Game Of Fame

Death is never a punishment. It is actually a reliever from all our pain, sorrow, tragedy and misery. The crime that was done was much more horrible than death. It was one of the most dangerous crimes ever committed.

I was sitting in my house reading the newspaper when my mobile rang. It was from the police station, and the officer had asked me to come down there as soon as possible.

I am no stranger to crime or death but every time I solve a crime, I learn something new. Actually, I am not interested in the crime or the criminal, but I am interested in the motive of the crime. It actually helps me to understand the criminal psychology.

When I went to the police station and asked him about the case, the officer didn’t answer me straight. He said, “This is one of the most dangerous crimes that I have ever seen in my fifteen years of service” and handed me the case report.

When I read the case report, I was in awe for a few moments. The victim was a boy of 23 years named Aryan Kumar Sharma. The victim was at first made unconscious and was then tied to a chair in his own house. After that the attacker cut his hands and legs, poured boiling water into Aryan’s ears to make him deaf, cut out his tongue and took both his eyes out. The attacker was careful enough not to kill Aryan but to give him utmost pain and torture.

Though Aryan had seen his attacker, he could in no manner communicate the matter to anyone. From the brutality of the crime, it was clear that the main purpose of the attacker was to give Aryan a lifetime of pain and torture.

The report also stated that the matter came into limelight when one of his friends naming Deb came to his home to pick him up for a movie.

I, however putting down the report, asked the police officer, “Did you interrogate this Deb properly? Did you confirm that he was speaking the truth?”

“I think so” said the police officer scratching his nose, “He showed me the tickets that he purchased to watch the movie with Aryan.”

“How many tickets?” I asked him.

“Four. Two for them and two for their girlfriends” answered the police officer.

“Did you talk with the girls? I asked him.

“Yes. I did. In fact, from Aryan’s girlfriend Ananya, I came across a very important thing” said the police officer. I wrinkled my forehead and therefore he continued, “Aryan was writing some book and next month it was scheduled to be published.”

“Are you saying that this brutal attack has got something to do with his book?” I asked.

“I bet there is” he said by slapping on the table and said, “May be there is somebody who doesn’t want this book to get published.”

I gave a small thought and said, “Even if I accept your proposition, then also one question remains unanswered. Why the brutality? That ‘somebody’ could have just killed him. Why would someone torture him so badly and give him a punishment of lifetime?”

The police officer hadn’t thought of that. He remained silent for a moment and then said, “So, what do you think? This incident happening just a month before his book gets published is merely a co incidence?”

“I don’t know” I said honestly and then taking a deep exhale of breathe continued, “If the attacker doesn’t want Aryan’s book to get published, then his next attack will be the publisher.”

“But there hasn’t been any attack on the publisher,” said the police officer.

“That’s my point,” I said, “It means that the attacker has got no problem with this book getting published. His motive is something else which I am not able to catch.”

There was a prevailing silence for a few moments and then I said, “Did you talk with anyone else in his family? Like parents or siblings?”

“He didn’t have any. He was an orphan” said the police officer instantly.

“How was his relationship with Deb or his girlfriend, Ananya?” I asked him.

“Well, now after this incident, no one will admit that they had a bitter relationship with him because they know that if they say something of that sort, that would bring them in the scope of doubts, isn’t it?” said the police officer.

I gave a sarcastic smile and then said, “That’s the very reason for which truth is difficult to find. Because people hide them due to their own internal fears.”

The police officer however then asked me, “So, what do you propose? Where shall we start from?”

“I think that we should go and talk with the publisher. After all, we have got to start somewhere, isn’t it?” I said.

The police officer and I then went to the publisher to have a conversation. I asked him that if he is aware of the attack on Aryan and he nodded and said that he was shocked to hear that. I, however, asked him straightforwardly, “Do you think that his book has got something to do with this attack?”

The man seemed confused. He said, “No. Of course not. What makes you say that?”

I made myself clear to the publisher. I said, “Well, sometimes books are a way to target a certain person or a group. I mean, was the story of his book a target on someone or some group of people?“

“Not at all” said the publisher. “Though I have only read the synopsis that Aryan forwarded in my email, I see it is just a normal love story. It is not by any extent a target to any people.”

I gave a small thought and then in order to verify it with my own eyes, I asked him to provide me with a copy of the synopsis in my pen drive. He did that without any hesitation and after that I and the police officer left.

As the police officer and I were walking by the road, he asked me, “So, what do you think?”

“I can’t make a comment until I read the synopsis and speaking of that, I would require Aryan’s computer,” I said to him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t think that the synopsis will be sufficient for me to make a valid conclusion. I would like to read the entire story or at least up to the point till which he has finished which can be found only on his computer” I said.

