Inspector Talpade's POV
Another day starts the same way it ends—in sweat, smoke, and compromise.
Tonight, Talpade isn't at home. He's at the Red Hotel, sitting in a dimly lit private booth, swirling a cheap whisky in his glass. A prostitute dances lazily in front of him—bored eyes, fake smile, hips moving like it's just another shift. He watches her, but his mind isn't really on her. His lust has long turned into routine, like scratching an itch that never goes away.
He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a burner phone, not the main one. This isn't the phone his colleagues know about. This one is for the real business. The underworld business.
He scrolls through coded contacts, fingertips greasy from chicken pakoras. A new message pops up. Gani Bhai's men have sent him a task.
"Handle the Baroda shooter. No arrest, no media. Clean it quietly. "
Talpade taps the message, deletes it immediately. His pulse stays steady. It's not the first time he's been ordered to clean up a mess before the press gets wind of it. He's the guy who makes problems disappear. That's why they keep him on the payroll.
He likes his life just the way it is: greasy, complicated, and full of shortcuts. He didn't join the police force to serve the country. He joined because a uniform makes a coward look powerful. Because in this city, a cop badge opens more doors than it closes. And because it lets him taste things he could never afford if he played life straight.
But there are nights—like tonight—when he catches himself wondering: Is this all?
He pushes the thought away. Why bother with guilt? Nobody's honest anymore. Not the politicians, not the rich builders, not the film stars. Why should he be?
Still, something about Janvi gnaws at him.
He doesn't just want her because she's pretty. It's more pathetic than that. She makes him feel small, and Talpade hates feeling small. She looks at him like he's a cockroach scurrying around her life—and maybe he is—but he wants to change her gaze. Wants to see fear in her eyes, or better yet, desire. But he knows deep down, that's never going to happen. Janvi's world is clean. His is soaked in filth.
He watches the dancer sway, her eyes vacant, and imagines Janvi in her place. But the thought makes his stomach twist—not from guilt, but from the ache of knowing he'll never have that kind of control over her.
His connection to the underworld? It's no big secret, at least not to himself. He's not a pawn; he's not a king. He's somewhere in between—a middleman who knows when to bow and when to bite. He helps Gani Bhai's men when he needs to, turns a blind eye when the cash is right, and makes arrests when it's safe to do so, just to keep up appearances.
He tells himself it's all about survival. That Mumbai is a jungle, and the cops who play fair get eaten first.
But late at night, when the city quiets down, and the girl stops dancing, and the whisky burns his throat, Talpade sometimes stares at his burner phone and wonders if he should just kidnap Janvi or play with her slowly...
Still, tomorrow's bribes won't collect themselves.
So he slips the phone back into his pocket, throws a crumpled note at the dancer, and steps out into the city—greedy, lustful, half-rotten inside—but still breathing.
........
"Hah... another universe, but the same day, same problems. These goddamn lectures. What the hell did this teacher eat today? He's reading the whole book aloud like he's the only one here. No explanation, just vomiting words straight out of the textbook."
Our MC, Veer, sits lazily on the last bench of the class, staring blankly at the teacher. His eyes are half-closed, shoulders slouched, pretending to listen but his mind is miles away. The teacher continues to drone on, reading the book word for word, ignoring the students like they're furniture.
Veer quietly mutters to himself, "Still… what's my next step?"
His hand moves inside his desk, scribbling in a notebook that looks more like a diary than a school textbook. But instead of the usual day-to-day thoughts or homework, the pages are filled with strange, obsessive notes. Names are scattered everywhere, drawn with frantic lines connecting some of them like a mind map. But other names sit alone, isolated in the middle of the page as if they're ghosts—names he remembers from another life.
These aren't the names of people from this universe. They're the names of actors and characters from his past life. Each name carries a connection, a memory, or a clue. And at the very top of the page, one word is scribbled again and again, almost like a ritual:
"Wanted."
It's like Veer is trying to decode something bigger—some grand puzzle tying his reincarnated life to the world of Bollywood actors he has encountered so far.
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Summary of the Bollywood movie "Wanted" (2009):
"Wanted" is a 2009 Indian action thriller directed by Prabhu Deva, starring Salman Khan as Radhe, a ruthless street fighter who works for money. He gets involved with the Mumbai underworld but secretly works as an undercover cop trying to dismantle Gani Bhai's criminal empire.
Plot Highlights:
Radhe is introduced as a fearless gangster for hire, known for his brutal efficiency.
He meets Janvi (Ayesha Takia), a simple girl who slowly falls for him, unaware of his double life.
Inspector Talpade, a corrupt cop, lusts after Janvi and colludes with the underworld to fill his own pockets.
The main antagonist, Gani Bhai (Prakash Raj), controls Mumbai's underworld from abroad, ordering hits and running illegal operations.
As the story unfolds, it is revealed that Radhe is actually an undercover officer planted to clean up the system from within.
The movie climaxes with Radhe exposing and eliminating Gani Bhai and his entire network, saving Janvi and proving himself to be on the side of justice.
"Wanted" is known for its high-octane action, whistle-worthy dialogues, and Salman Khan's larger-than-life screen presence.