Chapter 6: Descent Into the Underworld

When we left Siddhivinayak Mandir, a young man in a black suit brushed past us. I caught a whiff of his cologne—sharp, expensive, the kind only the very rich or very dangerous wore.

My heart skipped a beat. I grabbed Rajeev and whispered, "Doesn’t he look like someone?"

Rajeev said, "I noticed too. He looks like Arjun Singh."

Arjun Singh—the eldest son of Rajpur Syndicate boss Amar Singh. We’d been investigating that gang for two years, but they were too cautious, leaving no trace, and we couldn’t find an opening.

And now, Arjun Singh had walked right to us. How could I let this chance go? The adrenaline rushed through my veins like hot chai.

I told Rajeev, "You go back first. I’ll follow him and see what he’s up to."

Rajeev knew my stubbornness. Once I made up my mind, I wouldn’t listen to reason. He could only say, "I’ll wait for you at the chai stall outside. Be careful—don’t confront him directly."

I followed Arjun Singh into the mandir. The scent of agarbatti and fresh flowers mixed in the air, making my heart pound louder.

I saw him fold his hands before the Ganesh idol, lighting three agarbattis with great devotion, muttering prayers under his breath.

What, did he want to put down his gun and become a saint? I almost laughed. Impossible.

Arjun Singh was Rajpur Syndicate’s number one—a ruthless madman. A devil like him, even God wouldn’t take. Yet here he was, bowing his head like any other devotee.

After lighting incense, he got up and left. I couldn’t follow him further, so I bought a few agarbattis myself and casually asked a priest, "That handsome man just now, does he come here often?"

The priest replied, "Yes, two or three times a month. The timing isn’t fixed. Sometimes he offers twenty-one modaks, too. He always prays quietly."

A bold idea formed: approach Arjun Singh, infiltrate Rajpur Syndicate. Rajeev was dead against it. I threatened that if he didn’t let me do this, I wouldn’t marry him, forcing him to agree, reluctantly.

I said, "Rajeev bhai, this is the last time. After we take down Rajpur Syndicate, I’ll quit the force, work at the registrar office, marry you, and have kids, okay?"

Rajeev didn’t answer. He was still angry, but he squeezed my hand before leaving.

I waited at Siddhivinayak Mandir for half a month before seeing Arjun Singh again. Every morning, I’d offer a marigold garland and scan the crowd.

When he was lighting incense, I stood not far off, watching him. After he finished, he turned, his sharp gaze locking onto me. Our eyes met. He walked straight over, his stride confident.

Very good, woman. You’ve caught his attention.

"You seem to be watching me. Do we know each other?" he asked bluntly, his tone as sharp as his suit.

"Can we get to know each other?" I replied just as directly, my heart beating like a tabla.

"Why?"

"Because... you’re handsome." I probably blushed as I said it, heat rising in my cheeks.

"Madamji, chalein ek cutting chai peene?" he said, an amused smile flickering across his face.

After that, every time he came to light incense, I’d approach him and strike up a conversation. Sometimes about cricket, sometimes about the rains, sometimes just about the taste of prasad.

Finally, one day, he said, "Madamji, chalein ek cutting chai peene?"

I became Arjun Singh’s girlfriend. He took me to secret clubs and underground casinos—places where laughter sounded hollow and the air was heavy with secrets.

I secretly passed important information to the police. My superiors were worried for my safety, urging me to withdraw. Arjun Singh was too dangerous.

Three days later, Arjun Singh planned to take me to an important event—there’d be big news. I promised my superiors that after this, I’d quit.

As I hoped, I got the big scoop. I witnessed the entire gun deal between Arjun Singh and a foreign gang. The men spoke in half-coded Hindi, their faces hidden behind sunglasses.

After the deal, Arjun Singh was in high spirits and had a few drinks. He looked at me, wild desire in his eyes.

"Ritika, you’ve got a great figure."

I felt something was wrong. The air was too tense, his gaze too hungry.

After two months together, he’d never touched me. He probably didn’t trust me yet. But today, I’d accompanied him on a core operation. That meant he fully trusted me. And now I had to prove my loyalty.

He pulled me onto his lap and began unbuttoning my shirt. I held his hand back, my heart pounding.

His eyes narrowed. He picked up the revolver on the table, pressed the muzzle to my forehead. "Take it off."

...

I wrapped my dupatta tightly around me, walking through the drizzle. The rain soaked my hair, cold drops running down my neck. Rajeev called me—eight times. I finally answered.

"Rajeev bhai, let’s break up."

I handed all my information on Rajpur Syndicate and Arjun Singh to the authorities, then resigned and disappeared. I burned every bridge I could find, vanished like a ghost in the city’s endless rain.

Seven months later, when Rajeev found me, I was already heavily pregnant. Seven months along. My feet were swollen, my back ached, but I felt safer with him than I ever had.

He hugged me. "Ritika, Rajpur Syndicate has been wiped out. You can rest easy now. Marry me. Let me take care of you for the rest of our lives..."

We chose a restaurant in a neighbouring town for a simple wedding. Most of the guests were relatives and friends from the Sharma family. Rajeev’s team leader officiated, his voice gruff but kind.

The weather was terrible—dark clouds gathering all afternoon, a storm by dusk. The power went out twice during dinner, and someone brought out candles. It was chaotic, messy, and perfect.

"Rajeev Sharma, do you take Ritika Sharma as your wife, to love and protect her from this day forward, for better or worse, in hardship and ease, to walk life’s path together?"

"I do."