The Trial

16th Feb., 2002 -

The city lay still, blanketed in an eerie quiet, devoid of its usual bustling traffic, all due to the actions of one man. On television screens across the metropolis, the frenzied coverage of Harsh’s pursuit held the attention of viewers. Live footage, played without interruption, showed a helicopter hovering ominously above Harsh, who stood stranded on the desolate highway. However, as soon as he began to run, an uncanny glitch corrupted the footage, casting Harsh’s eyes in an otherworldly, surreal blue.

In the display window of an electronics store, the news continued its relentless broadcast even after Harsh’s capture. They claimed that a man, follower of Nihilism, bore the name Harsh Vishal, although he had no surname of his own. The channel displayed his work photo and proclaimed, “This man is responsible for the destruction of Night of Love.”

Within the confines of a jail cell, Sam couldn’t help but voice his skepticism. “Couldn’t they find an older picture of him? And what’s with their obsession with his religion?” His piercing gaze swept across the other prisoners, instilling a deep sense of fear and haunting in their hearts. They had been forcibly restrained, their bodies bearing fresh injuries. “And it’s you bastards, huh. Let me make this perfectly clear to all of you,” Sam warned, settling down with a fierce glare, “Don’t even think about my sister, or you’ll wish for a fate worse than death.” The prisoners vividly recalled their past ill-fated attempts to court Sam’s sister, actions that had led to their shared imprisonment in this cell. Now, Sam was back among them.

Outside the cell, the guard wondered why the normally raucous prisoners had fallen into such an uneasy silence since the arrival of their new inmate.

Near a sea inlet close to Mumbai, within a vast conference room, elite cops and high-ranking officers convened to discuss a range of topics, from the trivial to the crucial:

Ø “What did your sister-in-law prepare for dinner yesterday?”

Ø “Crime rates are on the rise – any idea why?”

Ø “You’ve put on weight; time to consider a diet.”

Ø “Didn’t your daughter express an interest in joining the corporate world?”

Ø “Oh, I talked her out of it; she’s no longer interested.”

Ø “Hear that Marine Line has been closed since morning?”

Ø “Yes, I heard. They say it’s related to the hunt for a suspect. Let’s check the news.”

Amid this assortment of conversations, Kajal’s father received an urgent call. He answered it swiftly, replying with a terse, “On my way,” before leaving the meeting in progress.

Four vehicles arrived at the Marine Main Police Station, including three black cars and one large grey sedan. A police officer emerged from the car positioned behind the grey sedan and opened its door, revealing a high-ranking IAS officer – Kajal’s father, Arjun Agarwal. Crowds gathered around him, affectionately referring to him as “Sharp-shooter Arjuna.” Someone handed him three pairs of dark sunglasses, which he nonchalantly hung from his shirt.

At the foot of the station’s entrance, Kajal and Heran stood, their gazes fixed upon Kajal’s father, though her expression was far from pleased. Heran tried to console her, saying, “Help has arrived, Kajal.” Frustration etched across Kajal’s face as she retorted, “This isn’t the help I called for. I called him three times, and he didn’t respond until now.” Arjun Agarwal looked up at his daughter, who was blocking his path. “I called you repeatedly; why didn’t you answer?” Kajal demanded. Arjun explained that he had been tied up in an important meeting. Kajal’s voice rising, she retorted, “Then where the hell are they?”

Back in the moment when Kajal attempted to contact her father but received no response, she found herself seeking an unconventional solution. Her fingers danced across her phone, and she stumbled upon a contact – a local character with a certain notoriety, known for harboring a secret crush on her and leading a ragtag gang.

Summoning her courage, Kajal dialed the number and stated, “Listen, if you ever wanted that date, now’s the time. Meet me at the police station, and help me set my guy free.”

The man on the other end hesitated, his voice wavering, “So, you want to break someone out of custody? That’s outlaw, you know. Perhaps I could consider it if you became my girlfriend.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Kajal, “You’re unbelievable. Fine, I’ll entertain the thought if you can pull this off.”

“Alright, babe, I’m on my way,” he said, sealing the deal with a virtual kiss over the phone. He rallied his gang members and sped towards the rendezvous.

As the group of misfits roared down the streets, their boisterous shouts filled the air. Unbeknownst to them, Officer Arjuna was driving over the same route. Catching sight of the unruly procession, he discreetly signaled for backup. Within moments, two white police jeeps arrived, effectively blocking the gang’s escape routes. The police officers emerged with batons in hand, swiftly subduing each member of the unruly gang and securing them inside the vehicles.

Back at the police station, Arjuna inquired, “Is Sam in there?” Kajal, her heart pounding with anticipation, replied, “Yes, they’ve got him hostage.” Arjuna swiftly gave orders to two of his subordinates, who promptly headed inside.

Soon after, the white police jeeps pulled up at the scene, and the bruised and battered gang members were led out, their hands bound. The police officers directed them towards the path to the jail, their authoritative voices ringing in their ears. In a moment of frustration and disbelief, Kajal couldn’t help but shout, “You fools! Did you come to help or get yourselves arrested? How can you save him from inside a jail?”

Kajal’s father chimed in with equal disbelief, “Help from these ruffians?”

Heran added incredulously, “You actually sought help from those people?”

Meanwhile, Sam, who had managed to secure his release, emerged from the station, The cops wears him his coat and hands over the glasses. As he adjusted his glasses, he innocently inquired, “What help? What are you all talking about?”

