Chapter 16 : Both Sameer-Shristi versions

Kabir is dressed in a slightly oversized, ridiculous milkman disguise—complete with a traditional vest, a cloth wrapped around his head, and metal milk cans slung over his bicycle. He keeps a sharp eye on the police perimeter, inching his way toward the house.

To blend in, he loudly and terribly belts out a song: "Chhora Ganga kinare wala... O chhora Ganga kinare wala..."

A Constable stationed at the corner abruptly steps into his path, raising a hand. "Aye! Stop right there. Where do you think you're going?"

Kabir pulls his bicycle to a halt, flashing an overly innocent smile. "I'm the milkman, Sir! Can't you see the cans?"

The Constable narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I’ve been posted on this exact spot for four days now. I haven't seen your face once."

"Ah, yesterday my dad came on the route," Kabir lies smoothly. "Today is my turn."

The Constable snorts. "Your father? What father? Yesterday it was a woman who came by with the milk."

Kabir doesn't miss a beat. "A woman? Ah! That must have been my mother."

The Constable crosses his arms, deeply unimpressed. "What, your entire family sells milk or what?"

Kabir lets out a loud, forced laugh, slapping his thigh. "Oh, Sahib! You are too funny! What a sense of humor. Now, please, let me go before the milk turns into yogurt."

The Constable rolls his eyes and waves him off. "Fine, fine. Move along."

Kabir immediately picks up his cue, pedaling away while resuming his loud singing: "Chhora Ganga kinare wala..."

*

Kabir pulls up to the front porch, drops his bicycle, and bangs on the door, shouting, "MILK! Fresh milk!"

Harry yanks the door open, looking stressed. He glares at the eccentric milkman. "Who do you want? We didn't order any milk."

Kabir leans in closer, dropping his voice to a frantic whisper. "I am the milkman... the bottleman... Uncle, it’s me. Kabir. Kabir."

Harry blinks, completely mishearing him. "What khabar-kabhar? (What news-grave?) Look, We didn't order any milk, we don't drink bottled milk as we buy the packet ones !"

Frustrated, Harry begins to slam the door shut. Kabir panics, shoving his foot in the gap and forcing his way inside the house.

"Hey! What is wrong with you?" Harry yells, backing up in shock. "How dare you just barge in here! Wait right there, I am calling the cops outside!"

Before Harry can reach for the handle, Kabir quickly pulls off the headcloth and wipes away his fake mustache. "Uncle! Stop! It’s me... Kabir!"

Harry freezes, his eyes going wide as he recognizes the face. "Oh! Kabir! My god, it's you!"

*

Inside the quiet sanctuary of the mandir, the air was thick with the scent of burning incense and the soft chime of temple bells. Sameer and Shristi stood side by side, hands folded in prayer.

Sameer finished quickly. Unable to contain his anxiety, he stepped back and began pacing the stone floor, his footsteps echoing softly. The moment Shristi opened her eyes, she noticed his agitation.

"What happened?" she asked, walking up to him.

"I don't know, Shristi... I don't know if Rohan—" Sameer’s voice trailed off.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors of the temple pushed open. Sameer froze.

Harry Uncle and Christine Aunty hurried inside, practically carrying a weak, disoriented Rohan between them. Kabir followed closely behind, guarding the rear. Shristi’s eyes widened. She gave Sameer a firm, encouraging nod, silently urging him to go to his brother.

Harry gently lowered Rohan to his feet. Rohan looked up, his eyes glassy and overwhelmed. He was staring at Sameer as if looking at a ghost—trying to process if the brother he had long thought dead was actually standing right in front of him.

Sameer stepped closer, his breath catching in his throat.

Trembling, Rohan reached out and placed his hand over Sameer’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin. He waited, his eyes pleading for confirmation. Sameer closed his eyes for a beat, letting the reality sink in, and then placed his own hand over Rohan’s.

That was all it took. The dam broke. Rohan burst into tears, throwing his arms around Sameer in a desperate, fiercely tight hug.

The emotional reunion was brutally cut short. The distant, unmistakable roar of a police jeep ripped through the temple courtyard. Kabir rushed to the edge of the mandir to check.

"Sameer! Shristi! The cops are here!" Kabir shouted, his voice laced with panic.

