The sun was rising in Jaipur, soft rays brushing the edges of sandstone palaces and ancient forts, staining the city with hues of rose gold. Hanitra stood by her hotel window, the lace curtain fluttering slightly as the warm light filtered in. The streets below were just beginning to stir-vendors arranging crates of marigolds, auto-rickshaw drivers stretching sleep from their bodies, and school children adjusting overstuffed backpacks. A city waking up. The pink city was blushing beneath a sky in the color of dusty gold. But beneath its surface charm, something ancient stirred, coiled in secrets, waiting.
She watched the people in the rising streets, all with a stillness that belied the storm brewing in her mind. The name badge from the conference still lay on the bedside table, a small rectangle of plastic and lanyard that marked her as a participant in the Global Investigative Journalism Meet. She had come expecting inspiration, connections, perhaps even job leads.
But what she'd gotten was a whisper. A sliver of danger.
She hadn't sleep well the night before
The words she'd overheard-twenty, snakes, CM-replayed in her head like a cursed lullaby. Even as she stood at the hotel window, Jaipur's city lights glittering in the distance, all she could hear was that whisper: "The CM will be pleased."
Two men in suits, oblivious to her presence behind the ornamental lattice of the palace corridor, talking in hushed tones. Their voices were low, but distinct enough for her to pick up fragments. They had no idea someone was listening. But she had. She'd heard only a few words-and her pulse hadn't calmed since.
She didn't know what the "twenty" referred to - maybe people? Documents? Crores of rupees? But whatever it was, it wasn't innocent. And the phrase, something like... "Snakes moved without any hiss." That didn't sound like government protocol.
The suitcase lay open on her bed. Half-packed. Half-forgotten. Her car keys were lying, untouched, on the black bedtable. She should have left this morning.
But she couldn't. Not now.
Baba had called her, but she was still in the process of mustering up enough courage to decipher those words.
She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers running along the frayed edges of her travel journal. The air felt heavier now, like Jaipur had shifted overnight. A part of her screamed to leave-to return to safety, to Kasim Baba, to her final-year practicals, and wait for her journalism license to arrive in three weeks.
But something else-something older, stronger-kept her anchored. A sense of duty. A longing to reveal. The very motive she had chosen the course for.
If two men whisper about the CM and a deal in the halls of power, it's not paranoia. It's prelude, she thought.
Was this about an illegal deal? A hit? Smuggling? Something worse?
Back in Agra, the streets bustled with a familiar rhythm. Tuk-tuks honked insistently, hawkers called out prices for pomegranates and oranges, and the sweet aroma of jalebis curled from corner shops like incense. But Hanitra didn't notice any of it as she walked toward home, her cark parked precisely in the left side.
Their house, tucked behind an old haveli near Tajganj, was a modest one-two floors, blue-painted window frames, and a courtyard shaded by a sprawling neem tree. The neem had been her Kasim Baba's retreat, a place where he sat every evening with a tumbler of tea and his radio set to All India News, the tv left neglected unless it was sports or grave news..
Kasim looked up as she entered the courtyard. His eyes, once youthful and stormy, now carried the calm of someone who'd seen too much. He placed the tumbler down with a soft clink.
"Don't you think you're back early, Hanitra ji? The sun is still about to rise" he said, mockery and sarcasm clearly laced in his words. "The conference ended yesterday, and you were supposed to be here in the morning, afternoon atmost. And look at you, coming back in the evening, without even informing me. Your call history of these past 30 hours has atleast fifteen missed calls from me."
But she didn't waste time in his reprimands. She had returned but with everything awaiting for her back there, the place she had left just some hours ago. She sat beside him, feet tucked under her yellow embroided-kurti, and spoke quickly. "I need to go back to Jaipur, baba. There's something- no, many things that I heard and overheard in the conference. About the late CM, Miheer Singh Rathore. The way that person spoke of his death, it didn't sound like an extremist's conspiracy-it sounded like a confession, of a planned assassination . And later, I overheard two men discussing, certainly some dark deals about the current CM, his son."