Kajal changing the subject, laughs and responded softly, “Oh, nothing important, we were just talking about you and Harsh.”

Sam, seemingly unfazed, inquired further, “Oh, where’s Harsh? Isn’t he here?”

Their gazes locked, a moment of silent understanding passing between Sam and his father as they shared a mischievous smirk. Sam then asked, “Didn’t you guys help me?”

Kajal whispered, “My help, well, let’s just say it didn’t quite work out.”

“What?” Sam’s confusion grew.

“Oh, that was... it was all our father’s doing,” Kajal said, gesturing toward her father.

Sam cast a concerned glance at Heran, who clung tightly to Kajal's shoulder, her apprehension palpable. He empathetically sensed the ache within her heart, exchanging a knowing look with her.

With a sly grin, Sam then turned his attention to his father and quipped, "Hey, ‘Sir Cabinet,’ it seems I might need your assistance once more.”

From inside the police station, Arjun’s subordinate officer emerged, his appearance a testament to the chaos that had unfolded, as he stammered, “They won’t let him out!” His voice trembled with fear and anxiety.

Throwing his cigarette away, he tapped Sam on the shoulder and said, “it’s the kid from last night, right?”

Over the phone during the meeting, Arjun received the disconcerting news that his son was locked up in jail from one of his colleague. He hastily ended the call, letting out a deep sigh as he flicked a cigarette into the ashtray. On the television screen, reporters were relentlessly broadcasting Harsh’s arrest. Arjun's memory flashed back to Harsh from the previous night.

"Sam always has a way of getting involved in police matters," Arjun muttered under his breath, his words laced with a faint giggle and a touch of frustration.

Inside the Investigation compound room, chaos reigned supreme. The place looked like a disaster zone, with scattered documents and overturned chairs. In the center of this disarray sat Harsh, battered and bloodied, tied securely to a chair. Remarkably, he remained conscious despite the ordeal he’d endured.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the room, Sanjeev commented, “Finally, one of those sleeping injections did its job.” Sneha chimed in, “But he’s not fully sedated yet.” A concerned nurse added, “We’ve used multiple knockout drugs to get him to this state; another dose could risk his life.” The notion of administering more sedation held significant risks.

Sneha, her voice tinged with urgency, countered, “But we can’t take the chance of him waking up during transportation.” Sanjeev nodded in solemn agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation.

At the Marine Police Station, Arjun’s impatience boiled over as he demanded, “Where is Harsh?” A nervous cop stammered, “They’re leaving from the other side; I don’t have more information, please, just go.” Arjun stormed away, but his path was blocked by Sanjeev, who defiantly stood in front of him.

“Kid, are you new here? Move aside,” Arjun demanded. Sanjeev, with a hint of mockery, replied, “Oh, I’m the rookie, and I’m clueless about this place, but here’s something I do know: you won’t cross this line.” Sanjeev stood his ground, joined by a group of retired ex-officers, forming an unyielding barrier.

One of Arjun’s subordinates whispered, “Sir Arjun, those are the retired ex-officers.” Another added, “Why are they helping him?” Confusion etched across Arjun’s face as he cast an inquisitive gaze upon Jafri.

Then, out of the blue, Sam strolled up beside Arjun, tapping his back with assurance. “Don’t worry, old man, I’ll handle them,” Sam declared. Arjun and Jafri exchanged smirks. Sanjeev stepped forward, taunting Sam, “You think you can take us all on? Stop joking. If you can hold your own against me for even a moment, that’ll be an achievement, underling.”

“Underling? Face it, I won’t waste my time on a small fry like you. My challenge is for you, Sir Jafri,” Sam retorted. Sanjeev’s anger flared, and Arjun cautioned, “Easy there, kid.” Ignoring the warning, Sanjeev vowed, “Forget about Sir Jafri, I’m your opponent, and I’ll take you down right here, right now.” He then threw a punch, initiating a showdown. Jafri chuckled, “New blood always runs hot.”

As the stage was set for the confrontation, inside the mobile, Harsh began to stir. He gazed at the people transporting him, struggling against his restraints but unable to break free. Desperation welled up in him, and he tried to scream, but his mouth was tightly shut. The effects of the drugs were wearing off, and a throbbing headache crept in. Harsh attempted to create a commotion to halt his captors, but their preparations for his transfer were already in full swing.

Meanwhile, the battle between Sanjeev and Samir commenced. Sanjeev threw a punch, but Sam skillfully blocked it, his arm acting as a shield. Sanjeev didn’t back down and followed up with a swift kick. Sam deftly evaded it while maintaining his grip on Sanjeev’s arm, twisting it with precision. Sanjeev lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.

“Oh, it seems you were just a minor challenge after all,” Sam remarked. Sanjeev, fueled by anger, bellowed, “You...,” and rose to his feet. Sanjeev unleashed a flurry of punches, attempting to penetrate Sam’s defensive guard. He then launched a series of kicks, trying to disrupt Sam’s boxing stance. However, Sam proved to be too skilled, effortlessly dodging and parrying each attack.

Sanjeev saw an opportunity when Sam jumped, attempting an elbow strike. With quick reflexes, Sam avoided the blow, shifting to the side. Sanjeev, seizing the moment, executed a sweeping kick, forcing Sam to leap into the air. As Sam landed, Sanjeev delivered a powerful punch to his abdomen. Sam staggered, clearly affected by the blow. Sanjeev seized the chance and aimed a kick at his head.

