The wedding reception hall shimmered under golden lights, silk decorations draped across pillars, jasmine fragrance filling the air as guests moved in elegant waves across the marble floor.
Soft classical music played while photographers adjusted angles and children ran between tables laughing.
No one noticed the white catering van stopping quietly near the service entrance.
Ravi Mohan stepped out first, adjusting his fake catering badge, his expression calm, almost respectful, as if he truly belonged there.
Behind him, four of his men followed, dressed in matching uniforms, carrying steel containers and food trays to complete the disguise.
"Remember," Ravi said quietly, not looking at them, "smile like servants… think like wolves."
One of the men smirked. "Boss, everything ready. The chemical is packed."
Ravi glanced at him briefly. "No mistakes. Not even a drop wasted."
Another gangster nodded. "The outdoor AC unit is behind the hall is Easy access."
Inside the hall, guests applauded as the bride and groom entered, the fog machine releasing gentle white mist across the stage for dramatic effect.
Children clapped. Cameras flashed. Music swelled louder.
Outside, two of Ravi's men walked casually toward the rear of the building.
"Quick," whispered one of them, opening the metal panel of the outdoor AC compressor.
From his bag, he removed a small black vial labeled Chloromorph-X Compound.
"Once this flows inside the central cooling," he muttered, "the entire hall breathes it."
He carefully injected the liquid into the air intake system, wiping the surface afterward to erase fingerprints.
The second man plugged a thin tube into the fog machine container waiting near the backstage area.
"This one?" he asked softly.
"Add Chloromorph-X. diluted mix," came the answer. "Low smell. Fast effect."
The liquid slipped into the fog machine tank, blending invisibly with the theatrical smoke fluid.
Within minutes, the machine continued operating as usual — but now it carried something far more dangerous.
Inside the hall, laughter grew louder.
Plates clinked. Guests danced.
Slowly, almost unnoticeably, a few people blinked longer than usual.
A woman paused mid-conversation. "I feel… dizzy…"
A man near the buffet grabbed a chair. "The air… is strange…"
The bride's uncle stumbled backward before collapsing onto the carpet.
One by one, like dominoes, bodies began falling.
Soft thuds.
Confused murmurs fading into silence.
Within five minutes, the entire reception hall was eerily quiet.
Guests lay unconscious across chairs, tables, and floor, breathing but motionless.
The fog machine continued releasing mist, now drifting through a hall of sleeping bodies.
Ravi Mohan walked inside slowly, clapping once.
"Well done," he said calmly. "Perfect execution."
His men immediately spread out.
"First wear a mask and Collect gold," Ravi ordered. "Necklaces, bangles, chains."
"Phones next."
"Purses and wallets — don't miss anything."
They moved efficiently, removing jewelry from unconscious guests, stuffing valuables into large brown grain sacks they had brought along.
One man laughed nervously. "So easy, anna… like taking sweets."
Ravi gave him a sharp look. "Respect the plan. Pride makes mistakes."
Another gangster filled a sack with mobile phones. "This alone is worth lakhs."
Someone else grabbed the bride's heavy gold necklace carefully. "This is crores, anna."
Ravi smiled slightly. "Tonight… we rise."
As they prepared to leave, one of the younger gangsters paused near a corner of the hall.
A small girl lay unconscious beside a chair, wearing a tiny silk pavadai, gold bangles still on her wrists.
He looked around, then back at her.
An idea sparked in his eyes.
He gently lifted the child, glancing toward Ravi, who was busy supervising.
Quietly, he carried her toward one of the empty brown rice sacks.
"She's small…" he muttered to himself.
"No one will notice."
He slid her carefully into the sack, tying it loosely at the top to allow air.
Minutes later, the van drove away from the wedding hall, disappearing into a side road before any passerby noticed anything unusual.
Inside the vehicle, the men laughed, counting early estimations of their loot.
One gangster tapped his sack. "Why is this heavier than before?"
