HRKH stories

The scene shifted to the Vile Parle police station, where the usual commotion filled the air—people filing complaints and police officers questioning them. Cries and pleas echoed from a jail cell, hinting at third-degree torture. This time, the accused was Pravin. Inside the jail cell, Prakash was beating Pravin ruthlessly, showing no mercy. In a loud voice, Prakash demanded, “Tell me you were behind Indu’s death, right? Admit it! You have nowhere to hide.” Pravin’s body was covered with red baton marks. With each strike, his body convulsed in pain. Blood began oozing from some wounds, and Pravin shouted in a loud voice, “Sir, I didn’t kill Indu! I’m innocent!” Amid the cries and pleas filling the jail cell, Lakshmikant sat silently on a chair, observing. He suddenly stopped Prakash’s actions, saying, “Prakash, stop.” Then he addressed Pravin, “I know your past, Pravin—your anger management issues and the things you’ve done that no one else knows about.” Pravin looked at Lakshmik...

At the police station, a stranger sat nervously in front of Lakshmikant and Prakash. He was a young adult, lean-bodied, with round spectacles that made him look almost fragile. Prakash leaned forward. “You’re Hari, right?” The stranger gave a small nod. Without warning, Prakash slapped him across the face. “Are you mute or what? Can’t you speak?” “Prakash!” Lakshmikant barked, pulling him back. “How many times have I told you—don’t raise your hands?” Prakash lowered his eyes. “Sorry, sir.” Silence followed. Lakshmikant fixed his gaze on Hari. His voice was calm but firm, “You disappeared from the society for a whole week. In that time, Indu died. You also published an online blog story titled ‘Night Killer.’ And we’ve heard you once loved her—one-sided. Now, tell us the truth.” Hari’s hands trembled. His eyes welled up, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stammered, “S-Sir… I’m not that kind of person. I… I only work as an editor for a YouTube channel. Writing online stories is j...

  The scene shifted to the Vile Parle police station, where the usual commotion filled the air—people filing complaints and police officers questioning them. Cries and pleas echoed from a jail cell, hinting at third-degree torture. This time, the accused was Pravin. Inside the jail cell, Prakash was beating Pravin ruthlessly, showing no mercy. In a loud voice, Prakash demanded, “Tell me you were behind Indu’s death, right? Admit it! You have nowhere to hide.” Pravin’s body was covered with red baton marks. With each strike, his body convulsed in pain. Blood began oozing from some wounds, and Pravin shouted in a loud voice, “Sir, I didn’t kill Indu! I’m innocent!” Amid the cries and pleas filling the jail cell, Lakshmikant sat silently on a chair, observing. He suddenly stopped Prakash’s actions, saying, “Prakash, stop.” Then he addressed Pravin, “I know your past, Pravin—your anger management issues and the things you’ve done that no one else knows about.” Pravin looked at La...

The next day, Lakshmikant, Prakash, and Sarfaraz arrived at G.H. Society in full uniform. Lakshmikant and Prakash took their seats while Sarfaraz stood at attention, surveying the residents before them. The society members were seated in chairs, fidgeting with unease. Some glanced repeatedly at their watches, whispering among themselves. “What a waste of time… I took a half-day off for this,” one muttered. Another added, “Lunch with friends ruined… all because of this investigation.” Lakshmikant stood, commanding attention. His voice cut through the murmurs. “Good morning. I am Inspector Lakshmikant, and I’m here because four days ago, your neighbor Indu Vikram tragically died—she fell from the top of this building. We are conducting a brief investigation, and I expect full cooperation from each of you.” A man in the crowd scoffed, raising his voice. “Sir, why this drama? Everyone has work!” A woman chimed in, “Sir, this is pointless. My salary might get cut by a thousand rupees today....