A clean wipe across the mirror got rid of the excess steam. A hot shower did him well and now he could see his reflection. From experience, a shave after a hot shower was certainly convenient. Maintaining straight beard lines and the overall shape was a game of precision. A game that Jamal enjoyed and found relaxing as it was one of those very few moments, that he had to himself. Contemplation was much valued by him and the consequential benefits were not lost on him. After all, he owed it all to it, for making it thus far in his life.
As he passively thought about his journey, through time, he couldn't help but lose himself in the achievements, pitfalls and numerous experiences he had had. It only took a sharp but small cut on his cheek, to snap him out of it and regain focus. Reorient himself in the moment and realise what he was doing. A quick wash and a wipe after the shave ensured there was no sign of the cut.
He usually had most of his clothes ready and ironed in his cupboard. Today was no different. He made sure that he always gets the best quality fabric money could afford. On top of that he hated buttoned sleeves. So one would imagine he liked cufflinks. However, he was particular about the fact that his shirts have a single cuff.
Tonight he felt like wearing light pink and thus that is what lay on his bed. There was the usual back blazer on the coat hanger and the tapered trousers too. He rarely experimented with his dress code and mostly only changed just the colours of the jackets, shirts and trousers he wore. He always brushed his hair while lightly wet, as he did today. He put on his clothes apart from the blazer. He picked up the pair of platinum cufflinks to wear. While fixing the cufflinks, he made his way to window.
Outside, red and blue lights flickered on and off. Illuminating the dark street of this posh neighbourhood. The inspector in charge had allowed Jamal to get ready. From the first story of his grand house he could see that the servants all around the neighbourhood had stepped out and were trying to figure out what was going on. Of course Jamal had knew that they had a good idea. Facts like this have, historically, had a way of making themselves known. People talk, investigate, snoop and even sometimes passively discover.
Jamal had been the undisputed king of the mafia that ran the city. Just like many others, he started small but ended big - was ending big. Numerous acts of questionable conduct, and here he was at the end of the road. Murders of sons, kidnapping of daughters, extortions and such, the long list of curses had finally caught up. The police after a fairly strategic endeavour had finally managed a sensible case. A case that would hold in court. A case that could be a casket. One less filth ridden worm to deal with. One less mongrel to wreak havoc. One less accomplice to carry out the devil's deeds.
Jamal calmly looked outside while the police patrolled the grounds. He wore socks but not his favourite brown leather boots. It was unnecessary. He put on his Roleks watch. He put on the blazer and climbed the bed. He had already setup the noose hanging from the fan before his shower. "Is everything ok?" yelled the P.C. that the police inspector had sent with Jamal. "I'll be out in a second." cried back Jamal. In the time he had to get ready, this man, had come to terms with the inevitability of fate. He was therefore at peace ... eventually.
"Jamal Abidi, committed suicide yesterday at his residence in a posh area of the city. The police raided his house in an attempted arrest, however, he slyly planned his exit from this world while the police waited patiently ... death over detainment, either way crime does pay.". Regardless of the medium, the journalists ran with this story that was flooded across the country and sensationalised to mint as much as possible for the respective organizations. And it only took one day before the papers of these same gazettes that were used as serving plates for one's own local pakora stand.