The pressure cooker screamed like a chudail!!
Aaravi's hand flew out from under the thin cotton sheet, fingers fumbling across the floor until they slapped the metal lid back into place. Steam hissed, wetting her wrist.
She sat up, hair falling forward, knees knocking against a stack of books . She shoved her black circular spectacles on the bridge of her nose and checked her phone for the time.
4:47 a.m.
She groaned and reached for the notebook nearest her foot. The Indian Constitution lay open beside it, a folded page. She rubbed her eyes once, considered going back to bed, then straightened her spine against the wall.
"Article 21," she murmured, eyes scanning. "Protection of life and personal liberty.."
The pressure cooker whistled again.
"Bas, bas," she snapped, scrambling to her feet. The floor was cold, startling her awake. She turned the stove down, muttering under her breath. "Subah-subah drama karna zaroori hai kya?"
She carried the cup back to the mattress on the floor, careful not to step on her messy sheets of notes. Her room was tiny, one window, curtains pulled back just enough to let the dawn sweep in. Outside, a group of stray dogs barked, echoing through her society and Meera was staying over a her aunts.
Her lips moved as she read, eyes sharp despite the hour. Her head was throbbing from her migraine. The second she faltered while reading, she stopped and tried again without looking. Even muttering a quick prayer to Saraswati maa, " Haaye maataji... bas mock paper ekdam smooth jaaye aur hum Google ke bina bhi kuch likh paaye." She giggled at her own rhyme.
Aaravi groaned, collapsing backwards onto the mattress. "Yeh mujhe pagal kar dega, Chup ho jaa!" she said to the ceiling. ( This will drive me crazy.. Shut up!)
By the time the sky outside had lightened from charcoal to dull blue, she had finished two mock sections, annotated, highlighted, and circled five questions she despised on principle.
She quickly showered, rinsing the night's exhaustion away before looking at herself in the mirror. She threw on a blue chikankari kurti, paired it with jeans, and brushed her straight hair aggressively before making her way to her vanity, where she pulled out her skincare and makeup essentials.
She carefully applied some vitamin C serum with a pipette, followed by eye cream for her dark circles, and then a soothing moisturiser.
" Yeh Mumbai ki pollution bilkul Delhi jaisi ban rahi hai," she muttered while slapping on sunscreen. ( Mumbai's pollution is just like Delhi's these days)
She quickly dabbed on some light concealer under her eyes with a small brush, then applied kajal with her index finger on the waterline of her eyes. She took the mascara brush and brushed the black liquid on her lashes. She powdered some blush on the apples of her cheeks and lined her lips with a soft nude lipliner.
Before leaving, she paused at the mirror, raising a brow, while staring at her reflection, " ek cheez bhul rahe hai hum." Then smiled after putting on her signature circular black-framed glasses.
" Perfect!" she yelped, blowing a kiss to her reflection. " WAAH KYA MAST LAG RAHI HAI!"
(Wow, how hot do I look!)
Her gaze flicked once to the watch, then away. She zipped the bag quickly and stepped out, locking the door of the flat behind her.
The nostalgic gates of Mahalaxmi Society groaned as they slid open, metal scraping metal.
Inside, the courtyard there was a scooter making noises, a dog barking from the third-floor balcony, and the familiar sounds of children playing cricket in the courtyard.
Mishti sighed with an exhausted smile as she observed the young children; a faint memory crossed her mind, a boy laughing after she fell, and another yelling, " Mishti ! Sambhal ke!" while checking on her scraped knees; before the sounds of a cricket ball whacking the wicket knocked her out of her thoughts.
"Arre bhaiya, seedha rakho, gir jaayega!" Mishti called, stepping back just as a box tilted dangerously on the movers' trolley. (Please, keep it straight, it will fall)
"Haan haan, madam," one of them grunted, "Bas thoda jagah chahiye." ( Yes, madam, just need some space)
Pihu in her pink shirt and blue shorts- stood just inside the gate, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Dheere," she commanded. " Uncle, Toot jaayega." ( Slowly, Uncle, it will break)
Behind her, a mover shouted" Choti Madam—sambhaal ke!" ( young ma'am, be careful)
" Main choti nahi hoon! Main chaar saal ki hoon!" Pihu pouted while holding up 4 of her sticky fingers. She began running off to chase a butterfly that landed on her nose.