"Maybe you collected too much," another joked.
The man frowned. "No… something feels different."
Ravi turned slightly. "Check it after we reach."
They finally arrived at their safe zone — an abandoned warehouse far from the city lights.
The metal shutter closed with a loud clang.
Inside, they dropped the sacks onto the dusty floor.
"Open everything," Ravi ordered calmly. "Let's see our fortune."
Gold chains spilled onto the floor like shining rivers.
Phones, purses, cash bundles scattered across a wooden table.
The gangster who looked confused untied his sack slowly.
"Why is this bag so big?" Ravi asked, narrowing his eyes.
The man hesitated before opening it fully.
Silence.
A small unconscious child lay inside.
The room froze.
Ravi's expression shifted from confusion… to surprise… then to slow amusement.
"You… kidnapped her?" he asked quietly.
The man grinned nervously. "Boss… think about it. If we demand 200 crore from her parents… we get double benefit."
"Wedding family means rich," another gangster added excitedly.
"We already took gold. Now ransom too?"
"That's genius!"
Ravi stepped closer, crouching near the sack.
He stared at the girl thoughtfully for several seconds.
Then he smiled — wide.
"Very bold," he said softly.
"Very dangerous."
"But I like it."
The men cheered quietly.
"200 crore!" one shouted.
"We become kings!"
Ravi stood up, raising his hand for silence.
"We plan carefully," he said firmly.
"No direct contact. No location trace."
"We choose the drop point wisely," another suggested.
"What if her parents are seeking for a police?"
Ravi nodded slowly. "We assume they will."
"We change vehicles twice."
"Burn the catering uniforms."
"And if police spy us…"
He smiled coldly.
"We disappear before they even blink."
The gang nodded in agreement, greed shining in their eyes brighter than the stolen gold.
In the corner, the unconscious child lay silently — unaware of the storm forming around her.
Meanwhile...
The festival grounds had transformed into a sea of color and sound, sugarcane stalks tied to bamboo poles, kolams decorating the earth, and the scent of boiling milk rising from clay pots placed over open firewood.
Children ran with turmeric-stained hands, elders gave blessings, and loud speakers played traditional folk songs that echoed across the fields.
For the first time that day, Shiva allowed himself to relax and blend into the celebration.
Lakshman stretched his arms wide. "Now this is what I call a proper Pongal da!"
Benedict grabbed a piece of sugarcane and snapped it in half. "Free food, free games, no exams… best life."
Aljasheem walked beside them, suspiciously quieter than usual.
Riya suddenly stepped closer to Aljasheem, tilting her head.
"Wait," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Why are you walking like that?"
Aljasheem stiffened slightly.
"And why is your cheek red?" she continued, moving closer to inspect.
Before he could speak, Shiva slowly turned his head.
The glare.
Aljasheem swallowed.
"Oh… that?" he said quickly. "Bathroom… I slipped. Floor was wet."
Riya blinked. "Bathroom?"
Shiva's eyes narrowed just a little more.
Aljasheem felt the temperature drop.
"Yes! Slipped in the bathroom," he repeated, forcing a laugh. "Very embarrassing actually."
Riya crossed her arms. "What were you doing with Shiva before that?"
Silence.
Wind brushed through the sugarcane leaves behind them.
Shiva looked at Aljasheem again.
Not angry.
Not shouting.
Just staring.
Aljasheem coughed. "We were just… talking. About life."
"Life?" Riya raised an eyebrow.
"Yes! Deep conversation. Very philosophical."
Shiva cracked his knuckles slowly.
Aljasheem immediately changed tone.
"Anyway! Forget that! Pongal is starting!"
A loud cheer erupted nearby.
Milk inside a clay pot began rising over the flames, bubbling violently as villagers gathered around it.
An elder shouted, "Ready! Ready!"
The milk spilled over.
The crowd roared in unison.
"PONGALO PONGAL!"
