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Word Count : 3200

Target : 120 Votes

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62 | Coffee, Tea & Petrichor

| 18th May 2023 |

| 1155 Hours |

Sliding the cursor across the screen, Hinduja clicked on the green-colored arrow.

A single tick appeared instantly on the text message that contained a meeting link, and within the next moment, the colorless single tick transformed into blue-colored double ticks.

Sister Beatrice was online, as it appeared to her.

She looked out of her car window at the dark and gloomy sky. She was sitting inside her Scorpion in the parking lot.

Quickly minimizing the text message window, she maximized the meeting window, and the screen changed from a dark black interface into something else—almost as if displaying the interiors of an old building, although very tidy.

She determined that the screen of the device used on the other end was tilted a little upwards, because she could see the sloping roof of the building, made with red clay tiles. Directly in front of her on the screen was a chair, and behind the chair was a chest of cabinets aligned to a whitewashed wall.

Suddenly, she felt the image getting tilted downwards, obstructing the view of the sloping roof, as an elderly woman dressed in a traditional white tunic and scapular came in front of the screen, settling down in the chair. Her hair was covered with a white coif followed up with a black veil. Around her neck she wore a chain, with a cross attached to the chain, dangling below her diaphragm. A few wrinkles were sprinkled around her eyes and the corners of her mouth while her rimless glasses shined due to the light falling on them from the device placed on the table in front of her.

"Sister Beatrice? Is that you?" Hinduja hesitantly voiced out.

Through the laptop screen, she saw the older lady tilting her head in a gentle nod with a benign smile visible on her face.

"Yes." She replied. "Sorry for making you wait. I am not exactly a tech-savvy person, so I was just getting the internet connection checked." She added apologetically.

The older woman's English accent was heavily influenced by the region she belonged to. It sounded nasal, evident in the way she pronounced some of the syllables.

"It's absolutely fine." Hinduja smiled back.

Sister Beatrice nodded, the curve of her lips intact. "What's the matter, though? Your email looked very serious."

Hinduja sighed, showing her services identity card to the elderly woman sitting across the screen, in some other part of the country. "Sister, pardon me, but I can't exactly provide you with the details since it's quite confidential." She licked her lips. "Just to assure you, all I can say is that all of this is absolutely legal. It's regarding a criminal case and it has some connection with your orphanage but you don't need to worry about the welfare of your children or the other members of the orphanage because this doesn't concern them at all. You have my word."

Despite the uncertainty and confusion the older woman was going through, she tilted her head in a nod. "Alright." "But what do you actually need?" She added.

A fringe of voluminous black hair feathered down on her left cheek. Hinduja promptly tucked it behind her ear. "Sister, your orphanage..."

"The Holy Children's Home." Sister Beatrice uttered.

"Exactly." Hinduja smiled. "It's located in Poovaranthode, right?"

"Yes." Came a positive reply.

"Since when?"

"Since its establishment in 1883. From the last 140 years, it has been in Poovaranthode itself." Sister Beatrice answered, "But yeah, it did get a change of name in the year 2000—from St. Christina's Home for Orphans to The Holy Children's Home on its 117th foundation day."

"Okay." Hinduja clasped her fingers together on her laptop trackpad. "Since when have you been working in the orphanage?"

"I have been working here since 2000 itself."

Scrunching her brows together, Hinduja said. "Oh, so you must have witnessed the 117th foundation day?"

"I did." She smiled.

"Sister Beatrice, I need your help regarding something." The Dogra Matriarch trailed. "At the orphanage, do you keep records of all the children who are admitted there or have been admitted there to date?"

"We do."

"Their birth, medical checkup, and adoption details? The day they were brought into the orphanage? Everything?" She probed further.

The older woman adjusted her glasses while passing a single nod. "Yes. We do get their medical checkups done, and along with that, we get all their adoption details registered too. But getting their exact birth details is a hassle because many a times, we find children abandoned at our doorsteps by their biological parents or relatives. Sometimes, some of these children are rescued from dysfunctional families, drug, begging, or other illegal cartels, or even belong to parents that are dead, and in such cases, it's hard to find their actual birth details, let alone a birth certificate."

"So, do you possess these registered documents now as well?"

"Yeah." The older woman smiled faintly.