"Arre—ruko, ruko!" Mishti barked, her foot skidded, and the box scraped her ankle.
A jar of clear glass marbles spilt, scattering with a sharp clatter onto the rough floors.
Pihu squealed with delight and took off after the marbles, chappals slapping against the floor. "Maa, race!"
"Race nahi, uthao!" Mishti snapped, hopping on one foot and pinning the half-collapsed box with her knee. "Pihu, baby, eslow down a bit—you'll get it later!"
Pihu lined the rescued marbles neatly "Maa, dekho. Sob thik ache," she announced proudly. ( Mom, look, it's fine)
As soon as all the boxes were brought in, Mishti pulled out her wallet and tipped the movers some money, and brought out 6 glasses of water.
" Arrey Madam, thank you." One of the movers said as they took their leave. The taller one patted Pihu on the head as she waved.
" Bye Bye uncles! Agle move main waapas aana" ( come in the next move as well)
After some time, Mishti took Pihu's hand, exiting their flat as they made their way to the flat across the corridor - flat number 8001.
" ( Mumma, why are we going there?" Pihu asked.
" be patient baby" Mishti responded.
Her thumb traced a familiar scratch near the bell. S
She raised her hand, almost hesitantly, nervously.
The doorbell rang and she felt a rush of tears forming in the back of her eyes as footsteps approached closer.
The door swung open.
Nimmi stood there mid-step, phone tucked between shoulder and ear, oversized sunglasses perched on her head.
She wore a short top with a plunging neckline, bangles stacked high, and lips freshly glossed. The subtle strands of hair were greying, the rim of wrinkles forming along her mouth.
" Arrey Sheela mai bata rahi hoon tujhe, woh lomdi, Anita hai na.. Haan wahi. 2nd floor waali.. Uska watchman bhaiyya ke saath pakka affair chal raha hai. But who can blame her. kya mast maal hai" She paused, eyeing the scene in front of her.
Her phone slid slowly from her shoulder into her hand.
Her eyes travelled up from Mishti's shoulder up to the tired lines of her face, Mishti's striking dark brown doe eyes, the delicate curve of her nose, her beautiful golden dusky brown skin, and slowly to the little 4-year-old toddler that stood beside her.
" Nimmi maasi.." Mishti breathed softly, tasting the name on her mouth before the tears rolled down her cheeks.
For a second, Nimmi didn't move. Her mouth gaped open in shock.
"Tu—" Her voice cracked immediately. She cleared her throat. "Tu sach mein aa gayi?"
Mishti nodded, hesitant about her reaction. "Haan mera bhoot thodi khada hai."
Nimmi stepped forward so abruptly that Mishti barely had time to brace before she was pulled into a tight hug. Nimmi smelled warmly of Versace Crystal and a hint of roasted cumin seeds.
"Pagal ladki," Nimmi muttered into her hair. "Ek phone bhi nahi. Ek khabar bhi nahi. Matlab main jaanti thi ki main tumhaari real maasi nahi hoon lekin.."
She was cut off by Mishti, " Chup karo nimmi, aap meri maasi hi hain!"
Maaf karo mujhe.. Woh London mein, Nikhil shaadi ke baad..."
"Chup." Nimmi pinched her cheek, affectionately. "Tum, abhi bhi same lag rahi ho, bilkul nahi badli."
Mishti hissed. "Aap bhi."
"Main better ho gayi hoon," Nimmi said immediately, referring to her body and outfit. " Tumse jyada sexy aur hot. Sare mahaule ke ladke mere peeche padte hai Dekh." ( I have become better. Sexier and hotter than you. All the boys in the society are after me)
" Haan woh toh aap pehle se hi the." Mishti sniffled. ( that you always were)
"And tum," Nimmi said, crouching to Pihu's height, raising a stern brow, Her voice softened but didn't lose its mischief. "Aur choti malkin, tum kaun ho, hmm?"
Mishti ushered her daughter, " Pihu, dadi ko hi boldo!"
Pihu tightened her grip on Mishti's hand, then lifted her chin. "Main Pihu hoon. Hello dadi."
