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Amitav Ganguly

Drama


3.0  

Amitav Ganguly

Drama


Unexplained Justice

Unexplained Justice

7 mins 821 7 mins 821

It was a winter night, the day was 27th December of last year; Bhushan was in his house; dinner was over, and he was feeling cosy in his bedroom- warmed by the oil heater.


His mind was, however, wandering. Among many thoughts, for some unknown reason, his mind dwelt on his extraordinary powers, which many had said was telepathic. Or was it psychic? Nobody could give him any rational explanation about it. 

"Nowadays, I feel like a superhuman; to what extent can I go with this?" He was thinking that night, with traces of self-adulation and curiosity.


He had an inkling about this power for the past many weeks. Recently, he remembered, he went to the bank with a cheque for encashment. It had come to him from his mother. Being an old lady many times she used to forget her signature. Mostly it never matched! 

That day he needed the money desperately. With a bit of uncertainty compounded by the fact that his mother had gone away to the neighbouring town, he entered the bank.

At the withdrawal counter, he handed over the bank cheque and hopefully looked at the Cashier. That man, looking quite harassed; there was a long queue; picked up the cheque and peered at it and also at the computer screen.

The man, then, frowned and tossed the cheque aside. He looked up at Bhushan, with a frown. It was clear to him that the Cashier was about to raise some objection, probably the mismatch of signature.

This could not be accepted. Closing his eyes for a moment, Bhushan intently willed that there should be no objection from that man.

The Cashier went on looking at him, scowling, met his eyes for a few minutes, suddenly smiled and pulling the cheque back towards him stamped his approval. The payment was made! There was no problem at all!

Bhushan could clearly sense his telepathic abilities. It was a relief to get through without any quandary.


There had been quite a few such incidents which made Bhushan sanguine about his unique ability.


That winter night, another incident would seem to happen.

He wanted to go to bed early.

Then he heard his mobile phone ring.

From the other side, he heard a faint cough, heavy breathing, and a deep thick voice. “Is that Bhushan?’

"Yes," he said, his eyes searched for his nightshirt.

“If you want your good, come and meet me in the corner coffee shop after half an hour. You can recognise me by my French beard.” 

Oddly, it was a barking order from a stranger, asking to meet him.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Bhushan was slightly annoyed by the tone. “And why should I meet you at this time of the night?”

“If you love your life, you should meet me alone.” The line went dead.

Bhushan was completely dumbfounded. He couldn't understand this sudden threatening call.

But he was not weak hearted. His thoughts were, “Let me find out! Seems to be some criminal. I am not afraid of hooligans. Are there no laws in this land?” Bhushan got ready and went out.


The coffee shop was barely twenty minutes’ walk and by the time he reached it, almost half an hour had gone.

Forcing open the glass doorway, he went in and was greeted by a warm heated environment but very few customers.

He looked around, but saw no one with a French beard, then shrugged and occupied an empty corner table for two and sat down.

Oddly his sixth sense was giving faint warning that something wrong was about to happen. He closed his eyes to concentrate but could not pinpoint that danger.

Bhushan sat there for a long time. He ordered coffee, sipped it slowly, killed time, but nobody came, nothing happened. 


About one hour later, thoroughly mystified, he paid his bills and stepped out into the dark night.

Contemplating what he should do, he finally decided to return home. “Must be some crook trying to make mischief.” He shook his head in disgust.


Then the unexpected happened!


He got a call from his sister, Richa. She was sobbing and incoherent and wanted him to return immediately. 

Returning home with utmost alacrity he noticed that a police patrol car was waiting outside. Dismayed, he ran in and found Richa in the drawing room, standing, crying profusely.

“What is happening Richa?” He swiftly came forward and took her hand. 

“My Sweety has been kidnapped…two men with guns had barged in the house…” Rich said in a strangulated voice, tears dripping. “Don’t know, Why…?”

She broke off and looked at him accusingly. “Where have you been? Why did you go out? If you had been here, perhaps you could have stopped them….” She again started weeping hysterically.

A lone police officer was standing taking notes in his notebook.

It was just about 10.45 p.m.; the darkness of the night and swirling fog was becoming overbearing. There were very few cars and people on the road.

Bhushan began to understand the situation all too well. That day there was nobody else in the house except him, his sister, and her five-year-old daughter, Sweety. His brother- in- law had gone to the next town, yesterday. 

By giving him a call, the kidnappers had enticed him out of the house for more than an hour, enough to do their crime. A clever ploy they had thought!


His stomach turned into a tight knot, but he felt a sense of fury rising within him. 

He made her sit on the sofa and gave her a glass of water. “Don’t panic, Richa...I will take care of this. You will get back Sweety very soon.”

He couldn’t bear to see her sad face. 

Turning towards the police officer, he said, “Sir, what do you say we should do now?”

The officer closed his notebook. “I will go to the station house for briefing my seniors. You must come with me now. In the meantime, I have called for a police guard. Please send for your relatives to be near your sister".

Soon Bhushan was on his way to the Police station, in the patrol car.

Just then his mobile started ringing again; was showing an unknown number.

His sixth sense also started tingling!

He turned towards the driver and requested him to stop the patrol car.

Getting down, he took the call. The same heavy voice was coming through, "Your girl is with us. For her return unharmed, we want Rs...in cash, in small notes of ... You must come tonight exactly at 3.30 hours in the adjoining forest near the abandoned warehouse, with the money. If you take the help of the police, it will be the end...” The voice kept going on and on... it seemed.

Bhushan was not unduly worried, but he was profoundly concentrating; that criminal’s voice was enough for him.

Nevertheless, he had to show that he was perturbed. With a choking voice, he said, "Of course, as you say."

The line, at that point, went dead.


He got up in the police patrol car, deep in thoughts. This was the ultimate test of his powers. Would he succeed or not? Failure to do so would be disastrous. Somehow, he had started sweating in that cold! 


The car reached the station house. They walked in.

Bhushan sat on a bench awaiting a call from the higher ups.

When suddenly there was a screech of car tyre, somebody slammed the car doors - someone walked in.

Sweety was standing there with a tall, well-built man with a French beard! He was wearing dark glasses even in that dim light.

She looked alright. Her eyes lit upon seeing him, and she ran towards him, hands outstretched.

The tall man walked towards Bhushan, slowly.

With the same heavy voice, but imploring now, he said, “I have been wrong… I am a criminal... I have kidnapped this small innocent girl... So, God please help me... I am giving up now... surrendering! Here is your girl!!”

He knelt down with closed palms. Police moved in swiftly to arrest him. 


Bhushan just smiled. His powers hadn't let him down! 


He held Sweety tightly.


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AUTHOR'S NOTE- Psychic, telepathic powers of various individuals are known to the world, through decades. Eminent experts had conducted many experiments, from time to time to understand these special powers. This story is based on such powers.

    





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