The police officer looked at me and said in an apologetic tone, “Sorry! I cannot give you his laptop until t

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he investigation ends. After all that is a police evidence and it can’t be given to anybody without proper authorization. But if you want, you can take a copy of the file in your pen drive. Will that be ok?”

“Absolutely. I just need to read the plot. So, it’s fine for me in the pen drive” I said and then both of us went to the police station.

The police officer gave me the laptop in the station. I opened it and connected my pen drive with it.

The name of the story was written in the synopsis and as I typed the name in the “Search Box”, the file was found. I clicked on the file and opened it and there I saw a Word file of 328 pages. I understood that it was the whole story or at least up to which he has finished writing.

I closed the file and on the file, I made a right click. A drop down menu appeared and instead of clicking on “Send To”, I accidentally clicked on the “Properties” option. Suddenly something caught my eyes which drew my attention.

Seeing me with wrinkled forehead, the police officer asked me, “What happened? Why are you looking so keen? Did you find the attacker?”

I said, still looking at the computer screen with absolute concentration, “No. But I think I found out the motive of the attacker.”

“What?” asked the police officer excitedly.

I, however, did not answer him but posed him a counter question, “May I have Aryan’s mobile?”

“Mobile? Why?” asked the police officer.

I however said, “Please give that to me. I will tell you everything after I reach a conclusion. I am in the middle of something.”

Eyeing me suspiciously, the police officer got up from his chair and brought me the mobile phone. While handling me the mobile phone, he said, “Like the laptop, this is also police evidence and you can’t take it home.”

“I know,” I said taking the mobile from his hand and my mind still focused on what I just saw on the computer.

“Give me the publisher’s phone number and please don’t ask me why. I will tell you everything” I said to the police officer and he from the prescribed file took out the number and handed it to me. I, from my own mobile, made a call to the number and as he picked up the call, I asked him to tell me the email id from which Aryan sent him the synopsis of the story. He told that and I quickly wrote that down on a piece of paper ignoring the suspicious gaze of the police officer on me.

After that I used the police station’s computer. I opened the internet and went to the URL where his email id was registered. On the prescribed space, I wrote his email id and then I clicked on “Forgot Password”. They asked for typing the mobile number that was given while opening the id. I gave Aryan’s mobile number and clicked. Within a few seconds, an SMS came in Aryan’s mobile and the password was sent.

With the sent password, I opened his email id and started checking the “Inbox”. I looked through each and every mail in the inbox and then suddenly I found a mail. When I opened the mail, an automatic victorious smile came on my lips.

“What?” asked the police officer seeing me smiling.

“The attacker is Aryan’s friend Deb” I said and as expected the police officer’s mouth fell wide opened. He said, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, at first, let's get your jeep started and I will tell you everything on the way. But if Deb escapes, then it would be difficult to catch him” I said to him.

The police officer and I were in his Jeep pacing towards Deb’s house when I started clarifying the police officer’s doubts.

I said, “Do you know what did I see when I tried to take the Word File on my pen drive?”

“No” he answered simply.

“I accidentally clicked on the Properties and there showed the location of the file under the folder “Downloads”.

“So?” asked the police officer.

“So it means that he wasn’t the writer of the book that was to be published next month. Because when you write a story of your own on a computer, you create a file. You never download it” I said.

The police officer listened and nodded in approval but did not say anything. So I continued further. “Therefore I checked his email id to see wherefrom he downloaded the file and when I saw that, guess who send him the file?”

“Deb” answered the police officer correctly and a victorious smile came on his lips. He said, still keeping his eyes on the road, “So, it means that Deb is the actual writer of the story and Aryan stole it. The reason for the attack was simple revenge.”

I smiled and said, “This attack has got nothing to do with the book. It has got to do with the author.”

When we reached Deb’s house to arrest him, we saw that has committed suicide by hanging himself from the ceiling. We found a letter there written by him.

To the cops,

               I know that I will be caught someday because a crime is never hidden. So, between the two options of death and prison, I am choosing the easier option.

             The world is a strange place. Some people get far more than they deserve while some people don’t even get what they deserve. This is the ugly truth of nature but I am not ready to live with it.

           I forwarded my story to my best friend Aryan to know his opinion about the plot but he betrayed me for fame. He betrayed my friendship and trust for the fame which I deserve. He went to publish my story in his name for fame. I just cannot see my efforts being appreciated in someone else’s name.

        So, I gave him such a punishment that though his name will be celebrated as a famous author, he will not be able to hear it. Though my book will be published in his name, he won’t be able to see it. Though he will get the fame that I deserve, he won’t be able to enjoy it. If I can’t enjoy the fruits of my effort, I cannot let someone else too.

After that, I closed the letter and just thought in my mind that how a game of fame can turn friends into bitter enemies. How a game of fame can turn humans into wild beasts.