https://www.amazon.in/BLIGHT-Leena-Va...
Excerpt

“Ms. Sampath, this is your opportunity to prove yourself.” Senior Inspector of Police Sadashiv Mhatre sat back with that subtle statement of declaration that none of my previous efforts in various minor cases were showing any specific progress.

Mhatre had just finished with a meeting with the staff to check the incorporation of the new rules of the pandemic. His three-tiered, steel tiffin carrier sat on top of the pile of official papers, waiting for his perusal.

“Ms. Sampath,” he continued, addressing me in that patronising tone that I had come to detest in the past two years of service as the Inspector of Police under him. “I would expect better results from a capable officer like you who has shown such promise in the academy days, right?”

I nodded, having nothing better to say. The cloth mask on my face had afforded me the privacy of expression since months now. I could smirk behind its sterilised folds without getting noticed. Although, it was true that my simplistic view of the world had been ripped away, leaving me reeling under the lurid colours of a brutally harsh reality in the world of crime. Not that I had expected it to be any better. Just that I had hoped to have been of some use to eradicate some of the filth that had accumulated over the tons of files that were stacked upon the station’s cabinets.

Those were lofty ideals—maybe, too lofty! My tenure had yet to bear fruit as Mhatre had pointed out. He was no harsh taskmaster. Just a prejudiced, lazy one. And my realisation, that my gender was not in any way helpful in bagging the best cases, had been a burr under my skin for months now.

“The Jayesh Prabhakar case is yours,” Mhatre announced finally, albeit with a grimace. “The basic details are in this file.”

I nodded again when he pushed the preliminary FIR details under my nose.

“Personally, I think the matter is redundant.” He sat back after meticulously cleaning his hands with a sanitizer kept on the table. Wiping his hands on a towel he’d hung from the chair nearby, he continued, “But his wife, Mrs. Nita Prabhakar, is insisting that it was a murder. She has called twice with an investigation request. We have to look into the matter in detail because we have received specific orders from above.”

The word ‘above’ seemed to have shifted relevance for me over the last few years. It was more specific now. The word ‘above’ used to have a significantly spiritual connotation earlier. Today, it only means the upper echelons of society, who are not necessarily as spiritual as the former definition required.

The Prabhakars had long-standing ties with several senior bureaucrats in the hallowed political circles. Someone in the world above us mere mortals had decided to pull the proverbial silken strings to get the case noticed.

“By the way, there is no dead body for post-mortem etc,” reminded Mhatre.

I bit into my lip behind my mask lest an expletive spill out in exasperation.

Seeing me unresponsive, Mhatre continued, “I am sorry, Ms. Sampath. It’s just one of those ridiculous cases that I am being forced to consider.”

“Why is there no dead body?” I asked, giving way to my frustration.

“Apparently, the usual protocol of the pandemic ensured that they hurry through the cremation.”

My sigh of exasperation flowed out in a warm breath that spread across my cheeks beneath the mask. “I will look into it immediately, sir,” I assured him with a practiced nod of agreement.

“Good! Mark it as urgent, and report to me in a week’s time. Once the mandatory investigations are over, we’ll have to hand over the file to the senior officials of the crime branch. It’s all just protocol!”

With that conclusion, Mhatre pulled down his mask, clicked open his tiffin carrier with a satisfied sigh. I stood up quickly and gave him the required smart salute, leaving him to his elaborate lunch.

After having quickly gobbled my food, I sat down to read through the report Mhatre had provided.

Head Constable Jamal Siddiqui rushed in and saluted me, before hurrying to the cabinet, looking for some files. “A new case, Madam?” he glanced sideways at me while rummaging through the drawers. He was a burly, intimidating figure with a grizzly bear persona. But he was also a dependable back up that everyone at the station trusted.

My perfunctory smile should have been his answer. He stepped closer and gave a smirk when he saw the file I was reading from. “You will have to learn magic for this one, Madam!” he said in a stage whisper in crisp Marathi. “To conjure the imaginary culprit from thin air.”

I curbed a smile at Jamal’s typically sarcastic observation. He trotted out in a hurry when Mhatre hollered for him.

Blurb

When Inspector Indrani Sampath is handed the Jayesh Prabhakar file, it appears to be a clear case of death due to natural causes. However, Jayesh's wife, Nita, a prominent socialite with the ‘right’ connections, demands an inquiry into the matter.

To Indrani’s dismay, even her colleagues believe that the case was headed towards being shelved with no proof, witnesses, or motive to merit a murder investigation. With the trials of the pandemic complicating matters, Indrani is aware that she has to wrap up the JP case quickly to appease the higher authorities.

Things get murky when an attempt on her life draws Indrani into a dark web of deception and crime through the streets of Mumbai, affirming her instincts that Jayesh Prabhakar’s influence extends beyond the grave.

As Indrani plunges headlong into the chase, she is forced to acknowledge that nothing is what it appears to be. Her intelligence and mettle are both tested as the truth unravels in unexpected ways.

Is the JP case an illusion that camouflages the ugly truth about human nature? Or is it a true murder that can dismantle the foundations of Indrani’s beliefs?