Kasim's brow furrowed. He knows his little girl won't back off until he agrees.
"Hanitra..."
"Please, baba, just listen. They mentioned the Chief Minister-Abhiraj Rathore, the very son of one of the most respected and genuine person in the history of this entire nation's politics. Said something about deliveries of twenty- of what, is still unknown to me. And continued by saying he would be pleased. I don't know what it means, but I can't ignore it, baba."
He stood slowly, walking toward the neem's thick trunk, letting her words settle.
"You're not licensed yet," he said at last, turning to face her. "You haven't even graduated, a few practicals are still waiting. What authority do you have to investigate a politician, which I know is going to be your first decision, in a state you don't belong to? You don't even have press credentials. You know how that makes you vulnerable?"
"Then I go without credentials. I don't need a badge to chase the truth. I'll just chase it, I promise, no revelations before my license or I can even give this to a publisher, as an anonymous? "
"And what if it's just gossip? Political posturing? Jaipur isn't Agra, Tara. It's a palace of power. You have no allies there."
Hanitra met his gaze squarely. "But I have instinct, Baba. And if this is real, if there's even a chance it's real-I have to try. Because if I don't, then what was the point of becoming a journalist in the first place. Agra or Jaipur, truth has a uniform definition, right baba?"
Silence settled between them. The neem leaves rustled faintly.
Finally, he exhaled. He knew his girl was stubborn enough to convince even a metal.
"Then promise me two things: Stay cautious. And trust your doubt as much as your courage. Also, as soon you sense grave danger, you will come back here. Sach dhoondne ke liye pehele zinda rehena seekh lena, Tara. Main wahan nahi milunga, meri bachchi."
(You need to learn surviving to find truth, I won't be there my child.)
She nodded, swallowing back tears. Separation is the strongest force that can make a human cry a whole river.
That evening, she walked alone to the Yamuna River, the path one she had traced countless times as a child. The city had changed-more buildings, more tourists-but the path to the Taj Mahal remained timeless. As dusk painted the sky in lavender and gold, the monument shimmered like a dream.
She stood before it, barefoot. The marble beneath her feet was still warm from the day's sun.
The air was quiet.
"Tell me if I'm chasing ghosts," she whispered to the white dome. "Tell me if this is real... or if I just want it to be. Please Taj, tell me if I should step forward."
A breeze swept across the river, gentle and deliberate, brushing her cheeks like an answer, but she noticed something else- the breeze, unlike always, wasn't calm, it had a storm in itself, as if already warning her of the dangerous path she is going to walk in the next 48 hours.
She closed her eyes and smiled.
"Then it begins. I am leaving day after tomorrow. Agli baar sach haath mein lekar hi milne aaungi."
(Next time, I'll come only after discovering the truth.)
The next morning, Hanitra transformed her room into a war room. The desk was stacked with old newspapers, online printouts, public records, and a large notebook where she began compiling a timeline.
Miheer Singh Rathore had been Chief Minister of Rajasthan for almost two decades-an old-school, respected leader. He was assassinated twelve years ago, the very day he was going to address the short rebellion that had stirred his state. But the inquiry had been rushed, the assassin surrendered, the case quickly closed, and in a matter of weeks, his son, Abhiraj Singh Rathore, had taken oath.
Too smooth.
Too convenient.
There were mild objections but no one completely opposed the decision of making a person, who had no political history except a legacy of his father, to be the Chief Minister of the state.
Was it a trap? Was the assassination planned by Abhiraj himself?
She looked into Kritika Developers, a private firm that had exploded onto the scene shortly after Abhiraj's election. Roads, hospitals, smart city projects-contracts worth hundreds of crores had been awarded to them.
The Company was now under VASR, his own company, now ruled by his sons.
Yet the firm barely existed fifteen years ago. No history, nothing. Just numerous favours from the Chief Minister himself.
