The afternoon sun stretched its rays over the Durga Puja ground in front of the local party office where an increasing crowd had gathered. Colourful decorations adorned the area. The rhythmic beats of drums filled the air yet a tense atmosphere lingered over the neighbourhood. Police constables stood near the entrance quietly questioning a group of local political party members. One constable with a notebook in hand leaned toward a middle-aged man sporting a faded party badge. "Sir, when did you first notice anything unusual about the Parmar family?" he asked. The man chuckled, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Unusual? You mean since Kanishk's mother passed away? That was almost a year ago. After that the family just….disappeared from our social scene. No more greetings and no visits. It felt like they'd shut themselves off from the world." Another party member, a wiry man with sharp eyes nodded in agreement. "Right. Kanishk, his grandfather, and his wife…they turned into complete recluses. They stopped attending community events, no festivals, nothing at all. It was odd though but we didn't pry. Everyone deals with grief in their own way." Nearby in a modest kitchen just a few houses down a middle-aged woman stirred a pot of curry. Her hands moving almost on autopilot. Yet her eyes were fixed on the small television mounted on the wall which was broadcasting live footage from the second floor of Kanishk's home. Her face was a mask of shock, confusion, and numbness as she watched the surreal scene unfold. The screen flickered with images of police officers and flashing cameras creating a nightmare that felt all too real. Suddenly the broadcast cut to a close-up of Kanishk's face. The same image that had gone viral overnight. A caption below read: "Kanishk Parmar, The Man Behind the Frozen Secret."
Without warning a breaking news alert interrupted the program. "Authorities have discovered a body near the railway tracks in Behala jungle. The deceased is believed to be Kanishk Parmar. Investigations are ongoing." The woman's breath hitched in her throat. She whispered to herself, "Kanishk…lying there…like that." Across the street a small local shop buzzed with customers but the shopkeeper cast a nervous glance at his television where the same news report played on repeat. "Kanishk," he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "How did it come to this?" The streets of Behala buzzed with whispers and speculation. The man who had once seemed so promising and intelligent now lay dead or missing under mysterious circumstances. The neighbourhood found itself engulfed in a storm of shock and disbelief, struggling to comprehend how everything had changed so rapidly.