The city woke to screams.
Not the everyday chaos of vendors shouting prices or rickshaws honking through traffic - this was sharp, raw, and edged with horror.
In the middle of the main street, just where the temple road split, a man's lifeless body hung skewered on a sharpened iron pole. His face was pale in the dawn light, but everyone in the crowd recognized him.
Raghunath Patil.
Wealthy businessman.
And one of the most feared names whispered in the city's underbelly.
A wooden board swung from the pole, the letters painted in thick, crimson strokes:
"For every innocent girl whose life you destroyed... this is your sentence."
Beneath it, in smaller letters:
"Tomorrow, there might be one of you."
A WARNING
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Mothers pulled their daughters closer. Men exchanged wary glances, calculating their own sins.
The police pushed through, faces grim. There was no sign of who had done it - no footprints, no weapons, not even the usual stray dogs daring to come near.
Not that this was the first time.
Till now around fifteen bodies have been found, at least that's what are recorded.
Same method of punishment , first torture then hanged on a poll, or you can say shoved on it.
But in the shadowed corner of a rooftop overlooking the street, a girl of no more than fifteen watched the scene unfold. Barefoot. Eyes too calm for someone her age.
Saanvi.
She turned away before the police could look up, her shawl fluttering in the early breeze. Her work here was done.
Tonight... there would be another name on her list.
_________________________________
Day by day, the count began to rise.
It didn't matter if they were rich or poor. Politicians in starched white kurtas, businessmen in expensive suits, or men who blended into the crowd - even the most ordinary-looking neighbor.
But one thing was always the same.
They were all rapists.
Each morning, the city awoke to another body displayed in a way that screamed punishment. Sometimes on a street corner, sometimes hanging from the gates of their own homes, sometimes right in the marketplace.
And always, a wooden board with the same message:
"For every innocent girl whose life you destroyed... this is your sentence."
The words echoed like a death knell, final and unforgiving, as if the universe itself had delivered the verdict.
The news channels exploded with coverage. Headlines flashed on every screen -
"Justice or Murder? City Divided Over Mysterious Killings"
"Yet Another Body Found. Is the Killer a Vigilante?"
"Families of Victims Break Down in Tears as Their Daughters' Cases See Closure"
Some were furious, calling it lawlessness.
But for those who had been silenced for years, this was justice finally served.
Every woman, from schoolgirls to grandmothers, began walking the streets with just a little less fear in their eyes.
The strangest part?
There was never a single piece of evidence.
Not a footprint. Not a witness.
No CCTV captured a shadow, no neighbor heard a sound.
One day, there would be nothing.
The next morning - the body would be there.
Like the air itself had turned into a weapon.
__________________________________
Every night, the city slept uneasily.
Men with dirty secrets stayed indoors, locking their doors twice over. Fear had a new name - the faceless hand of justice.
On the edge of an abandoned factory, under the pale glow of the moon, a man staggered out of a car. His gold chain glinted as he stumbled, drunk on both liquor and power. He laughed to himself, not knowing he was being watched.
From the shadows, a soft whisper carried on the wind.
Not a sound anyone could hear - except him.
"Your sins have been weighed... and you have been found guilty."
He spun around, but there was no one. Only the sharp scent of lotus flowers filled the air, unnatural for the cold night.
Then, without warning, the ground beneath his feet cracked. Vines as dark as midnight shot out, wrapping around him like the judgment of the gods. His scream tore through the empty lot - and then, silence.
The next morning, the city woke to another scene.
The man's body stood skewered on a metal rod outside his own mansion gates, a wooden board hanging from his neck.
"This is the punishment for destroying the life of a sixteen-year-old girl."
Somewhere miles away, a young girl in a simple salwar kameez walked barefoot along a dusty path, her anklets barely making a sound. Her eyes were calm, but in their depths swirled storms that no human could understand.
Her name was Saanvi.
Born of the divine, carrying the wrath of Lord Vishnu and the grace of Mata Lakshmi.
And she had only just begun.
___________________________________
Ranawat Mansion - 9:00 AM
The aroma of fresh parathas and simmering chai filled the dining hall, carrying warmth into every corner. Morning sunlight spilled through tall windows, lighting up the polished wood of the long table.
Rajveer Ranawat stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, flipping parathas the way Mira used to - until illness kept her to her bed. Every morning, without fail, he cooked so his sons never missed the taste of their mother's food.
The brothers came in one by one.
Arjun, sharp in a pressed shirt, coffee steaming in his mug. Checking daily news on his tab.
Aditya, still smelling faintly of antiseptic after a long hospital shift, exhaustion showing his sharp eyes.
Kabir, eyes glued to business updates on his phone.
Dev, balancing his laptop on one hand, fingers flying across the keyboard.
Aryan, youngest, half asleep and hair sticking out in every direction.
Before sitting, each had already visited their mother's room - a quiet ritual that started the day.
They ate in comfortable silence until Arjun set his tab down.
"The city's in chaos again," he said evenly.
"Another one last night. Same way - shoved on a pole in the middle of the street. No CCTV, no witnesses. Just... there."
Kabir smirked faintly. "Half the internet's furious, half's calling it justice."
Aditya shook his head. "Justice doesn't work like this. This is... something else entirely."
Arjun said "Our shareholder, Raghunath Patil, was found the same way. You know how untouchable he was supposed to be?" He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Guess not."
Rajveer placed a fresh plate of parathas on the table and took his seat.
Aryan was halfway through telling Dev something in a low tone when Raghav sat down and looked at them sharply.
"What are you two whispering about?" he asked, picking up his cup of chai.
Aryan leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Just talking about the news. Another... incident last night. Middle of the street this time."
Rajveer, the eldest, set down his spoon, his tone calm but edged. "The city's losing its mind. It's not just here - this morning's international reports even mentioned it."
Aditya, looked up from his plate. "Speaking of important matters... a specialist from Switzerland is arriving today to check on Maa. One of the best neurologists in the field. I'll be at the hospital to receive him."
Rajveer's stern expression softened at that, a rare warmth passing over his face. "Good. She deserves the best care. Make sure she's comfortable."
"Ji Baba Sa " Aditya said softly.
One by one, the brothers fell into quiet chewing, the clink of cutlery and the aroma of hot food creating a fragile bubble - one that felt safe, for now.
Write a comment ...