Aljasheem shouted louder than everyone, trying very hard not to look at Shiva.
"PONGALO PONGAL!"
Shiva is silent — but his eyes were somewhere else.
"He noticed that a group of police are standing in outside of the reception"
Riya laughed. "See? This is what we should focus on!"
She lightly tapped Aljasheem's arm. "Come, let's go see the games."
Shiva's jaw tightened just slightly.
They walked toward the first event — the hanging clay pot challenge.
A decorated pot filled with colored water swung from a rope tied between two poles.
One participant stood below, blindfolded, holding a long stick.
Lakshman grinned. "Dai Shiva, you try?"
Benedict laughed. "He'll break the people head instead of the pot."
Shiva smirked faintly. "Move."
They tied the cloth over Shiva's eyes.
The crowd began shouting directions randomly just to confuse him.
"Left!"
"No, right!"
"Behind you!"
Riya leaned toward Aljasheem, whispering, "He looks serious even in games."
Aljasheem started to reply.
"Always Serious"
Shiva turned his blindfolded head toward them.
Silence.
Aljasheem froze mid-sentence.
"I… I think he heard that," he muttered.
Shiva swung the stick hard.
CRACK.
The pot shattered perfectly.
Colored water splashed over him like victory paint.
The crowd cheered.
Lakshman jumped. "Machan! That was perfect!"
"Benedict Whispers closer to aljasheem" "I think he imaged the pot as your head XD"
"Aljasheem Froze"
Riya clapped excitedly. "that was cool!!."
Shiva removed the blindfold slowly.
He looked at Aljasheem.
Just one second too long.
Next came the tug-of-war.
Two teams grabbed opposite ends of a thick rope, feet digging into the dusty ground.
Chandramani and his gang joined the opposite side.
"Let's see your strength now, hero," Chandramani smirked.
Shiva stepped forward without speaking.
Aljasheem hesitated… then joined Shiva's side carefully.
Then lakshman, benedict joins in tug-of-war
"Ready!" someone shouted.
"Pull!"
The rope tightened violently between both teams.
Dust rose.
Muscles strained.
Crowds screamed encouragement.
Aljasheem struggled beside Shiva. "Bro… don't kill us… this is just a game…"
Shiva pulled harder, he is the one who pulled harder, stronger than others.
Chandramani's team stumbled forward suddenly.
They fell.
Hard.
The crowd burst into laughter.
Chandramani glared from the ground.
"This... isn't over," he muttered.
Shiva simply turned away.
"lakshman and benedict cheers shiva as he sees his strength"
Riya walked up again, smiling.
"Aljasheem, you were strong there!"
Aljasheem opened his mouth to respond.
Shiva looked at him.
The death glare returned.
Aljasheem closed his mouth.
"Team effort, u know that," he said quickly.
As the sun lowered slightly, drums began beating louder in the distance.
An announcer's voice echoed across the grounds.
"Prepare! In the coming show last final show… is Jallikattu!"
The crowd erupted with excitement.
Lakshman's eyes widened. "That's going to be insane."
Benedict grinned. "Imagine what if Shiva there?."
Riya laughed. "He'll stare at the bull and it will surrender."
Aljasheem laughed nervously.
Shiva didn't laugh.
He looked toward the far fields where barricades were being prepared.
Something inside him stirred again — not fear this time.
Something heavier.
Riya called again, "Aljasheem, come see this stall!"
Aljasheem instinctively stepped forward.
Shiva's eyes followed.
Aljasheem stopped mid-step.
"I… I think I'll stay here," he said awkwardly.
Riya frowned slightly. "You're acting strange today."
Shiva folded his arms.
Aljasheem looked at him helplessly.
"Bathroom slip trauma," he muttered under his breath.
The festival noise continued around them — drums, laughter, shouting, firecrackers in the distance.
But between the four friends, a quiet tension had formed.
Unspoken.
Shiva rarely spoke now.
Only watched.
Only observed.