The night descended, a shroud of darkness punctuated by the wailing sirens of emergency vehicles. The railway accident, a brutal intrusion upon the tranquility of the evening, had left a trail of devastation. Sanyuktha and Ramakanth, their hearts pounding with a mixture of dread and urgency, rushed to the scene. The air crackled with tension, a grim tableau of twisted metal and shattered lives.
Sanyuktha and Ramakanth rushed to the spot to find Ramesh and Sakshi. Ramesh, already a week before boarding the train to Delhi, contacted Rani sa and told Sankyuktha about their arrival to Delhi. In the beginning Rani sa did not accept the proposal but after requesting with the permission of Sakshi he went to the Haveli and explained to them the incident happened in railway station. Rani sa understood that Sanyuktha forgave Ramesh and did not reveal that the girl child Sanya is his own blood. But she never expected that Ramesh would die before he knew the truth.
Ramesh, in his desperate attempt to mend the fractured pieces of his past, had already contacted Rani sa, relaying the news of their impending arrival. Initially, Rani sa, her heart still bearing the scars of past betrayals, had resisted. But the earnest pleas of Ramesh, coupled with Sakshi's quiet assent, had swayed her. He had journeyed to the Haveli, a messenger of both hope and impending tragedy, recounting the events at the railway station. Rani sa, though aware of Sanyuktha's quiet forgiveness and the unspoken secret of Sanya's parentage, had never imagined that Ramesh's life would be extinguished before he could learn the truth.
Rani sa was informed by Sanyukta about the arrival of Ramesh and Sakshi and she already got the news a week before their arrival. A communication that echoed the news she had received a week prior. Now, with Sanya and Aarav in her hands, they hastened to the hospital, a place where life and death danced a delicate, often cruel, ballet. They found Ramesh and Sakshi, their bodies battered and broken, their breaths shallow and labored. They were rushed into the sterile confines of the operating theatre, their lives hanging precariously in the balance.
Rani sa was informed by Sanyukta about the arrival of Ramesh and Sakshi and she already got the news a week before their arrival. Sanyuktha and Ramakanth rushed to the hospital with Sanya and Aarav to reveal the truth. In the end they finally found Sakshi and Ramesh struggling for breath and were taken to the operation theatre. They are severely injured. Their head is injured. Doctors tried their level best to prolong their life.
The doctors, their faces etched with grim determination, battled against the relentless tide of injury. The head trauma was severe, a brutal assault on the very core of their being. They fought valiantly, attempting to coax life back into their ravaged bodies. After a grueling ordeal, Ramesh and Sakshi were transferred to the Intensive Care Unit, their fates suspended in the sterile, humming atmosphere of the ward.
They awoke, their eyes fluttering open to the stark reality of their surroundings. Relief washed over them as they saw Sanyuktha and Ramakanth, their faces etched with worry, waiting outside. The hospital, though renowned for its facilities, was a relic of its time, its ICU lacking the advanced technology that might have offered a greater chance of survival. The doctors, their voices grave, delivered the grim prognosis: their chances were slim. Ventilation could only sustain them for twenty-four hours.
Ramakanth, holding a peacefully sleeping Aarav, was the first to enter the ICU. Both Ramesh and Sakshi, their faces etched with a fragile calm, found solace in the sight of their son, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounded him. Then, it was Sanyuktha's turn. She stepped into the room, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. She revealed the secret of Sanya's birth, the revelation striking Ramesh with the force of a physical blow. His heart, already weakened by injury, faltered, then stopped. He died instantly, the truth a final, devastating revelation.
Sakshi, her eyes wide with shock and grief, absorbed the story. She held both children close, her touch a silent benediction. She offered them her breast milk, a primal act of maternal love, a final, desperate wish. "Take care of them," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She asked Sanyuktha and Ramakanth to leave, promising to see them the next day. But there would be no next day. Shortly after their departure, the doctors pronounced Ramesh and Sakshi dead.
The news of the train accident, and the tragic deaths of Ramesh and Sakshi, spread like wildfire through their village. A pall of grief descended, casting a dark shadow over the already sorrowful community. In Delhi, Arvind, blissfully unaware of the tragedy, continued to care for Aarav, his heart filled with hope for a brighter future. He had no inkling that his parents, those who held the key to his past, were gone forever.
