Satsangi - (A Search For Truth)

CHAPTER 30

Life doesn’t always go as planned, the same happened to us. We thought everything was set in motion, but fate had other ideas. That day, I was absentmindedly scrolling through TV channels, my mind still buzzing with our plan. Eventually, I landed on a news channel, where a shocking report made me sit up. Rajender Singh, the Minister of Culture, had passed away due to a heart attack early in the morning—the very day before his scheduled felicitation ceremony. But that wasn’t the end of it. They also reported that Sukesh, the Director General of Police (DGP), had been killed on the same day by unknown assailants while he was out for  jogging, along with his guards. The police had already launched an investigation, and the situation seemed far more complex than it appeared.

My instincts kicked in, and without wasting a moment, I called Agastya. He answered on the first ring, his voice tense and direct.

“Dad, did you see the news?” he asked, not bothering with any formalities.

“Yes,” I replied. “It’s all over the channels. They’ve even canceled the ceremony.”

Agastya let out a sigh, frustration evident in his voice. “How could we not have anticipated something like this? What should we do now, Dad? It feels like our whole plan is falling apart.”

I took a moment, choosing my words carefully. “Agastya, this doesn’t add up. Rajender’s death from a heart attack, yes, that could be a coincidence. But Sukesh’s death? That feels different, suspicious. Whoever planned this is taking big risk, killing him in such a public setting. If they wanted him dead, they could have eliminated him months ago when he was alone at his farmhouse. Why wait until now, when the chances of being caught are so much higher?”

Agastya went quiet for a moment, and I could sense him processing what I’d just said. Then he spoke, his voice tinged with concern. “Do you think someone’s aware of our plan, Dad?”

“It’s possible,” I replied, the thought weighing on me. “But as far as I know, no one outside of us has any knowledge of this.”

Agastya’s voice was firm as he responded. “Alright. I’ll start digging into this and see if I can find any clues. If there’s anything unusual, I’ll let you know.”

“Agastya,” I interrupted before he could hang up, “please, be careful. Something about this whole thing feels off, and I don’t like it.”

“I know, Dad. I’ll take every precaution,” he assured me. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Stay safe too, Dad. I’ll be in touch,” and with that, he ended the call.

I put down the phone, my mind still reeling. Whatever was happening, it was more than just a coincidence.

A few days later, Agastya texted me, urging me to come to the Shiva temple immediately. The temple had become our base, a quiet sanctuary away from prying eyes. When I arrived, Agastya’s friend and assistant, Sagar, was waiting at the temple entrance.

“What’s going on, Sagar?” I asked, sensing the tension in the air.

“We discovered who leaked our plan,” he replied, his expression grim.

“Who?” I asked, my voice lowered.

“Not here, Uncle,” he said, motioning for me to follow him. We walked in silence to a small, abandoned house behind the temple. The house looked decrepit, with faded, crumbling walls cloaked in vines. Sagar opened the door, and I stepped inside, with him trailing behind.

In the dimly lit room, I saw Agastya standing in the center, his back turned to me, shoulders tense. I walked over and stood beside him, only to find Akhil tied to a chair in front of us. His face was battered—pale, with fresh bruises, a broken nose, and a thin line of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looked frail, as though his strength was nearly gone.