Nimmi gasped, offended, and smacked Mishti's arm, "Dadi kisko bol rahi ho tum be..main abhi bhi jawaan hoon. Beta, mujhe sirf Nimmi bol dena.. Short for Nirmala. But you know that is just so old school. Sounds like I should be making achar, not breaking hearts." ( Who are you calling Dadi. I'm still young. Child, call me Nimmi only. Short for Nirmala)
She ushered the two in before more waterworks could form. Mishti entered wearily, peeking around nervously as if she half-expected someone to leap out at any second. Nimmi maasi's house was still the same, with leather furniture, old photo frames, and the sprawling living room, which looked recently renovated.
" Waise nimmi.. Abhi kahi dikh nahi raha hai..?" she asked. ( By the way, I don't see Abhi)
"INS Angre mein hi hai filhaal," Nimmi continued. "Kabhi ship pe, kabhi shore duty. Mahine bhar gayab. Phir achanak aa jaata hai jaise kuch hua hi nahi." ( He's in INS Angre.. Sometimes on the ship... sometimes shore duty. Sometimes gone for the whole month. Then suddenly he arrives as if nothing has happened)
Nimmi crossed her arms. "Lieutenant hai"
"Phone bhi waise hi uthata hai," Nimmi scowled.. "Do ring baad. Jaise favour kar raha ho." ( He doesn't even pick up the phone.. Even after 2 rings, as if he's doing me a favor"
Pihu blinked up at Mishti. "Navy matlab boat?" ( Navy means boat?)
"Bahut badi boat," Nimmi said. "Jismein log zyada bolte nahi, sirf order dete hain."
( A very big boat. In which people don't talk as much as they order around.
Pihu considered this. "Maa, bhi mujhe order deti hai." ( Maa also orders me around)
Nimmi snorted, "Woh to pehle se hi hukum chalati thi.. Aayi badi Hitler ki mummy"
( She's been ordering others around since forever. Full on Hitler's mom)
Pihu gasped, offended. " Main Hitler nahi hoon!" ( I'm not Hitler!)
Nimmi chuckled softly, sound echoing around the room. "Haan haan meri jaan toh toh princess hai" ( Yes, my love, you're a princess)
Mishti's eyes drifted, unplanned, to the far wall.
The dusty wooden photograph was still there.
Three children, sunburnt and grinning, squeezed shoulder to shoulder in the Mahalaxmi courtyard.
One lanky boy in a school shirt two sizes too big, arm slung possessively around the girl in the middle.
The other boy stood straighter, chin lifted, already looking like he was about to argue with the camera, smirking.
Nimmi smiled fondly, " Yaad hai tum aur Abhi mere aage peeche kitne ghumte the.. Aur ladai bhi itni karte the... Kya din the. Abh sab bade hogaye hai. Phir Abhimanyu INA chala gaya, Akshay SVPNPA, aur tumhaari shaadi hogayi toh tum London chali gayi" , she paused, lingering anxiously at the last sentence. ( Remember when you and Abhi used to follow me around all the time. And gosh you guys used to fight so much. Alas, those days. Now everyone's grown up.
Pihu craned her neck, peering at the photograph. "Maa, yeh kaun hai?" she asked, pointing at Abhimanyu. "Aur yeh lamba wala kaun hai?" she pointed at Akshay.
Nimmi burst out laughing. "Arre waah. Bilkul sahi pakde."
Mishti giggled, " Yeh lamba wala.. tumhaara Akshay Mamu (Akshay uncle) hai, aur yeh dusra Abhi uncle. (This taller one is your Akshay uncle, and this other one is your Abhi Uncle)
Pihu nodded seriously as if committing this memory of both men to heart.
"Toh," she said lightly, "itne saalon ke baad yaad kaise aayi meri?" ( So, after so many years, how did you remember me?)
Mishti's mouth curved despite herself. "Aapne hi toh bola tha... darwaza kabhi band nahi hota."
( You only said naa. The door to you never closes.)
"Haan haan," Nimmi waved a hand, rolling her eyes. "Dialogues toh mujhe bhi aate hain."
