As we sat drinking our tea in silence, I noticed Athreya wasn't drinking; instead, he seemed lost in thought, worry etched across his face. Seeing this, I sighed, knowing exactly what was on his mind. I spoke calmly, "Athreya, what's bothering you?"
He looked up at us, hesitant. "It's nothing," he replied.
I shook my head. "Athreya, when we took on this case, I told you it was connected to you."
His worry deepened, and he asked, "Then what I was thinking is...?" He trailed off, his voice filled with anxiety. The others watched us, sensing the gravity of the moment.
I sighed heavily, then said, "You know, once Lord Krishna said, 'Your soul already knows the answer. You just have to be quiet enough to hear the whispers and brave enough to follow them.'"
Athreya understood what I meant, but he didn't want to accept it. His face paled as he reached for his phone and dialed his Mama's number. I sighed again, feeling the weight of the situation. After a tense minute, the call finally connected.
As the call connected, Athreya said, "Mama." His voice was heavy with emotion.
His Mama responded gently, "Yes, tell me, Sheenu."
Athreya's voice trembled with suppressed anger. "Why did you cremate Ma's body before I arrived?"
There was a brief silence on the other end before his Mama answered, "I told you about the ominous time."
Athreya's voice rose in anger. "Mama, speak the truth!"
His Mama sighed deeply. "They were telling us that we should take your mother to Kashi."
Hearing this, Athreya abruptly cut the call, tears streaming down his face. He began to cry, his shoulders shaking with each sob. Sneha, sitting beside him, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.
Through his tears, Athreya spoke, his voice choked with sorrow. "I've only one memory with my Ma. My father died when I was a child. My Ma was my family." His words were filled with deep, aching pain.
He continued, "And one day, even my Ma left me alone. She was not home when I reached home. I was confused. I couldn't even see my Ma the last time. I wasn't with her when she needed me. This thought hurts me every day. My Ma did so much for me. I couldn't even perform her last rites. I'm so helpless. What kind of a son am I?" His voice broke, and he cried harder. "I thought she would never die. And I couldn't see her the last time."
He paused, trying to gather his emotions. "When somebody dies, we perform their last rites to show respect to their life. I couldn't even do that for my Ma. She was thrown out of a train compartment the way garbage is disposed. My Ma was thrown out. It's not only me. There are many people like me. Many people couldn't see their near and dear ones the last time only because of these people."
The weight of Athreya's words hung in the air, heavy with the sorrow and anger that filled him. We all felt the profound depth of his loss, the injustice that had been done not just to him, but to so many others.
Taking a deep breath, I placed a hand on his shoulder. I said, "We understand how you feel, Athreya, but remember, the difficulties you face, the struggles you endure, and the bad things that happen to you—don't let them make you weak. Use them to become stronger. Remember, in the greatest war, the Mahabharata, there was a man who, even though he stood with evil, was never considered evil because of his morals. That warrior was Karna. He faced many challenges and endured many hardships, but he overcame them and became the legend we know today. Be strong, okay? We're going to get the ones who did this to your ma."
Athreya nodded, his tears still glistening, but a newfound determination in his eyes. "Yes, we'll get them," he said, his voice steadier now.
The rest of us sat silently, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon us. We knew this was more than just a case; it was personal. The night was still and quiet, a stark contrast to the turmoil within us.
As I considered our next steps, I began, "Gopalam mentioned they took the fingerprints in the van. I'm sure there's a lab set up inside the van where they use chemicals to take the fingerprints. This process takes six to seven hours. The entire racket is centered around this. After taking their fingerprints, the bodies are stored in a warehouse before being carried to the trains for disposal. Do you know why?"
Athreya, still looking resolute, replied, "Yes, because there's a rule in the railway department that an unidentified body should be cremated within three to four days. They're aware of this loophole, and that's how they're running this racket."
I nodded, then continued, "Gopalam mentioned that they were going to stop this business. If anybody wants to shut down such a systematic operation, it's clear they fear being exposed. And a person who's afraid makes mistakes."
Turning to Sneha, I asked, "Sneha, where are the photos clicked by Ajay and the file on unidentified bodies?"
"They're in the office," Sneha replied.
I looked around at the group, issuing instructions. "Bobby and Athreya, you two go to the office to study the photos." They nodded, ready to head out.
