Drishyam Page #5
has happened.
Everything is normal.
What did you do about the car?
I won't tell you stuff...
...that you don't need to
know about.
Don't even try to find out.
Pack your bags.
We leave tomorrow morning.
Where to?
We have to stay somewhere
else for two days.
It'll be a good change
and help us relax.
If anyone asks you
where we're going, tell them...
...we are going to attend
Swami Chinmayanand's sermon.
But, that got over today.
Hello!
- Hi, Mahesh.
Are you going back or...
- Yes, I'll freshen up and go back.
Meera, did you speak to Sam?
I've been trying to call since last
night. His phone is switched off.
You call him constantly
and bother him, Mahesh.
So, he must have switched it off
on purpose.
That's nice. You're scolding
me for all my trouble.
You've allowed him to take
too many liberties.
Mahesh, kids want freedom
at this age.
We must give it to them.
Freedom? How much
freedom does he want?
We have given him everything.
A phone, laptop, 2 credit cards,
a car.
Why does he need all that?
Have you seen last month's
credit card bill? Rs. 60,000.
Yes, that's because, he bought
a new laptop.
And I've seen the receipt.
Why does he need another
laptop?
How does the receipt matter?
Did you see the laptop?
I haven't seen it.
Mahesh, stop doubting your
son so much.
He'll run away forever,
some day.
I don't doubt him.
I worry about him, Meera.
You're pampered him
to such an extent that...
Sorry. I'm getting late.
Okay?
If you speak to him,
tell him to come home. Okay?
Bye Meera.
- Bye.
Alright, tickets, please.
Mr. Salgaonkar!
Are you going on a trip
with the family?
Did you buy a new bus?
No, it's a used bus.
- It's nice.
Where are you off to?
We are going to attend our
spiritual guru's sermon at Panaji.
Give me four tickets.
- What's wrong with you?
I can't let you pay for
tickets on my bus.
Put it away.
- Thank you.
Alright, tickets, please!
Tickets!
" Dying every moment..."
" ...living for the moment."
" Barely alive..."
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
" I'm in pain."
" It's stifling..."
" Fear picks at my mind."
" It's stifling..."
" Dying every moment,
living for the moment."
" Barely alive..."
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
" My lips ravaged,
I can barely speak."
" Bloodless limbs,
my body is drifting aimlessly."
" The tears
caught up in my heart..."
" ...my eyes glaze over with tears."
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
" Why do I feel someone
watching me from a distance?"
" Did anyone come near me?"
" Does my shadow follow me?"
" But, my heart beat is
subdued."
" Barely breathing..."
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
" My breath catches
ever so slightly."
" It's stifling..."
" Why is every
moment stifling me?"
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
What did I say to you?
I know, but I can't seem to forget.
You have to forget.
Our fear is the one last piece
of evidence of what happened.
We have to get rid of that
as well.
And there's just one
more thing.
Get a bill for everything
you buy, from now on.
Groceries, vegetables,
fruits, pencils.
Get bills for the
most trivial things.
" It is stifling..."
" It is stifling..."
" My breath catches
ever so slightly."
" It is stifling..."
" Why is every
moment stifling me?"
" It is stifling..."
Let me speak to Kanvinde from
the cyber cell.
" It is stifling..."
" Dying every moment..."
" ...living for the moment."
" Barely alive..."
" It is stifling..."
" It is stifling..."
" I'm in pain."
" It is stifling..."
" Fear picks at my mind."
" It is stifling..."
" Dying every moment,
living for the moment."
Ma'am, we followed Sam's network
from Goa, Hublidarbar, Chittadurg...
...Bengaluru, to Tamil Nadu
and we lost trace in Kanchipuram.
After that, his phone was
switched off.
He has friends in Bengaluru
and Chennai.
Yes, perhaps, he went there.
But, why did the phone get switched
off in Kanchipuram?
" It is stifling..."
" Why do I feel someone
watching me from a distance?"
" Did anyone come near me?"
" Does my shadow follow me?"
" But, my heart beat is
subdued."
" Barely breathing..."
" It's stifling..."
" It's stifling..."
" It is stifling..."
" It is stifling..."
" It is stifling..."
ACP Rego.
Yes, ma'am.
Ma'am, we just found
the car here.
Who saw it, first?
A few kids who were swimming
here, found it.
How many days, do you reckon?
It's been about 2 weeks.
Excuse me, did you find anything
in the lake?
No, sir. Don't worry.
When the car was dumped,
it was empty.
Don't let this
get to the media.
Wrap it up.
The last call from Sam's mobile...
...was made on 2nd October
at 07:
12 pm.The signal indicates, that it was
located in Pondolem.
His phone went out of
coverage at 10:
30 pm.The next morning...
once again at Panaji at 9:25 am.
After that, the phone
went to Kanchipuram.
Where it was switched off.
Ma'am, given the information
we have so far, I think...
...we should confine our
investigation to Goa.
For the time being.
Sam spoke to someone for
the last time on 2nd October.
Get me the details for that number.
- Yes, ma'am.
Yes? Send him in.
Ma'am, the account number
you gave us...
...was accessed at 10:00 am
on 2nd October...
...at a cash ATM in Panaji.
There is no transaction
after that.
How much cash was withdrawn?
Rs. 20,000, sir.
- Rs. 20,000?
Why did he need so much money?
Sir, there's more.
The phone which went out of
range on 2nd October...
...and the one which was switched
on, the morning of 3rd October...
...are two different phones.
The IMEl numbers are different.
Ma'am, possibly he withdrew
cash to buy a new cell phone.
I don't think so.
He bought a new cell phone
just two months ago.
I think, our son is in
big trouble.
Sir.
Hey, you.
What's this?
The Panchayat building tax.
I told you to pay that, right?
When did I tell you?
- It was...
Three weeks ago.
- Three weeks?
Sameer Deshmukh, the only son of
IG Meera Deshmukh.
He's been missing since
3 weeks.
According to the phone records,
he was in Pondolem on 2nd October.
This is the car, he drove in
here.
A yellow Hyundai Getz,
GA07, MJ 101 1 .
This car was recovered from
the lake at Paavelim Stone Quarry.
But, there is no sign of Sameer.
If you are facing a problem,
come to me and...
What's up, Digambar?
How is your son, now?
- He's fine, sir.
He will be discharged
within a day or two.
That's good.
Give me Rs. 200.
I don't have any money.
What do you mean, you
don't have money?
The hospital isn't treating
your son free of charge.
No, no...
- Come on, out with it.
What's in that pocket?
- It's nothing.
Let's see it!
Is that all?
Fifty rupees?
Get going.
Martin, give me a packet
of Pan Masala.
What? The Pan masala?
No tea for you today, Mr. Gaitonde?
No, I don't have time for tea.
2 fans
Submitted on August 05, 2018
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