ERSTWHILE

Disintegrated Tales

"We tell ourselves stories to live." - Joan Didion
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Song: "Pichodu Pachadi" (పిచ్చోడు పచడి)

Lyrics:

Pichodu pachadi, pichodu pachadi
Nee pichodu pachadi, nee pichodu pachadi
Kancharla vesi, kancharla vesi
Nee kallu terachi, nee kallu terachi

Translation:

Oh, ghostly spirit, oh, ghostly spirit
You're a ghostly spirit, you're a ghostly spirit
You wear a necklace of bones, you wear a necklace of bones
You took away the goat, you took away the goat

[The above-mentioned ballads are folk songs beneath the umbrella of horror, and the folk belong to the prestigious landmark of Andhra Pradesh. There is no specific writer of folk as the folk pass down and the words added on. ]

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'I am not aware of the crime as the nightfall we went to our accommodation which was provided by our grandeur...'

An elderly woman spoke the words; she recounted her side when a crime occurred in the ivory Edward Palace I, and the words penetrated the state of Officer.

The officer was new to the residents of Andam'Raṅgaṁ; he possessed a profound sense of dedication, and the tapestry of dedication was intertwined with the thread of firmness and unwavering zeal beneath his chest. A voice directed towards him with a tone of astonishment, 'Ghalib sir, Scarlet fluid...'

The palace was dimly lit, casting a
mysterious glow, but the handmade lamp cast a warm, yellowish light that
pierced through the darkness. The palace consisted of twelve hall-like
accommodations, each filled with a distinct fragrance, except for the
topmost and last accommodations. The chandelier on the ceiling, the glittering gold-like furniture, and the ornate frames all contributed to the palace's regal yet ominous atmosphere.

The palace's structure showcased exquisite Baroque architecture. By the light of lamps and torches, they followed a trail of scarlet fluid, which resembled a narrow, winding path. The fluid led them to an ancient door, marking the entrance to the last accommodation. As they stepped inside, a terrifying scene unfolded before their eyes. Beyond the door lay a labyrinthine landscape, divided into several alleys and pathways. Each direction revealed compact alleys that seemed to embody the very essence of discrimination.

The alley was dark and narrow, with old, run-down houses on either side, and they seemed to lean in on each other as if sharing dirty secrets. One of the houses was a brothel, with a bright neon sign that stood out in the dim light. The windows were covered up, but loud music and laughter could be heard coming from inside. The alley was dirty and smelled bad, with only one streetlight to light it up. It was a sad and scary place.

Within a crumbling facade, a petite room echoed with the scratching sound of a pen gliding across paper, shrouded in a haze of cigar smoke. Suddenly, a man entered, fragile papers in hand, and said, "Hari
Babu, look - Adam Jacob tore these papers but I managed to gather them at great personal risk.

Hari Babu was a man of subtle
sophistication, with a knack for stirring up trouble for those who deserved it. He expressed gratitude to his loyal friend Ceyone Rao through words of encouragement. When Ceyone asked, "How do you know Adam Jacob?"

Hari Babu's knowing smile hinted at a deeper understanding. "Adam's a ruthless man, consumed by his own interests as the owner of Angam'Rangam's sole textile industry,' he replied with a lopsided grin. "He's withheld salaries from hislabourerss for six months. Let's just say I've had a revealing encounter with him."
The disintegrated paper, which was in the fist of Ceyone, contained some salient words of dismal labourers. The paper contains the labourer's voice conjointly; they send a Warning expressing paper, and the warning was that if by 5th April, industrialist Adam Jacob would not give them their beneficence, they would strike with Peace protest.

But the warning of the subjugated group of hardworking souls was about to be unanticipated.

Now, the rendezvoused period of Darkness and brightness came to its end, and the conflation of them separated. The Darkness occupied the tapestry of Darkness, and the tapestry was bedecked with twinkling stars.

The Musk's fragrance was twirling in the air, the chandelier illuminating by the ignited candies on it which were affixed to the ceiling and the archaic mirror was reflecting a lady's image. The lady hued her sound-emitting verge with dark scarlet, her complexity was dominating and her iridescent and irrelevant attire demonstrated her personality as she was the Concubinage of Grandeur, Laila Sodari.

A woman came with an unhinged step and said with a short-winded breath, "Avunatyaṁ [highness], the bloody incident ensnared the Edward ivory Palace I... I think you should be there." Laila turned by elevating her eyebrow and threw a decanter of 'Attr' on the feet of the woman. She turned back to her position, leaving her in a bloody state; she placed an embroiled veil on her head and said with a silent-agitated tone, 'Servants are not Advisors...'

The Palace Edward ivory was constructed into the dual facade, Palace I was Adelaide's and his ceremonial wife and Grandfather's perch and the second phase was constructed for those who arose nympholepsy, majorly for Laila Sodari.

Above all, the incident which was going to engulf Textile labourers was unforeseen, and the bloody track of an unknown figure on which Ghalib Abide was would lead him to perplexity, and Laila's persona was beyond the visage...

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To know the intricate layer of falsehood or predicament, be my co-ordinator in the Narrator's craft...

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