No Fingerprints

2002 One fine, dry day, the sky suddenly began to change. Dark clouds slowly gathered above, covering the bright sky. Then, without any warning, a single drop of rain began its journey from the clouds toward the ground. It travelled through the air for only a fraction of a second, pulled down by gravity, until it finally touched a small, dry plant. The drop landed perfectly on one of the plant’s dried leaves, shining for a moment like a tiny piece of glass. Then the leaf broke and fell silently to the ground. Within seconds, the rain began to fall heavily. Across the road from that small plant stood Padmavati Lodge. Inside one of its rooms, a man was lying on a narrow bed. His name was Pardhu. He was wearing a slightly blackened lungi and a dirty white baniyan. The room was messy and poorly maintained. An old ceiling fan was spinning slowly above him while the faint sound of the rain came through the window. Pardhu was smoking a cigarette, lying on the bed and staring continuously at the spinning fan. Smoke slowly escaped from his mouth and drifted toward the open window. He had been staring at the fan for so long that he was no longer really watching it. His thoughts had taken him somewhere else. The spinning blades slowly began to blur in front of his eyes. His mind became quiet, his eyes grew heavy, and for a moment, everything around him seemed to disappear. He took one last drag from the cigarette and slowly closed his eyes. Everything became black. For a few seconds, A busy Monday he was on the roadside hiding in an auto, then he slowly looked around, there were four other men with him. All of them were wearing face masks. One had a completely bald head, another had curly hair, while the other two were short and skinny. Despite their different appearances, all four looked physically fit, as if they worked out every day. They were dressed in dark, dull-coloured clothes, making them blend easily into the surroundings. Traffic moved continuously along the road, people walked past the lodge, street vendors shouted to attract customers, and passengers hurried to board autos. Everything looked completely normal. Nobody had any idea that something was about to happen. 900m away to lodge stood YCYC Bank, a small bank occupying barely 1,200 square feet. There was only one-armed security guard at the entrance. Customers were walking in and out, some using the ATM while others stood at the counters filling out bank forms. It was an ordinary day at the bank. At least, it was ordinary until now. Suddenly, the five men moved. They started running toward the bank. At first, nobody noticed. In a crowded street, five men running for a few seconds didn’t immediately look unusual. But as they got closer, people began turning their heads. Someone stopped walking. A street vendor looked up. A man standing near an auto stepped aside, confused about what was happening. Before anyone could understand, the five men reached the bank. They rushed inside. Within seconds, the bank’s shutter came down from the inside, cutting the small branch off from the street. The noise outside continued as usual, but whatever happened inside could no longer be clearly heard from the road. The security guard barely had time to react. One of the men, Shiva, moved toward him and struck him hard. The guard lost his balance and fell to the floor. Shiva immediately restrained him, using the towel around his own neck to tie his hands and cover his mouth. Then Pardhu stepped forward. His eyes moved across the frightened customers and bank employees. His voice suddenly filled the room. “Nobody moves. Everyone bends down!” For a moment, there was complete silence. Then panic exploded. People screamed. Someone began to run. A chair fell to the floor with a loud crash. And outside the closed shutter, the screams finally reached the street. People stopped walking. Heads turned toward YCYC Bank. Nobody yet knew what was happening inside. But everyone knew something was terribly wrong. Within a fraction of a second, the five men spread across the bank. Each of them moved toward a different corner, shouting at the customers and staff to get down. Panic took over the room. People dropped to the floor, some covering their faces, others trembling as they tried to understand what was happening. Inside his cabin, the bank manager was desperately trying to press the red emergency button beneath his desk. His hands were shaking, but before he could reach it, the bald-headed man noticed him. He rushed into the cabin, grabbed the manager by his tie and kicked him out of his chair. The manager stumbled forward, struggling to breathe as the tie tightened around his neck. The bald man dragged him out of the cabin by his tie and struck him hard across the face with his leg. The sound of the hit silenced the entire bank. The manager fell to the floor, holding his face. A few members of the staff immediately tried to move toward him, but one of the skinny men stepped in front of them. “Stay there!” The staff froze. He grabbed one of them by the collar and pulled him toward the lockers. “Where are the locker keys?” The