Chapter 4: The House by the Pond

Jitendra’s house stood lonely at the far western edge of the gaon—actually, it was almost bahar hi. A big talab cut it off from the other homes, and to the west, the bargad grove stretched fifteen, maybe twenty acres. When the crime happened, it was May: the pond was covered in kamal ke patte, the banyan grove ek samundar of green.

In the blazing May dhoop, the air was thick with mitti ki khushboo and gobar. Frogs croaked at night, and somewhere, the distant train’s horn would come floating in.

So, even though the yard was red with khoon that night, kisi ko kuch pata nahi chala.

Not till early subah, when a child’s cheekh woke everyone. Dadaji Joshi, on this side of the talab, heard it and thought maybe Anjali was scolding her baccha again, so didn’t bother. But at dawn, when he opened his door, he saw Jitendra’s gate wide open, and Bunty—barely chalne layak—sitting at the doorstep, blood-soaked and bawling.

Even the old kutte stopped barking, sniffing the hawa like they knew bura kuch hua hai. Dadaji wrapped his gamcha tighter, voice shaking as he called for madad.

Looking inside, he saw deep red khoon streaming from the main kamra, pooling half the yard, pure makkhiyan ki fauj buzzing around…

The smell hit him first—iron, sweat, something burnt. His knees buckled, and for a moment, he thought a bhoot would appear.

That’s right—the scene was summed up in four words: khoon hi khoon tha.