Sanyuktha and Ramakanth, their hearts heavy with grief, felt a profound sense of responsibility. They decided to honor the memory of Ramesh and Sakshi by creating a sanctuary for orphaned children, a haven where they could find solace and support. They established an orphanage, a testament to their unwavering compassion and dedication. They named it "Sanya Cooperative Society," a symbol of Sanyuktha's enduring spirit and Ramakanth's unwavering support.
The orphanage became a beacon of hope, a sanctuary where children who had been orphaned by fate could find shelter, love, and a sense of belonging. Sanyuktha and Ramakanth poured their hearts and souls into caring for the children, providing them with food, clothing,
education, and, most importantly, a loving family. They created a community of resilience, where the children could heal from their past traumas and build a brighter future.
Years passed. The Sanya Cooperative Society flourished, a testament to the enduring power of love and the resilience of the human spirit. The children, once lost and adrift, found a new home, a new family. They thrived, their laughter echoing through the halls of the orphanage, a melody of hope and renewal.
AFTER 5 YEARS (1992)
In these five years Ramakanth and Sanyuktha's life started to bloom. They got married and they gave birth to a little boy named Aakash. He bought up with the love of the orphanage children. Sanyuktha is now a famous dancer. Malvika is also married and today they have a school of dancing and singing organized by Gurukul Vidyapeeth and it's a school of gals who is interested in studying and majority of the gals are admitted here without much fees and those who cannot afford is admitted by Sanya Orphanage who get charity money will pay for this gals.
One day, a young boy named Arvind, yes our Arvind who is a bright and inquisitive child, after completing his tenth standard studies approached Sanyuktha. "Tell me about Ramesh and Sakshi," he asked, his eyes wide with curiosity. Sanyuktha smiled, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and love. "They were brave and kind," she began, her voice soft and gentle. "They loved deeply, and their love created a legacy that lives on in each of you." She told him the story of their lives, their struggles, and their ultimate sacrifice. She spoke of their unwavering devotion to family, their hope for a better future. And she told him of their love for Sanya and Aarav, a love that transcended death. Arvind was unaware of the death of his father , uncle and Aunt because from gurukul he cannot be given leave for this kind of rituals.
Arvind listened intently, his eyes filled with understanding. "They would be proud of us," he said, his voice filled with conviction. Sanyuktha nodded, her heart filled with pride. "They would be very proud," she said. The story of Ramesh and Sakshi, though marked by tragedy, became a source of inspiration, a reminder that even in the face of immense loss, love could endure and create a legacy that would continue to shine brightly. The Sanya Cooperative Society, a living testament to their love, became a symbol of hope, a place where the echoes of their lives resonated in the laughter and dreams of the children they had left behind.
Now Arav and Sanya are five years old. They are celebrating their birthdays together with the children of an orphanage and they grow with them together. Ramakanth is now a principal of the Gurukul society of Delhi branch. In this five years Sanyuktha did not return to Rajasthan. She felt that no one is waiting for her their. Today Ramakanth and children are their world.
Dive into a story you won't soon forget! If you're enjoying the journey, show your support by boosting the read count. Every click helps this tale reach new eyes. What resonated with you? Did a character steal your heart, or did a plot twist leave you breathless? Perhaps you have a burning question about where the story is headed? Your feedback is invaluable! Share your thoughts in the comments – what did you love? What could be improved? Did a particular scene spark your imagination? Let's discuss and shape the future of this narrative together. Your insights are the key to making this story even better.
Chapter 11- CHAPTER 11 – A REVENGE
Arvind sat silently, his fingers clutching the edge of his chair as he listened to the painful stories of his uncle, aunt, and father. Each word cut into him, deepening wounds that had never truly healed. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks like an endless stream, a release of grief too heavy for his young heart to bear. He tried to suppress the sobs threatening to escape, but the weight of sorrow was too much. His heart felt like it had been shattered into a thousand pieces, each piece carrying the weight of sorrow, loss, and injustice. Tears streamed down his face, unstoppable and endless, like a monsoon rain that refused to cease.
Before he could respond, the patter of small feet interrupted the moment. Sanya and Aarav came running toward him, their faces alight with curiosity. To them, Arvind was more than just their older brother—he was their hero, their protector, their "big man." Seeing him cry was as unusual as rain in the desert. Sanya threw her tiny arms around him, her brows furrowed in concern. "Big brother, why are you crying? Did someone take your favorite toy?" she asked, tilting her head. "Don't worry! You can have mine. I'll even give you my dollhouse!"