Sam got hit but before it got more dangerous, he rolled out of the way, blood trickling from his face. Sam attempted to take his stance, grappling with the sharp pang of pain, but his perseverance carried him to his feet. Sanjeev, his voice tinged with curiosity, remarked, “Interesting, considering my last hit, you shouldn’t even be standing.” Sam looked at Sanjeev, who was now charging at him with determination. Sam managed to dodge just in time to avoid his attack. Sanjeev, frustrated, called out, “Stop running and fight like a man.”

Sanjeev, consumed by fury, attempted to end the confrontation with a flurry of aggressive strikes. However, Sam’s agility allowed him to deftly evade Sanjeev’s assault, seizing hold of Sanjeev’s outstretched arm.

One of the Ex officers spoke up, saying, "Sir, perhaps we should intervene and assist Sanjeev." Jafri responded firmly, "We shouldn't interfere in a fight that they initiated."

“One should try to avoid unnecessary hits rather than blowing a fist,” Sam advised as he gracefully twisted Sanjeev’s arm. Sanjeev screeches as Sam continued, “An open target is an easy prey.” With a surge of explosive strength, Sam delivered a powerful punch to Sanjeev’s abdomen, sending him hurtling through the air. Sanjeev falls and coughs blood.

Sam, struggling due to the earlier injury, replied, “Interesting, considering my last attack. You shouldn’t even be breathing right now.” Sanjeev, his anger palpable, could only cough up blood, his body bearing the brunt of Sam’s devastating blows.

Sam, with a sly grin, remarked, “Sir, now it’s your turn.”

Jafri found himself momentarily stunned by the gentle caress of the breeze that brushed past him.

Arjuna leaned in, his voice carrying a weight of wisdom, “Kido, remember what I told you, ‘don’t indulge yourself in fruitless fighting.’ You’ve already emerged victorious; now it’s their turn to concede.”

Sanjeev stood there, coughing up blood, and whispered defiantly, “It’s not over yet. I can still fight.”

Jafri, his face a mask of admiration, commended, “You’ve done well, Sanjeev.” In a gesture of profound respect, Jafri and the other former officers stepped aside, making way for Arjun and Sam to continue their encounter.

As Sam, Arjun, and their loyal comrades strolled away, Jafri couldn’t help but tease, “But can you reach them in time?”

Arjun’s smirk revealed a hidden confidence as he calmly walked over to a nearby bench. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. “You see,” he replied, “I don’t need to rush anywhere.”

Jafri and the others stared at Arjun in disbelief. Arjun chuckled, saying, “You see, I don’t have my ride here right now.”

Meanwhile, on the road encircling the police headquarters, two cars sped recklessly. Kajal and Heran were at the wheels, engaged in a thrilling chase.

Kajal couldn’t contain her excitement. “This is funny, driving my father’s car. He never lets me touch it, calling it a government treasure. I think I can make up for my previous losses with this.”

Heran, focused and determined, cautioned, “It won’t be easy.”

Heran’s car roared like a beast, emitting a fiery growl, while Kajal’s vehicle, a classic masterpiece, glided gracefully at high speed, its elegance matched only by its agility. Both cars accelerated, disappearing into the distance.

Behind the police headquarters, Harsh prepared himself, and three cars were primed, complicating Kajal and Heran’s mission. The pair arrived, observing three black cars heading in different directions.

Kajal pondered, “Which one could it be? Any guesses?”

Heran responded, “Do you have any idea where they might be heading?”

Kajal shrugged, admitting, “No, I decided to forgo the Google search.”

“In that case,” Heran proposed, “let’s intercept the one heading our way first.”

Kajal had a unconventional plan. She lowered the car’s convertible top, exposing herself to the open air.

Heran questioned, “What are you planning? This might hinder your speed”

Kajal grinned, saying, “Indeed, but now I can do this.” She reached into the car’s compartment and retrieved a pistol.

Heran raised an eyebrow, asking, “Have you renewed your license?”

Kajal winked playfully. “You know I always find a way.” She aimed the gun at the black car’s tire and burst fires.

The rubber erupted into shreds, transforming the vehicle into a wildly careening metal beast. With the immediate threat of a head-on collision, Kajal and Heran, both skilled behind the wheel, orchestrated a rapid yet graceful maneuver, narrowly averting a cataclysmic encounter.

In a synchronized dance of danger, they veered to position their vehicle in front of the black car, relegating it to a rearview menace. The silenced black car, now loomed ahead ominously, from it a police officer emerged, brandishing his firearm with trembling hands and a bellowing voice, “Stand back, you rogues!”

Undaunted by the officer’s bravado, Kajal and Heran advanced, their accelerator pedals pressed with conviction. The officer, overtaken by a paralyzing fear, faltered and then fled, never releasing a single shot. The duo abruptly applied their brakes, sparing the immobilized black car from further harm and exiting their vehicle but the officer finds a strength and returned briefly, but Kajal sent a warning shot into the sky, sending him fleeing once again, her laughter echoing through the tension.

Heran inspected the black car, finding it empty. They quickly rushed back to their car, determined to catch the remaining vehicle. Kajal urged, “We’ve wasted enough time; let’s move,” accelerating forward.