employee didn’t answer. “Keys!” His voice became louder. Meanwhile, the security guard was slowly trying to regain his strength. He moved his hands against the floor and tried to push himself up. He knew exactly what was at stake—not just the bank’s money, but the people inside it. With whatever strength he had left, he tried to stand. One of the five men noticed him. “He’s getting up!” For the first time, a flicker of worry appeared among the robbers. Something was already going wrong. The plan had been simple. Five minutes. Get in. Take the cash. Get out. But almost three minutes had already disappeared while gaining control of the bank. Only two minutes remained. Pardhu looked at his watch. His face changed. “Forget the locker.” He moved straight toward the cashier’s counter, pulled open the cash drawer and began grabbing the bundles of notes. He shoved the money into the gunny bag he was carrying. Then he moved rapidly from one counter to another, collecting whatever cash was within reach. “Take everything you can find. We’re leaving!” The others began following his orders. But the bald-headed man didn’t move. He was still standing near the frightened bank employee. “The locker,” he said. “Open it.” The employee shook his head. “We don’t have time!” “I said open it!” The bald man grabbed him again and began forcing him toward the locker area. Pardhu looked at the clock. His breathing became heavier. One minute. Outside, the situation had already changed. Someone had called the police. Then another person called. A police vehicle was already making its way toward the bank. Inside, nobody knew exactly how close the police were. But Pardhu knew one thing. They had to leave. “Everyone, whatever you have, take it and move!” The men grabbed what they could. The total amount was nowhere near what they had expected. Around five lakh rupees. Pardhu looked at the money-filled gunny bag. Then at the shutter. “Open it.” One of the men moved toward the shutter and began lifting it. The metal shutter slowly rose. A thin line of daylight appeared beneath it. Then more. The man continued lifting. And suddenly—he stopped. His entire body went still. Pardhu looked toward the opening. On the other side of the shutter, several police officers were already standing there. Waiting. Pardhu’s heart seemed to stop. The men inside the bank froze. For the first time that day, fear appeared clearly on Pardhu’s face. Sweat covered his forehead. His breathing became heavy. He looked at the police. Then at the men behind him. Then back at the police. And just as one of the officers stepped forward— Pardhu’s eyes suddenly opened. He was back in the lodge. The ceiling fan was still spinning above him. The rain was still falling outside. For a few seconds, he didn’t move. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers. It had almost completely burned down. Pardhu took one final puff. The cigarette went out. He slowly lifted his hand and tapped it against the ashtray. The ash fell. Pardhu stared at it. Then he looked toward the window. A faint smile appeared on his face. The entire bank robbery had happened only inside his head. But the question was— How come it failed, and how to make it work? He called his gang member to bring food. Pardhu sat on the edge of the bed, still thinking about the heist. The imaginary robbery that had just played inside his head kept repeating in fragments—the bank, the shouting, the money, the police waiting outside. He rubbed his forehead and stared at the floor. He knew imagining a robbery was easy. Making it work was something completely different. Every small mistake could turn five minutes into five years behind bars. He was still lost in his thoughts when there was a knock on the door. Pardhu stood up and opened it. The bald-headed man was standing outside. His name was Shiva. He walked inside without waiting for an invitation and immediately looked at Pardhu. “So, what do you think about the heist?” he asked. Pardhu closed the door and turned toward him. “I was thinking about it. Do you have any plan? If you have one, tell me.” Shiva pulled a chair closer and sat down. “I have an idea,” he said confidently. “But we need to think about everything before we do anything. We can’t just walk into a bank and expect things to go our way.” Before Pardhu could respond, there was another knock on the door. This time, three men entered together. Kumar, Chinna and Rolex. They were carrying packets of food and a few bottles of beer. They placed everything on the small table in the room and pulled the chairs closer. Rolex immediately put his earphones on, took out his phone and started watching something without paying attention to anyone. Nobody bothered to stop him. They were used to him. Shiva opened a food packet and looked at everyone. “Listen carefully. Today is Tuesday. Next Monday is the day we are planning to execute the heist.” Kumar stopped eating and looked at him. Chinna leaned forward. Even Rolex continued staring at his phone. “We don’t have many banks in this town,” Shiva continued. “There are only three major ones—YCYC Bank, KYC Bank and TUV Bank. Out of these