Weed In The Lucifer Garden

There wasn’t much chaos in the city that day, everything was on a regular scale. People laughed. People boarded buses, little crowds involved in their own little worlds of disconnected lives.

Well, two days earlier, the same normalized streets were filled with crowds. They had slogans blaring in the air and traffic halted with much consent. There were rallies and silent prayers. Few of them threw stones at the public transport. The crowd was agitated, angry and most of all hurt.

Every other news channel telecasted a show on how the most upright policeman, Mr. Raghavendra was hunted down and slaughtered to death. This man was the real hero to the most of the city. Be it the hour before sunrise or that scary moment after midnight. ACP Raghavendra was always for the city.

Twitter garlanded him, the state government gave him laurels and Facebook gave him all the publicity. But the tiger was always focused on its prey. With his leadership, most of the illegal activities reduced down in scale. Murders and kidnaps were rare. Burglars became bankrupt again. And that is when everybody planned an assassination.

For the record, they weren’t petty roadies who hunted him down. But the media portrayed so. He wasn’t into any drugs, yet the postmortem doctors described it so. He wasn’t into any gambling and drinking yet his close ones portrayed him so.

Being a journalist myself. I couldn’t handle the wrong information the powerful media was spreading.

I had the proof.fiction, oneshot, short story, policemen, society

It was the government itself which had him eliminated. He was a weed in their Lucifer garden. Many of you have heard it. I will conclude it. Yes, there is a black government that runs after dusk. All the illegals meet, plan, target and eliminate people.

ACP Raghavendra was one of the many targets. The video file in my hard disk still lay in my backpack. But I’m still an intern. Will I be able to convey the real truth in comparison to the two-headed false new the society has accepted?

I clenched my teeth, for my own father was into the media, one of the best journalists ever. But anger seethed in me as I realized his true colors last night. An anonymous person had emailed it to him, and he chose to ignore the truth. I have vowed to deliver only the absolute truth, but here I stay as a witness to the crime. I am a greater culprit if I stay a witness and keep my mouth shut.

I reached office early, to redeem the truth. To set free a pure soul and protect his real identity.

“What are you doing here?” Mr. Madhavan. The best journalist in the whole world, to me.

My father.

” Nothing, just working on ACP Raghavendra’s case” I bluntly threw it on his face. Something I had never done. All these years I had great respect towards him.

“Sindhu! Stop it and give me the files” His voice growled. The first time in years.

“Oh, so you know! How can you do that dad” I confronted him and rushed to my cabin. The faster I upload it, the better chances for it to reach the crowds.

10%…20%…40%….

………………..

It was another day, and there was another weed to be eliminated. The evening newspapers carried the news of a love-struck young journalist who had jumped from the seventh floor of the Tony Media companies. The daughter of the legendary journalist Madhavan, who seem to have lost his mind and admitted to the asylum unable to withstand the loss of his daughter.

The truth was buried again!

What Sindhu never knew was that she was monitored the minute she entered the building. Her killer, the watchman, man from the lucifer garden!

And there still remains many such lucifers in the society. Should we ignore the atrocities or be another Sindhu!

In a dilemma, the new generation strives!