As the sun was dripping slowly into the horizon. The airport of Rajasthan was still in the crowd. It's the peak of summer vacation and tourists are coming to visit the state. Prabhas arrived at the Rajasthan airport. He then called Sanyuktha and asked about the situation. Sanyuktha was still waiting for his arrival behind the big stone. They are manipulating the villagers surrounding them. Sanyuktha also mentioned the equipment used in labs are very secretly kept in the godown. She was taking the photos in her old nokia of 1997 which was black and white in color but for evidence it is enough.
She was watching every move and they were submitting all kinds of materials to impress them. Prabhas cut the call and ran towards the auto stand and told the address which Sanyuktha sent to him. The driver very soon reached the destination mentioned in the address. SMS were at their peak in those days so they could send messages to each other. The charges were applicable for the SMS if it crossed the limits.
On another side Leela boarded the 10 pm train to Delhi. Three children were fast asleep and she was relieved that she could take a breath for some time. She was worried about the ticket. Suddenly the train started moving and Leela's heart started raising. She was in a chaotic situation.
The sun was dripping slowly into the horizon, casting long golden streaks across the ochre sands of Rajasthan. Yet, the airport bustled with activity. Even in the sweltering peak of summer, tourists from across the country arrived in throngs, eager to explore palaces, deserts, and heritage sites. The cool, sterile chill of the terminal was a stark contrast to the burning heat outside.
Among the arriving passengers was Prabhas, a young man in his late twenties, with sharp eyes and a weathered satchel slung over his shoulder. He exited the terminal with purpose, pushing past slow-moving travelers. As soon as he stepped outside, the dry, hot air of Rajasthan hit him like a furnace. He took out his phone and dialed quickly. "Sanyuktha, I've landed. What's the situation?"
From behind a massive sandstone boulder, hidden just on the outskirts of the village that sat quietly under the deceptive calm of dusk, Sanyuktha whispered, "Still watching. They're manipulating the villagers — distributing supplies, making promises. They're pretending to be some wellness NGO, but I know something's wrong. Prabhas, the equipment from the lab… it's stored in a godown nearby. Hidden well. I've managed to get a few photos on my old Nokia. Black and white, but they'll do."
"You still use that antique?" Prabhas chuckled briefly, though his voice was tense. "It works when needed. And it doesn't attract attention," she replied, focusing her camera lens again on the group of men shaking hands with village elders. "They're submitting materials every day. Feels like a show. All to gain trust," she added.
Prabhas cut the call. Without wasting another moment, he jogged to the auto stand and showed the driver the address that Sanyuktha had messaged — a small, unnamed location in the Dhanapur region."Fast, please. It's urgent," Prabhas said, slipping an extra note to the driver. As the auto bounced along the narrow, dusty roads, he remembered the countless SMS messages exchanged with Sanyuktha over the past week. Each word cost a few paisa, and they had to stay under the character limit, but they'd grown used to the constraints. Each word mattered. Each one carried weight.
Far away, in the clattering darkness of a moving train, Leela sat on the lower berth of Sleeper Coach S8, her eyes flickering over the faces of her three children, who were now fast asleep beside her. The train to Delhi had pulled out exactly at 10 p.m., and only now, with the rhythmic motion of the train, could she feel the tension slipping from her shoulders. But just as her breath began to settle, a wave of worry returned — her ticket.
Leela reached into her handbag, fingers brushing against the crumpled papers and old toffee wrappers, searching. She had booked the ticket through a neighbor's help — a risky move in itself. After a few more moments, her face went pale. The ticket she held was not hers. It belonged to someone named... Sanyuktha. How? When?
Just then, the coach door creaked open, and a girl in a faded red salwar kameez stepped inside, looking confused. "Excuse me," she said softly. "This is berth 39, right? I think there's a mistake. My ticket says berth 39, Sleeper S8." Leela's heart sank. "But… I have the same," she said and held up the ticket. The girl's eyes widened. "That's… mine. That's my name."