three, YCYC is the one we should be looking at. If we are going to take the risk, we need to know which bank is worth that risk.” Pardhu remained silent, listening carefully. “We shouldn’t rush,” Shiva said. “For the next two days, we need to understand the bank properly. We need to know when it opens, when it closes, when the place gets crowded, when it becomes quiet and how the security around it changes during the day. We need to understand the routine before we even think about stepping inside.” Kumar nodded slowly. Chinna listened without saying anything. “The most important thing is timing,” Shiva continued. “We can’t simply choose a time because we think the bank will be empty. We need to know when there are fewer people around. We also need to understand when the police presence in the town is different. There is regular police patrolling from evening until early morning, so we shouldn’t even think about doing anything during those hours. Daytime is the only possibility.” Pardhu finally spoke. “And the police?” Shiva looked at him for a moment before answering. “That’s exactly why we need to understand the town first. We need to know the general movement around the bank and avoid doing anything when attention is high. We don’t get a second chance.” Pardhu leaned back in his chair and looked at the others. Five men were sitting inside that small room, eating, drinking and discussing something that could completely change their lives. Monday was only six days away. But before Monday came, they had two days to learn everything they could. And somewhere in the back of Pardhu’s mind, a thought had already begun forming. A robbery was not about taking money. It was about making sure that, when everything was over, nobody could prove that you had ever been there.

The discussion continued late into the night. Empty food packets lay scattered across the table and rats were eating the leftovers from the biryani packets. Half-finished beer bottles reflected the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling. Nobody spoke much after Shiva finished. Pardhu quietly folded the sheet of paper—the plan they had noted—and slipped it into his pocket. His face revealed nothing. Rolex remained glued to his phone, earphones still in place and pardhu was asking what are you doing rolex he reply i was watching porn answered arrogently and put in left hand inside the pant and walked to bathroom. Pardhu glanced at him with disgust. Something about Rolex’s behaviour didn’t feel right, But he said nothing. The next two three days passed without drawing attention. The five men moved through the town like any ordinary locals. Never staying together too long. The next two  three days were not about the robbery. They were about becoming invisible. On the evening before the recce began, the five men sat together and divided their responsibilities. Nobody was allowed to interfere with another man’s work. Shiva and Pardhu would stay around YCYC Bank, pretending to be ordinary fruit vendors. Their job was simply to watch the rhythm of the place—the moments when the bank became crowded, when it became quiet, how people moved in and out, and how the routine changed throughout the day. They carried small notebooks and wrote down their observations whenever they got a chance. To anyone passing by, they were just two men selling fruit and arguing with customers over prices. The same routine continued. Shiva would arrange the fruit baskets in the morning while Pardhu stood nearby, casually calling out to customers. Between conversations and sales, their eyes quietly wandered toward the bank. They noticed the changing crowd, the movement around the entrance, and the moments when the street became unusually quiet. Even the security cameras caught their attention—not because they were trying to do anything with them, but because Pardhu wanted to understand how the bank looked from the outside and what the surroundings were like at different times of the day. Every small observation went into the notebook. Rolex had a completely different role. He entered the bank as an ordinary customer, carrying himself with the confidence of someone who had nothing to hide. He asked questions, filled out forms, waited among other customers and observed the atmosphere inside. He spent enough time there to become a familiar face rather than someone people would remember as suspicious. Whenever he returned to the lodge, he shared whatever he had noticed, and Pardhu compared his observations with the notes collected outside. Meanwhile, Kumar and Chinna spent their days around the police station. They dressed like garbage collectors and moved through the area without attracting much attention. Their presence became part of the background of the street—something people saw but rarely noticed. They watched the general movement around the station, listened to conversations when they naturally happened around them, and paid attention to how the town seemed to change during different parts of the day. They were not looking for one single piece of information. They were trying to understand the rhythm of the town itself. Every