Shattered Reflections : Unmasking the shadows of Lucknow

Chapter 10

On the morning following the funeral, the city was cloaked in darkness. Rain poured relentlessly, casting a somber atmosphere upon the streets. The once vibrant morning sun remained hidden behind brooding clouds, mirroring the veiled truth that lay concealed amidst a web of deceit. The downpour intensified, its rhythmic patter serving as a jarring wake-up call, while the absence of thunder and lightning brought a sense of eerie calm.

A car came to a halt outside Vihaan's residence, bearing the unmistakable mark of Karan. Shielded by an umbrella, Amrita stepped out of the vehicle and made her way to the front porch. She had come to Vihaan’s house, seeking something he had mentioned. Karan and Vihaan had been engrossed in their investigation at the safe house, meticulously examining the evidence once more. Amrita had ventured here to retrieve certain documents that Vihaan may have inadvertently left behind in his room. With the keys in her possession, she entered the house, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. Searching the living room yielded no results, leaving her no choice but to ascend the stairs in search of the elusive documents. She turned the doorknob and cautiously stepped into the bedroom, unaware of the enigmatic revelations that awaited her.

Entering the bedroom, Amrita’s gaze fixated on the drawer, hoping to find the misplaced documents. Opening it, she discovered the much-needed papers and closed the drawer with a sense of relief. However, her attention was soon captivated by a photograph nestled amidst Vihaan’s belongings. A jolt of shock coursed through her as she beheld the image—it portrayed a younger Vihaan, standing alongside Harish, his childhood friend. The sight seemed surreal, as if plucked from the realm of dreams.

Trembling hands clutching the photograph, Amrita’s emotions surged, overwhelming her. The picture slipped from her grasp, shattering the glass frame upon impact. The fragments mirrored the shattered illusion she had held, dawning on her that this was not a mere dream but a poignant reality. Tears welled in her eyes, flowing freely as if mourning a connection to the individuals captured in the photograph—a connection she had been oblivious to until now.

Gathering her composure, Amrita swiftly dialed Vihaan’s number, her voice choked with emotion as she requested him to meet her at the hospital, desperate to unravel the mysteries that lay before them.


“Can you meet me at the hospital?” Amrita’s voice trembled with urgency as she spoke over the phone.
Vihaan, perplexed, inquired, “Sure, but why? What’s the matter?”
“Just come,” Amrita pleaded, her tone filled with concern. “It’s urgent. Bring Karan along.”

After hanging up the call, Amrita embarked on a journey through the relentless downpour, clutching both the important documents and the shattered image. Her car sliced through the rain-soaked streets as she hastened towards the hospital.
Arriving at Harish’s room, Amrita settled beside him, her tears flowing freely. When Vihaan and Karan entered the room, they were taken aback to find Amrita standing against the wall, consumed by grief. Vihaan approached her, a worried expression etched upon his face, and asked, “What happened? Why are you crying? You called us here urgently.”
Handing Vihaan the photograph she had discovered at his house, Amrita’s eyes sought answers. Confusion etched across his face, Vihaan questioned her about the reason behind her tears and the urgent summons.

“Why are you showing me this?” he asked, studying the image intently.
With a tremor in her voice, Amrita posed a question of her own, her heart pounding in her chest. “Who’s he?”

Vihaan’s eyes widened with realization as he comprehended the connection. “It’s me, as a child, with Harish,” he murmured. His gaze shifted towards the bed, where Harish lay. “The same person lying there,” he added.
Her voice filled with emotion, Amrita replied, “He’s my father.”

As Vihaan heard this words, he was awestruck. And he literally questioned his own life. He knew that Harish had no family and he’s been living with the Veer Singh family since before his birth.
He had been always told by everyone, and by Harish himself that he had no family.

Vihaan expressed, “However, he didn’t have any family.”
In response, she stated firmly, “He was dishonest.”
Curious, Vihaan asked, “What makes you so sure?”
She took out an old photograph from her pocket.
Pointing to the picture, she revealed, “This is an image of my parents. The woman is my mother.”
As Vihaan examined the picture closely, he was taken aback. It depicted a young Harish with his wife, possibly taken during their early days of marriage—a glimpse of the newlywed couple. Vihaan scrutinized the photograph intently.

She continued, “Just a few years after their marriage, my mother ran away with her lover, even though she was carrying my father’s child.”
“When I discovered the truth in college, that Harish was my father, I left that household and started living independently.”
“He knew he had a daughter, yet he never returned—not even for me. Instead, he chose to stay with you. I never experienced a father’s love, despite knowing that my father was alive. I made extensive efforts to find him, but only now have I found him, under these difficult circumstances.”