Aarav, not wanting to be left out, proudly held out his bright blue remote-control car. "Sanya, he's a boy! He won't play with your dolls. Here, big brother, take my car. It's super fast!" Arvind's heart swelled with love for his siblings. Their innocence was pure and untouched by the darkness of the world. His tears flowed even more, but he knew if he kept crying, they would become upset. So, he quickly wiped his face with Sanyuktha's saree, forced a smile, and said, "Who told you I was crying? A bug flew into my eyes!" Then, gathering himself, he stood up and joined them in play. Little did they know, while their world was momentarily filled with warmth and happiness, a storm was brewing elsewhere, one that threatened to tear their lives apart.
In a remote section of Delhi, the looming walls of Central Prison stood as silent witnesses to the past. The massive stone structure bore an inscription, a tribute to the sacrifices of freedom fighters who had once struggled for the nation. Even after a thousand years, the walls remained intact, standing resilient against the ravages of time. Inside one of the dimly lit prison cells, a man sat hunched over, his fingers meticulously carving strange symbols onto the cold walls. His name was Vish. A notorious criminal sentenced to twelve years for his past sins, he had spent every waking moment plotting his revenge against Ramakanth and Sanyuktha.
Vish had spent years mastering the use of neurotoxic compounds, particularly those derived from rare and poisonous plants like Atropa belladonna (Deadly Nightshade), Datura stramonium (Jimsonweed), and Aconitum (Monkshood or Wolf's Bane). These plants contained alkaloids that could disrupt the central nervous system, causing confusion, delirium, and paranoia. The beauty of his method was that the toxin was odorless and airborne, making it nearly impossible to detect. During his time in prison, Vish had already tested his concoction on two inmates. He released a finely powdered form of Scopolamine, a powerful tropane alkaloid, into their food and through the air vents. Within a week, both prisoners exhibited signs of extreme paranoia, babbling about imaginary voices, terrified of invisible threats. They spoke incessantly about the sound of rain, believing it held messages meant for them. Eventually, both men, unable to escape their own minds, ended their lives by hurling themselves from the prison walls.
To the authorities, the deaths were ruled as suicides. The forensic reports showed no traces of poison, and no foul play was suspected. The guards dismissed the deaths as yet another case of prison-induced insanity. Vish, however, knew better. He had found his weapon,now, he needed a partner to distribute it. Vish had spent years waiting for this moment. His sentence was nearing its end, and he would soon be a free man. But before stepping back into the world, he had to ensure his plan was foolproof. That's when he met Sahani, a ruthless and cunning drug dealer who controlled the illicit pharmaceutical markets.
Sahani had connections across multiple cities and an extensive underground network that could smuggle and distribute anything, from illegal narcotics to biological weapons. Vish knew that Sahani was his best bet at turning his experimental drug into a full-fledged market phenomenon. One evening, under the guise of routine maintenance, Vish managed to arrange a meeting with Sahani inside the prison workshop. They sat in a secluded corner, their whispers drowned out by the noise of machinery.
Vish leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone, "I have something that will make us both rich and powerful beyond imagination. It's not just another drug—it's a tool that can control people's minds. With just a whiff, a person will lose all sense of reality, and within days, they will either succumb to madness or take their own life." Sahani raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And how do you plan to distribute it?"
Vish smirked. "That's where you come in. This drug is airborne, Sahani. It can be released through ventilation systems, added to incense sticks, or even infused in perfumes. The best part? It leaves no trace. No smell. No taste. No forensic expert will ever be able to detect it. We can introduce it into public places, high-profile events, or even use it for political leverage. The possibilities are endless." Sahani's eyes gleamed with greed. "And what do you want in return?"
Vish's expression darkened. "I want Ramakanth and Sanyuktha destroyed. Their family ruined. Their minds broken. I want them to experience the same pain I endured all these years. If we do this right, I can make them lose everything—without even touching them." A slow, sinister smile spread across Sahani's face. "Then we have a deal." As the two men shook hands, the first chapter of their deadly alliance was sealed. The world had no idea what was coming, but soon, the air itself would turn into a weapon, and no one—not even the strongest—would be safe from Vish's wrath.
