The morning came without a sense of urgency.
The house gradually awoke, as if everyone were pretending the night before had never occurred.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains in narrow, pale stripes.
In the kitchen, a pot on the stove clinked softly. The television played the morning news at a low volume, more out of habit than interest.
Bhramak completed packing quietly.
He carefully folded his clothes, aligning the edges as he always did when his mind needed order. Documents were placed in a separate file along with his phone charger, wallet, and mouth organ. He double-checked everything, moving with quiet certainty rather than haste.
His father sat at the dining table, a newspaper spread open and a cup of tea cooling beside his hand. He didn't look up or ask questions. The absence of words felt heavier than any concern expressed aloud.
By the window, his grandmother was already awake, her fingers moving slowly over prayer beads. She glanced at Bhramak once, then again, holding his gaze a moment longer than usual. Her eyes were sharp and unreadable.
Everyone knew something was wrong; that kind of dream never goes wrong from generation to generation.
No one said it.
His mother stood by the doorway of his room, watching him adjust the strap of his bag.
"I will arrive tomorrow evening," Bhramak said. "The express will take about a day and a half."
She nodded and said, "Please call me when you arrive."
"I will."
He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Please don't mention to Vishak that I'm coming."
That caused her to look up.
"Why?" she asked.
"If he knows," Bhramak said calmly, "he might try to stop me or conceal something. I am unsure which option he would choose. I neither want to know nor care about either."
She examined his face. He didn't appear anxious or angry; he simply looked determined.
"You've always dealt with things quietly," she finally said. "Be careful."
"I will."
There was nothing more to say. No dramatic goodbye, just a shared understanding.
His mother stands by the gate, praying to the gods for her children's safety, since they are no longer at home.
-
Bhramak arrived at the Svarupgadh city station at ten o'clock in the morning.
He arrived early for his train scheduled to depart at ten-thirty. Choosing to wait made it easier for him.
He booked the general compartment not to save money, but to connect with people and observe his surroundings.
Throughout his career, he has learned that observation is a crucial aspect of an investigator's work. He made it a habit and chose that approach.
The general reserve waiting room was crowded but still manageable.
Bhramak took a seat near the open entrance, placing his bag at his feet. From this spot, he had a clear view of the platform, the steady flow of passengers, and the rhythmic movement all around him.
An announcement resonated overhead, slightly distorted by old speakers. The clock on the wall ticked forward with exaggerated patience.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Time felt heavier when it was at a standstill.
He thought of his mother once more and wondered why she had trusted him without question. It wasn't simply blind faith; she had seen him in various situations, during family disputes and moments when panic could have made things worse.
He had always waited, observed, and spoken last.
The weight of that trust pressed against his chest now.
Laughter echoed from the far end of the platform.
A small crowd had gathered. At its center stood a man performing simple tricks, quick hands, exaggerated expressions, and pauses perfectly timed. Coins appeared and vanished. A handkerchief became the focus of everyone's attention. Nothing extraordinary.
A joker.
Not the circus type, just a street performer doing what performers do best: drawing attention and then letting it go.
Bhramak watched for a few seconds, smiled because he understood the financial struggles of a low-income family, and then looked away, as he still came from a middle-class background.
Performers were common near train stations. As the whistle of the train cut through the air, the crowd naturally thinned.
The Joker took a theatrical bow and stepped aside. The train started to move.
As the train platform moved past his window, Bhramak saw the performer once more.
The man stood still, a frown on his face as he watched the train pull away. For a brief moment, his gaze met that of a passenger. In an instant, a chill ran through him, as if he had known this person for a long time. He felt a rush of fear, but then he managed to calm himself down.
Suddenly, the platform vanished.
-
The journey continued for a long time.
Fields transitioned to towns, towns to open land again, then to villages, and finally to farmlands once more.
Bhramak ate when he felt like it, slept lightly, and woke often. He checked his phone out of habit but then stopped.