evening, the five men returned to the lodge and placed their notes on the table. One notebook became two. Two became a pile of papers. Shiva would read his observations aloud while Pardhu compared them with Rolex’s notes. Kumar and Chinna added what they had noticed around the police station. Sometimes the information matched perfectly. Sometimes it didn’t. And whenever something didn’t match, Pardhu would circle it with a pen. “Again,” he would say. Nobody argued. They would go back the next day and watch again. By the end of the second day, they had begun to understand something more important than the bank itself. They had learned that a town has a rhythm. People follow routines without realizing it. Shops open. Customers come and go. Traffic rises and falls. Streets become crowded and then suddenly quiet. The same faces appear at almost the same times. And the five men had spent two days quietly becoming part of that rhythm. Nobody remembered the fruit sellers. Nobody remembered the garbage collectors. Nobody remembered the customer who kept asking questions inside the bank. That was exactly what Pardhu wanted. But there was one thing he had not yet understood. While the other four men were studying the town, Rolex seemed to be studying something else entirely. Nothing about them looked unusual to anyone around them. Evenings were spent quietly comparing notes , small observations about the town’s routines and rhythm. By Sunday night, the laughter from earlier was gone. Only short sentences were exchanged . Pardhu folded the paper again and slipped it into his pocket. Four pairs of eyes were fixed on Monday. The fifth pair? Seemed fixed on something else.

Monday arrived with a strange kind of stillness. The kind that usually makes people believe everything is normal. The lodge room smelled of sweat, cheap deodorant, and cold fear. No one laughed now. Even Chinna, who usually tried to lighten the mood, kept his mouth shut. Shiva was tying and retying a knot in a towel, pulling it tighter each time, as if testing not the knot, but his own nerves. Kumar kept checking the window, not out of fear of being watched, but out of habit, as if memorizing the world outside one last time. And Rolex sat on the bed, quiet. That unexpected bag beside him was like he had placed a question in the middle of the room and dared anyone to answer it. Nobody really trusted that bag. But everyone now depended on it. The clock moved closer to 10, and with every minute, the air felt heavier. It wasn’t courage anymore. It was momentum. The kind you can’t stop once it begins. Then finally came the moment. No dramatic speeches, no heroic promises, just a short nod from Pardhu. They stood up, one after the other, some adjusting masks, some checking pockets. Shiva’s hands trembled slightly when he noticed it, he clenched his fist hard. Kumar swallowed so many times it felt like his throat had forgotten how to breathe. Chinna just kept looking at the floor, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and Rolex. He smiled faintly, as if enjoying a secret no one else knew. That smile made Parthu’s stomach turn. They walked out of the lodge like normal men walking down a normal street. The sun was harsh, the kind of sun that exposes everything. But today, it felt like an interrogation light. Every step towards YCYC Bank felt heavier than the last. People passed them. Autos raced by. A child cried somewhere. Someone bargained loudly with a fruit vendor. and asking if two days back there should be one more fruit vendor, where did he go. Life went on. Oblivious. And that was the scariest part. Because it meant that history sometimes doesn’t announce itself with drums. It just quietly walks to the bank. Just before they reached the gate, Parthu slowed down for a second. Not enough for others to notice, but just enough for himself. A tiny hesitation. A silent question. Am I still allowed to turn back? But nobody turns back in stories like this. They reached the door. And the world, still unaware, kept moving. By Monday morning, the five men had checked out of Padmavati Lodge. Their bags were packed, the room was empty, and whatever life they had created there for the past few days was left behind. They returned the key and walked out without looking back. Nobody spoke much. The excitement they had felt during the planning was gone. What remained was the uncomfortable silence that comes when a plan stops being a plan and becomes reality. They all knew the same thing: one mistake, one unexpected moment, one wrong decision, and their entire lives could collapse. They had barely walked a short distance when Rolex suddenly stopped. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he said. The others turned toward him. Shiva’s face immediately tightened. Pardhu looked at his watch. “Now?” he asked. Rolex simply nodded and walked away. Nobody stopped him, but nobody liked it either. This was the exact moment when everyone was supposed to stay together. They had spent days preparing for Monday, and now, at the most important moment, one man had decided to disappear. Pardhu watched Rolex disappear into the crowd. For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then he quietly said, “Let’s go.” The four men reached the market. Shiva walked toward the fruit basket where he had spent the previous two days pretending to be a fruit seller. He lifted it casually, as though he had returned to collect something he had forgotten, and pulled out a towel-wrapped bundle. He placed it inside his bag and walked back to the others. An auto-rickshaw was waiting nearby. They knew the driver well, and after a short conversation, they asked him to pick something up from a nearby shop. The driver agreed and left. The four men remained inside the auto, waiting for Rolex. Nobody said it, but the same thought was running through everyone’s mind: what if he didn’t come back? Then, after what felt like much longer than twenty minutes, Rolex appeared. He was carrying a bag and walking calmly through the crowd. There was no panic on his face. No explanation either. He climbed into the auto, placed the bag between them and looked at Pardhu. “Ready?” Pardhu didn’t answer. Shiva immediately reached for the bag and opened it. What they saw made all four of them stare. Plasters, bandages, threads, a strong-smelling perfume, packets of ordinary household powders, extra masks and several other small items were packed inside. Kumar picked up one of the packets and looked at Rolex in confusion. “What is all this?” Rolex leaned back and smiled. “You people are still living in 2002,” he said. “I went to 2040.” Nobody laughed. Shiva stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” Rolex looked at all of them. “While you were watching the bank, I was thinking about what happens after the robbery. You were planning how to get inside. I was thinking about what happens when we come out.” He explained that the things in the bag were precautions, nothing more. He wanted everyone to be prepared for unexpected situations and avoid leaving unnecessary traces behind. Then he looked at them one by one. “All these days, you thought I was wasting my time on my phone watching porn and masturbating. I wasn’t. I was researching.” For a moment, nobody spoke. The man they had considered distracted for the past several days had apparently been thinking about the same robbery in a completely different way. Pardhu looked at his watch. “Enough. We don’t have time.” His voice was calm, but his eyes were not. “Five minutes. That’s the limit. Don’t become greedy. Take what you can and leave. If you start waiting for more, we lose everything.” Shiva nodded. Kumar swallowed hard. Chinna looked toward the bank. Rolex quietly closed his bag. The auto driver returned, and the five men prepared themselves. Fifteen minutes remained before the bank’s lunch break. The morning crowd had begun to thin. The exact moment they had been waiting for was getting closer. The auto stopped near YCYC Bank. For one brief second, none of them moved. The bank stood across the road, looking exactly as it had every other day. People walked past it without a second thought. A customer stepped out. Another person entered. A street vendor shouted at someone nearby. Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded. Ordinary life was continuing, completely unaware that five men were sitting only a few metres away, waiting to change the course of their own lives. Pardhu looked at the others. Shiva nodded. Chinna took a deep breath. Kumar tightened his grip on his bag. Rolex looked strangely calm. Then the five doors opened almost together. They stepped out and moved toward the bank. This time, nobody stopped to look at them. Their faces disappeared behind their masks as they approached the entrance. Their footsteps became faster and faster. The outside world suddenly disappeared. Inside the bank, everything became still. The daylight that had filled the small room was blocked by the shutter, leaving the interior dim and tense. Customers froze. Employees stared at the five masked men. For a moment, even the robbers seemed to hear nothing except their own breathing. Pardhu slowly looked at his watch. The second hand moved forward. One second. Another. Another. The plan had taken days to build. The moment had arrived in seconds. And now they had only five minutes to prove that all of them had been right. The clock had started. Five minutes. Three hundred seconds. That was all they had given themselves. Shiva pulled the shutter down with a violent metallic crash, cutting the bank away from the outside world. Pardhu immediately moved toward the security guard and struck him hard. The guard fell heavily to the floor, stunned. Shiva rushed forward, restrained him and covered his mouth while Rolex turned toward the terrified customers and shouted, “Everyone down! Hands where we can see them!” Panic exploded inside the bank. People screamed, chairs overturned and several customers dropped to the floor in fear. One customer tried to move, but Chinna rushed toward him, knocked him down and hit his shoulder. The sight of that was enough to make everyone else freeze. They fell to the floor with their hands raised, terrified of what might happen next. 