Sameer immediately pulled away from the hug, gently handing a bewildered Rohan back over to Christine and Harry. "Take care of him," Sameer urged.

With no time to lose, Sameer grabbed Shristi’s hand. They sprinted toward the back exit of the temple and leapt from the raised boundary wall just as a flashing convoy of police cars screeched to a halt at the front entrance.

*

"Stop right there!" a voice boomed.

The police spotted them instantly, kicking off a frantic, high-stakes foot chase through the chaotic streets. Sameer and Shristi ran blindly, their hearts hammering against their ribs.

SCREECH—BANG!

Out of nowhere, an auto-rickshaw clipped them. The impact sent Sameer rolling across the asphalt, his hands and arms scraping against the rough road. Shristi took a harder hit, crying out in pain as she stumbled to her feet, visibly injured.

Before they could even recover, the sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the alley. The police were firing into the air, closing the distance.

Sameer looked at Shristi's limping form, then at the split in the road ahead. He knew they wouldn't make it together.

"Run, Shristi, run! Escape through the other side!" he yelled, intentionally drawing the attention of the primary police unit.

The strategy worked, but only partially. The police force split. One team went tearing down the alley after Sameer, while a second unit pursued Shristi.

Panting, her vision blurring from pain and adrenaline, Shristi darted into the nearest refuge she could find: a bustling electronics showroom.

Seconds later, two heavily armed constables marched into the shop, their eyes scanning the crowd.

Shristi pressed her back against a thick pillar, holding her breath, her heart thumping so loudly she was certain they would hear it.

Just as one of the constables stepped forward, his eyes angling directly toward Shristi's hiding spot, a familiar figure stepped into his line of sight. It was Rishabh. Completely unaware of the drama unfolding around him, Rishabh blocked the constable's view entirely as he tapped the counter.

"How much for this headset?" Rishabh asked the store helper.

"Two hundred, sir," the helper replied.

The constable scanned the rest of the immediate area, saw no sign of the girl, and gestured to his partner to move out. They hurried out the front doors.

*

Rishabh frowned, watching the police leave. He muttered to himself, surprised to see a full tactical search team inside an electronics store. As the tension in the room dissipated, his eyes naturally wandered around the showroom—and caught on a figure trembling behind the pillar.

"Shristi?" he breathed.

He walked over quickly, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Shristi..."

She gasped, flinching violently as she mistook him for the constable.

"Shristi... oh my God, where were you?" Rishabh asked, his hands flying to his head in pure relief. "Your daddy has been worried sick about you! We were all worried! Since when have we been—"

"—bringing you an important announcement," a sharp voice blared from a massive display TV on the wall behind them. A female news reporter’s face filled the screen. "This photo is of Shristi Arora, who has been missing from her home. Anyone who can find Shristi or provide information regarding her whereabouts to the police will be heavily rewarded."

Before Rishabh could even process the broadcast, a small girl standing nearby gasped. She yanked on her mother’s sleeve and pointed a finger directly at the pillar. "Mummy, look! That's Shristi!"

On the TV, the reporter concluded, "If you see this girl, call the number on your screen immediately."

"We have to go. Now," Rishabh muttered, grabbing Shristi’s hand. He swiftly guided her out through a side exit just as the little girl's mother yelled for the store manager.

"Manager sahib! I just saw that girl! The one on the news!" the woman shouted.

*

Minutes later, Inspector Tawde and Sub-Inspector Pradhan stormed into the showroom, flanked by a squad of constables.

Tawde barked, "We got a tip-off that the girl was spotted here!"

The manager stepped forward, looking flustered. "Yes, sir! Right over there!"

The woman with the little girl stepped in. "She ran away just a minute ago!"

Tawde gripped his belt, his eyes narrowing. He was desperate to close this case and prove himself. "Was there a boy with her?"

"Yes!" the woman confirmed nodding vigorously. "There was a boy with her."

Tawde smiled, a smug sense of victory washing over him. He was certain he had cornered Sameer. He whipped out his phone, pulled up a clear picture of Sameer, and shoved it in front of the woman's face.

"Look closely," Tawde ordered, his voice dripping with anticipation. "Is this the same boy?"

The woman squinted at the screen for a second, then shook her head confidently.

"No. It wasn't him."