He playfully wiped the last of his tears with the edge of Sanyuktha's saree, making her chuckle. The children giggled, instantly forgetting their concerns, and pulled him toward their toys. For the first time in a long while, Arvind let himself breathe. He wasn't alone—he had a family who loved him. But somewhere beyond the warmth of their home, in the depths of a cold, dark cell, danger stirred. Vish had spent years perfecting a technique that could manipulate a person into suicide. His knowledge of poisons and neurotoxins had expanded, and now he had discovered something truly sinister—a drug so insidious that it could be transmitted through the air, odorless and undetectable. Once inhaled, it would slowly deteriorate the victim's sanity, making them hear voices, see illusions, and ultimately drive them to take their own life.
He had already tested it—twice. Two inmates had mysteriously jumped from the prison walls, their minds shattered. The prison authorities ruled them as suicides, unaware that they had been unwilling puppets in Vish's experiment. The drug, derived from a rare combination of Dimethyltryptamine (DMT) and Scopolamine, induced auditory hallucinations and severe paranoia. Victims would claim to hear the sound of rain, their thoughts spiraling into chaos until their bodies succumbed to "accidental" deaths, and the best part? No one could trace it back to him. His time in prison was coming to an end. Next year, he would be free. And he would not leave alone.
A shadow appeared outside his cell. Sahani, a notorious drug dealer, leaned against the bars, his lips curled into a smirk. "Word is, you're looking for a supplier," he murmured. Vish turned slowly, his grin widening. "Not just a supplier," he said, his voice like silk laced with venom. "A partner." The storm had begun. Vish stepped closer to the iron bars, his eyes locking onto Sahani's with quiet intensity. The prison was silent except for the occasional clinking of chains and the distant murmurs of other inmates. In this cold, desolate place, an empire of death was about to be forged.
Sahani, a man well-versed in the art of deceit and destruction, smirked. He had made his fortune supplying illicit substances, but this—this was different. This was a weapon disguised as a drug. "You have my attention," Sahani muttered, his fingers tapping against the iron bars. "But what's in it for me?" Vish tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a slow, menacing smile. "Half of everything." Sahani raised an eyebrow. "Half? You're ambitious for a man still behind bars."
Vish let out a low chuckle. "Ambition is why I'm still standing. You see, this drug isn't like your usual hallucinogens. It's odorless, traceless, and far deadlier than anything you've ever sold. It doesn't just make people high—it rewires their minds, destroys their will, makes them see and hear things that aren't real. And when they die, the world will call it suicide." Sahani rubbed his jaw, considering the possibilities. He had dealt in heroin, cocaine, and synthetic opioids, but nothing like this. If Vish was telling the truth, they could create a market so powerful that their enemies would eliminate themselves without a single bullet fired. "And how do you plan to distribute it?" Sahani asked.
Vish leaned in, his voice a whisper. "Through the air. In hotels, offices, homes, even temples. A few grains mixed into ventilation systems, sprayed onto flowers, or added to perfume bottles. No one will suspect a thing until it's too late." Sahani exhaled sharply, his mind racing with numbers. "How much do you want for the formula?" Vish shook his head. "I don't sell formulas. I sell results." Sahani's smirk returned. "Then let's talk numbers." Vish folded his arms. "We manufacture in secrecy, using your existing distribution networks. You handle transportation, street-level sales, and international expansion. I oversee quality control and product development. We split the profit—50-50."
Sahani clicked his tongue. "Fifty percent is steep." Vish's smile didn't falter. "Fifty percent is a bargain for a drug that can make world leaders paranoid enough to kill themselves. For a drug that can turn powerful businessmen into raving lunatics. For a drug that will make us gods." Sahani studied him for a long moment before finally nodding. "Alright. Fifty-fifty.Vish extended his hand through the bars. Sahani hesitated briefly before clasping it. The deal was sealed. But Vish wasn't done. He had waited too long for revenge, and now, it was within reach.
There's one more thing," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Before we flood the market, I have unfinished business." Sahani raised an eyebrow. "Who?" Vish's fingers curled into a fist. "Ramakanth and Sanyuktha." Sahani chuckled. "Old rivals, huh?" "They took everything from me," Vish spat, his calm exterior momentarily cracking. "And I will take everything from them—starting with their lives."
Sahani nodded. "Fine. But we do this clean. No mess, no loose ends." Vish's smile returned. "Agreed. I already have a plan." Sahani leaned in. "I'm listening." Vish's eyes gleamed with a darkness that had been festering for years. "We'll make them mad first. Break them from the inside. Their own minds will destroy them before we even lay a finger on them." And just like that, the storm was set into motion.