Rolex moved toward the manager’s cabin and breaked all the CCTV camers and smashing his computer, following the plan they had discussed. He dragged the frightened manager out of the cabin while Pardhu rushed toward the cashier’s counter. He pulled open the drawers and began grabbing the bundles of cash, pushing them into the bag as quickly as possible. His heart was pounding, but for a few seconds everything seemed to be going exactly according to plan. Then, without warning, one of the bank employees suddenly stood up. Before Chinna could react, the employee pushed him aside and ran toward Pardhu. He reached him and kicked him hard. Pardhu stumbled, and the bag nearly slipped from his hand. For one frozen second, all five men stared at him in disbelief. The plan had just taken its first serious turn.
The security guard suddenly moved. Everyone had assumed he was helpless, but he had managed to regain enough strength to stand. He reached for his weapon, desperate to protect the people inside the bank. Someone shouted, but it was too late. When he stood up taking his gun to hit robbers in that chaos a gunshot exploded through the small room. The sound was deafening. Guard left in shocked because it was not planned. Chinna was struck in the ear, which was almost torn, and he collapsed to the floor. Gun hit the wall passing through Chinna’s ear. Blood appeared across his face and clothing, and the room fell silent for a fraction of a second. Then the screaming began again. Pardhu stared at Chinna in shock. Chinna was shouting in pain loudly. This was never supposed to happen. There was never supposed to be blood. Never a gunshot. Never someone lying injured on the floor. Their carefully planned robbery had suddenly turned into something none of them could control. 
Kumar stood nearby with a knife in his hand. He looked at Chinna, then at the guard, and something inside him snapped. Before anyone could stop him, he rushed toward the guard and stabbed him twice in the stomach. The guard collapsed again in blood. Everything inside the bank descended into chaos. Customers screamed, employees shouted and someone began pounding against the shutter. Pardhu looked at his watch. One hundred and eighty seconds remained. Only three minutes. He looked around the room and finally understood that the original plan was finished. The money no longer mattered. “Forget the money!” Pardhu shouted. “Everyone out! Now!” Shiva looked at him in disbelief, but Pardhu shouted again, louder this time. “Leave it! Run!” 
The men rushed toward the shutter. Rolex grabbed his bag and desperately tried to create confusion as they moved toward the exit, while the others followed Pardhu’s command. One of the frightened employees managed to reach the manager’s cabin and slammed the emergency button. A red warning light came on. The alarm had been triggered. Pardhu heard it and his face changed immediately. “RUN!” he shouted. Shiva lifted the shutter, and bright daylight suddenly flooded the dark bank. The five men ran outside, no longer moving according to the plan. While leaving the bank, Rolex was last, spraying the strong-smelling perfume and pepper powder all over the bank, mainly on Chinna’s blood from the gunshot, before they ran away. They scattered in different directions and disappeared into the crowded streets. Pardhu ran without looking back. His lungs burned, his heart hammered and his thoughts were racing. He didn’t know where the others were, whether Chinna was alive or how long it would take the police to reach the bank. All he knew was that the robbery had gone completely wrong. 
