HOOD

Tick, Tick, Tick.  

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar. 

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

The sound of the time bomb ticking under the hood of the car was masked by the roar of the noisy engine and the revving of the car.

Unaware of this Inspector Dhiraj was in the midst of another drama. Holding tightly onto the sides, lying flat, face down on the hood he was being bobbed from side to side by the steering action of Somu Dada at the cars Bakelite steering wheel. Holding tightly both sides onto the sides of the curved warm metal he was using all his grip and grit to perform this feat. He was not religious but a silent prayer to the various heavenly Gods also helped in some small way.

Unknown to him he was sitting --errrm -- sleeping on a time bomb.

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

Somu Dada was banking on his evilness to pull out this thorn. Turning full right and immediately turning full left he swayed the moving vehicle on a zig-zag motion on the bumpety road. His intention to throw the Inspector off the hood of his jet black Ambassador was not succeeding. 

The inspector's legs were flapping to either side with the swings but his upper torso was firmly bedded. The up-down motion of the car on the uneven roads also was not able to dislodge the police officer. It was as if the Inspector in his brown uniform was a piece of magnet stuck on his metallic car hood. He was getting frustrated. Concentrating on his task on the hood he was also oblivious to the faint ticking and the sound of the motor under the hood of his car.

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

                   ------///------

Somu Dada was a Bombay kingpin in the world of crime. Being a car mechanic he used his motor garage in Antop Hill as a front to operate his unscrupulous presence in the underworld. A lot of deals went through this place of his and it was frequented by the small and big fry in the cities crime scene. Vehicles were brought, vehicles were sold, vehicles were stripped bare of original parts,  vehicles were fitted with spurious parts.

Somu Dada was the ’know it all’ and the one-stop-shop in matters related to vehicles for doing the dirty work of crime. 

A lot of the vehicles used in crimes in the city had passed through this garage in some time of their motoring life. 

Yakub was his Man Friday. He knew all the secrets that Somu Dada had. He was interested in all aspects of his life. More than this he was also very interested in Pinky, Somu Dada’s wife. Unknown to his boss he was having an affair with his pretty young wife.

Yakub was aware that though his boss flouted his masculinity in the underworld his ability to express and experience feelings with his wife was constrained. This left, on his home front, a very unsatisfied wife. Getting bored to death she started wooing Yakub on the sly. 

This is how Yakub and Pinky built their secret bridges. Passion led to their plotting to get rid of Somu Dada.

Yakub kept his eye open for an opportunity to do the needful.

This came in the form of a couple of time bombs given to Somu Dada for safekeeping by the recently ’tadipaar’ Kalu Dada.

Kalu Dada was a criminal frequently indulging in bomb-making and firearm crimes. On being caught and produced for his involvement in some minor bombing he was expelled from Bombay by the judge and was not allowed to enter the city limits again without obtaining prior permission. Before leaving he had secretly given Somu Dada the home manufactured time bombs for safekeeping. 

Somu Dada had this locked up in his garage safe. 

Unknown to Somu Dada, Yakub had got scent of this secret.

A few days later Yakub saw a ripe moment. That evening Somu Dada had mentioned that he needed the black Ambassador to be tanked up. He would be driving to Khopoli the next day. It is an industrial city in the Khalapur taluka of Raigad district, at the base of the Sahyadri mountains. He would drive there alone to deliver some contraband goods.

The next morning Yakub came in earlier than all the other staff. He quickly filled up the car tank with petrol at the local petrol pump and drove back to the empty garage. Being all alone he opened the safe. He already knew the secret place where Somu Dada kept the keys of the safe and extracted the dynamite sticks. 

The seven red sticks in the dynamite stack were glued. He used a couple of loops of tightly wind masking tape as a clamp and to connect the clock face and the black and red wires. He attached this to some pieces of a strong magnet for extra stability.

He had tinkered with something like this before. He adjusted the dials and set them to go off in four hours. The clock started ticking. He opened the hood of the Ambassador and peeked in. Under the hood, he heard a click of the magnet as he wedged and taped the bomb around the 1.5-litre carbureted engine unit. It should stay fixed and not fall off on the bumpety road to Khopoli. Satisfied he carefully pulled down the hood and clicked it shut.

Job done he waited for the rest of the staff to pour in and the arrival of his boss.

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Somu Dada arrived after an hour and after loading the boot with the contraband sat in the comfy driver's seat and started the ignition.

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar.

Shifting the floor-mounted gear stick he pressed on the gas pedals and putting the car in motion, sped off.

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

                

                 ------///------

On the outskirts of Bombay, Inspector Dhiraj was saddled on his parked bike beside a roadside Paan shop chatting with the vendor. His ears pricked when he heard the Vrooooom Vrooooom and saw a black ambassador approach at very high speed. Saying, ’This is dangerous.’ he kick-started his bike and followed the car on the uneven muddy road. Somu Dada, noticing that he was being pursued and not wanting to be caught with the contraband goods, accelerated. A chase ensued with the cop in close pursuit. 

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

Finally, Inspector Dhiraj overtaking the car beckoned the driver to pull over. It was at this moment that Somu Dada pressed hard on the accelerator and rammed his car into the riding cop.

The impact threw the inspector off his bike and flying into the air he landed on the hood of the car. The bike slipped and crashed on its side.

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

The presence of mind made Inspector Dhiraj, landing on his stomach on the hood, quickly clasp either side of the car and hold on. That's when Somu Dada’s tactics began to try and throw him off the hood.

Tick, Tick, Tick. 

Roaaar, Roaaar, Roaaar.

Vrooooom, Vrooooom, Vrooooom.

The erratic driving on the empty tree-lined roads facilitated his oscillation on both sides of the muddy road. But this could not throw off the hood rider and the drama continued for some distance. 

Tick, Tick, Tick.  -- the clock ticked away as zero-hour was just a few minutes away.

As Somu Dada concentrated on knocking off the inspector a deer suddenly ran past from one side of the road to the other. He tried to avoid hitting the deer and it was at this moment that the jerk made Inspector Dhiraj lose his grip.

He was flung out onto the side of the road.  Frustrated that he had lost the driver he stood up and turned towards the back of the zig-zag escaping black car.

It was speeding and was far away.

That also the time for ---

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick!

BOOOOOOOM!

The time bomb under the hood exploded.

Image Credit --- Internet