Realization hit them both. Somewhere during the luggage shuffle at the station, Leela must have picked up the wrong ticket. The girl — a quiet, observant passenger — was now caught without her own pass. Panic surged in Leela's chest. The train was already moving at full speed. What if the TTE came now? She quickly whispered, "Stay calm. Sit here for now. Let me handle the ticket checker."
The girl, now revealed as the real Sanyuktha, nodded. But she wasn't the Sanyuktha working with Prabhas. This was a different girl — coincidentally bearing the same name. A silent mistake had created a web of confusion. Back in the desert, the auto screeched to a halt. Prabhas leapt out and scanned the area. The place was too quiet. He saw the large stone Sanyuktha had mentioned and darted behind it. "I've been watching. The lab is in that old haveli near the godown," she whispered, pointing. "I saw Sanket and Manoj entering it twice today."
Sanket and Manoj — the so-called social workers, visiting villages with fake smiles and bags of 'medical aid' — were the prime suspects. Their actions had always raised red flags. A few months ago, a mysterious rise in neurological symptoms was reported in nearby towns. Youth were becoming increasingly violent, impulsive, addicted — as if their brains were being rewired. With the help of a contact in a secret agency, Prabhas and Sanyuktha had started tracking the source. It all led here. "We need proof. If we can get inside the godown, maybe we'll find—" Suddenly, a sound. Footsteps. They ducked just in time. Two men were unloading crates from a truck.
"Handle with care," one of them growled. "This is what the brain does. Just one inhalation and the idiot will start hallucinating. We're testing this batch tomorrow." Prabhas' fists clenched. Brain dose. That was it. Inside the godown, hidden behind wooden crates labeled 'Ayurvedic Herbs', was a fully equipped laboratory. The men — Sanket, Manoj, and two lab assistants — were dressed in surgical masks and gloves.
On a table lay small, shiny canisters with red markings. "Version 3. This one causes a dopamine spike. Stronger than anything we made in Goa," Sanket said. "We'll test it on the villagers first. That will ensure they return for more." "They'll beg for it. We'll be their gods." That night, Prabhas and Sanyuktha crept into the godown with their secret agency contact, a man named Kunal — tall, with eyes that missed nothing.
Together, they captured video footage, samples, and documents. One folder revealed horrifying experiments conducted on orphaned children and addicted laborers from remote villages. The drugs caused immediate euphoria, followed by total dependency, erratic behavior, and brain degeneration. This wasn't just a drug racket — it was psychological warfare.
"We send this to the state forensic team and the press. And we alerted the police chief in Jaipur," Kunal said. Sanket and Manoj were arrested the next day. Meanwhile, the train was slowing as it reached Kota Junction. The TTE finally appeared. "Tickets, please," he said, flipping through his register. Leela, heart pounding, explained everything honestly.
The TTE sighed, looked at both women, and then said, "Mistakes happen. Next time be careful." He walked away, sparing them the fine. Leela exhaled deeply. She looked at the girl next to her and smiled. "That was close." "Very," said the girl. "My name really is Sanyuktha." They both laughed.
A week later, headlines ran across national newspapers:
"RAJASTHAN DRUG RACKET BUSTED — PRABHAS & SANYUKTA EXPOSE CRIMINAL NETWORK"
The villagers, once manipulated, were now safe. The drugs were destroyed. The government promised rehabilitation for the affected youth. As for Prabhas and Sanyuktha, they stood outside the godown, now sealed by the authorities. "You kept saying your Nokia would come in handy one day," Prabhas said, smiling. Sanyuktha chuckled. "Proof doesn't need color. It just needs truth." They looked out toward the village. Children were playing. Women gathered water. Men prepared for farming. Life — simple, grounded — had returned.
And in a quiet corner of the desert, two shadows walked away, side by side, carrying the weight of a mission complete and a bond sealed in danger.
Will they be able to survive? What will happen next? Will Sanket and Manoj keep quiet after betrayal three times? Will they stop the drug abuse and mental torture?