( Yeah Yeah, even I can remember dialogues)
The crisp Mumbai air cracked with the sound of gunshots and city noises. The sky held a deep black, swallowing the sounds of whatever patience the streets had left. In the dark alleyway, dark forest green eyes, sharply tracked every shift of movement. The warehouse stood eerily at the end of the lane. Its back alley smelled of diesel, rust, and stagnant, filthy water that had never fully drained.
Akshay Malhotra pressed his spine flat against the wall and exhaled slowly through his nose.
His frame stood well over six feet, lean, coiled, and built for endurance. The khaki of his uniform was darkened with sweat and blood along the collar and under the arms. A black Titan watch sat proudly on his left wrist.
He discreetly signalled 3 constables by lifting two fingers and tilting them forward.
Move.
He adjusted his stance, knees loose to prevent fainting, shoulders wide, gun poised in his hand, weight shifted to his front leg. The intel had come in too late for leniency. An illegal arms transfer routed through the warehouse, facilitated by a local gang but backed by money.
A gunshot tore through the alley, loud enough to bounce off metal and slap back into the chest. The round passed so close to Akshay's head that the air itself seemed to flinch. He didn't. Years of training and endurance had prepared him for this. His muscle memory immediately took over, and allowed him to duck for cover. His shoulder landed hard against the ground, rolling across damp concrete. His hand came up with the pistol already aligned.
He felt the vibrations of another shot.
Akshay rose into a crouch, back to the wall again, breathing steady, his morals and duty to his country overriding any rational thought. His voice cut through the chaos before anyone else could react.
"Fire bandh karo!" he barked. "Police hai!"
A third shot tried to answer him, but failed.
He shot another bullet; this time the sound ricocheted off the wall near the shooter's arm.
"HANDS UP," Akshay said, voice cold ", ABHI!."
The man stepped into the lamplight, shaking visibly, palms raised high.
He was young, early twenties at most, in a pair of blue cheap jeans and a hoodie. His chest heaved as if he'd run miles, eyes darting between Akshay and the shadows behind him.
Akshay stepped closer, where the features of his face came into view under the dim street light.
His face was angular, jaw tight with years of stress and restraint rather than rage. A thin scar cut through his left eyebrow, barely visible but still a reminder of that fateful night. His skin was tanned the way it got only from long days in the sun of fieldwork.
"Naam," Akshay said coolly.
The man, visibly shaking, did not answer clearly. Akshay closed the remaining distance in two strides, grabbed the front of his shirt, and slammed him back into the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. The metal rattled behind him.
His green gaze pierced through the man's dilating pupils, as he leaned in close asking calmly one more time. "Yeh shipment kiska hai?" Akshay asked.
The man shook again, lips trembling, nothing but a faint whimper escaping his lips.
" Raju.."
" MAINE BOLA NAAM BATADE SAALE.. KISNE ORDER KI SHIPMENT...WARNA TERI AISE KI TAISE KARUNGA KI TU PURI ZINDAGI LAASH KI TARAH SADEGA," he roared angrily, the sound cackling through the alleyways of Mumbai sky.
"Chopra," Raju blurted. "Chopra ke log—main bas—"
Akshay released him instantly and stepped back.
"Cuff him," he ordered.
The constables moved in fast now, adrenaline and tension catching up with the events of the night. Steel snapped shut around wrists. Raju sagged like a bag of potatoes, as if the fight had leaked him entirely.
Sirens wailed subtly in the distance, then closer, signalling the arrival of backup.
Akshay keyed his radio. "Perimeter secure. One in custody. Weapon recovered."
He looked back once more at the eerie warehouse, already calculating the next set of events for the night. The files that would be stacked on his desk were marked "To: ACP ( Assistant Commissioner of Police), Crime Branch". The excruciatingly long interrogations waiting in rooms, the subtle political pressures that would arrive in whispers and calls, the DIG wanting updates before the day was out, and the media breathing down the necks of the police, expecting statements he hadn't even considered giving. He sighed, then recalled the responsibilities and tedious tasks that awaited him at the Malhotra House.
THAT CONCLUDES OUR CHAPTER! I KNOW IT WAS REALLY BORING, BUT I PROMISE THE STORY GETS BETTER! PLEASE CONTINUE TO VOTE, COMMENT AND SUPPORT THIS PAGE! SENDING LOTS OF LOVE AND BLESSINGS! MUAAHH!!
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