Hinduja squared her shoulders, glanced at the dial of her watch and then met her eyes. "Sister Beatrice, I need a list of all the children admitted at the Holy Children' Home from 1984 to 2000. Their medical checkup, adoption, and birth details as well, if available."

Sister Beatrice stared at the younger woman, befuddled. She looked thoroughly taken aback. "I beg your pardon? 1984 to 2000?"

"Yes. You heard me right."

"My child, if you need details from 2010 onwards, I can fax them to you right away." She paused, "But 1984 to 2000? That's too old and too big of a number. I fear we might have even lost some of those records by now. Moreover, those old records are not in digital form. They are handwritten, so they are not even here in Poovaranthode anymore."

Hinduja sighed heavily. "Where are they now then?"

"In the record house of Lawrence Hall, Lovedale, Tamil Nadu. We have an academic and student scholarship affiliation with them." The older woman replied. "And to get all those handwritten records back from their administration wing, then scan them in order to send them to you, I need time. At least till the end of this month."

Hinduja smiled, resigning the situation to the will of fate. "Time is what I am lacking here, sister." She paused, loosening her shoulders. "But I understand your side, so it's okay. And I am requesting you to send all those documents to me before 31st May 2023. Will that be possible?"

"I will try my best." Sister Beatrice smiled.

Roughly half an hour later, she sat across the round office table with the other nine members of the SIT and the forensic analyst and pathologist pair.

"Sir, you people are going to investigate that club on the 21st." Rukmini trailed. "What is it called, again?"

"The Crown." Raghav smiled, his eyes on her.

"Okay." She glanced at Hinduja. "So, did you decide what you are going to wear? I mean, it's a club. You can't possibly wear a cotton saree or one of your formal suits that evening, can you? You obviously have to dress accordingly so that you blend in well in the crowd."

"She is right," Raghav remarked.

"Exactly!" Patwardhan exclaimed, in unveiled excitement.

Ramandeep, Gaurav, and Jishu chuckled knowingly.

Hinduja's jaw ticked tightly.

Rukmini clapped her hands, sizing up her senior from head to toe. "Judging your fashion sense, let me guess: you don't have any feminine Western dresses, do you?"

Hinduja stared at the ASP deadpan. "Tracksuits won't do?"

"Rao." Raghav clicked his tongue. "You are going to a club, not to a track and field event for a race."

"Sir is right." Rukmini clicked her tongue too.

"Fine then, I am not buying a stupid dress for just one evening. That nonsense costs more than two thousand rupees these days." The profiler scratched her arm. "Rukmini will get me something from her wardrobe that evening and I will change here in the ladies ' washroom." 

"Moreover, I have a manipulative a** pit bull back at home." She added, muttering the words under her breath.

"I beg your pardon?" Rukmini inched her chair closer to the profiler's chair.

"Nothing."

Rukmini shrugged. "Alright then, I will get you one of my dresses." She smiled mischievously.

"Whatever."

Suddenly Praapti interjected. "We talked to Aravind sir regarding Kabir Sardesai and Shehrazaad Bose." She paused, meeting Raghav's eyes. "He is okay with the plan."

The DCP nodded. "Alright, I will contact the department Media Liaison Officer today itself. Let's just hope he schedules a meeting with Sardesai and Bose as soon as possible."

"The sooner, the better." Rukhsaar adjoined. "Possibly by tomorrow itself. Today is the 18th, and we don't have much time on our hands anymore."

"Precisely." Kanwal Dheer nodded.

"I actually checked their track records—both Sardesai and Bose." Jishu voiced out. "And I must say, that woman, Shehrazaad Bose, she is dangerous."

"Dangerous in capital letters." Gaurav chuckled. "We will have to be very careful around her."

"You remember last year when ITV aired a video clip of the education minister when he was with his mistress at a high-end hotel?" Jishu asked, in amusement.

"Yeah, the one in which he was flashing his round a** nipples and hairy pot belly in front of the camera? Kabir Sardesai procured that video, right?" Maninder Yadav joked.

"No, Yadav Ji. That's where you are wrong." Ramandeep remarked. "Because there were rumors that it was Shehrazaad who procured that video and that's her signature style of working behind the curtains, activating bombs one at a time without anyone's knowledge."

"Anyway," Raghav interrupted. "Rao and I will most probably go to Vaikunth Patil's residence either tomorrow or the day after."

