April 4, 1992
Shiva paced the cramped waiting area of the brokerage firm, his eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. Every minute felt like an eternity, the tick-tock a countdown to disaster. The gangsters' deadline was today, and he needed the money from his stock sales to pay them off. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the stakes: his family's safety, their very lives.
Finally, the broker called him over. "Your stocks are sold, Shiva. But the market's been volatile. You didn't get the price you wanted."
Shiva's stomach dropped. "How much?"
The broker handed him a slip. "15,000 rupees."
It was less than he had hoped for, but it would have to do. He took the check, his hands trembling slightly. As he turned to leave, he overheard two brokers whispering behind him.
"Mehta's been borrowing heavily. If the banks call in their loans, the whole market could collapse."
Shiva's blood ran cold. He knew the crash was coming—history had taught him that—but hearing it discussed so casually made it feel imminent, real. He had to be careful; one wrong move, and he could lose everything.
Outside, the streets of Bombay were alive with the usual chaos: honking rickshaws, vendors shouting, the air thick with the scent of rain and diesel. But Shiva barely noticed. His mind was fixed on the check in his pocket and the looming threat at home. He had to get back before the gangsters arrived.
As he hurried through the crowded market, he nearly collided with Vikram, who was leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed.
"Shiva, we need to talk," Vikram said, his voice edged with frustration.
Shiva sighed, not slowing his pace. "Not now, Vikram. I'm in a hurry."
But Vikram grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. "You've been avoiding me for weeks. What's going on? And don't give me that 'family problems' excuse again."
Shiva's resolve wavered. Vikram was his best friend, his confidant in another life. Maybe it was time to let him in, at least a little. "Alright," he said, glancing around to ensure they weren't overheard. "My family's being extorted by gangsters. They're demanding 10,000 rupees, and if I don't pay today, they'll hurt us."
Vikram's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've helped!"
"How?" Shiva snapped, his fear sharpening his tone. "You think your uncle's police connections can stop these people? They're tied to bigger players, Vikram. It's not that simple."
Vikram frowned, hurt flashing across his face. "So what's your plan? Pay them off forever? That's not a solution."
"I know," Shiva admitted, his shoulders sagging. "But I don't have a choice right now. I need to buy time."
Vikram hesitated, then pulled out his wallet. "Here, take this. It's not much, but maybe it'll help."
Shiva stared at the wad of notes—500 rupees. "Vikram, I can't—"
"Take it," Vikram insisted. "You're not alone in this, Shiva. Friends help each other."
Shiva swallowed hard, guilt and gratitude warring within him. "Thank you," he whispered, pocketing the money. "I'll pay you back."
"Just stay safe," Vikram said, clapping him on the shoulder. "And next time, don't shut me out."
By the time Shiva reached home, the sky had darkened, heavy clouds promising rain. The apartment was eerily quiet, the tension palpable. Lakshmi was in the kitchen, her hands busy but her eyes distant. Meera sat at the table, coloring a picture, but her usual cheer was absent. Ramesh paced the living room, his face lined with worry.
"Did you get the money?" Ramesh asked as soon as Shiva entered.
Shiva nodded, pulling out the check and Vikram's cash. "It's enough for now."
"But what about next time?" Lakshmi interjected, her voice trembling. "They'll keep coming back."
"I'll figure something out," Shiva said, though he had no clear plan. "Maybe we can move, find a safer place."
"With what money?" Ramesh scoffed. "We can barely afford this place."
Before Shiva could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the apartment. The family froze, their eyes wide with fear.
"It's them," Meera whispered, her voice barely audible.
Shiva took a deep breath and approached the door. Through the peephole, he saw the familiar scarred face of the gangster, flanked by two burly men. He opened the door a crack. "I have your money."
The scarred man sneered. "About time. Hand it over."
Shiva passed the bundle of notes through the gap. "That's 10,000 rupees. We're square now."
The man counted the money, his expression darkening. "This is only 10,000. You owe interest—another 2,000."
"What?" Shiva's voice rose in disbelief. "That wasn't the deal!"
"Deals change," the man growled. "Pay up, or we'll take it out on your family."
Panic surged through Shiva. He didn't have an extra 2,000 rupees. "I don't have it right now. Give me a few days."
The man's eyes narrowed. "You think we're playing games, kid?" He pushed the door open, stepping inside with his men.
Meera whimpered, and Lakshmi pulled her close. Ramesh stood, his fists clenched, but Shiva knew he was no match for these thugs.
Just as the tension reached a breaking point, a voice cut through the room like a blade. "That's enough."
Everyone turned to see a man in a white kurta standing in the doorway, his gray eyes calm but commanding. It was the Council's emissary.
The scarred gangster blinked, confusion crossing his face. "Who the hell are you?"
"Someone you don't want to cross," the emissary replied smoothly. "Leave now, and tell your boss that this family is under my protection."
The gangsters hesitated, glancing at each other. Then, without a word, they backed out of the apartment, their bravado evaporating.
Shiva stared at the emissary, a mix of relief and dread flooding him. "Why did you do that?"
The emissary smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill. The Council is not without mercy."
"Mercy?" Shiva spat. "You're the reason they're here in the first place, aren't you?"
The emissary's smile widened. "Perceptive, aren't you? Yes, the gangsters are… associates of ours. We use them to maintain order, to keep certain elements in check."
"So you've been manipulating everything," Shiva said, his voice shaking with anger. "The threats, the extortion—it was all to control me."
"Not control, Shiva. To guide you. You have potential, but you're reckless. Join us, and we can protect your family, give you the power to shape the future as you see fit."
Shiva's mind reeled. The offer was tempting—safety, power, a way out. But he knew it came with strings, chains that would bind him to the Council's will.
"No," he said firmly. "I won't be your pawn."
The emissary's expression hardened. "Then you leave us no choice. The path you've chosen will lead to suffering, not just for you, but for those you love."
With that, he turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving Shiva standing in the doorway, his heart pounding.
That night, as the rain lashed against the windows, Shiva sat at his desk, the weight of the day pressing down on him. He had saved his family for now, but at what cost? The Council's reach was vast, their power terrifying. And yet, he couldn't surrender. Not when so much was at stake.
But as he glanced at Meera, sleeping fitfully on the sofa, her face still etched with fear, he wondered if his defiance was worth the price. The web was tightening, and he was running out of moves.
Foreshadow & Reflection
Unbeknownst to Shiva, the Council's gambit was only the beginning. In the days to come, their true intentions would be revealed, and the cost of his resistance would become painfully clear. The game was far from over, and the next move would be his most perilous yet.