Venkat's messages ceased six months ago.
Before that, there were frequent updates, construction sites, incomplete bridges, heat-related complaints, and deadlines. Progress was meticulously documented. Then, there was silence.
As the day turned into evening, the light gradually diminished.
At around ten-thirty in the evening, the train slowed down as it approached another station. Bhramak was half-asleep when new passengers began to board.
Their luggage was immediately noticeable: long cases, bundled fabrics, and metal frames carefully wrapped in cloth.
Circus people.
They moved with ease, speaking softly to each other. One of them paused near the aisle, looking for empty seats in the compartment.
Bhramak noticed him right away.
Same height.
Same build.
The movements remain sharp and efficient.
The man resembled the Joker performer from the city station earlier that morning.
Too the same.
Bhramak remained indifferent, not even glancing over. Circus performers often exhibited similar appearances, shared makeup styles, postures, and training.
He told himself that he had confused someone.
He later reconstructed the man's face in his mind, piece by piece: the jawline, the eyes, and the way he stood while doing nothing at all.
He nearly reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
If he wrote it down, it would turn into something else, a problem or a suspicion.
He decided to remain silent instead.
One of the circus performers noticed him and greeted him then.
In response, Bhramak mirrors this action.
A conversation took place between them.
-
The train arrived at the destination station the following evening. Dusk had settled over the city, casting a faint orange and violet hue across the sky, which blurred the edges of buildings and distances.
The circus group disembarked ahead of him, their figures briefly silhouetted against the platform lights before dispersing in various directions.
Their paths came to a halt there.
Bhramak stepped onto the platform, checked the station name, Devipatam, and paused. The air felt heavier; not threatening, just unfamiliar. He adjusted his bag and moved forward.
The city was bustling with life outside.
He booked a taxi and discussed the ride with the driver. As they drove, massive construction projects passed by, with cranes cutting into the skyline and half-finished towers wrapped in scaffolding, while concrete dust hung in the air.
Venkat must have been quite busy here.
He requested that the driver slow down near a large office complex, where lights still illuminated several floors. The building stood solidly and indifferently.
He chose not to go inside.
Just seeing it was enough.
The taxi took him further into a residential neighborhood. It was around eight-thirty at night, making it difficult to find a suitable room.
By the time he rented a small room, he felt lucky. From the narrow window, he could see his brother's apartment building less than five hundred meters away.
"Close enough to observe clearly."
It is too far away to interfere.
After dinner at a local restaurant, he returned to his room, where the sounds of the city filtered through the walls: distant car horns, footsteps, and a dog barking briefly before falling silent.
Lights flickered on in the apartment building across the street. One window stayed lit longer than the others before it finally went dark.
Bhramak stood by the window longer than he had intended. He didn't want to go there.
-
He checked Venkat's social media presence again. He had been offline for six months, with no posts or activity. This was the first time he logged into social media in a long time.
Not busy.
Absent.
Sleep arrived late. When it came, a sudden dream emerged. Bhramak stood across the street from an office building, always at the same distance, always unable to cross.
Each night, the image sharpened, windows, angles, and reflections correcting themselves.
-
The following days established a routine.
Bhramak visited construction sites and asked careful questions. People recognized Venkat's name, but none had seen him recently. At night, the apartment building remained dark.
Over time, a clear pattern began to take shape.
The engineer had not been home in several months.
The contractor hadn't done so either.
Two absences.
One building.
The building kept appearing in his dreams every night until the day of the interview finally arrived.
He followed the address in the email and stopped at the building's gate.
He looked up and was shocked to see the building in front of him, which had appeared in his dreams every night.
The same one.
Not similar.
Exact.
For a moment, the city's noise faded into the background. He checked the address once more.
No mistake.
That dream could no longer be considered a coincidence.
He was already late, so he didn't think much. Bhramak squared his shoulders and entered the building.
Some answers, he realized, would only emerge once he fully ventured into the wrong place.