Heran agreed, “You’ve got a speedy ride. Chase the car that went right.”

Kajal couldn’t resist teasing, “So, you admit my car is fast?”

“Turn now!” Heran shouted.

Kajal complied, glancing back, and Heran activated the Nitro, propelling her forward with breathtaking speed.

“That woman,” Kajal declared, her fury infusing her resolve, as she pushed her car to its limits, the wind whipping through her hair as she lowered the vehicle’s top, intensifying their relentless pursuit tailing the black car ahead.

After a while, both vehicles raced neck and neck, the black car maintaining a stubborn lead. Frustration grew within Kajal as she attempted to overtake, only to find the black car expertly blocking her every move. Tensions mounted as her car’s bumper grazed the black car’s rear.

“Sorry, dad,” Kajal muttered under her breath, her gaze locked onto her relentless pursuit.

In the midst of this high-speed chase, Kajal’s phone rang with an unknown caller. Despite the perilous situation, she answered the call, and a voice on the other end identified themselves as “Sir Arjun’s Group,” requesting her to stay online. Kajal, startled but curious, replied with a simple, “Oh, okay.”

Suddenly, the black car swerved, and Kajal instinctively turned her car in the opposite direction. Out of nowhere, two white cars appeared, aligning themselves with Kajal’s vehicle, their intentions unclear. One of the passengers in a white car asked urgently, “Is that the car?” Kajal, her voice trembling, responded, “Yes.

Without hesitation, the officers in the white cars sprang into action. One of the cars deployed a car grappler. Meanwhile, another white car pulled up alongside Kajal and informed her, “Ma’am, you’ll have to return this car. Please halt.”

Kajal, bewildered by the request, exclaimed, “Huh?”

The white car positioned behind the black car skillfully activated the grappler, ensnaring the black car’s tires and bringing it to a screeching halt. As the dust settled, armed officers emerged from the black car. The white car’s officer knocks away the black car’s officer’s weapon, apprehending him and conducts a quick search of the vehicle, but found it empty.

“Then it must be the third car,” Kajal deduced.

An officer approached Kajal and gently requested, “Ma’am, please return the keys.” Frustration etched across her face, she reluctantly handed over the keys, saying, “Why now? I could help you.”

“Ma’am, we can’t endanger your life any further. Please co-operate,” the officer explained before getting behind the wheel of Kajal’s father’s car and driving away, leaving Kajal behind. She couldn’t help but scream, “Hey, at least give me a ride!”

Heran’s pursuit mirrored Kajal’s, with her gray car tailing the elusive black vehicle. The tension escalated as the two cars closed in on each other. As the black car turned, Heran swiftly followed suit, staying hot on its tail. In a bold attempt to overtake, Heran was met with reinforcement in the form of two white cars and a silver one, instructing her to back off.

Heran complied, slowing her car and watching as the officers approached the black car. Suddenly, two more white cars arrived from front helping black car, colliding with the Arjun’s Group. The cars crashed, chaos erupted as officers and armed individuals engaged in a fiery confrontation.

Heran wasted no time and sped away, following the silver car while keeping a close eye on the black car ahead. She glanced back through her windshield to witness a battlefield unfolding, sound of firearms and death looming in the air.

Determined and resolute, Heran overtakes and signaled to the officer in the silver car, changing lanes parallel to current while continuing her pursuit. The silver car stayed hot on her heels as they raced toward an uncertain fate.

Heran pushed her car to its limit, the tires screeching and the engine threatening to overheat. At the next junction, she made a daring turn, colliding with the black car with a thunderous impact. The black car spun out of control, its tires screeching as it came to a halt.

Heran’s head throbbed, blood trickling from a wound, but her car’s safety systems saved her from the brink of disaster. From the wreckage emerged a wounded cop, clutching his gun and looking up in surrender. The officer kicked the weapon away, subdued him, and checked the black car, finding it empty.

This revelation left the officer stunned, a sense of dread washing over him, fearing the worst for his fellow officers. As he turned towards Heran, who had regained consciousness, she screamed, “Where are you?” The officer met her gaze with a heavy silence, the truth too painful to utter.

A while ago, in the tranquility of that moment, Sir Arjun sat upon a weathered bench. Suddenly, a helicopter descended upon the rooftop of the police headquarters. Its arrival pierced the stillness, drawing Arjun’s gaze upward in sheer surprise. With a swift rise, he propelled himself into action, and his subordinates, including his son Sam, trailed closely behind.

One of the former officers, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, approached Jafri. “Sir, Jafri, what should we do?” Jafri’s visage contorted with anger, and his voice rang out like a storm. “Wait. It’s time for a rematch, me versus you, Arjun.”

Arjun’s determined eyes met Sam’s, and he instructed, “Go up, now.” Sam responded with unwavering determination, hurrying to the front lines. Arjun extinguished his cigarette with a flick and bellowed, “You versus me, it’s time for a rematch!” With a practiced flourish, he drew his pistol, and the shot rang out just as the cigarette touched the ground. Jafri, however sidestepping the bullet with a smirk. “I know all your tricks, shooter.”

Arjun throws his gun, let out a primal scream and surged forward with the intent to punch, while Jafri mirrored his aggression with a battle cry of his own.

And thus, a fierce clash ensued between Sir Jafri and Sir Arjun, each combatant battered and bleeding, but resolved to settle their score once and for all.