“I always thought of Harish as a good man, but it turns out he is an absent father.”
Vihaan remarked, “So, Harish did have a family after all.”
He added, “He kept it hidden from me as well.”
Amrita expressed, “Now, I’ve completely lost respect for Harish. It doesn’t matter how much he cared for you. He did nothing for me, not even a single letter.”

Suddenly, a deep and weary voice spoke, “I was bound by circumstances, Amrita.”
Harish had been listening to their revealing conversation for a long time. It seemed he had regained consciousness. Karan went to call the doctor.
Harish continued, “You were born the day after Aaditya and Avani’s death. Leaving Vihaan in that condition wasn’t good for him. I always knew I had a daughter. I wanted to tell everyone now, but I knew it would hurt many people. So, I simply fulfilled my duties towards my boss and remained silent. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, my dear?”

Amrita, filled with anger, didn’t respond and left the room. Harish was in tears. It was a difficult time for him. He said, “I’m sorry.”
Struggling to get up from the bed, he experienced some pain. Although he had almost recovered, there was still some fatigue lingering.
Vihaan assured, “Don’t worry, Harish. Everything will be alright.”
Soon, the doctor arrived to check on Harish.


Vihaan went outside to console Amrita, who was in tears. Approaching her gently, he said, “Amrita, it’s alright. You have him now. Just forgive him.”
Amrita replied, “I just need some time.”
At that moment, the doctor emerged and asked, “Is there an Amrita here?”
Amrita stepped forward, and the doctor informed her, “He wants to meet you.”
Amrita glanced at Vihaan, who encouraged her to go inside. With a mix of emotions, Amrita entered the room where Harish lay on the bed. She took a seat beside him.

Harish spoke, “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
She held his hand and replied, “It’s okay. Vihaan needed you more than I did.”
Amrita then shared, “I found out the truth about a decade ago, while I was in college. I left the house and admitted myself to an orphanage.”
Harish reassured her, saying, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to live in an orphanage anymore. I’m here.”
“Hmm,” she responded, acknowledging his words.

As Amrita prepared to leave, Harish mustered the courage to ask, “Can you call me ‘dad’ once?”
Overwhelmed with emotions, she tightly hugged Harish and said, “I forgive you, Dad.”
She added, “Get well soon. I’m right here.”
“The doctor mentioned that you may be discharged soon,” she informed him.

In the meantime, Karan received a call from his team or juniors, informing him about complaints from residents near Charbagh regarding a particular house. The residents reported a foul odor emanating from the house, and they were afraid to open it.

Vihaan asked, “They called you about this?”
Karan replied, “Yes, it’s quite a serious matter.”

He showed Vihaan a picture he had received. The image was taken from a narrow opening of a window, revealing a peculiar question mark. Karan found it suspicious.
Vihaan remarked, “Question marks are meant to be answered.”
Karan agreed, saying, “Indeed, let’s go.”

Vihaan and Karan embarked on a short journey to Charbagh in their car, covering a distance of approximately two miles. Upon reaching the location, they encountered a crowd murmuring anxiously around the house, with masks and handkerchiefs covering their faces. Both Vihaan and Karan were greeted by an unpleasant smell. The house was securely locked from the outside. The local police had already called a locksmith to create a key for them. Karan was handed the key and he used it to unlock and open the door. The sight that unfolded before them was horrifying. They discovered a room filled with lifeless bodies hanging from the ceiling, emitting the foul odor they had detected earlier. The count of the dead bodies was around 59, and some of them were missing body parts. The team thoroughly Investigated the entire house, revealing more gruesome details. Blood was dripping from the refrigerator, and they discovered body parts stored inside. They carefully removed the body parts, packaging them in a bag for proper disposal through burial or incineration. Their attention then turned towards the wall, where they found a chilling message written in reddish color: “Who’s Next?” This was the enigmatic question mark they had seen in the photograph.

Summoning Vihaan and Karan, the team directed them to a cupboard, indicating that they may have found something of significance. Vihaan approached the cupboard and discovered a file containing the history of all the members of the Lucknow council, along with their personal information and documented crimes. The file contained reports on approximately 70 individuals. Vihaan perused a few names and their respective deeds. Surprisingly, the file wasn’t as dusty as one would expect from an old document, leading them to suspect that it had been placed there recently, likely at the time of the massacre.

Vihaan somberly stated to Karan, “We failed to save them.”

A few days ago, a meeting was convened at Chadda’s house in Charbagh. Nearly all the members of the Lucknow council, a total of 59 individuals, were present. Engrossed in their own conversations and affairs, some discussed politics while others chatted about the weddings of their children. It was evening, and heavy rainfall persisted outside. The monsoon season in Lucknow had brought daily drizzles. Liquor had been ordered for the meeting as well. Unexpectedly, smoke filled the room, causing everyone to become disoriented in the haze. As the smoke dissipated, they laid eyes on a peculiar man holding a pointed hammer. He skillfully juggled the weapon while wearing a strange mask.