She dug deeper, finding old pictures, government press releases, speeches, or anything that gave even a nibble of information about the state policies as formed by its new CM.
Abhiraj came across as the perfect modern politician-articulate, youthful, reformist. He was a shadow of his father. A Harvard-educated beacon of progress.
But power never came that clean, history is a witness itself.
She marked several pages:
"Budget Allocations 2022,"
"State-Centre MoU on Water Projects"
"Police Reshuffling Post-Miheer's Death."
Something was buried under the layers of success. No one stays pure once power makes a home in their life.
But this man, not even a minor, fake scandal. It was visibly impossible, power is a drug, once tasted, a person will always crave more.
By midnight, her head throbbed, even a painkiller didn't perform its function. But her conviction was clearer than ever.
The state was not just it showed in its report, in its administration. Afterall, it was Rajasthan, the very state where royalties have formed and disappeared like morning air. Power ran in its atmosphere, people breathed it.
She first went to a petrol station and then the journey began back to Jaipur. The route, generally preferred by the locals, was crowded with traders and tourists some on foot, many on transports, their conversations buzzing around her. She had her window cascaded down, her right hand resting on it, a notebook lied open in the passenger seat, pages fluttering, as the landscape unfurled-a tapestry of dusty plains, scrub forests, and ancient ruins.
Every few meters, Abhiraj's face greeted her on posters and banners. He was everywhere-smiling beside school children, farmers, nurses. He was the brand of modern Rajasthan.
In one small town, the car paused unexpectedly, as she heard a loud sound. A loudspeaker crackled to life. A rally had begun just outside the nearby railway station.
Abhiraj's voice thundered through the air: "This budget is a gift, a foundation stone for the Rajasthan we all dream of. Transparency, opportunity, dignity for all."
Applause erupted. A child on his father's shoulders waved a miniature flag with Abhiraj's name on it.
Hanitra watched from her car window, as the CM spoke the initial sentences of his speech. She reached for her notebook, nothing the significant points of the speech and also, observing the audience- their face were lit up, applauds were heartily, not forced.
They all respected and trusted him blindly but her brain had another conclusion.
This man is either the hero they believe in-or the greatest illusion this state has seen.
By evening, she reached Jaipur. The city looked different now, not just the sky.
No longer just pink walls and romantic architecture-it looked like a façade.
A mask.
She had no contacts. No safe house. No plan. The only thing she had was hunger- for the truth, but hunger and desires never sustain a human life.
She had to find a place to live, to operate from.
Hanitra wandered in the tranquil streets, until her black car led her to a Krishna temple tucked away behind a marketplace. Bells rang gently from within. The scent of jasmine and camphor filled the air.
Inside, a soft yellow light bathed the idol. Krishna stood with his flute, eternally calm, beside him the epitome of love itself, his Radha.
Hanitra knelt. Her body was weary, but her heart was louder than ever.
"What am I even chasing, Kanha? Why don't I know what my brain and heart are conflicting over?" she murmured. "Is it truth or a story I want to believe?"
The stillness around her answered. The idol didn't move, but the air seemed to shift. It welcomed her. Accepted her confusion. Encouraged her to continue.
Outside, the sky darkened.
Inside, her conviction strengthened.
She decided to stay at the temple's guest quarters, the priest was kind enough to let a girl, a stranger to the state, stay there. That night, Hanitra didn't sleep much. Instead, she grabbed her notebook, wrote a quote and began furthur:
Day 1: Jaipur. The truth begins here.
Meanwhile, somewhere in Rajasthan, a separate life was in motion.
Shivaay Singh Rathore wasn't supposed to be here, this place was not his area, it belonged to the people who were superior to his Sapphire, the people to whom even the largest organisation and their supreme bowed to.
The city, though in Rajasthan was controlled by an external force, Ashra. It's leader never showed itself in the meetings, though a representative always had his presence. Rumours say it is ruled by someone, probably a female, with initials SR.