Meanwhile, high above the police station, a helicopter landed with a sense of ominous purpose. Within, Harsh remained bound to a chair, a helpless captive. As they loaded him into the helicopter, the pilot initiated the craft’s engines. The blades began to spin, and the helicopter slowly ascended. Yet, from the stairwell emerged Arjun’s team, their expert marksmanship coming into play. A sharpshooter took aim and precisely disabled the helicopter’s controls. The craft came to an abrupt halt and descended, the fall mercifully not causing harm. Harsh stirred, groaning from the pain in his head. Arjun’s team and officers swarmed up, defeating every cop who tried to stop them reach the helicopter.

Irritated Sneha, witnessing the scene from afar, ordered her team to intervene. She approached the disabled helicopter and inquired, her frustration palpable, “Will this thing fly?” The pilot replied dejectedly, “No, the controls have stopped working.” Sneha let out a disdainful sigh and dialed someone on her phone.

Above the police station, a civil war waged on, with officers pitted against their own. But beneath the surface, a brutal struggle continued between Jafri and Arjun, both fighters battered and bloodied. Arjun voiced a weary truth, “You still want to continue; you know it’s a never-ending fight.”

Jafri, still seething with anger, clenched his fist and attempted to strike, his words dripping with resentment. “This time, there is no one else to stop us,” he declared, “and it’s all because of you.” Arjun caught Jafri’s punch and shouted, “I told you earlier, it wasn’t me.” The tension mounted as Jafri’s fist connected with Arjun. It was a brutal brawl, with neither combatant willing to yield.

Meanwhile, on the distant horizon, a lengthy silver car cruised along the road, surrounded by a convoy of vehicles. Inside sat a man of great prestige and power—the Lieutenant Governor of Maharashtra. Dressed in unassuming attire, he exuded an aura of authority that belied his simple appearance.

The convoy came to a halt at the foot of the stairs where Jafri and Arjun fought. A man emerged from the lead car and opened the rear door, allowing Governor Tauheed to step out. The attendant saluted, but Tauheed paid it no mind as he advanced, a small security force marching in his wake. Upon reaching the stairs, he encountered Jafri and Arjun, who respectfully bowed instead of saluting. All the former officers saluted the Governor, who quipped, “Heads up, both of you,” before bursting into laughter. “You both look quite beaten. What happened?” Arjun was quick to respond, “It was him who started it." An incensed Jafri shot Arjun an angry look and retorted, “It was you who first initiated it." Tauheed chuckled, remarking, “Some things never change.” Jafri remained silent, his face devoid of expression. Arjun, clearly bewildered, asked, “Don’t tell me you’re involved in all of this.” Tauheed, still in good spirits, replied, “Gentlemen, please step aside. My daughter is waiting.” Jafri and Arjun yielded to his request, falling into step behind him.

Meanwhile, Sanjeev awoke from his daze and mused, “Was that the Governor, or am I seeing things?” He clutched his throbbing head, groaning, “Oh, my head, it hurts.” Moments later, he succumbed to unconsciousness once more.

Above the police station, the battleground painted a grim picture. Police officers, once comrades in arms, now found themselves locked in a bitter struggle, discarding their firearms in favor of hand-to-hand combat. Sam, his shirt in tatters and his body battered, fought relentlessly, his bloodied face a testament to his determination. Bruises adorned him like battle scars.

Sneha, fueled by her anger, unleashed her formidable karate skills, swiftly incapacitating any adversary foolish enough to cross her path. Despite her seemingly delicate frame, no man could withstand her prowess.

Amidst this chaos, a dramatic entrance unfolded as Governor Tauheed, flanked by his formidable force, Sir Jafri, and the ex-officers, followed by Sir Arjun, ascended the staircase. The governor’s authoritative voice boomed, “Cease at once!” In unison, the governor’s men raised their weapons, locking their laser-equipped sights onto their respective targets. Every combatant froze, their eyes turning toward the ominous assembly. Sam, with a weary sigh, muttered, “Oh, Dad.”

Governor Tauheed advanced toward Sneha, who cried out with teary eyes, “I’m so close, please, just a bit more time.” Tauheed embraced her briefly, his tone gentle but firm, “You’ve done well, but you must accept the inevitable.” Pushing him away, Sneha wept and protested, “No!”

Sanjeev, making his presence known, approached and exclaimed, “Even if madam withdraws, I and all those under Sneha’s command will not relent.” All eyes turned to Sanjeev. Tauheed, contemplating the situation, made a decisive announcement, “You lost, as I warned before, you’ll have to marry CM’s son if you fail.” Sneha slumped, tears flowing freely. However, Tauheed leaned down, gripping her shoulder, and uttered reassuring words, “But if your accused isn’t innocent, you’re free to do as you wish.” A spark of hope ignited in Sneha’s eyes, and Sam voiced his disbelief, “What?” Arjun intervened, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Why hesitate? Do you doubt your friend?” Sam and Arjun shared a moment of elation.

One of the ex-officers chimed in, “It seems we still have a chance.” However, Jafri remained unconvinced, his demeanor soured. The others celebrated this glimmer of hope, while Sneha’s team exhibited mixed reactions, uncertain of what lay ahead.

As the governor departed, he instructed one of his officials to set up a lie detection machine. The trial would commence with all eyes upon it, ensuring fairness and transparency.