A few minutes later, police vehicles arrived at YCYC Bank. Officers rushed inside and found terrified customers, injured people, blood on the floor and a scene of complete confusion. The manager stood near his cabin, unable to speak properly. One officer looked around the room and asked, “How many were there?” For a moment, nobody answered. Then someone quietly said, “Seven.” The officer looked toward the open shutter. Seven men had entered the bank, and Seven men had disappeared in different directions. Their identities were unknown, their whereabouts were unknown, and the reason behind the robbery was still unclear. Somewhere in the town, Pardhu was still running. But for the first time since the plan had begun, he wasn’t thinking about the money. He was thinking about Chinna, about the blood he had seen on the bank floor, and about the terrible question that had now entered his mind: Had they just become murderers?

The police immediately began investigating the crime scene. The injured security guard was rushed to the hospital, while the injured bank staff were given first aid and questioned about what had happened. Officers moved through the bank carefully, trying to understand how five masked men had entered, how long they had stayed and how they had managed to disappear so quickly. Soon, forensic experts arrived and began examining every part of the scene. They searched the counters, doors and other surfaces for evidence, but the strong smell of perfume filled the room, powders were scattered across the floor, the CCTV cameras had been damaged and blood from the injured men had mixed with the chaos inside the bank. Every possible clue seemed to lead somewhere, yet nothing seemed clear.

Nearly two hours passed before the forensic team finally finished their examination. One of the experts walked toward the police officers with a serious expression. Inspector Vijay Kantha looked at him and asked, “Anything?” The forensic officer shook his head slowly. “Nothing useful, sir. We couldn’t find any fingerprints belonging to the robbers.” Vijay Kantha looked around the damaged bank, then at the scattered evidence on the floor. He remained silent for a few seconds. Five men had entered the bank. They had attacked people, created chaos, taken money and disappeared. Yet they had left behind almost nothing that could identify them. Vijay Kantha slowly repeated the words, as if trying to understand them himself. “No fingerprints.” He looked at the crime scene again. Then he said quietly, “No fingerprints”

Vijay Kantha called one of the bank employees toward him. The man was still shaken, his face pale, and his hands were trembling. Vijay looked directly at him and asked, “Tell me exactly what happened, starting from the moment they entered. Don’t miss anything.” The employee took a deep breath and began. “Sir, first five men came inside. They were all wearing masks. Everything happened very quickly. They forced everyone down, attacked the guard and started taking the money. We were all terrified. But after nearly two minutes, something happened that I still can’t understand.” Vijay leaned closer. “What happened?” The employee swallowed hard. “Two more men suddenly appeared, sir. They came from the locker room.” Vijay’s expression changed immediately. “Two more?” The employee nodded. “Yes, sir. I saw them coming out from there. I was shocked because that locker room cannot normally be entered without a physical key. I don’t know how they got inside. Nobody opened that door in front of us. They were simply there.” Vijay looked toward the locker room. “Are you sure there were seven?” The employee hesitated for a moment. “Yes, sir. Seven men in total. I’m certain.” The officers immediately moved toward the locker room. When they entered, they found almost nothing left inside. A few hundred-rupee notes were scattered across the floor, as if dropped in a hurry. Then one officer noticed something unusual near the cupboard. What looked like an ordinary storage cupboard had been disturbed. Behind it was a large opening, leading into the wall. Vijay stared at it in silence. The employee pointed toward it. “Sir, that cupboard was usually kept almost closed because we used it for documents. We never imagined there was something behind it. Maybe they worked on it when the bank was closed. Maybe it took them days. It looks like this wasn’t something they decided today.” Vijay slowly turned back toward the employee. “How much money is missing?” The employee looked down at the floor before answering. “Nearly ninety lakhs, sir.” Vijay’s eyes returned to the dark opening behind the cupboard. The five masked men who had entered through the front were already a mystery. But now there were two more. Two men who had somehow appeared from inside the bank itself. Nobody knew who they were. Nobody had seen them enter. And nobody could explain how they had been waiting there. Vijay stood in front of the opening, staring into the darkness. For the first time, the robbery didn’t look like a robbery anymore. It looked like someone had been planning something inside that bank long before the five men ever arrived.