He adjusted the cuff of his linen creme shirt and leaned against the balustrade of the Amber Fort's inner courtyard, scanning the fading light that spilled across the Aravalli hills. Somewhere below, Jaipur moved in its usual chaos-traffic, temple bells, previous election banners fluttering from every second building. But up here, all was quiet.
Too quiet.
His grandfather's voice echoed in his memory like it always did in these places-calm, clipped, strategic.
"Never stay visible too long. Power doesn't work in sunlight."
Shivaay lit a cigarette, even though he rarely smoked. The habit came back whenever the past tugged at his collar. Twelve years ago, when he was just a boy of fourteen, Miheer Singh Rathore, The White Lion, was cremated with full state honors. Ashes scattered. Flags lowered. A moment of silence that disguised a war of succession.
Abhiraj, his father, the man who had never yearned for power, paradoxically, had stepped into the spotlight like it had always been his, like he knew the power itself yearned for him.
Perfect son.
Polished statesman.
The Harvard patina glowing bright. But Shivaay knew the fractures behind the frame of his father, the composed CM to the common people of this historical state.
He'd seen them. Lived them.
Where Abhiraj was the heir, Shivaay was the ghost-too curious, too unpredictable, too much like his grandfather before the war rooms polished him into marble.
He turned as footsteps approached. Kritanjay, his senior and also his oldest friend and sometimes fixer, handed him a file, sealed with red tape.
"This is all we could find on Alasia. Offshore links, shell tenders, a few nods from ministers in UP and Chhattisgarh. Nothing that screams fire-but a lot of smoke."
Shivaay flipped through the pages without reading. He already knew what they contained. Alasia was the company that manufactured the containers that were specifically designed for military.
"And the contractor?" he asked.
"Still in the city. Temple guest house, behind Bapu Bazaar. Goes by Hanit Rana there. A Freelancer Structural Safety Auditor, apparently. Some structural vulnerability was his cover. He's not a government official-but says he works for the state archaeology. Quite persistent."
Shivaay smiled faintly. "Persistent is dangerous."
"He's been registered there for six nights. Fake id, but it slipped."
"And what gave him away?"
"He sent a message. Encrypted, but we traced the IP. And get this- he didn't cover his voice modulation properly. Your name was mentioned, three times."
Shivaay leans to the wall. The dagger, he always loved to carry, stills
"He's asking for escape tonight," Kritanjay added further, looking at his watch. "Too soon. You want me to send someone?"
Shivaay shook his head. "No. Let him call for someone. If he has close to anything real, it'll be thrilled. We are catching the two together and we'll know, so will the Underworld that we were targeted. And if he's being fed information... that's even more interesting."
His partner gave a small nod and faded into the shadows.
Left alone, Shivaay stared at the courtyard fountain, now dry and gathering dust.
There had been water here once. Laughter. His father's voice telling stories of old Rajput generals and Mughal architects. The kind of myths that glued Rajasthan together. Now there was only silence.
He knelt by the edge, brushing away a layer of grit. His fingers stopped over a faded inscription-Persian, from the Mughal years.
"The truth rests deeper than stone."
He closed his eyes.
There were too many lies wrapped around his family name and undoubtedly, Sapphire. Abhiraj Rathore had learned how to hide them. Shivaay, his eldest son had learned how to find them.
And they knew how to perform their functions effortlessly.
He stood, pocketed the file, and walked into the fort's shadows.
Tonight, he would, or maybe, find the person who had a very nasty intention towards his world.
But not as Shivaay Singh Rathore.
As someone else, someone more lethal than the CM's son.
As the leader of one of the deadliest and largest organization the Underworld knew.
Krishna Temple, 6:07 in the morning
The air was thick with incense and distant chants of strong winds, that were indicating the arrival of a storm. The bells of the temple were reacting furiously to those winds. Some people were cluttering in the premises, some chanting prayers while others preparing for their departure. Under the cover of the early morning, my convoy slipped through the gates like shadows. The plan was interrupted as Hanit didn't receive his aid before five in the morning today.