One of the council members asked with uncertainty, “Who are you?”
The enigmatic figure replied, “Your death.”

The council member retorted, “Are you out of your mind, you drunkard? Go and sleep in your own home.”

The sinister intruder, known as “The Sir,” advanced towards him, intending to attack, and fatally struck him on the head. Silence fell upon the room. Conversations ceased abruptly as fear gripped the hearts of those present. Attempting to flee, a few individuals found all the windows and doors securely closed. They had no means of escape from their impending doom. Some gathered the courage to confront the assailant, but each one met a brutal demise. After their deaths, he hung their lifeless bodies from the ceiling, meticulously reciting each victim’s name, seemingly reminding them of their crimes. The assailant was aware that every person in the Lucknow council was corrupt, devoid of moral integrity. They had embezzled funds from the common people and committed numerous crimes. While they all deserved death, the task of delivering it was one reserved for a higher power. Perhaps, in his own twisted perception, he considered himself the embodiment of a vengeful deity.
Vihaan’s mind raced as he recalled the words he had seen in the hospital that day. It seemed that all the members of the Lucknow council were being systematically targeted and murdered by the killer known as The Sir.

During the investigation, the team stumbled upon a collection of books, including a prominent novel that caught their attention. Among them was a Satanic Bible, containing verses that espoused dark ideologies. Vihaan discovered a bookmark within its pages and turned to the marked passage.
The quote read, “Blessed are the destroyers of false hope, for they are the true Messiahs – Cursed are the god-adorers, for they shall be shorn sheep!”

This verse promoted evil while denouncing good. It suggested that those who bring false hope, ultimately leading to destruction, are considered blessed. On the other hand, those who devoutly worship God are cursed, referred to as “shorn sheep.” The sentiment expressed here starkly contradicted the reality of the world, making it aptly labeled as a Satanic Verse.

Another verse caught Vihaan’s attention:

“Why should I not hate mine enemies―if I ‘love’ them does that not place me at their mercy?”
This line resonated deeply, questioning the concept of love for one’s enemies. It raised doubts about whether showing love instead of hatred merely made one vulnerable and subject to their enemies’ whims.
The discovery of these verses intensified the enigmatic nature of the ongoing murders and the identity of The Sir, leaving Vihaan and the team with more questions than answers. Vihaan’s heart raced as he heard whispers behind him. He cautiously turned around, only to find a room full of people fixated on him, their gaze heavy with suspicion. Karan was nowhere to be seen, likely attending to some other task. Their absence only added to the unsettling atmosphere.

Sensing the tension, Vihaan mustered the courage to speak. “What’s going on? Is everything alright here?” he inquired, his voice echoing in the eerie silence. But his questions fell on deaf ears, met only with an unsettling silence that seemed to hang in the air.

Growing more uneasy, Vihaan pressed further, desperation creeping into his tone. “What is happening here?” The room remained shrouded in an uncomfortable hush, each passing moment amplifying his sense of dread. Suddenly, a chilling realization dawned upon Vihaan as he glanced around the room. Every single person in that space had drawn their guns, aiming them directly at him. Their eyes bore into his soul, accusing him as if he were a criminal. Confusion and fear consumed him as he looked upon the lifeless bodies hanging from the ceiling, a haunting sight that included his parents, his dear Damien uncle, Rachel, and the entire Addams family. Amrita stood among them, a figure of both sorrow and accusation.

In the midst of the tense silence, Vihaan’s father’s voice pierced through the air, laden with disappointment. “You failed to save us, Robin,” he uttered, the weight of his words crushing Vihaan’s spirit. The room pulsated with malevolence as the people around him reloaded their guns, the cold metallic clicks sending shivers down his spine. Time seemed to stretch agonizingly as their fingers tightened around the triggers, ready to unleash a torrent of bullets. Vihaan braced himself for the inevitable, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, the deafening sound of a gunshot reverberated through the room. Vihaan’s body jolted as he woke up abruptly, drenched in a cold sweat. Panting heavily, he struggled to comprehend the stark contrast between the nightmare and the safety of his own bed. He reached for the glass of water on his nightstand, the tremble in his hand betraying the lingering trauma of the haunting vision.

As he glanced at the clock, its ticking filling the room, Vihaan realized it was only 10 o’clock, but the darkness that clung to his mind made it feel like an eternity. The lingering remnants of his nightmare seeped into his waking reality, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty that would take time to fade away.