The very next second, he met the profilers gaze in a strategic understanding.

"Why?" Rukmini probed.

"Just wanted to investigate Snigdha Patil's background a little more." He responded, hiding the real reason behind the visit.

Though unconvinced, the ASP nodded her head. "Okay."

"I wanted to say something," Hinduja announced.

Raghav and the others shifted their attention towards alertly. "What?" he asked.

"Did you notice anything new in the abduction pattern?"

"What exactly, Rao?" Raghav scratched his forehead. "Can you please be clear?"

"From 2014 to up until now, check the list of all the girls that have been abducted." Hinduja replied. "You would find girls from all religions except one, Christianity."

"I detected this." Raghav nodded. "But then, again, it kind of matches your deductions, Rao. If the mastermind is a psychopath from the Christian faith, it's quite logical to not find even a single Christian victim."

Hinduja agreed. "Yeah."

"That's so scarily ritualistic." Rukhsaar muttered.

In the evening, when the DCP was walking towards his SUV, Hinduja followed behind him, trying to catch up with his long strides.

"Sir!"

He turned around in an instant, staring at her in confusion. "Yes? What happened, Rao?"

Hinduja smiled, pointing at her Scorpio. "The punctured tires were replaced, but I don't know why I am not able to start it." She pleaded. "Can you please check it once?"

"Alright." The DCP smiled back.

"Thank you, sir." Her smile remained unscathed, meanwhile her gaze traversed from his visage to the blue gemstone ring around his pinky finger. "Also, sir, that ring around your pinky finger, how much did it cost?"

As both of them walked towards the temporary parking lot, Raghav took a look at his ring. "I actually don't know its value. It's a family heirloom."

"Oh." She entered the parking area behind him. "Can I please see it?" She acted interested. "I wanted to buy something like this for my husband for his birthday."

"Sure." He shrugged, taking off the ring from around his pinky digit and passing it on to her. "Keys?" He asked, forwarding his palm.

She placed her Scorpio keys on his palm while enclosing his ring in her left fist.

Shortly after, he took a turn around the bonnet of the car and got into the driver's side seat to check if the automobile was starting or not.

She, on the other hand, quietly strolled further away from the front door, towards the trunk, escaping his visibility range. He was immersed in the task at hand without noticing her movements.

She took out a tracker from her blazer pocket. Swiftly turning his ring around, she fixed the chip inside the hollow space of its gallery. Then she nonchalantly made her way back to the driver side door. The moment she stepped in front of the door, the engine of her Scorpio came to life in a trice.

The DCP chuckled and looked out of the window, fixating his gaze on her phizog. "This is functioning perfectly well."

"Yeah, it is." She exclaimed. "Sorry, I must have done something wrong. Anyway, here—" She forwarded the ring in his direction. "Your ring."

The DCP took hold of his jewel, and shook his head, still chuckling. "Alright, I'll go now."

She nodded gratefully. "Thank you.

***

As she entered the great hall of the Dogra Manor, loud and jubilant toddlerish giggles fell on her eardrums.

She grinned ear to ear, within a second, while noticing Poorna coming towards her from her purview.

"Where is Anirudh?" She asked, chuckling.

Poorna laughed joyfully too, hearing the childish and innocuous giggles penetrating through the thick walls of the erstwhile silent Dogra Manor.

"He is with Sahib." She replied. "At the fencing hall, in gymkhana."

Hinduja's felt her brows knitting together. "Fencing?" She looked on in bewilderment. "Dogra Sahib knows sword fighting? I mean, fencing?"

Poorna nodded. "Yes." She paused, beckoning the Dogra matriarch to the gymkhana. "I don't know much, but the senior Dogra, I mean, Dada Sahib, learned it from his father, Vikram Aditya Dogra. Dada Sahib passed on the skill to Dattatreya Sahib, and I guess Shubhankar Sahib too. And in the current generation, I believe Sahib is the only one who knows it because I am not sure about Aridaman Sahib. But Sahib and Karim Bhai practice regularly when they are in the manor."

"Oh." Hinduja gazed at the giant rosewood door they were both approaching, "That's interesting."

Anirudh's giggles were turning louder with each passing second.

It was weird, but she had never felt excitement like she was feeling at the moment.

Poorna bowed faintly and directed her left palm at the door while pushing it open with her right hand.

