House of Stalin

Chain of Murder

Bangalore
June 23, 1999

                              Amidst the vibrant core of bangalore , cacophony of a city that never sleeps , Inspector Adikesh himself navigating through the labyrinthine alleys of Vidyaranyapura. Tires of his old commander jeep hissed against the rain-slicked roads, reflecting the somber rhythm of his thoughts. The orders from commissioner Vikram Makizhan had been clear, but the weight of the unsolved mysteries pressed heavily upon him. As night enveloped the city, the jeep rolled through the narrow lanes. Heavy Rain tapped steadily on the roof, muffling the distant sounds of traffic. Dim streetlights flickered and the scent of wet earth filled the cool air. with the load of tiredness , he passed quiet markets, their stalls now mere echoes of the day's bustle. The city felt transformed in the darkness.

                          As the inspector returned to the station, the air was pierced by the shrill ring of the old rotary phone, its sound like a harbinger of dark omens. The message from the Triveni Theatre was an echo through the corridors of time and fate:

      

            "Another will perish."

- selvan rawther -

                             Across twelve police stations, the message reverberated like a death knell, signalling not merely another crime but the culmination of a relentless twelve-month investigation that had yielded only grief and futility. The message was a prophecy of doom, a shadow of the past that had refused to dissipate.

                    Merciless stage of destiny , Selvan Rawuthar stood as the enigmatic villain, a shadow in the dark corridors of justice. His infamy stretched across twenty-eight cases, each one a somber note in the grim symphony of his life. Three years of his silence in this city without any criminal acts had only deepened the mystery. After his last act—a brutal assault on a judge with a shotgun in front of the court on his judgement day - he had vanished into the ether, leaving behind a void that the police had been unable to fill. Newly charged police commissioner Vikram Makizhan's suspicions linked Selvan to the series of murders. Vikram was recently transferred to bangalore as new city police commissioner for the investigation of this brutal chain of murder. its not been more than two months that he took in charge of this case , all it is a mysterious case for vikram but it was not just a case for Adikesh; it was a personal vendetta, a quest driven by a haunting sense of duty and despair. The narrative of death had begun twelve months prior, with a series of victims whose lives were extinguished like candles in the wind, each one a symbol of wealth and power tainted by the blood of betrayal.

The Beacon of Death

12 months ago
may 21 , 1998
Thoothukudy , Tamil Nadu : India

The first chime of death's bell sounded in thoothukudy with the tragic demise of Sanjay Rangsawami, the nephew of Inspector Adikesh. The accident—an overturned container truck-was more than a mere mishap. It was a dark omen, with its horrifying twist: Rangsawami's head, a macabre trophy, was missing.

In the grim tableau of Tamil Nadu - southern state india, this was no ordinary accident. The missing head became a symbol of a deeper, more insidious conspiracy. As Bangalore's officers uncovered the wrapped bundle on Commercial Street in bangalore , they discovered the head— hundred kilometres from where the body had been found. This grim revelation was a sign of the insidious nature of the murders.

                              Commercial Street, at that time, was far from the bustling hub it would become. The narrow lanes were lined with small, family-run shops, each with peeling paint and faded signs. A modest coffee shop nestled at the corner, its wooden benches inviting weary passersby to rest. The air was thick with the rich aroma of filter coffee. Children played nearby, their laughter like a bright thread weaving through the fabric of the day. They raced barefoot on the cracked pavement, on that fateful day they kicked a worn football back and forth, their voices rising in joy as they darted around one another. In the midst of their play, the football rolled away from the game, bouncing off a stone and into the bundle. It nudged the wrapping, causing it to shift slightly. A moment of silence fell as the children gathered around, intrigued by the strange object. Then, the fabric pulled apart just enough to reveal a dark stain. Adikesh happened to be patrolling the area. As he approached the gathering of children, he knelt down to get a closer look, and his blood ran cold. The bundle was stained with dark blood.The playful laughter of the children faded, replaced by an unsettling silence. They looked up at Adikesh, their innocent eyes wide with confusion, unaware of the darkness that had just intruded upon their world. For them, the laughter that had filled the street moments before now felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the reality of the crime that had tainted their playground.
As the officers began to push back onlookers, Adikesh noticed the children's faces—wide-eyed and pale . They clutched their football tightly , planting seeds of trauma that would bloom in ways they couldn't yet understand. In the days to come, those children would replay the scene in their minds, the image of the blood-stained bundle haunting their dreams. Their carefree play would be marred by the memory of that moment, a harsh reminder that danger lurked even in the familiar spaces of their childhood. They would struggle to find solace in their games, the laughter that once flowed so freely now tinged with a shadow of apprehension.