Time: 6:03 PM
Location: Nileswaram, Kerala
The sun was setting over the town, making long shadows. The air felt heavy, not just hot, but with this old, gross feeling - fear.
Inside the police jeep, Inspector Rajan Menon stared at the radio like it had just cursed him.
"Control to Unit 7. Someone reported seeing a suspect near Karinthalam railway crossing. They think it's Ripper Chandru."
The name hit Rajan hard. Ripper Chandru. Fourteen murders. No one lived. He showed no kindness.
Rajan didn't reply. He just started the engine.
Now: The Call
"Sir, the person who saw him said he was walking toward the tracks. Brown shirt. Something in his hand."
Rajan's voice was quiet, like he was scared to ask. "Was it a hammer?"
"Couldn't tell, sir. But the man looked… calm."
Calm. That word again. Chandru didn't run or hide. He just walked, like death, waiting and planned.
Back then: The First Murder
Joseph. The mechanic.
Rajan remembered it like it was stuck in his head. The shop was quiet, except for blood dripping. Joseph's head was cut open seven times. Each hit was right on. Like a ritual.
His eyes were open. His mouth looked like he was screaming. And on his wrist was a red thread, tied perfectly.
No fingerprints or footprints. Just that violence.
Rajan threw up behind the building. Not from the blood, but because it was so still. The room felt like it had been watched.
Now: Getting Closer
The jeep sped down the dirt road. Trees seemed to lean in, listening. The sun was almost gone, and the shadows looked mean.
Rajan held the wheel tight. He wasn't chasing a man, but a made-up story. A ghost in a person.
Back then: The Second Murder
A new couple, found in bed, holding hands. Their eyes were gone. Hammer hits to the head. The sheets were bloody, but the room was untouched.
On the wall, written in grease:
"They were dreaming too loud."
Rajan stared at that for hours. What did it mean? Why them?
Now: Getting There
The jeep stopped fast near the railway crossing. It was too quiet. Even the dogs weren't barking.
A tea shop light flickered in the distance, swinging like a rope.
Rajan got out. His boots made noise on the rocks. His hand was near his gun, not to be safe, but to stay sane.
Then he saw him.
A person. Brown shirt. Walking along the tracks slowly. In his hand, something heavy that reflected the last light.
Rajan didn't breathe or blink. He just whispered, "Chandru."