I was completely masked, sitting inside my black SUV, one that no one knew belonged to the son of this state's most powerful man. This car was rarely used by me, but everytime I needed to hide my identity, it came to rescue. Suddenly, Veer, the Inspector of the area, came to me, and his faced had an unusual expression- confusion or tension, maybe?
"There's a complication sir."
"What now?" My voice clearly sounded irritated.
"Two identical identities have been found in the register. Hanit Rana and Haani Tra, no visuals on either. The former came six nights before and the latter just checked in yesterday."
Lakshay answered him before me. "It's clearly a co-incidence. Arrest the former one."
"No Lakshay. Two names. Almost identical." My voice drops. "They did this on purpose."
My secretary nodded, though clearly seeming disagreeing to my statement.
"This could be a cover or distraction. Veer arrest both. And make sure they now the reason of their arrest."
"Sure Sir." He turned his head to his left, speaking in the comm, "We're splitting the force. Dheeraj, your team secures Hanit Rana. The second, under me, gets Haani Tra, the new one."
He was about to leave but my voice stopped him.
"Veer, no bruises. Not yet. I want to know who planned this."
He nodded and left while I drove my SUV to a secluded area, that once came under the Police's jurisdiction but now is a secret interrogation-cum-torture area for my culprits.
Veer was a trusted officer, personally recommended to me by Kritanjay. I proposed his name to dad and within a week, the thirty-three years old Inspector was posted to Jaipur from his service in Madhya Pradesh. Veer was always hungry for power but was unexpectedly loyal. I gave him a flame and the man, in turns, serves as a volcano for me.
It took them just twenty minutes to arrive. Four cars, two of the police, two of my squad. It was easy to have my suspects taken into custody by the police, people here hardly ever doubt what police does.
The first person, the one named Hanit Rana was under my interrogation. Veer and Lakshay handled the second one, who was still unknown to me.
"So," I began, "Hanit Rana, or whatever your true name is, mind explaining yourself before I do that job for you?"
"Sir, I don't know who you are and why I was arrested but let me make this clear, you have got the wrong person. I am a Freelancer who currently serves the Archaeological Survey department of this state." Well-versed.
I lean forward, and with the dark voice of mine, I greeted his ears. "Tch, tch, tch, three lies in the very three sentences you spoke. First, you clearly know who I am. Second, you also know why you are here and Third, you don't work for that department."
"No sir, it... it's a mistake. I... I have been sent by the ASI u... under a special directive to ensure th.. the old temple str.. structure isn't comp.. compromised during expansion or.. or re... restoration."
My laugh was darker than even the room's darkness.
"Special Directive?? Dear little freelancer, there is not even a single cell in this room that believes your cute story. Now, you see, I am a very busy person so save me your fictions and speak, is Shekhawat behind this?"
"W.. Who... Sh... Shekhawat, S.."
I didn't let him complete the sentence and directly stabbed his hand with my dagger.
"You really wanna play, huh?" I picked another dagger and stabbed his other hand. This time, his scream was piercing the serene stillness of the room. "Fine, let's make it your game. Each time you lie, I stab you. Let's see how many daggers can your body endure."
"You ar... are mis.. mista..ken Sir.. I... a.. am.. j.. just-" Before he could speak further, I already had a dagger in my left hand, mid-air to stab him again but the door behind burst open.
Lakshay entered, sweating.
"Boss, a huge trouble knocked us."
"Stop those literary terms and state clearly. And I swear Lakshay, if it isn't a 'huge trouble', you are getting stabbed instead of him."
"The person, in the next room- it's a girl, probably new to the state."
I crossed the room in just three steps and Lakshay followed after as I moved towards the next room. Veer was standing, his arms hanging in the air, as he tried to speak. I stepped forward and the face that met me sent my muscles to freeze.
"Hanitra?" She shifted her angry gaze to me, meeting my shocked eyes.
