The Last laugh

‘The Last Laugh’ is a suspense thriller, which revolves around the character of an orphan young college girl Shruti studying forensic science at the graduate level. She had been raised up in an orphanage but grew to develop a close friendship with two of the young boys, Mehul and Rocky in her neighbourhood. Their relationship strengthened with every year that passed. They had always been there for each other.

On 4th July, 1999, Rocky is found to be hanged to the ceiling fan in his hostel room. It was a suspected suicide since Rocky had been ruining his studies and wasn’t able to cope up with the pressure. But as a close friend, Shruti couldn’t believe this. She claimed to have talked to him the last night, and he was alright. Fraught to solve the mystery of his death, she requested the top investigator Dr. S. Hazarika to take up the case. Shruti was doing her college internship under Dr. S. Hazarika hence she agreed after some heated arguments. On the ‘Terhavi’ of Rocky’s death, Mehul became a victim of a car accident. Mehul was saved but suffered serious brain injuries as a result of which he lost his sense and suffered mental problems. This has been shown to be an irreparable loss to Shruti since she didn’t have anyone else on this Earth other than Mehul and Rocky.

The story continues in parallel terms where on one side, Mehul is being shown by his parents to various psychiatric of the country but no scientific evidence to what happened to his brain could be found. At this stage, Shruti proves to be a great help to his parents, since she was the one who took care of Mehul at every stage. On the other side, Rocky’s case was getting heated up, but no suitable clues were able to give a clear idea of what could have happened to Rocky. Shruti was again on the frontline in Rocky’s case. She was the one who helped gather all the clues with her supervisor.

Finally, Mehul’s family shifted to the USA in hope of better treatment of their son. After a month, Shruti graduated with her degree and moved to USA also. After all, she was shrugging for someone who was not even alive leaving her close friend who could have been her soulmate. Meanwhile, Rocky’s case got cold and the files were eventually closed. It is at this stage that the reader comes to know about the connection between the two tragedies. It Shruti only who murdered Rocky not herself but through Mehul. Rocky had always loved Shruti. But Shruti wasn’t into any relationship with Rocky; rather she loved Mehul more than anything else. It was Rocky who acted as the bone of contention between Mehul and Shruti. Hence, Shruti decided to clear their way by ending his (Rocky’s) game. But when Mehul came back to his senses, he came to know that he had committed a horrendous crime for which he could be even hanged to death. At this stage, Shruti told him to act as a mental person. She only planned the events including that accident, Dr. S. Hazarika’s intervention and Mehul’s shifting to the USA. Finally both of them had their last laugh together in USA. After seven years, they married, had their first son and were living peacefully in the USA. There on 4th July 2006, an aged lady with blonde hair visited the Bulandshahar police station. She asked the inspector to reopen Rocky Mittal’s case. She was none other than Dr. S. Hazarika herself; but this time with no associates taking an internship.

CHAPTER 1 – BLACK AND WHITE

I used to be an ardent fan of Lucknow Chikankari; a wardrobe full of white sarees adorns my room. All the parties to which I went saw me in white. White colour represents peace. I love to be peaceful. Even the clouds are white. God has indented white colour to be the colour of hope. But 17th July 1999 changed my opinions about colours. Now I love black colour. Black colour was never one of the finest for me. I never dressed in black. Although my friends said it suits me, I personally believe that it doesn’t. Nevertheless, black colour was the closest to my life- Black skin, Black tears, black homes, black guardians. When I was born, I was thrown into the dustbin by my parents. That dustbin was also black. Some people took me out and threw me into an orphanage. That orphanage was also painted black. The orphanage where I lived also had a peculiar black coloured symbol on its terrace. People around me told that the symbol kept away people with the ‘buri nazar’ on the house. I wished Rocky had the same symbol on his house and Mehul on his car. Perhaps the clouds were black that day. It was raining probably.

Mehul and Rocky were one of my closest friends since childhood. They have been my lifeline since I met them. In my orphanage, there were people, no friends. People who would give you food, but no warmth. People who would give you care but no love. People who would give you knowledge but no education. People who would make you survive but don’t allow you to live. But I managed to live. I didn’t merely survive. The lush green fields called me. I ran towards them. I danced in the rain. I flew like a phoenix. The nature has been my parents. They played with me. When I was in the orphanage, at times I fell ill. Those were the days, I would never prefer to stay in the orphanage. They treated the ill children like animals who were not well to be slaughtered for meat. At that time, I used to sit in the lap of my parents. On a certain day, when I had been not well, I rushed to ‘Ma’. But I was not in the condition to play with her then. I was lying in the grass, shivering. Then I saw the figure of two boys coming towards me. I was petrified. I held strongly in the lap of my mother nature, and cried for help. I don’t remember what happened after that. But I was saved. When I opened my eyes, I expected to see ‘black’ but I saw, ‘white’. Two ‘white’ boys, helped me. I asked them where I had been. They didn’t reply but smile. Were the stories I had heard true? Were these two princes who had come to save me? I grew more plausible. These two ‘white shadows’ were of none other than Mehul and Rocky who grew to be my closest relationships.

Mehul and Rocky belonged to the neighborhood houses. Our orphanage was built on the outskirts of the ‘Gold Colony’. I never went into that colony for a belief in me resisted me to do so. I believed that ‘people’ who lived there were not to be trusted. And what if I found my real parents in that colony? Their fear made me quiver with unknown uneasiness. I didn’t want to lose my parents. The trees were my brothers and they never allowed me to leave my boundaries. Initially I had believed Mehul and Rocky to be like the ‘people’ who lived there. But they were different. I could bet on it.

Since then, we have played together, we have rocked together and undertook all kinds of imaginative ventures we could. They studied in a convent school, in the same class. But I never imagined to be there. I was studying in the nearest government school. But there was not sense of difference in us. We were like the members of the same family. We all shared our opinions with each other. We all believed each other. We had faith in ourselves. Once it happened that Rocky had broke the window pane of ‘Girdhar Chacha’ but Mehul took the charge. I never did this sort of mischief. I knew if I got caught, I would have to face ‘black’ terror of the ‘people’ in my orphanage. But for them, it was ‘normal’. Having been the inhabitants of the ‘Gold colony’, they had grown to be ‘normal’ to such acts. But for me it was astonishing atleast much more than the ‘Black house’ where I lived.

It was 17th July, 1999. I still don’t believe I would have to go to that place. I had never been to any death ceremony. I had heard that ‘people’ wear white clothes to pay homage to the departed being. I had had always a dilemma of what to wear in the marriages ‘people’ invited me to. But that day, I didn’t want to open the wardrobe. Still, I wore that white saree; I shed those ‘black tears’. I was ‘invited’ to the ‘Tervi’ (Death ceremony) of Rocky. Rocky was found to be ‘hanged to death’ in his room on 4th July, 1999. I had to be there, in a ‘black’ car gifted to me by Mehul. I wished that he himself should have purchased that car. I don’t know how many ‘Buri Nazars’ his ‘white’ Porsche got when he got to become a victim of an accident that day and lose his sense of mind. God’s sake, he was saved. That accident had spilled on the road ‘Red blood’ and on my face ‘white tears’. Since then, I have hated the ideology of adorning whiteness of marbles. I would build a black palace for my prince rather than giving him white diamonds. Perhaps my link with black colour has meted me to this profession. I was in the National College of Forensic Sciences when this happened. I had to be ‘A Women in Black’