ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ

The room was drowned in darkness, a suffocating black that pressed against the walls.

But it was not the absence of light that made the place shiver – it was the screams.

Screams that seemed to pierce the air and claw at the plaster, making the room itself

Recoil in fear. They rose and fell in waves, growing sharper with every tick of the second hand

on the wall clock.

In the centre of the room sat a man – or what was left of one. Heavy chains bit into his

Wrists and ankles, keeping him pinned to the cold floor. His screams tore through the air, each one

So violent that his Adam’s apple jerked up and down, shaking recklessly as if they too were trying

to escape his throat.

His body was a grotesque sight. One half was stripped down to muscle and bone, skin torn or ripped

Away without mercy. The other half was still covered – not in kindness, but in cruelty – just enough to keep him

alive, to prolong the agony. It is the sort of pain that didn’t just kill; it dismantled.

“Kill him” came the voice of the man probably the boss.

SCENE SHIFT

He went straight to the Shiva temple. Even after committing such a sin, he cam to bow before the god – because

His mother had told him to, and her word was law to him.

The temple stood quiet under the night sky, its stone steps cool beneath his feet. Oil lamps flickered in the shadows, casting golden

Golden halos on the deity’s face. He stood there not wanting to enter the temple after committing a murder.

His eyes closed, folded hands asking for forgiveness and a silent promise he had always kept to his mother- No matter how

Dark the road, always bow to the divine before returning home.

He wishpered “Bholenath forgive your child and keep giving me strength until I fulfill the promise I made to her.”

He stood there for a moment, letting the scent of incense stick mix with the weight of his sins, and then turned back towards the world

That waited for him.

When he returned home, the quiet of the temple replaced by the sterile beeping of

Machines. His wife lay in their room, pale and still, a web of tubes and wired

Surrounding her fragile body. She was in a coma, her breaths shallow.

He sat beside her, took her hand gently, and made a promise in a voice that carried

Weight of blood and steel.

“Ridhima, I will kill each and every one of them who did this to you.”

This man is none other than Kunal Raj Avasthi, the mafia lord of Maharashtra