The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating almost, as every eye in the hospital remained fixed on Vidya. The silence was not of peace but of grief. Policemen standing in the corner lowered their heads—not merely in sorrow but in shame. The truth Vidya had spoken struck deeper than any wound they had endured in battle. Madhu too found herself trembling with disbelief, torn between the thought that her suffering had all been in vain and the faint hope that their struggle had still achieved something.
Far away, Patel arrived at the Supreme Court, summoned to answer for his operation against Lalan Raj. The judges demanded to know the truth: had they truly won, had they truly captured their enemy, or had everything been in vain? For such questions, the court had appointed a lawyer named Tarun—an expert in dragging truth out of the deepest corners of men's minds. Today, his task was to strip Patel bare of every shield and excuse.
Patel stepped out of his car with deliberate calm. A dead cigarette clung to the edge of his lips, which he crushed beneath his shoe before tightening his loose tie. Drawing in a steadying breath, he moved toward the entrance of the court. Black-uniformed guards flanked him on either side, their silence sharp as a blade. As he walked past them, Patel realized what this meant—his mission was no longer a secret. Even the guards knew of it now, and there would be no mercy for him here. Mother Justice will do what she must, he thought. But I will prove to them that this was no mistake. I know what is right, and I will not bend.
When he finally entered the chamber, he was struck by the eerie sight: the hall was empty save for the judge, the lawyer Tarun, and rows of vacant benches waiting in silence.
For a split second, Senior Policeman Patel felt something was wrong, but he steadied himself and stepped into the witness box, knowing this was the moment that could decide not only his own future but also the fate of his entire crew.
Tarun, who had been sitting silently with a book in his hands, turned the pages slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, in a measured motion, he rose to his feet, adjusted his dark goggles, and walked directly toward Patel. His voice was calm at first, almost formal, as he greeted Patel and asked routine questions: his name, his profession, and his responsibilities.
But soon, the tone shifted. Tarun's words grew sharper, each one aimed like a blade.
"Mr. Patel, did you realize that your actions could cost you your job? Did you deliberately withhold information from the government about your operation against Lalan Raj? And tell us—did you capture him, or did he simply escape from your hands?"
The questions echoed across the nearly empty courtroom. Patel fell silent, his jaw tightening, his hands gripping the wooden sides of the witness stand.
Tarun then turned toward the judge, his voice firm and unwavering.
"My Lord, this is not mere coincidence. This man believed he could bring down Lalan Raj, but the truth is clear—he failed."
Patel's eyes locked on Tarun, searching for an explanation of how this lawyer already knew about Lalan Raj's escape. Before he could form the thought, Tarun struck again.
"Yes, Mr. Patel," he said with unnerving certainty. "I know exactly how he slipped through your grasp. Before coming here, I conducted my research, every time whether it's a criminal or a witness entity I always do a thorough and deep research. And as usual I did a deep research about you,And it is not just about your operation… it is about you. I know the real reason you led this mission."
Tarun's words cut like glass.
"The main reason about your operation is your daughter. Who was missing for the last two to four months. You believed she was taken by Lalan Raj, and you went there to find her. Yet, she was nowhere to be found."
The courtroom fell into a suffocating silence. Patel's face darkened, veins rising at his temples. Rage consumed him, boiling beneath his skin. His grip on the wooden rails of the witness box tightened so fiercely that his knuckles turned white.
Tarun leaned forward with a faint smirk. "Now what, Mr. Patel? Will you also put me behind bars simply because I ask you serious questions?"
Patel's grip on the witness box loosened. His eyes narrowed, but he held back his words. Tarun turned to the judge and spoke with conviction.
"My Lord, I would like to summon three individuals who, in my belief, are equally responsible—if not more—for this reckless operation. These individuals never informed the authorities, never sought official sanction, and yet decided to risk not only their lives but countless others. To conceal such an undertaking, My Lord, is nothing short of a crime."
The judge nodded gravely. "Permission granted."
The heavy silence in the courtroom deepened as Tarun announced the names. "Call Rajesh, Madhu, and Vidya."
Moments earlier, Vidya and Madhu had still been in the hospital recovering when the call of immediate summons came from Tarun's chamber. And now, they entered the courtroom, their faces blank, drained of all color, and took their seats on the empty benches. Patel, standing in the witness box, followed them with his tired eyes, his heart weighed down by guilt and helplessness.
Tarun wasted no time. He turned sharply toward Vidya.
"My Lord, let me begin with Ms. Vidya. She is a lawyer by profession, well-versed in the law of this land. And yet, tell me, Ms. Vidya—how is it that you of all people ignored the very legal system you swore to serve? How did you pull off such a plan without informing higher authorities? Was it courage, or was it arrogance?"
Vidya rose slowly, her posture rigid, her face as unreadable as stone. But when Tarun's words cut deep, she said nothing. Silence filled the courtroom. She remained standing, blank, her lips pressed shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
Tarun's expression sharpened. He then shifted his gaze. "Very well. If she chooses silence, let us hear from Ms. Madhu."
Madhu stepped into the witness box. Unlike Vidya, her eyes burned with a quiet fire. Tarun fixed her with the same cold stare.
"Tell me, Ms. Madhu, how could you have possibly justified such recklessness? You entered the den of a criminal like Lalan Raj, risked your life, and endangered others. Did it never occur to you that you were defying the very system you live under? Did it never cross your mind to approach the higher authorities?"
For a moment, the air was thick with pressure. Then Madhu spoke, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
"Mr. Tarun, I think you know little about how Indian law works. But don't worry—I will tell you." She leaned forward, her tone sharper with every word. "You speak of higher authorities as though they are gods who would have saved us. Let me tell you the truth. If we had gone to them, they would have mocked us, laughed in our faces with a mouth full of supari, and dismissed us as fools. That, Mr. Tarun, is your so-called law. That is your so-called higher authority."
The courtroom froze. For a second, Tarun faltered, his lips tightening as the sting of her words sank in. Then, with a slow clap, he broke the silence.
"Bravo," he said with a faint, sardonic smile. "You can speak well. But let us not forget—this sharp tongue of yours, this fiery attitude—it is exactly why you refused to inform anyone. You were blinded by your own arrogance. You thought, 'We can do this ourselves.' And now… look at your condition. Look where this arrogance has brought you."
Madhu's defiance flickered. She lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping, silence reclaiming her. Yet, deep inside her eyes, something else stirred—the echo of Vidya's words at the hospital, words that still haunted her: "We didn't win. We lost everything."