In the aftermath, Kajal found herself alone on the road. She gazed at the black car and seized an opportunity. She headed toward the car, discovering, to her surprise, that the keys were readily available. She swiftly departed and contacted Sam. When he finally answered, he screamed, “You’re alive!” Kajal chided, “That’s all you can say?” Worried, she inquired about Heran’s whereabouts. Sam reassured her, “She’s with some officer from our dad’s team. She’s safe.” Kajal’s concern boiled over, “Safety doesn’t matter; she’s only safe and happy with one person!” Sam, however, seemed preoccupied, watching a inappropriate advertisement with highly erotic and sensual imaginary on TV. Distractedly, he responded, “Did you say something?” Kajal, exasperated, inquired, "What's that noise in the background? Never mind. Just give me his phone number?" Sam shouted, “What?” Confused, Kajal asked, “What now?” Sam replied, “I think the nurse said he’s awake.” Relieved, Kajal requested that man’s number, once again. “Okay, you head to the police station; I’ll see what’s happening here,” Sam said before abruptly ending the call. “Damh you, Brother,” Kajal shouted.

In the bustling city, within a hospital room, the lone survivor from Arjun’s group and Heran lay over a clinic bed. She awoke, her voice filled with urgency as she exclaimed, “Harsh!” Meanwhile, in Police clinic room, Harsh regained consciousness in a clinic bed, his first word being, “Heran!”

Doctors and nurses surrounded Harsh, chastising the detectives for the excessive knockout gases given to him. Amidst the commotion, a nurse, astonished by Harsh’s awakening, exclaimed, “Doctor, he’s awake!” The incredulous doctor marveled, “What? How is that possible? It’s a miracle. Check his pulse; is he okay?”

The entire medical team rushed to attend to him, while outside, the governor expressed the need to treat Harsh for his upcoming trial. Sanjeev rushed out and confronted Sam, who accused him of harming Harsh. A tense moment ensued before Jafri and one of Arjun’s men intervened, preventing an altercation. Jafri offered an apology on Sam’s behalf, and Sanjeev was urged to calm down. The exchange between Jafri and Sanjeev did not go unnoticed by Arjun.

Meanwhile, Heran awoke and, fueled by anxiety, rushed to the hospital’s reception. Despite the doctors’ attempts to detain her, she forcefully pushed her way through. At the reception, she desperately sought her belongings, resisting the receptionist’s efforts to hinder her departure. Eventually, an officer arrived, assuring her, “Don’t worry; he’s safe and with them now.” Heran’s relief was palpable, and she implored, “He should be at the marine police station base.” Gathering her belongings, she insisted on being discharged, her broken phone rendering her unable to communicate. She hailed a taxi, her destination set for the police station. In the meantime, an officer in the hospital lounge received a call from Kajal.

As the evening descended, preparations for the trial were meticulously arranged. Harsh, apprehensive and seeking answers, received no words of reassurance from anyone. Dressed in a simple t-shirt, he was led towards the trial room. Panic surged within him, and he attempted to escape. However, upon entering the room, his eyes fell upon Kajal’s father, freezing him in his tracks. Sam’s timely arrival brought a surge of relief to Harsh, and the two friends embraced with joy. Their reunion was cut short by a stern doctor's order to step back.

Harsh was led to a room with a lie detector machine, carefully monitored by elites from behind a one-way mirror. Every move in the room was scrutinized and recorded. Harsh could not see those observing him but instead stared at an opaque window. On the other side stood Madam Sneha, her presence foreboding. The questionnaire, operating the lie detector, confirmed, “The machine is working, and everything is ready.” This message was relayed to the governor outside, who promptly commanded, “Begin the trial!” Sam offered words of encouragement to Harsh, assuring him that they would soon be together.

Not a second later, after the declaration of Trial, a dramatic entrance disrupted the proceedings. It was none other than Kajal herself, who forcefully pushed open the imposing doors and surveyed the assembled faces, her determination unwavering as she inquired, “Has the trial begun!?”

Inside a brightly lit modern complex. The Trial starts as the questioning began, the questionnaire posed a series of queries, commencing with a straightforward one: “Are you Harsh Vishal?” Harsh hesitated briefly before confirming, “Yes.” The questionnaire probed further, “In your name, does ‘Vishal’ refer to your father?” Harsh nodded and replied, “Yes.”

The questionnaire reached for a file of questions provided by Sneha earlier and asked, “Now, tell me what you were doing on 14th February?” Harsh struggled to recall, admitting, “I don’t remember, actually.” The questionnaire urged clarity and posed a pointed query, “Did you cause the explosion that night?” Harsh sought clarification, “Which night?” The questionnaire clarified, “The night of 14th February.” Harsh remained adamant, “I already told you I don’t remember what happened.”

Sensing Harsh’s reluctance, the questionnaire pressed on, “So, you don’t want to talk about it?” He proceeded to present three pictures: one of Kajal, another of Samir, and a third of Heran. Harsh’s heart raced as he grappled with their identities. “Are they accomplices working with you?” the questionnaire inquired. Harsh responded, “No, they are... they are my friends.” The questionnaire scrutinized the lie detector machine and questioned, “Do you truly mean that, or are you making it up now that you know them?” Harsh affirmed, “No, I know them; they are like a part of me.”

