August 20, 2024
A young couple stepped out of a luxurious restaurant, their faces glowing with satisfaction from the exquisite meal they had just enjoyed. As they lingered outside, soaking in the crisp night air, one of them let out a contented sigh.
"That was the best dinner I've ever had. Absolutely incredible."
The gentle breeze carried their voices into the night, blending with the distant hum of the city.
Krishna, a handsome young man of about 25, turned to his companion with an intensity in his gaze. His eyes lingered on her, admiration and hesitation flickering across his face.
Summoning courage, he softly called her name. "Kirthika… I want to tell you something."
Beside him, Kirthika, equally young and radiant, stood beneath the glow of a streetlight. The soft illumination cast a warm halo around her, accentuating her delicate features.
She turned to him, curiosity laced in her voice. "Yes, Krishna… what is it?"
He looked at her, suddenly caught off guard by the way the light illuminated her face. His heart pounded, a nervous blush creeping across his cheeks.
In that moment, his courage faltered. Turned away and he muttered, "No… nothing… never mind."
Kirthika frowned slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she observed him. "That's strange… what happened?"
Krishna hesitated, then glanced upward, grasping for an escape. "The moon is really beautiful tonight, isn't it?"
Kirthika followed his gaze, her expression softening. "Yes, it is very beautiful."
They stood close to each other, both staring at the vast sky above. Then, in a gentle voice, Krishna spoke again, his words carrying a deeper meaning.
"Do you know the Earth is unlucky in love?"
Kirthika furrowed her brows in confusion. "What?"
He smiled faintly, his voice tinged with quiet emotion. "The Earth loves the Moon, and the Moon has always been nearby. Every day, every night, every second—the Moon stays within Earth's sight."
She turned to him, puzzled, sensing something beyond the words and Krishna voice growing softer, as if he were telling his own story.
"And yet... the Earth can never reach the Moon. No matter how much it longs for it, it can't grasp it. Not even to confess its love."
His words lingered in the night air, carrying unspoken feelings—feelings Kirthika could now sense what Krishna is telling and gazed up at the glowing moon, a soft smile forming as she spoke.
"You don't know the full story… It may be true that the Earth loves the Moon, but you don't understand their relationship. The Moon revolves around the Earth—wherever Earth goes, the Moon follows. And do you know why? Because the Moon has already fallen in love with the Earth."
Her voice was gentle, yet filled with meaning. Krishna listened, but as she continued, he realized she wasn't talking about moon anymore—she was speaking about herself.
"The Earth doesn't need to confess, because the Moon has always known they were meant for each other."
She stepped closer, her fingers slowly wrapping around his hand. Her gaze remained on the sky, yet every word she spoke felt directed at him.
"The Moon knows that if she ever leaves, the Earth would destroy itself. That's why she won't leave."
Krishna felt her fingers entwine with his, his heartbeat quickening as his face flushed red. He swallowed hard, his emotions almost overwhelming him.
She looked moon with a shy, blushing smile and murmured, "Just like that, your Moon will never leave you either."
Overwhelmed with happiness, Krishna tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her closer. Together, they stood beneath the vast sky, their gazes locked on the Moon.
While the two unspoken love were glowing under the moonlight, The two police van siren blares as it speeds down the road. Vehicles swiftly clear the way, making space for the vans as it rushes forward at high speed. As the police vans raced down the road at high speed, ten officers—five in each vehicle—held their positions, ready for action. The wailing sirens pierced the night, drowning out the murmurs of the restless city.
In the lead van, a middle-aged officer with a thick Mustache and a strict, authoritative face sat with a firm posture, the head officer, Narasimma—in the passenger seat with a phone pressed to his ear.
"Pick up... come on," he muttered.
Suddenly a sharp voice crackled through the walkie-talkie, filled with frustration. "You damn lazy cops! Still not at the location? What are you even doing? Everyone is watching."
Narasimma grabbed the device. "We're on our way, sir. We'll be there soon. We'll handle it."
With that, he switched off the walkie-talkie, exhaling sharply. As the device clicked into silence, he muttered under his breath, his words carrying the weight of long, gruelling nights.
"What do they know about working in the field? Giving orders is easy. Chasing and capturing a criminal is another thing entirely." And tried to call someone on the mobile again.
Beside him, the driver pressed down hard on the accelerator, propelling the van even faster. Moments later, they screeched to a halt in front of a building. The doors swung open, and the officers poured out in a hurry.
Residents had gathered on the roadside, murmurs spreading like wildfire. They had been expecting this moment.
"Come on—move!" "Search every corner of the house!"
The officers stormed into the house, boots pounding against the floorboards, their eyes scanning every shadow, every corner.
Outside, the commotion spilled into the streets. A woman stepped out, glancing around in confusion. Turning to her neighbor, she asked, "What's happening? Why are the cops here at this hour?"
The neighbor scoffed, pulling out her phone. "Seriously? You haven't seen? It's all over the internet."
The woman's eyes widened and her breath caught as she stared at the screen. The weight of reality crashed over her, shock spreading through every fibre of her being.
The officers scoured every inch of the house, leaving no corner unchecked. On the first floor, two officers came upon a locked door and attempted to open it, it was locked. Their heart pounded as one of them shouted, "He's in here!"
All the officers rushed to the door, forming a tight perimeter with their pistols drawn. The head officer, Narasimma gave the signal to breach, and two officers exchanged a quick nod, preparing to force their way in.
Just as they positioned themselves to strike, the handle twisted—it was being opened from the inside. Every cop tensed, their grips tightening on their weapons, ready for whatever was about to emerge.
As the door creaked open, a shadow spilled across the floor, stretching under the dim glow of the hallway lights. Every officer stiffened, pistols raised, their eyes locked on the figure emerging from the room.
A young man emerged no older than twenty-Two Gray-haired, his glasses speckled with blood. His hands, his clothes, his very presence bore the crimson stains of violence. In his left hand, he gripped a bloodied knife; in his right, a pistol, steady and unshaken.
He moved without hesitation, he raised the weapon, pointing it directly at the head officer.
The officers responded instantly, gripping their firearms tighter, their aim locked on him, ready for any sudden movement. Despite the chaos unfolding, the head officer stood firm, his gaze unwavering. Fear had no place in his eyes—only control, only certainty.
The boy stood, his grip firm on the pistol, his breath steady despite the tension pressing down on him.
"How did I end up here?" The thought echoed through his mind.
" I'm Bhairava, I'm just a normal citizen staying in Azhagi city who completed college not very long back… Yet here I am, pointing a gun at a cop."
He never imagined this moment. Never thought his life would spiral into something so irreversible.
"There's no going back now."
"They came to arrest me… because I killed my parents."
His fingers curled tighter around the grip.
"Yes. I killed them." No hesitation. No denial. Just acceptance.
His finger twitched against the trigger. Would he pull it? Would he surrender? Would he run?
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, as if the entire world had paused in anticipation. No movement. No words. Only the weight of the moment—hanging, waiting to tip in one direction or the other.
"And it all started on that day." His mind drifted backward, pulled into the depths of memory, the moment everything changed.