House of Stalin

Ghost in the Veins

   Seated alone in the interrogation room, Ali awaited Vikram's return. Vikram had left, overseeing the legal procedures to finalize Selvan Rawther's charges—old crimes from past, dragging up what remained of a man long thought forgotten. But Vikram's absence had left a more pressing task to Adikesh and
Anjali: extract evidence from Ali.

Yet, if this case were to go forward as planned, Adikesh knew the consequences would be far worse than anyone could predict. A shift had occurred in his thoughts. A new plan formed in his mind : Ali Rawther had to be released, but not through subterfuge. The murders in the city—four in total—would be pinned on selvan , Ali , Rajan, Ravi, and their men. End the case, end the bloodshed. But most importantly, it had to be done with Vikram's intervention, or it wouldn't be done at all.

Adikesh handed one of the tea glasses to Anjali.

"So, tell me," he said, taking a sip, "where do you think this case is heading?"

They walked slowly along the empty corridor of the station.

"From Ali Rawther, to the next, and to the next," she replied, her voice calm but laced with a hint of uncertainty. "We know who's behind this. Half the city knows. There's already a long list of people involved."

Adikesh nodded, half-expecting her response. He had hoped she would see the bigger picture, but perhaps it was too early.

"They're not going to sit idle much longer," he continued. "From the higher-ups to the driver at the local station, we're on borrowed time, Anjali. You just have to think for a moment—it's obvious."

Anjali frowned, stopping mid-stride. "I don't understand what you're getting at. What's changed? You weren't like this before. What's the plan?"

"The picture on that wall, in the slum—did you know who it was?" Adikesh asked, his tone softening.

She hesitated. "No, I didn't grow up here. I've heard rumors, though. Something about thirty years ago? But he's gone now, isn't he? Who are we supposed to be afraid of?"

Adikesh smiled, but it wasn't a smile of amusement. It was one of someone who knew more than he could say. He placed his tea glass back on the table, adjusted his watch, and started toward the door.

Anjali watched him, waiting for a response. She had hoped for clarity, for something more than cryptic words.

Before mounting his old bullet bike, he looked back over his shoulder, as if delivering the final piece of the puzzle.

"Just because the tide goes out, doesn't mean it's gone, Anjali. It comes back, and when it does, it wipes everything away. Stalin Avran wasn't a myth. This city has seen his wrath—and his family's."

"But why can't we ?". Anjali's voice trembled.

"even though Gallentry honour Amit Dhawan cant make it happen ! "

Without another word, Adikesh rode off into the night, leaving her in silence.

Conspirancy of the DownTown : Case File of Amit Dhawan and the bloody disco

"Have you heard about Amit Dhawan's police file and the bloody disco ? "

The question came from Adikesh as they sat around the dining table in Mari's apartment. A room that had stood witness to a hundred conversations like this.

They had all been working on Ali Rawther's case for hours. Time was slipping.

"The case from '78, isn't it ?"

Mari's voice cut through, casual but calculated. His brother knew too much. Too much for Vikram's comfort.

Mari had always been the one with a foot in both worlds, a man whose knowledge stretched beyond his own lifetime, tangled in webs of power and crime. It wasn't surprising that he knew more about it.