Outside the room, Sam displayed a smug grin, prompting Kajal to question him. Sam replied confidently, “This will be easy.” Kajal cautioned, “Don’t celebrate too soon; look who’s on the other side.” Their gaze turned towards Madam Sneha. Sam considered Harsh’s memory loss, and Kajal asked, “Where’s Heran?”

Meanwhile, at a modest police station nestled by the shoreline, Heran arrived in a taxi. As she stepped out, her gaze fell upon the unpretentious outpost, igniting an uncontrollable anger within her. Luckily, the driver happened to be a woman.

“Your fare is 530 rupees,” the driver stated. But Heran’s mind was elsewhere, consumed by her fury. Her anger boiled over, and she exclaimed, “This isn’t where I asked you to go!”

The driver, her patience stretched thin, responded, “Madam, this is the nearest police station to your location.” Heran’s fury intensified, and she retorted firmly, “This isn’t my intended destination.”

The driver’s patience dwindled, and she replied curtly, “Madam, if you don’t want to pay, just say so, but don’t waste my time.” Enraged, Heran seized the driver’s collar and forcefully pushed her against the car. She issued a stern warning, “Wasting time? You’ve wasted mine!” With a forceful shove, she propelled the driver through the car window, shattering it.

Taking money from her pocket, she retrieved several 2000-rupee bills and thrust them toward the driver, saying, “Consider this your fare and compensation for the damages.” With that, she walked away, picked up a stone, and hurled it at the windshield with tremendous force, causing it to warp and crack. The driver could only watch helplessly as her car suffered severe damage at Heran’s hands.

Heran continued on her way with a composed demeanor, leaving the driver in bewilderment as she called out to her. However, Heran met her gaze with unwavering determination and posed a direct question, “Do you want the same fate as your car?” Without waiting for a response, she continued toward the bustling station, where a curious crowd had gathered to witness the unfolding drama. The driver, her pride wounded, hurriedly followed Heran, and their tense exchange soon escalated into a physical confrontation, drawing the attention of onlookers.

Inside the stark interrogation room, the trial proceeded relentlessly, the questionnaire delving into a labyrinth of queries. He leaned forward, an inscrutable expression on his face, and inquired, “Let’s dissect two incidents, shall we? One from yesterday, your evasive maneuvers to outsmart elite officers, and the other from today. Explain them, if you can.” Harsh’s eyes scrutinized the partially corrupted footage and images, failing to capture the full extent of his inexplicable prowess, how he outran vehicles. He hesitated before replying, “I... I can’t recall.” The questionnaire pressed, “So, you offer no explanation for either incident. Does this imply guilt on your part?” Frustration gripped Harsh; he slammed the table, declaring, “While the screen may show one thing, face-to-face, I can’t vouch for your perception of truth.” Harsh continued, “I’m recounting what occurred, but my memory has inexplicably faltered.”

The questionnaire probed further, insinuating, “Could this ‘memory lapse’ be attributed to drug usage, perhaps Raj Drugs?” Harsh vehemently refuted, “No, I assure you, that’s not the case. I don’t indulge in any such substances.” The questionnaire made a note of it.

Outside, Sam wore a determined yet vexed expression, while Kajal pondered, “It seems we’re losing this battle. Harsh must provide an explanation.” Sanjeev, meanwhile, grinned inwardly, confident in his assessment of Harsh’s mental state—a battle of wits unfolding.

The questionnaire persisted, “So, you’re unable to account for these astounding feats due to your blank memory and corrupted footage. Despite your predicament, multiple eyewitnesses corroborate the detectives’ claims.” The questionnaire added dryly, “You’re not some kind of clown, are you?”

Within the cramped police station nestled by the shoreline, Heran found herself behind bars, confined to a dimly lit cell. Her face bore the marks of recent ruckus, marred by dirt and a few visible bruises.

Opposite her, the taxi driver received medical attention from a nurse, her appearance grievously battered. Her face appeared broken, with a bleeding nose and prominent bruises. She trembled uncontrollably. The police extended an offer of leniency ti Heran, but the driver struggled to speak, her words hampered by her injuries. "Why offer her bail? She tried to kill me," she managed to utter amidst her pain

Heran, imprisoned and enraged, pounded on the cell bars, screaming, "I warned you, if you move your fate would be same as your car!"

The nurse intervened, her voice commanding, "Stop crying, or you'll worsen your injuries," while the police officers sighs and cautioned, "Think carefully before you act." Eventually, they offered Heran a chance to bail.

Heran seized this opportunity and dialed a number, seeking Kajal's assistance.

Meanwhile, amid the bustling hum of the main police station, Sam’s voice cut through the air like a siren. “Look, your phone’s ringing!” he exclaimed, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“I can hear that,” Kajal retorted, her nerves frayed as she checked the incoming call notification from an unfamiliar number. Her heart raced as she cautiously answered.

On the other end, Kajal inquired, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Heran,” came the anxious voice, instantly recognizable to Kajal.

Kajal exclaimed, “Heran, where are you?” Startled, she became the center of attention.

She stepped outside for a private conversation, asking urgently, “Where are you?”

“I’m locked up in a cell,” Heran explained, her tone tinged with vulnerability.

Kajal gasped in disbelief. “What?” Heran hastily added, “I’ve found myself in a difficult situation. I’ll explain everything later. Please, Kajal, you have to come and bail me out.”

“Okay, tell me where you are,” Kajal inquired, her determination to help unwavering.

