In a pub everyone was drinking and people were already under the influence of a strong drink, few who were tipsy were dancing in a recent hit trying to forget their strains of life. While intoxicated, many groups who weren’t on the floor started talking about the heinous crime which occurred a week ago, repeating their shots of Magic Moments.
I’ll briefly sum up the story which is lingering on my mind after hearing many unattended yet audible conversations, ‘a young man of 27 who looked amiable, brutally murdered a woman of 30 for reasons unknown.’ That’s what I constantly heard that evening. I was on a sting operation, trying to get sober to find the accused hidden somewhere behind a mask. A mole on his chin was a prudential identity. Few law enforcers were trying to investigate the case, ready to slap 302 of Indian Penal Code. Wanted posters were glued on the entire stretch of the town and reasonably, absconding Kancha was incanted by everyone in the hamlet. The pub was too synchronizing the vibrations of Kancha along with the beat.
In the other side, couples were drenched in alcohol hence in the dance floor rhythmically swaying their hips along with the beats. I don’t know but I had an assumption of Kancha’s psychological obsession towards homicides. But it could be anything, personal enmity, revenge, anything! Four days after 23rd June we heard that the manslayer was seen in the outskirt with a sharp knife like, blood stained weapon in his hand. The houses made out of mud’s aren’t strong in busties; that’s when I made a call to the Police, for immediate investigation and for a troop of village-police for public’s safety.
But He (Kancha) randomly appeared in an anonymous place and before the intellectuals reached the spot he used to vanish like an invisible beast that would possibly be sitting on the edgy branch of a tree, with his feet hung, moving forward and backward and having a gala time beholding the perplexed constables. ‘He is a fearless man’ everyone said.
The evening in the pub was 15th July, 23rd day after the murder and few days after many attempts to murder, the noisy uninteresting genre of music and drunkards pretending to dance was annoying me in a literal manner. I continued with my role in the bar, more than the operation I was there as an inquisitive observer. An amiable man with a mole on his cheek was holding a can beer, standing against the pillar, in the corner of the bar. I was confident that I traced kancha, the hidden camera on my dress was capturing every move in the arena and before I could utter a code-word to call my team, the loudest music suddenly stopped and I saw few sparks of fire glittering down the wire, like someone quickly chopped it off with a blade or knife.
The light was already dim to understand the chaos occurred 4-5 yards away, few stroke of glimmering disco light hit the object, damn it!! it was a blood damped knife, another stroke of purple light on his face, amiable man with a mole on his cheek was there. Weapon replaced the can beer now. Someone was to be guillotined there.
He trudged towards the dance floor and when he arrived there, everyone stopped talking……………