There's something about courtroom that always strikes fear in me since the murder case of a relative I once knew. Dad tried his best as a police officer investigating the case but the culprit is still roaming Scott's free into the streets of Assam or perhaps North India. The courtroom was lit brightly with the sun light striking from the windowpanes and the environment reeks of cases, a few won and few ended with no judgement whose file is probably eating dust now.
"The court is in the session now, the defendant, you may proceed." The judge Bormudoi in a authoritative tone.
"Your honor, my client Sourav Borah has been wrongly accused of an arson while it was clear that the motorcycle owned by Zayne Mohmmed simply had a fuel pump leakage and someone lit a cigarette near it. It was a plain accident." Mr. Luit Barman as defendant.
"Objection your honor, the CCTV footage in this pen-drive shall prove it all." Miss Kennedy with her stoic yet confident tone.
"Proceed." Mr. Bormudoi wanted to see the ruckus for himself.
The footage was janky and jagged, his face was not even clear, and the defendant got a clean window to manipulate the case further. It went on for hour long so I will skip the details but it seemed like we're losing the case. But when all doors close a new window open and same happened with us. Saahil Sharma, an old friend of Sourav complied to testify from the crowd.
"Mr, Sharma don't be nervous and tell everything." Trisha, calm and caring.
"He is a schizophrenic, believes everything about the "cult" to be true." Saahil, trembling and terrified.
"Go on!" Miss Kennedy, still caring.
"I…. I can't [crying.]" Saahil knew more than he claimed to be.
"The court is adjourned until the next hearing. Godspeed Miss Kennedy and Mr. Barman." And with that the first session ended with a major cliffhanger like a Bollywood courtroom scene full of cliches.
Outside the courtroom, I saw her again, he frilled nails flipping the papers of the file, her bob cut hair slowly flipping with the breeze, the elegance and stoic posture, a pure beauty with a brawn and slowly I was getting drawn to her like a moth chasing flame, like gravity pulling an immovable object towards it.
"[snaps finger.] Oi, where are you lost at? We need to head home and you're driving. Keep it under control because after the bike I don't want to lose the car." Zayne, jinxed, juxtaposed and concerned at the same time.
"I think I am heading towards a major infatuation angle, she is….." I paused.
"You cannot be serious. Are you out of your fucking mind? Her? David's sister? She is your type?" Zayne was being Zayne, rough, sarcastic and witty.
"You guys go ahead; I'll take a cab." I sensed trouble and so I made an excuse.
MOMENTS LATER NEAR A LAKESIDE PARK.
Trisha was walking slowly and steadily, but street punks these days doesn't see what a girl is wearing, they just want to fulfill their lust and so they resorted to eve tease her.
"Hey sexy, how much?"
"Want to party?"
"Come on in my room or yours?"
All of the 3 meant one thing, an attempt to hurt her or worse.
"I suppose you give the same treatment to the females at your domicile?" She in her stoic tone.
"She talks too much, get her." The gang leader.
"Uh hah, classic street punk move. Bring it on." Trisha transforms into her fighter mode, she is trained in MMA and is a practitioner in Kalarippayattu, a rare form of martial arts from southern India which he learned during her schooling in Bangalore.
"Hahahaha, she is a feisty one, isn't she? Woah, Haiyaa!" mocks her.
"Hmmm, clowns. Come on!" Trisha, all guard up.
And a big fight escalates, until a guy pulls out a knife with an intention to stab her but then I stepped in.
The air suddenly changed and I felt the rage, until I caught the main guy and punched him repeatedly as if Lord Rudra took over my body, I couldn't stop.
"Hey, hey! Stop, you'll kill him." Trisha with horror and shock.
"FUCK!" I yelled.
"Are you okay?" I showed concern.
"Taxi? Hospital, punch it!" I meant to save her and my asses.
AT THE CLINIC.
"Well, that was needlessly rough, what got into you?" Trisha, sounding more concerned then ever.
"I don't know, I feel an uncontrollable rage when I get angry, like a possessed child." I told her.
And then I retold her about my past. Born in a conservative family I was trained in Assamese music and Hindustani classical but when I used to sing, I used to unleash chaos and Tandava around me. It was both a gift and a curse. But then I found a way to channelize that rage into heavy metal music with emotions and people were resonating with my music. I was fun and extrovert guy, bullied often but knew how to beat up bullies. I was obsessed with gym since college days but a murder in my family changed everything. My uncle. Since then, I began to see patterns and sense darkness or dark aura in people and developed a strong intuition and instinct. I don't know if it's a superpower I hone inside me.
"Intense." She squirmed.
"I should take you home." I offered help in a caring manner.
AT HER APARTMENT.
I put off my shirt to cool off and then she saw my scars.
"Your scars, how did you?" She asked.
"I fought my own personal hell." I let myself out to her.
And then I revealed everything. The atmosphere got intense, the room got hotter and we leaned on to each other, and then it escalated. A subtle kiss, a gentle touch and the intimacy became more intense with us locking lips and slowly undressing each other and let out body and soul intertwine.
"It's wrong." She whispered.
"I know!" I whispered as well.
But I couldn't hold back and then it happened like an accident or like a necessary intent.
NEXT MORNING.
Trisha was wearing just my shirt hiding her undies and then she brings coffee for both of us. I was still under the blanket stretching. And then I asked…..
"Did we?"
"No shit Sherlock, at least you weren't much rough, coffee?" She with her playfulness.
SFX: -KNOCK KNOCK.
"Oh shit, must be David." She with a panicked tone.
"Woweee, nice scene, so you two? Lolo poco kuchi koo huh? Don't worry, none of my business. Now get dressed, we have a recording deal coming up." David with his devil may care attitude.
"Well, that was awkward." Me with a confused look.
AT THE RIOT STUDIO.
"THE PAIN FOUND ME AGAIN
I AM BURNING UP AND I AM ACHING NOW….."
[AARON SINGING THE SONG BURNING UP]
"And with that, this ends the dubbing session." The sound engineer Suraj with both compliment and assurance.
[ELSEWHERE]
"Kid, you've got a visitor." A guard addressing Sourav in his cell.
"Who the fuck?" Sourav, still angry.
"You? But….. how?" He saw a ghost with a familiar face.
"Mr. Kennedy sends his regards." A stranger who does something to him.
"No no no….. akh….. Why?" Sourav before dying.
"LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER BITCH!" Karma, unmasks himself...