Jagga Jasoos Page #6

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I feel giddy in these rides.

Hey! Are you crazy?

What are you doing?

What is the information?

There is a scandal.

One, you cannot handle.

There is a scandal.

One, you cannot handle.

There is a scandal.

One, you cannot handle.

Move aside. Move!

S... S... S...

Some flowers, to bloom

take a little time.

My words, too, sleepily fall in line.

Which is why I sing it out,

you know, so it comes out smooth.

Without consent,

entered your den.

I agree it's a mistake.

I did it for good intentions sake.

Need to find out

what is behind this mystenj.

What is your role in this?

What is your histonj?

The commotion in Ukhrul

that you have created

the solution for which

is sincerely awaited.

Hello! Help! Manager!

Not anyone else,

only I can help you out.

Just spill the beans

to clear my doubts.

Manager!

Anyone there?

He who is dead, who was he?

What's the scam that he had done?

Was what he did that killed him,

the same one?

How do you know all this?

Did he have some scoop so grim?

Something so deadly

that it actually killed him.

Why should I tell you, tell me please?

Instead I'll just call the police.

What?

What?

The police are already on their way.

What will you say?

How will you save yourself today?

Let me tell you my love,

the body's been found.

The murder weapon

has your finger prints abound.

Can I h... he | ...?

What's your name?

J... J... J...

Got it.

No, listen. Can I h...?

No, thank you.

I can take care of myself.

Ms. Shruti...

I know you, Ms. Sh... Sh...

The hotel register

has your name as Sangeeta.

But, your real name is Shruti.

Isn't it, Ms. Shruti Sengupta?

Age:
26.

Oops. Sorn].

Schooled in London,

your accent gives you away.

"Help... Police!"

This accent is western, I say.

From Calcutta, a journalist you are.

Illegal arms form your stow, so far.

Actually, it's not your fault,

I'll blame it on your bad luck

that's just not leaving you,

it's badly stuck.

Even on the bridge,

you're followed by ill luck.

In four steps... watch outl!

Your foot will get stuck.

1,2,3.

Stuck.

Help.

Where should I sta?

F... F... From the beginning.

Hello.

Ma'am, I can't speak right now.

Let's meet in the evening.

I'll see you at the fair at 5.

Poor Tumba, an ex-millitant,

he just wanted to save his brother.

He had to get the bullet taken out.

Those who killed him

were a dangerous and lethal lot.

The local youth would be brainwashed

and trained to become militants.

In the last phase oftheir training regime,

new recruits are tricked to trade in arms.

Ifthey escape the army, they would be

killed the moment the job is done.

Tumba and his brother,

escaped such an encounter,

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