At around five in the morning, my eyes fluttered open. It was a new place, so it was obvious I was not going to have a good sleep. Pushing myself to the ground, I decided to have a walk after freshening up. The area was novel to my eyes and I tried to capture its beauty in my orbs. Architecture of Rajasthan always stood out. The royalty, the history, always hung in the air of this state.
It was quarter to Six when I was all ready to offer my morning prayers to my Kanha. The aarti was in low voice, unlike my usual melody in the temple in my hometown. After the prayers, I heard my footsteps gliding towards the temple's large premises, my eyes clearly fascinated my the white marble beauty. However, this short exploration didn't last longer. I saw the time still and movements halt as a few officers approached near me.
"Haani Tra?" A tall, three stared officer questioned.
"Yes, officer?
"I am Veer Sehrawat, Police Inspector, Jaipur. You are under temporary arrest as a suspect." What the hell?
"Excuse me? I think there has been a confusion, officer. I am a stranger to this place, I just checked in yesterday."
"We understand your confusion. However, your name identifies with a suspect, we would advice you co-operate with us."
The little crowd that had been present in the temple, gathered around us immediately. But unexpectedly, none tried to speak for me, and why would they even? Ain't I just an another stranger to them? Suddenly, baba's words echoed it my ears. It's an alien place for you Tara, you have no one there.
"I am sorry officer, but you still have no right to arrest me. I am partially informed of my arrest and secondly, a lady officer is absent in this case."
Control your tongue Tara, you are in a foreign state, you'll get yourself in a big mess.
"It's good that you are aware of your rights. Nevertheless, I inform that an unknown suspect for an illegal breach of technology, of the identical name is missing. The last location was this temple. And in addition, as the answer of the second question, here's a lady officer."
He shifted to his right, and a female officer came and tied the handcuffs around my hands. I was taken, just like that, out of the temple. Whispers were already audible to my ears, and maybe to the police officers.
Kaha tha na Hanitra, mat use kar vpn. Rajasthan ki police force hai, dhoond hi leti hai.
(Hadn't I told you Hanitra, don't use VPN. It's Rajasthan's police, they can surely track you.)
I sat in the gypsy, and the engine soon roared and drove to the police station. However, in the middle of the road, the lady officers stepped out, into a new car and drove to a different path.
"What's happening? Officer Veer, why did the ma'am just left? Wait, this is unconstitutional-" and came a hand from behind, striking my pulse in the neck, a technique to faint people.
I didn't remember the path or the time I was brought here, in a dark, half-abandoned building, with absolutely no windows, atleast not where I was tied up.
Footsteps echoed in the left and I turned my head to see Inspector Veer walking inside the room with a man, a new face to me. He was dressed in gray and black.
"Mind telling me the reason of this act, Inspector Veer? This seems anything but a Police Station." I know, I made a mistake of accessing illegal site but that surely doesn't deserve a punishment or custody like this.
"Haani Tra? Is this your name?" The other man spoke
"For Kanha's sake, are you all weak at Hindi? What's with that long 'A' sound? First that receptionist, then this officer and then you?"
At my sudden outburst like this, they both blinked their eyes, trying to adjust themselves to my words.
"Excuse me? Are you not Haani Tra?"
"Yes I am, but it's Hanitra. H-A-N-I-T-R-A. A single A with a short sound."
"Then who's Haani Tra? The record shows your name differently."
Never in my life have I felt this much urge to roll my eyes.
"That's the same person. The receptionist didn't know how to spell my name and due to some unnecessary attitude, refused to take my help and misspelled the whole damn name. Anything else you want to know?"
The other one looked at Mr. Veer and he nodded, maybe a signal.
Of course it was, as the other one moved out of the room.
I then looked at the Police officer, my eyes turning red from anger.
"Apne aap ko police inspector batate hain aap, lekin itni bhi samajh nahi ki jo aap abhi kar rahe hai vo gair-kanunan hai? Ya vo law bhi mein yaad karwaun?"
(You call yourself an officer and still are forgetting that what you are doing now is unconstitutional.)
"You are still a suspect, Miss Hanitra."