Meanwhile, In a sterile room, the questionnaire quizzed Harsh, delving into the depths of his identity, “Tell us about yourself. Are you an athlete?”

Harsh replied succinctly, “No.”

The questionnaire persisted, “Have you resorted to drugs or any substances to enhance your strength?”

Harsh’s reply was resolute, "No."

“No traces of drugs were discovered on your person, so I can confirm that,” the questionnaire noted, continuing, “You do not have a criminal record and work for a well-known IT company, is that right?”

Harsh nodded in affirmation, saying, “Yes.”

The questionnaire concluded abruptly, stating, “Alright,” and exited the room, leaving Harsh bewildered. Harsh’s head starts to throb. On the other side, anxious onlookers eagerly awaited the verdict, inquiring, “Is he guilty or not?” They observed the questionnaire’s unwavering expression.

Finally breaking the silence, he spoke, “I was actually wondering where the restroom is?”

This unexpected response elicited a mix of annoyance, anger, and bewilderment among those present. They directed him to the restroom.

Sam attempted to enter and meet Harsh, but Sanjeev obstructed his path, declaring, “No cuckoo allowed.”

Sam retorted, “What’s your problem?”

Sanjeev challenged him, “What’s your plan, barging in without any consideration?” Their exchange escalated, leading to another chaotic scene as others intervened.

Afterward, Sam and Sanjeev nursed bruises on their heads, seated back-to-back. Arjun and Jafri exchanged heated words respectively, their voices raised in fury. The questionnaire returned to his seat, sighed, and remarked, “So, where were we? You haven’t presented anything to prove your innocence.” Harsh’s anxiety mounted, headaches cranking and goosebumps crawling over his skin. On the other side, Kajal made a dramatic reentry, this time with Heran by her side. Kajal held onto Heran, preparing to enter the interrogation room, but Sneha intercepted her. Heran and Kajal fixed their gazes, resolute and furious, on Sneha. She eventually relented, allowed them to pass, unconsciously.

The questionnaire inquired, “Who are you?” Kajal replied, “We’re his friends.”

Outside, Sam stared in disbelief, pressing against the glass, exchanging glances with Sanjeev. Sam whispered bitterly, “Damn you!”

Kajal continued, “We have all the evidence needed to prove his innocence.” The questionnaire declared, “You’re too late; in my mind, I’ve already declared him guilty.” The questionnaire rose to leave, but Heran grabbed his arm, her expression filled with fury and determination. Kajal handed a file to the questionnaire, stating, “In India, those yet to be proven guilty are granted the opportunity to prove their innocence.” The questionnaire regarded them, took his seat, and instructed, “Begin.”

As they listened, Harsh’s headache intensified, as if a relentless hammer was at work.

[WRITER’S NOTE - When Heran arrived at the police station, it turned out to be the same place where she had filed the FIR during her search for Harsh, who had vanished that fateful night. As Kajal came to secure Heran's release, a revealing fact emerged. Heran shared this crucial detail with Kajal, and they both sought a copy of the FIR. However, their request faced stern rejection from the officer on duty.

Unfazed, Kajal invoked her influence, calmly revealing her status as the collector's daughter. The room felt the weight of her words as she implied involving her father, potentially endangering the officer's career. Tension hung in the air.]

The questionnaire leaned in, engrossed in Kajal’s narrative. She began, “This is the FIR she filed to locate him when he went missing, and something inexplicable happened during that search.” The room fell silent as everyone, including the questionnaire and the onlookers outside, hung on her words. Kajal continued, her voice resolute, “When we finally found him, the police forcibly took him into custody. We don’t know what transpired, but I helped him because I couldn’t stand by and watch an innocent man being accused of things he knows nothing about.” Harsh’s head throbbed, the pain intensifying as her words washed over him.

The questionnaire interjected skeptically, “Alright, but those are moral arguments, not concrete proof. You claim he was missing, but during that time, he could have been with Raj Tech, using all of you for his own agenda.”

Kajal, undeterred, challenged, “Do you think I’m lying? Use the lie detector on us.” The questionnaire jotted down the suggestion and conceded, “Very well, but consider this: regarding the incident on February 14th, he was officially recorded as deceased, and now he’s miraculously a survivor of a natural event.” Harsh added with a hint of recollection, “Cakes. Yes, I remember cakes. I was buying cakes, and then something pleasant occurred like a sudden burst of brilliant light in the sky, tears of joy. After that, it's all blank, like everything else.” The questionnaire probed further, “You were purchasing a cake, but for whom, may I inquire?” Kajal responded, “It was for her; they were together that night. Ask her.” All eyes turned towards Heran, who nodded in affirmation.

The questionnaire scribbled notes, pondered, chewed on his pen, and then exclaimed, “Alright!” before exiting the room.

Governor Tauheed, Sir Jafri, Sir Arjuna, and their colleagues stood in observance, their eyes firmly affixed upon Harsh. Their expressions danced on a delicate precipice, oscillating between hope and apprehension. Alongside them, Heran, Kajal, and Sam anxiously yearned for a favorable outcome, while Sneha and Sanjeev shared the same hope.

Inside Harsh's head, a relentless throbbing persisted, a cacophony of thoughts echoing in the background. As they all awaited the verdict from the questionnaire, an aura of suspense enveloped the room, with the fate of the trial teetering on a precarious edge.

>> Here ends the 5th chapter...