ONE MONTH BEFORE
The sun had long set plunging Behala's streets into a thick and oppressive darkness. Street lamps flickered sporadically casting uneven pools of light onto the cracked pavement. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth mingling with distant exhaust fumes. A tempo screeched to a halt at a busy roundabout with its brakes whining sharply. Raju, a wiry young man who served as the helper jumped down from the vehicle and dusted off his hands. Adjusting his cap he made his way to a small tea stall nestled in the corner, where three local political party members lounged indulged in a deep discussion. "Excuse me," Raju said keeping his voice low and cautious. "I'm looking for an address…got it..it's Parmar Residence. Do you know it?" One of the men was a burly fellow with a scar across his cheek eyed Raju suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?" Raju hesitated for a moment but managed a polite smile. "Just delivering some goods." The scarred man nodded slowly and pointed down the street. "Two blocks that way, near the old banyan tree." As Raju turned back toward the tempo the second man noticed the vehicle's cargo. Two brand new industrial refrigerators and two massive 2.5-ton air conditioners. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "That's odd," he muttered. "Why would anyone need such heavy cooling equipment in the middle of this winter? And in that house?" The group exchanged uneasy glances.
Especially since it's winter, and the Parmar house never had such luxuries before," added the third man who's an older and a wiry figure with a permanent scowl. "Last I heard," the scarred man continued, "the old man who lives there has been keeping to himself since his daughter-in-law passed away. That was almost a year ago." Raju, overhearing this chimed in, "I heard the grandson started a leather business recently. Maybe that's why they're upgrading the ACs?" The group remained unconvinced. Later that evening one of the party members named Anil decided to quench his curiosity and investigate further. He approached the Parmar Residence under the pretext of delivering new voter ID cards. The iron gate creaked as he pushed it open stepping into a small courtyard illuminated by a flickering bulb. Before he could ring the doorbell a loud and gruff voice boomed from inside. "Who's there?" Anil cleared his throat. "Good evening, sir. I have all the new voter ID cards for your family." The door swung open slightly, revealing the old thin man with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through Anil's very soul. His face was lined with years of hardship but his gaze was cold and unreadable. "My grandson isn't home," he said curtly, blocking the doorway. Anil tried to peer inside catching a faint aroma of spices mixed with something else something vaguely metallic. "May I come in for a moment?" Anil asked, forcing a smile. The old man's eyes narrowed. "There's nothing for you here…please leave." Just then an old woman's voice called out from the kitchen, "Dadu! why do you always complain about the food? The old man grudgingly said without even tilting his head behind "It's the same breakfast you make every day since my daughter-in-law passed." The old man's expression flickered with pain but he quickly masked it with a grunt.
Anil's instincts screamed caution. The man's reluctance, his sharp refusal to show any documents even the death certificate of the daughter-in-law felt like a barrier hiding something far more sinister. "Sir, I'm just here…." Anil said. The door slammed shut in his face. "to help," Anil completes his sentence gently. Outside, Anil stood frozen for a moment. The chill of suspicion creeping down his spine. Something was terribly amiss in the Parmar Residence. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had stumbled upon something dark and troubling.