"And you're bound to treat me just as a suspect, not as a damn convicted. How will you even justify this, Officer?"
He was about to open his mouth but I cut him before. "Just to let you know, I am a journalist, and know how to go lengths to expose what the public should know. I am warning you Officer, either justify your act or I'll have your termination letter ready in the next 48 hours."
Footsteps, paced towards us were audible but my attention was to the man infront of me, who had dared to arrest me for god knows what reasons.
"Listen, Miss Hanitra, there was a serious confusion- You and our suspect had the identical names and the force couldn't take risks. Even now, you are still seen as a suspect in this case."
Suddenly, a third, yet familiar voice called my name.
"Hanitra?"
I turned my face to him. Shivaay Singh Rathore
"Mr. Rathore?" My voice was equally confusion-laced.
"What are you doing here?"
"Thanks for asking but I am still searching for an answer to that question. Now if you may please, I ask the same question to you."
"I apologize for this. We were confused over the names, so arresting you both was the only option left."
We. He was also involved. The CM's son and the Police are together, something has to be going on in this government.
"Really, Mr. Rathore? You think I believe that story? You are a CM's son, yet a businessman. Your presence here makes no sense. If I may dare, what authority did you have to channelize the arrests?"
A sharp voice answered me. "You don't need to know that."
"I do Mr. Rathore. None of this makes sense. As suspects to whatsoever case you're talking about, we should have been taken to the Police Station. The Officer here, had no clear notice or warrant from the court to interrogate us here."
The gray-black man spoke again. "So you confess you know that man, the other suspect?"
"What? No. All I care about is the law, the very foundation of a system. The very thing you all have breached. And hear me, you will be accountable for this. Your own people are going to demand answers for this."
Although I certainly didn't know the exit, yet I tried to leave but one.. two.. eight guns were pointed at me.
"Sir, if she leaves from here, things will get worse." Inspector Veer.
I turned my heels, waiting for the answer his 'Sir' will blurt out.
"She'll not." He looked at me, an expression that says- I know you sins. "You might be innocent here but let's not forget, you were using a VPN while accessing a prohibited website and that's the case you were arrested for. Tell me Miss Journalist, what does your law say about this?" The smirk at his face had grown wider.
He's right Tara, you can be accused of that. But ain't no way I am letting him suppress me for this.
"You think you can silence me using that as defense? Mr. Rathore, let me remind you. RTI Act of 2000 protects the journalists from this. Moreover, that data accessed doesn't categorize as confidential. In short, you can't stop me."
I know I am not going to reveal this all soon. Coming here, the very first day, I have been given a clue of this blind power, the control of a son over his father's authority. There is so much to dig yet.
"Fine, what do you want?"
I laugh. "A deal? Is that what you're offering, Mr. Rathore? For your safety?"
"That is where you are wrong, Little Spartan. I am offering you a deal for Your life. You are surrounded by my men here. They'll bury you down here and even animals won't get a hint of it."
"You think that terrifies me? I carry in-built camera in my dresses. You know, basic journalist trait." At this, the three stiff, though only a little.
Do I carry those cameras? No.
Do they need to know this? Hell No.
"Fine, as no serious harm was caused to me, I'll not report any of this. But there's a condition." I take a pause, look at the Inspector and begin again. "Your Inspector will drop me back to the temple, with a proper apology. Afterall, my honor was questioned when these handcuffs were tied."
"Why would I? Police never does that."
"But you will. The sweet little act you pulled off there, raised unwanted questions. I was here as a vacation, you made it a criminal record."
He looks at his 'Sir', who has an eyebrow raised the very moment my eyes travel to his. And, a subtle nod.
The Officer understands the message right away. "Accepted. I'll drop you there, with a full apology and in turn, you forget you ever came here."
We both walk towards the exit but I halt my steps, turning to face the man I know I'll grow to despise eventually.
"Mr. Rathore, let's not meet again, ever."
With that I exited the room, with a racing heart but a sorted mind.
Write a comment ...