The rays of sun made its way through the little opening of windows.
Yet another day, a bright day calling out to the people to live their dreams in the city filled with colours, opportunities and emotions, the city of destiny, Visakhapatnam.
One person amongst the people was this man, Jayaram Krishna Tamarana, Assistant Commissioner of Police in the crime branch of Visakhapatnam.
He widened the window opening to embrace the warmth of the rays and walked to the mirror to shave.
“Take that beard off. You’ll look great in clean shave. Don’t you dare touching that mustache. Curl it up at the corners and you’ll look manly.”
Those words would hit him every morning and he would stop as soon as he completed shaving his beard and clean the razor.
“Don’t comb your hair side wards. Instead, comb it backwards.”
He would smile at his messy hair looking in the mirror and comb it backwards and then apply wax to his mustache to curl it up; just the way she liked it.
As soon as he finished his ablutions, the man on a mission whisked out of his house and made his way to the garage.
As he pulled the cover off his bike, he stared at it for a moment, as he would do it everyday.
“But, I love that bike! I want to own it!” He said.
“Of course, I know you love it. And you’ll own it for sure. And we would go out on it for drives,” she assured him.
“But it’s a single seater. What about me?” she said.
Taking a very good look at his Royal Enfield Continental GT, he jumped on to it and kick started the machine.
Vroom! Vroom! The powerful beast roared as he drove through the streets and caught the road to the highway.
As he finished reading the last column of the newspaper and having the last sip of chai at a road side tea stall near a bus stop, his regular spot, he checked his watch.
8:00 AM, the watch read.
“Sir, we are close. The route number of the bus is 25E.”
The text message on his mobile conveyed.
As the bus number 25E approached the stop, Jayaram boarded it and stood in the crowd alongside the passengers.
“Collect my bike and bring it to the station. It is at my regular spot,” he said as he called one of his constables and hung up.
He watched the crowd closely. The noise of the traffic, irregular honking of horns, cacophony of voices, he was searching for the nuisance he was reported by a college girl.
“Sir, we are sitting in the front row.”
Another text message conveyed.
He made his way through the crowded people and reached the front part of the bus only to find a bunch of guys teasing women.
“I will show these pictures to your dad. Or I will put them on the internet. If you dont want these pictures out in public, come with me. Come on, lady, just for a night!” One of the guys from the group whispered it in the girls’ ear.
“How about you spend the day with me in my office and then plan your schedule for the night?” Jayaram interfered.
The eyes of the girls around glistened with hope.
“Who the hell are you?” the spoilt brat raised his voice.
“Don’t pick a fight with him. Let’s get down at the next bus stop. He is a very strict police officer,” one of the spoilt brats friends warned him.
“Strict? My foot!” the spoilt brat glared.
Jayaram looked at him, right in the eye as he held the steel kada that was hanging loose around his wrist and pulled it up towards his finely shaped forearm till its tight enough.
“You better leave us alone. My father works with a local politician. Do you want me to call him?” the spoilt brat tried to warn him.
“Sure, go ahead and tell him to pick you up from my station.”
As the bus stopped at the next stop, a police jeep was ready to pick up the gang of four and Jayaram dragged them out of the bus.
“Sir, please, please leave us,” the guys pleaded.
The constables hurried to the bus and threw the gang into the jeep.
As the jeep made its way to the station, Jayaram preferred to relax and his mind was lost in deep thoughts.
I have no other choice, kannayya! He has our pictures. And he is blackmailing me! I’m really sorry for what happened and I just don’t want you to get involved in this. I don’t want those pictures to end up on my dads table, neither do I want to end up sleeping with him just because he is black mailing me! So, I decided I would end my life. I love you, Kannayya! Stay strong! Love you! Good Bye!
He recalled some of the lines from the last letter she wrote. He wished he had enough power to help her and he wished he could go back in time with the khaki he was now wearing and save her from dying.
“I don’t really know what to do with my life! Now that we are close to wrap up the graduation, I am worried. ” he complained.
“Why are you so worried?” she asked.
“I wish I could settle early in life and come meet your dad and tell him I love you,” he said.
“I can understand. But what do you want to become?” she said.
“I want to become a writer.”
“What? Does it sound funny?” he glared.
“Nope, it’s amazing!” she held his hand.
“But sometimes, when i look at the shit that goes around in the society, I wish I could stop them!” he said.
“How? With a pen?” she teased.
He looked at her with a frown.
“Your pen may not stop it but a khaki will. You can make a very good police officer! And my dad would never say no if I am dating a handsome police man!” she winked.
Both of them laughed.
He wished he could meet her for one last time and show her his change over in looks and how he was now riding the bike he yearned for and brag about the Khaki he was now wearing to see her face swell with pride. Or atleast, he wished he could go back in time and kill the man who turned the woman of his dreams into a memory.
Aditya Tamarana, the man who was the reason behind her death, the reason for her suicide. Even 10 years of time could not heal Jayaram’s wounds. But, he learned to live with them.
The vibration from his phone shattered his thoughts.
“Thank you, sir.”
The text message read.
He smiled, his heart content for what he had done. All he dreamt was to spend his life with her, writing stories and driving a Bullet. Little did he expect, he would be watching over the entire city wearing a khaki and saving people while imagining her memories and recalling the words from her last letter, travelling in a commander jeep.
The journey from holding a pen to donning a Khaki wasn’t what he really thought of. But he was pretty sure he would find the man who had destroyed his love and kill him.
To Be Continued…
© The Heartbroken Quill