March 5, 1992
Shiva stepped into the cramped brokerage office, the air thick with the scent of ink and nervous sweat. The bespectacled broker looked up from his cluttered desk, recognition flickering in his eyes.
"Back already, young man? Eager to see your fortune grow?" the broker asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Shiva nodded, trying to mask his anticipation. "How are my stocks doing?"
The broker rifled through a stack of papers, pulling out a ledger. "Let's see… ACC and Tisco, right? Ah, here we are. ACC is up 30%, Tisco 25%. Not bad for a month's work."
Shiva's heart leaped. His initial investment of 1,200 rupees had grown to approximately 1,560 rupees. It wasn't a fortune, but it was a start. "I'd like to sell them," he said, his voice steady.
The broker raised an eyebrow. "Selling already? The market's still climbing. You could make more if you hold."
"I have my reasons," Shiva replied, thinking of the impending crash in April. "Please proceed with the sale."
As the broker processed the transaction, Shiva's mind raced. With the proceeds, he could pay off the gangsters and still have a small cushion. But he knew it wouldn't be enough in the long run. He needed to think bigger, to leverage his knowledge more effectively.
"Here you go," the broker said, handing him a check for 1,560 rupees. "Come back when you're ready to invest again."
Shiva pocketed the check, a plan forming in his mind. He would use this money to buy into companies that would thrive in the wake of the upcoming budget reforms. He recalled that the 1992-93 budget, presented on February 29, had introduced measures to boost industrial growth and foreign investment. Sectors like telecommunications and infrastructure were poised for growth.
As he left the brokerage, the bustling streets of Bombay greeted him with their usual chaos. Rickshaws honked, vendors shouted, and the air was thick with the aroma of street food. But amidst the cacophony, Shiva felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck—a feeling of being watched.
He glanced around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Shaking off the unease, he headed home, the check burning a hole in his pocket.
Later that evening, as the family sat down for dinner, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. Ramesh froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Lakshmi's eyes widened with fear, and Meera clutched Shiva's arm.
"I'll handle it," Shiva said, rising from the table. He approached the door, his heart pounding, and peered through the peephole. The same two gangsters stood outside, their expressions grim.
Taking a deep breath, Shiva opened the door. "What do you want?"
The scarred man sneered. "Time's up, kid. Where's the rest of the money?"
Shiva reached into his pocket and pulled out the check, along with some cash he'd withdrawn earlier to cover the full amount. "Here's 3,800 rupees. That settles the debt."
The man snatched the money, counting it quickly. "Alright, but don't think this is over. We'll be back next month for the regular payment."
"Regular payment?" Shiva's voice hardened. "We don't owe you anything more."
The man chuckled darkly. "Everyone in this neighborhood pays for protection. Your family is no exception. Be grateful we're not asking for more."
Shiva clenched his fists, anger boiling inside him. But he knew better than to provoke them further. "Fine. We'll pay. But leave us alone for now."
The gangsters turned and left, their laughter echoing down the hallway. Shiva slammed the door, his mind racing. This was unsustainable. He needed to find a way to neutralize the threat permanently.
Back at the table, the family sat in stunned silence. Ramesh finally spoke, his voice trembling. "Shiva, where did you get that money?"
"I invested wisely," Shiva replied, avoiding his father's gaze. "But we need to talk about this. These gangsters won't stop unless we make them."
Lakshmi shook her head. "We can't fight them, Shiva. They're too powerful."
"Not if we outsmart them," Shiva insisted. "I have a plan, but it will take time."
Meera looked up at him, her eyes wide. "What kind of plan, bhai?"
Shiva forced a smile. "Don't worry, Meera. Just trust me."
But as he said the words, doubt crept into his heart. Could he really protect them? Or was he deluding himself?
The next day at college, Shiva found Vikram waiting for him outside the lecture hall. "Shiva, we need to talk."
Shiva sighed, sensing the confrontation to come. "What is it, Vikram?"
"You've been acting strange lately—skipping classes, disappearing for hours. And now I hear you're flush with cash. What's going on?"
Shiva hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. "I've been… exploring some business opportunities. It's nothing illegal, I promise."
Vikram frowned. "Business opportunities? Like what? Gambling? Stock market? You're only eighteen, Shiva. This isn't like you."
"I'm trying to help my family," Shiva snapped, his patience wearing thin. "You don't understand the pressure we're under."
Vikram's expression softened. "Then let me help. We're friends, aren't we?"
Shiva looked away, guilt gnawing at him. "I appreciate it, Vikram, but this is something I have to do alone."
Vikram shook his head. "You're shutting me out, and it's not right. Whatever you're involved in, it's changing you."
Before Shiva could respond, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. He turned and walked away, leaving Vikram standing there, frustration etched on his face.
Later, as Shiva walked home, he passed by a newsstand and noticed a headline about the recent budget reforms. "Finance Minister Manmohan Singh Ushers in New Era of Economic Growth," it proclaimed. Shiva smiled grimly; he knew the reforms would indeed transform India, but not without pain and upheaval.
As he turned the corner, he overheard two men in suits talking in low voices. "…the boy who knows too much. The Council is concerned."
Shiva's blood ran cold. He slowed his pace, straining to hear more.
"He thinks he can change things, but he's playing with fire. We need to decide how to handle him."
The men moved away, their conversation fading. Shiva stood frozen, his mind racing. The Council knew about him—somehow, they were aware of his actions. But how? And what did they plan to do?
Fear gripped him, but he pushed it aside. He couldn't afford to panic. Instead, he needed to learn more about the Council and their capabilities.
That evening, after dinner, Shiva retreated to his room, his thoughts a jumble. He pulled out the book on ancient Indian mysticism he'd borrowed from the library and flipped through its pages, searching for any mention of the Shadow Council.
He found a passage that sent a shiver down his spine: "The Shadow Council, also known as the Keepers of the Eye, is said to possess knowledge beyond mortal ken. They manipulate events from behind the scenes, ensuring that the balance of power remains in their favor. Those who cross them often meet untimely ends."
Shiva closed the book, his hands trembling. If the Council was as powerful as the text suggested, he was in grave danger. But he couldn't back down now. Too much was at stake.
As he prepared for bed, he noticed an envelope on his desk, one that hadn't been there before. With a sense of dread, he picked it up and tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper, bearing the All-Seeing Eye symbol and a handwritten message: "We see you, Shiva. Tread carefully."
His breath caught in his throat. They knew his name, his address. The threat was clear, but so was the challenge. Shiva crumpled the paper in his fist, determination hardening within him. He would not be intimidated. He would fight back, whatever the cost.
As Shiva lay in the darkness, the weight of the note heavy on his mind, he realized that his path was set. The shadows were closing in, and the true test of his resolve was just beginning. Little did he know that the choices he made next would ripple through time, altering the course of history itself.