Hinduja slowly entered inside, and the sight before her eyes made her heart pump her blood rapidly. She couldn't help but smile ear to ear.

Her sunny little toddler was securely tucked inside a sling carrier wrapped around his father's chest, abdomen, and back while he practiced sword in a sweaty pair of black track pants and a white t-shirt. It was not a fencing sword, but rather an epee sword.

Removing her blazer, she placed it on the sleek and clean wooden flooring. Then rolling the sleeves of her formal white shirt up until her elbows, she folded her arms across her chest. The glass dial of her analogue watch gleamed under the bright lighting of the Gymkhana.

"Enjoying without me?" She joked, walking towards the father-son duo.

"Mamma!"

"Baby!" She cooed.

Reaching near them, she quickly unclasped the sling from around her husband's torso, heaving the kid from his embrace.

Mahadevan's lips curled up feebly as he dropped the sword next to its scabbard, on the mat. He then gazed at the obsidian pair of irises while helping her in clasping the sling around her torso. The toddler slathered her with kisses all over her face. "You are back?"  Mahadevan asked.

"No." She looked on with a straight face while feathering kisses all over the kid's face. "Buying pumpkins at a vegetable market." She added, with a lopsided smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head, as his gaze traveled from her obsidian orbs to her lips. Before she could notice, he looked away, clearing his throat.

"Sir" Hinduja saw the butler entering inside from her peripheral vision. "Ma'am," he greeted with a bow. "Should I make arrangements for any beverages and snacks?"

"Two cups of tea?" The Dogra Patriarch commanded, then glanced at the Matriarch.

"No." She smiled. "I would like to have a cup of coffee, so a cup of tea for sir and a cup of coffee for me."

"Anything else, ma'am?" The butler smiled back.

"UNTLE!" Anirudh blurted, wiggling his tubby legs elatedly. "THIPS!"

All three adults chortled together. "Alright, young master." The butler bowed and retraced his path back out of the Gymkhana.

Mahadevan poked the toddler's buttocks. "All you do is loading and then unloading."

He was graced with an angry pout in return.

Hinduja laughed.

"By the way." Mahadevan fixated his gaze on her. "Since when did you start liking coffee?"

"From the day you started liking tea." She shot back, gazing at his earthy brown irises. Under the bright lighting of the Gymkhana, it was almost as if dark golden-brown flecks were floating in those irises.

He observed her staring intently at something on his face. Feeling his brows coming together, he touched his face in confusion. "What are you looking at?"

"Your eyes." She whispered.

He gulped. "Why?"

The very next second, he felt her trying to stand on her tippy toes, so he bent his waist and hunched over, understanding her intentions. The giggling toddler felt himself getting sandwiched between his parents.

"Why are you looking at my eyes?" He mumbled again.

Her breath fell on his earlobes. "They force me to like the Earth during rain." She smiled feebly. "They force me to love coffee."

He felt something getting stuck inside his throat while his face and ears turned a warm and deep shade of crimson.

"Someone is getting shy." She teased him, getting back on her feet.

"Learned from the best." He tilted his forehead against hers. "By the way, someone else is getting quite poetic these days as well." He added in amusement.

She chuckled, shrugging her shoulders, her own cheeks turning red. "What can I say? Learned from the best."

They chuckled in unison as the toddler sandwiched in between wiggled around, reaching for their faces. His mother kissed him on the top of his head while his father mirrored the same action on that same spot.

Petrichor wafted in the air as a cold and gentle breeze ventured inside the large Victorian-era sash window of the Gymkhana. In a trice, night skirmished against Earth as rain skirmished against the soil outside the vast expanse of the Dogra Manor. 

My life was often associated with the color black. And I kind of disliked that.

Then, one fine day, I found myself staring at a pair of pitch-black obsidian irises against a backdrop of milky skies.

And, I swear, black was never that beautiful before. Nights were never that beautiful before.

Because it was at that moment that,

black turned brighter than white.

My nights turned brighter than my days.

And her dreams turned brighter than my nightmares.

- Him

***

I noticed that some of the readers are skipping the diary entries?

 Honestly, that's purely an act of impatience and foolishness, because the diary entries contain some of the most important clues and segments of story. So, if you are skipping the diary entries, you are basically inviting confusion and if that's what you want, please suit yourself.

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