Satsangi - (A Search For Truth)

CHAPTER 16

We didn’t find anything other than the diary. When we stepped back into the living hall, Shiva shankar’s wife was sitting on the sofa, waiting for us. She looked up as we entered.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, attempting to maintain a polite demeanor despite the heaviness of our discovery.

“I hope you found something useful,” she asked, her voice tinged with hope and concern.

“Yes, we did, but we will take our leave now,” I said, sensing that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. We exchanged brief glances, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of our task, before stepping out into the cool air.

As we walked home, I found myself lost in thought. Raghu noticed my distraction and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“I heard the name Yadav somewhere,” I replied, trying to grasp the fleeting memory. “I’m trying to remember where.”

Once we reached home, Raghu settled onto the sofa, looking fatigued yet curious, while I rushed to my room to retrieve the file I had received from Veer. Flipping through the pages, I suddenly halted at one particular document.

I ran back to Raghu, excitement bubbling within me. “Look at this,” I said, showing him the paper. “Yadav was a security officer for the archives of the archaeology office.”

His brow furrowed as he took the document from me, scanning its contents. I encouraged him to read further. The report detailed a tragic incident: the archives room had burned down due to a short circuit. Yadav, along with two colleagues, Ramesh and Rafiq, had been on duty that day and perished in the fire while attempting to bring it under control.

“The fire not only claimed the lives of these brave individuals, leaving a trail of devastation and grief,” he continued, Raghu voice growing somber, “but it also consumed a vast collection of invaluable books and artifacts, erasing irreplaceable knowledge and cultural heritage. The loss extended far beyond human life; centuries of wisdom and history, painstakingly preserved in those texts, were reduced to nothing but ashes. It’s a reminder of how fragile our legacies can be.

”The weight of our findings clearly sinking in. I settled down beside him on the sofa, my mind already racing about how we should move forward. Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced at the screen to find a message from Srinivastav uncle. He wanted to meet on June 16th, at the same place. I showed the message to Raghu.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, his tone concerned yet steady.

I shook my head gently. "It's alright. You should rest. You've done so much already. You need to take a break."

He sighed, leaning back into the sofa, his face showing a trace of exhaustion. "I came to that place, and after that... well, you know what happened," he said, his voice trailing off, laden with the unspoken weight of everything that had transpired.

There was a moment of heavy silence between us, the gravity of the situation weighing down on the room like a thick fog. It was Anusha who finally broke it, her voice cutting through the tension.

“I have a question,” she began thoughtfully. “The books discovered during the excavation didn’t actually go missing, did they? They were burnt when the fire broke out at the archaeology office archives.”

I shook my head, leaning forward slightly as I clarified. No, the fire was a cover-up for the missing books. "It was staged to make it seem like they were lost in the blaze. You can’t prove they were lost because of the fire. Someone wanted them, and the fire provided the perfect smokescreen. Whoever knew about those books has been systematically eliminated—except for my dad and Ashwat Visvanathan."

"Anusha frowned, processing this new information. "So, the real question now is," I continued, "whether Mr. Visvanathan is pretending not to know anything or if he genuinely has no idea about the books.

Everyone around the room nodded in agreement, the weight of the unanswered question hanging in the air.

We should investigate Yadav, Mr. Visvanathan and the fire at the archaeology office,” Vihaan suggested, his voice firm.

I shook my head slightly. “I don’t think we’ll find anything useful there. Too much time has passed since the incident. Any evidence that could have been helpful is probably long gone. Instead, we should focus on my dad and visvanathan,” I said, pausing for a moment, letting the weight of the next words sink in. "At this point, we can confidently say that my dad, Srinivastav, didn’t commit suicide—it was murder.
But we need concrete evidence to prove that, something solid enough to officially reopen the case.”

Vihaan nodded thoughtfully, his expression a mix of determination and frustration. “Then we need to find that evidence, fast. Whoever was behind this has been covering their tracks for a long time.”