurring right before her eyes.

"Ma'am, he..." Rukmini was cut off in between by her superior.

"He is Mahadevan Dogra." Taking a deep breath, she completed the rest of her statement. "My husband."

If possible, Rukmini's eyes had taken up the size of two round saucers. She was shocked beyond her imagination.

Mahadevan plainly ignored the lady beside his wife, his gaze still stuck on his wife's visage.

"Listen, Rukmini, I have a request. Please don't spread a word about this in the office or anywhere else. There are reasons behind me hiding all of this from everyone. Clear?" Hinduja trailed firmly as she noticed her colleague slowly coming out of the initial shock.

Rukmini breathed heavily while softly patting her chest. "Okay, ma'am, as you wish. I won't say a word to anyone."

"Alright, you can leave now; we will talk about this later. Drive safely."

"Okay ma'am." With one last nod of her head, Rukmini quickly got inside her car and left the spot.

They stood absolutely still for some moments.

As the first drop of rain bounced on her cheek, she felt him entwining her fingers with his own. He then gently dragged her towards the car.

"Get in." He whispered as he unbolted the passenger side door.

Nodding her head, she settled herself inside in the passenger seat. In a minute, he was inside as well, navigating the sedan through the damp road under the rainy and sable vault of heaven.

She was gazing out of the window when she felt him gripping her right hand in his left one. She didn't revolt; she just let him do what he wanted.

As her warm, slender fingers intertwined with his thick, cold, and sweaty ones, Mahadevan came to a sudden realization---all along, his hands weren't cold because he had Anemia, Palmar hyperhidrosis, or any other health condition. Neither were they cold because of his night terrors. He felt that they were dead cold simply because they lacked the warmth of her hands.

Because now that he had his hands enveloping hers in his own, they suddenly didn't feel cold anymore.

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