A Glimpse of Red

25

Nitya was perplexed as the bike sped deeper into the desert. The golden sands stretched endlessly, shifting like waves under the relentless sun. She couldn't help but wonder where Pratham was taking her. The vastness felt eternal, an unbroken expanse that seemed to defy time itself.

Her thoughts wandered to her own estate, where she had fought tirelessly to turn barren deserts into lush greenlands. For her, greenery symbolized growth and life, a stark contrast to the arid emptiness surrounding them now. Yet, as she took in the beauty of the endless dunes, she felt a surprising calm settle in her heart. The desert, though harsh, held its own mesmerizing allure—a quiet, ancient beauty unique to Rajasthan.

Suddenly, something caught her eye in the distance. At first, it seemed like another trick of the shimmering heat, but as they drew closer, the silhouette became clearer. A structure emerged from the sands, blending so seamlessly with its surroundings that it was nearly invisible from afar—a sandcastle.

The intricate, weathered design seemed to rise naturally from the desert, as if the land itself had crafted it. Nitya's gaze locked onto the castle, her curiosity piqued. He could feel her stare lingering on him, silently questioning him, but he remained focused on the road ahead, offering no explanation.

Instead, he let the mystery hang between them, the hum of the bike and the desert winds their only companions as they approached the enigmatic structure.

Pratham brought the bike to a halt in front of a small, unassuming gate. A man emerged from the shadows, his posture alert. Pratham gave him a silent nod, and without hesitation, the man opened the gate.

Nitya's breath caught as she stepped inside. Before her was a world entirely removed from reality—a sprawling white complex, pristine yet eerily sterile. It was mesmerizing, but there was something unsettling hidden behind those walls, something that stirred her curiosity and unease in equal measure.

She glanced at Pratham, seeking answers, but his expression remained unreadable. "Follow me," he said curtly, his voice echoing in the stillness.

They moved through dimly lit corridors, the air thick with a sense of foreboding. Shadows clung to the walls, and Nitya's sharp eyes caught glimpses of what lay within. Behind barred cells, figures were bound in chains, their faces etched with despair. The faint clinking of metal and muffled pleas for release filled the air.

This was no ordinary prison; it was a place where hope had been extinguished. Nitya could see the fear in their eyes—fear that death would not come to save them from their torment.

Despite the grimness, Nitya found herself intrigued. This was the dark underbelly of Pratham's world, the side he rarely showed. But instead of recoiling, she felt a strange resonance. She, too, harbored a shadowy side, one she rarely revealed but understood deeply.

Their footsteps finally stopped in front of a heavy iron door. Without a word, Pratham raised his leg and kicked it open with practiced ease. The door swung wide, revealing a cell that held something—or someone—that marked the culmination of their journey.

Nitya's heart quickened. Whatever lay ahead, she was ready to see the depths of Pratham's world, no matter how dark it might be.

Pratham stepped back, his presence looming in the doorway, and allowed Nitya to enter first. She hesitated, her senses prickling as she walked into the dimly lit room. The air was thick with tension, and there, in the corner, an old man sat, trembling, his hands shaking with the weight of regret—or perhaps fear. His frail form quivered like a leaf in the wind, his eyes hollow, searching for something, or someone, to end his suffering.