The canal had been part of Vishrampur longer than anyone alive could remember. Dug during the late years of British rule, it was meant to carry water to the farmlands stretching toward Raipur.
Back then, the town was smaller, the bazaar just a cluster of stalls and Nehru Nagar still open fields. Over the years, houses pressed closer to its banks, iron railings were nailed in to stop children from slipping, and temples rang their bells within earshot of its flow.
But the water never ran clear. Old men sitting outside the tea stalls said it had always carried something unlucky.
Children drowned in it, sometimes when no one was watching, sometimes in broad daylight. Cyclists skidded on its muddy towpath. Cows slipped and broke their legs trying to drink from it.
People whispered that at night, if you walked past it alone, you could hear voices calling from the dark water. And even now, when most of the town no longer paid much attention to it, the canal stretched through Vishrampur like an old scar that refused to fade.
It started near Patel Bazar, where the main road dipped low. From there it wound its way behind the Janki Ram Temple, its bells sometimes echoing across the water, before circling the cramped houses of Nehru Nagar and running past the ghats.
On maps, it looked like a vein pressed against the edge of the town. But to those who lived here, it was a quiet divider: of gossip, of fear, of memory.
…
Sai sat at his dining table staring at his plate. His mother moved about the kitchen, the sound of ladles scraping pots filling the silence. She was muttering to herself about expenses again, about how the school fees had to be sent on time.
"They're already late this month," she said, carrying in a bowl of dal. "Your brother borrowed from your aunt last week to cover it. We cannot keep asking for money like beggars."
Sai lowered his gaze. His younger siblings–Raghav and Pooja–had both been sent away to a boarding school in Delhi. His parents had believed it was the only way to give them a future better than the one Vishrampur offered. But good schools demanded good money, and lately the family was slipping behind.
"We'll manage, Ma," Sai said, though he didn't believe it himself. His father had not recovered from the suspension. And the app… Sai clenched his hand into a fist under the table. The app already knew too much.
He rose quickly, muttering that he was meeting his friends.
Outside, the sun had climbed high, its warmth wrapped around the quiet lanes. Sai met Veer by the banyan tree again. Rhea was already there, scrolling through her phone with sharp concentration.
She didn't greet them with a smile. Instead, she looked up and said, "If that app is pointing us to the canal, then we should go. Sitting and waiting won't change anything."
Her words rubbed against Sai like sandpaper. He hated the way she spoke, as if his hesitation was weakness. She had said something similar the other day too, brushing off his doubts with a tone that felt more like dismissal than concern. He didn't reply, just shifted his weight and looked away.
Veer gave Rhea a small nod, but he glanced quickly at Sai to check his expression. When Sai didn't speak, Veer filled the silence, "Alright, then. We'll go see what's happening."
The three of them set off together. The road to the canal wasn't far, but it wound past streets that revealed more of the town's bones.
Ramkatha Marg was quieter than usual, half the shop shutters still closed. Vendors who were open leaned on their counters, voices low as they swapped stories about StarCode.
One woman whispered to another, "Police were there last night. My cousin swears they pulled something out of the water."
Near the Janki Ram Temple, the bells rang faintly, their sound crossing the lane. Sai slowed his steps for a moment, glancing at the stone steps leading up to the shrine.
For years, the temple had marked the start of the towpath. Children used to run down from the ghat after evening prayers, chasing each other along the canal's edge until their mothers called them home. Now, the space seemed emptied out, as if fear itself had stolen the noise away.
Rhea broke the silence. "If people are saying the police found something, then we need to know what. Otherwise we're only repeating rumors like everyone else."
Sai's jaw tightened. He didn't like her tone, sharp and insistent. It made him feel smaller, as if he wasn't already torn apart by worry. But Veer walked between them, his hands in his pockets, watching the ground.
When they reached the canal, the smell hit them first. Stagnant water carried with it the stench of rotting plants and discarded plastic. The towpath was damp and uneven, railings bent in places where rust had eaten through.
Yellow police tape fluttered weakly between two posts, sagging in the breeze. A constable stood nearby, leaning against the railing, speaking lazily to a man in a checkered shirt.
"Whole town's gone mad," the constable said, scratching his chin. "First thing in the morning, my nephew tells me the app said a journey would be unlucky. His father cancelled the bus trip to Raipur. Same bus broke down later. Now he thinks StarCode saved his life."
The man in the checkered shirt nodded eagerly, "It's not just luck. Yesterday, it told me to be careful with milk. By evening my whole tin had spoiled."
The constable shrugged. "Coincidences. That's all." But his tone didn't carry much strength.
Rhea stepped forward, calling out, "Excuse me, was there an incident here last night?"
The constable straightened, frowning. "Go home, girl. Don't crowd this place."
"We're not crowding," she replied, her voice steady. "We just want to know what happened."
"I said go home." His eyes flicked nervously toward the water. "There's nothing for you here."
Sai watched from behind, his chest tightening. He remembered the exact words the app had sent: *The truth will surface.* He wanted to demand answers, but the words stuck in his throat.
Nearby, a small group of villagers gathered in hushed conversation. An old man hunched over a stick muttered, "They pulled a body out before sunrise. Frozen stiff, they said."
Another woman shook her head. "Not just any body. Someone from Nehru Nagar. StarCode warned her family yesterday that danger was near the water. They begged her not to go."
Rhea's ears caught the words, but before she could push further, Veer touched her arm, guiding her back. "Enough questions. You'll only draw attention."
Rhea stiffened, pulling away, but she didn't argue. Her eyes flicked toward Sai, who hadn't said a word since they arrived. He looked pale, his gaze fixed on the murky surface of the canal.
It wasn't just water that stared back at him. For a moment he thought he saw a pale blur just beneath the ripples, a shape stretched thin and long. But then a breeze stirred, breaking the reflection, and it was gone.
They stood there for a while, the sounds of the bazaar faint behind them. Rhea finally spoke, her voice quieter now. "We should leave. This is pointless if no one will talk."
Sai tore his gaze from the water and nodded slowly. Veer lingered, casting one last look at the police tape, then followed them away from the bank.
As they turned into the lane, Sai's phone buzzed. The vibration rattled against his hand like a pulse he couldn't ignore.
He pulled it out, his breath shallow.
The message glowed on the screen.
*The canal is patient. Look deeper, Sai. The surface hides nothing.*
His fingers tightened around the phone.
Rhea leaned toward him, "What did it say?"
But Sai didn't answer. His eyes had already turned back toward the canal, where the water shivered under the breeze. And in that shimmer, just for an instant, he thought he saw something pale again, waiting below.
When he blinked, the surface was empty.
But the feeling remained, crawling under his skin, the sense that the canal was still watching.