"Vamsi, you speak with Narayan and get the objects that were found with the dead body at Venkatachalam," I continued.
"Sure," Vamsi agreed.
"And Sneha, you and I will go to Ajay and Harsha's college to gather information. Anything we can learn about them could be crucial for our case."
Sneha nodded, and with our tasks laid out, we each set off to our respective destinations, our determination solidifying with every step.
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AMARAVATI, ANDHRA PRADESH
In the quiet of the night within Mother Teresa Ashram, a middle-aged man lay asleep, his thoughts perhaps drifting to conversations with Krishna. Suddenly, a soft knock echoed through the room, stirring him awake. "Bhaiyya, it's me," a voice of a man that pick the bodies from Krishna called from beyond the door.
The middle-aged man rose slowly, his senses sharpening as he approached and opened the door. Before him stood a figure, urgency etched on his face. "What's happened?" the middle-aged man inquired.
"Bhaiyya, something urgent has come up," the man replied.
"What is it?" the middle-aged man asked calmly.
"We've received news that Jaidev has sent his best men," the man explained.
"Where?" the middle-aged man queried.
"Bikaner, Rajasthan," came the swift response.
"Why?" the middle-aged man pressed further.
"We're not sure, but it seems to be related to what happened in Nellore," the man said gravely.
"Start the jeep," the middle-aged man ordered decisively.
The man nodded and hurried off to carry out the command. Meanwhile, the middle-aged man dressed swiftly, his mind racing with possibilities. Moments later, he emerged to find the man already seated in the driver's seat of the jeep. Starting the engine, they set off in the direction of the airport.
"Have you arranged everything at Bikaner airport?" the middle-aged man asked as they drove.
"Yes, Bhaiyya," the man confirmed without hesitation.
As they continued their journey through the dimly lit streets, a sense of purpose hung in the air. The middle-aged man's thoughts were consumed with the implications of Jaidev's actions.
(A/N: In the previous chapter, I mentioned the wrong name. Brahma lives in Mother Teresa Ashram, not in the location previously stated. Sorry for the error.)
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After assigning tasks to everyone, we split up. Sneha and I settled into the car and embarked on the journey to Ajay and Harsha's college. It was a long drive, but we finally arrived at PRR College, short for Padala Rama Reddi College. Inside the campus, students were engrossed in their studies.
Pulling up in front of the security guard, I leaned out the window and stated, "We need to meet the principal."
The guard pointed towards the last room on the ground floor. "That way," he replied.
"Okay, thanks," I acknowledged. Parking the car, Sneha and I made our way to the principal's office. Seated across from the principal, I placed Vamsi's police badge on the desk and explained, "I need details about your former students, Ajay and Harsha, in connection with an ongoing case."
The principal considered my request. "One of their classmates is now a lecturer here. I believe she can assist you," he said, turning to a staff member nearby. "Raghu, please escort them to her."
I nodded in gratitude, picking up the badge as Sneha and I followed Raghu out of the office.
After meeting with the classmate, Sneha leaned forward and asked, "There must be something that connects them, madam. Perhaps friends or enemies? Were they involved in any incidents that you can recall?"
The classmate pondered for a moment before responding, "Nothing like that, but they did collaborate on their final year project."
"What was the project about? Can I see the records?" Sneha inquired eagerly.
Nodding, the classmate led us to the record room. She retrieved an old file and handed it to Sneha, who eagerly flipped it open. "Was it related to religious crimes in India?" Sneha asked as she scanned the pages.
"Yes," the classmate confirmed. "They researched how criminals exploit religion to deceive people. They worked tirelessly on this topic for nearly six months."
I noticed Vasudha's name mentioned in the file and asked, "Vasudha?"
The classmate explained, "Vasudha was their friend. The three of them collaborated closely on this project."
"So, they were all friends," Sneha mused. "It means they were all aware of this crime, and that's why they were targeted and killed."
The classmate then handed us another file containing photographs. "You'll find more details in this file," she said.
Taking the file, I began to study the photographs closely. Suddenly, a smile spread across my face. "Sneha, the case is solved. We've found the culprit."
"What? Who is it? How did you figure it out?" Sneha asked eagerly.
"I'll tell you once we reach Athreya's office," I replied with a smile.
Thanking the classmate for her assistance, we swiftly exited the college. Starting the car, we made our way to Athreya's office with renewed determination.
After the journey, we finally arrived at Athreya's office. Parking the car, we walked briskly towards the entrance. Approaching the closed door, I saw Vamsi standing guard. "Is the work done?" I asked him.
He nodded, opening the door for us. As we entered, I noticed Athreya deep in thought, studying the case files. I walked up to him and said, "Athreya, we've found our culprit."
Everyone in the room turned towards me, eager to hear the revelation. "Who is it? And how did you discover it?" Athreya asked with curiosity.
"Remember how I mentioned something seemed off about Vasudha's father?" I began. "Well, it struck me that Vasudha herself might be involved."
Surprise rippled through the room. Athreya leaned forward, intrigued. "But isn't Vasudha already dead?" he questioned.
I chuckled softly. "Yes, but did anyone file a missing person report for the bodies found near railway tracks?" I paused for effect, then continued, "Except for one."
Athreya's eyes widened in realization. "The body found at Kawali," he stated, connecting the dots.
Upon hearing my revelation, Athreya nodded thoughtfully. "The father registered a missing complaint. Red dress, tattoo of the mother on the girl's hand," he repeated, piecing together the clues.
I opened the file and pulled out a photograph, handing it to Athreya. "Notice how the tattoo Vasudha had since childhood isn't visible on this body. Why would it disappear?" I questioned, prompting everyone to gather around Athreya to examine the photo.
Athreya's expression darkened as he studied the photograph. Suddenly, he slammed it onto the table in frustration. "Because Vasudha is still alive. Her father and she are the masterminds behind all of this," he declared angrily.
Bobby, always analytical, spoke up next. "If Vasudha is alive, why go through the charade of pretending she's dead?"
"They wanted me to believe that a girl named Divya was killed," Athreya explained. "They planned to frame me for the murders of Ajay and Harsha. If their scheme had succeeded, I would have faced a minimum of ten years in prison. But they made a critical mistake—they underestimated Krishna's involvement."
Athreya paused dramatically, gathering his thoughts. "Their plan unraveled because of Krishna. If we had visited Ajay and Harsha's college to investigate their deaths, we would have discovered that Vasudha was their classmate. So, they enacted Plan B—convincing us that Vasudha was dead. When her father presented a body, we believed the deception. The entire ruse was meant to end with the tragic news of three criminology students killed while investigating religious crimes."
The gravity of Athreya's words hung heavy in the air. We were on the brink of uncovering a complex conspiracy involving deceit, murder, and elaborate cover-ups.
"Three criminology graduates, experts in religious crimes," I began, looking at others. "Ajay and Harsha used their knowledge for good, but Vasudha twisted it for evil purposes."
Everyone nodded in agreement. Athreya spoke next, his voice filled with conviction. "People who deceive others and rob them often create a facade of goodwill. They make large donations, distribute food, open hospitals, organize blood donation camps—anything to gain the trust of the community." He glanced at me and added, "I'm not referring to you, of course."
I waved off his comment, focusing on the bigger picture. Athreya continued, "All the details are outlined in this religious crimes project. They use various techniques to mask their true intentions."
He picked up a sheet of paper with handwritten notes. "One such technique is through an NGO named Bethaballi Amman."
My eyes widened as I processed the information. "So, what are we waiting for? Let's move," I urged.
Everyone nodded in agreement, and we swiftly left Athreya's office, determination evident in our steps. As we drove towards the Bethaballi Amman NGO headquarters, I couldn't help but reflect on the gravity of our mission. We were not just solving a crime; we were dismantling a web of deceit that exploited people's faith and trust.
Sneha broke the silence, her voice tinged with curiosity. "What do we know about this NGO?"
Athreya, who was in the front seat, turned slightly to address us. "Bethaballi Amman presents itself as a charitable organization. They fund religious festivals, build temples, and provide scholarships for underprivileged students. On the surface, they appear benevolent, but in reality, they use these activities as a cover for their criminal enterprises."
Bobby, always quick with his analysis, added, "It's a classic strategy. By embedding themselves in the community, to divert suspicion."
(Word's Count:2482)