1991 Sonam Pure was a small, forgotten village in Khammam district, where nearly fifty families lived with almost nothing to call their own. Years earlier, during the war between India and Bangladesh, a few families had crossed into India and eventually settled here, hoping that the new land would give them a chance to begin again. But years passed, and life never really became easier. Because their status was never properly recognised by the government, basic facilities barely reached the village. There were no proper roads, no reliable electricity, and very little access to education or healthcare. They lived quietly, almost invisible to the outside world, surviving one day at a time. Most families survived by whatever the land and forest could give them. Men and women walked into the forest, collected firewood and sticks, and carried heavy bundles back to the village to sell. Some made brooms from the dry grass and branches they collected. Others gathered wild fruits and vegetables or grew whatever they could on their tiny pieces of land. There was only a small school, and even that hardly felt like a school. One government teacher would occasionally come to the village, teach the children whatever he could and leave before the day was over. For the children of Sonam Pure, education was not a path to a better life. It was simply something they had heard existed somewhere beyond their village. Among those children was a boy named Sanjay. He was always seen wearing an old, turned-out shirt that had already lived a longer life than most clothes should. But somehow, none of that seemed to bother him. Sanjay was always smiling. He was unusually sharp for his age, curious about everything and constantly asking questions that even the elders sometimes struggled to answer. On ordinary days, he would run through the village, climb trees, watch the birds and spend hours lying on the ground looking at the sky. Poverty had surrounded him since birth, but somehow it had not managed to take away his happiness. Then came a day the village would never forget. The sky changed suddenly. Dark clouds gathered above Sonam Pure, and rain began falling heavily. Sanjay was lying on the floor of his small house, staring upward as the sound of rain grew louder. Within minutes, the rain became violent. Water began rushing through the narrow paths between the houses, turning the village into a muddy stream. Families rushed outside trying to save whatever they could. Sanjay’s parents ran toward a nearby tree and took shelter beneath it, believing they would be safe there. Then lightning tore across the dark sky. A thunderous crack shook the entire village, and the tree where Sanjay’s parents were standing was struck. Sanjay watched helplessly as the storm swallowed the village around him. The rain did not stop. Water rose rapidly, entered houses and carried away whatever stood in its path. Mud walls collapsed one after another. A few died under the collapsing walls. Roofs disappeared beneath the rushing water. Baskets, firewood, clothes and food floated through the flooded streets. Many men were swept away in the water and drowned while saving children. Cries for help came from every direction, but the rain was so loud that voices disappeared almost as quickly as they were heard. Sanjay was left on the floor, frightened and soaked, until an elderly man found him and pulled him to safety. He lifted the boy into his arms and carried him through the rising water. Behind them, Sonam Pure was disappearing beneath the flood. By the time they reached safer ground, almost every family had lost their home. The village they knew was gone, and the people of Sonam Pure had no choice but to leave once again, carrying whatever little remained of their lives with them. Sanjay had no one left. The people around him had survived, but his family had disappeared in the disaster, leaving him completely alone. The government rescue teams arrived only after almost everything in Sonam Pure had been destroyed. The survivors were taken to a church built on top of a nearby hill, where they were given basic necessities—water, bread and whatever food could be arranged. For a week, that church became their shelter. Every day, people sat silently, trying to understand what had happened to their homes and their lives. But for Sanjay, the sadness was deeper. Sunday came, and while others gathered together, he sat alone, thinking about his parents. He had lost his home, his village and, most importantly, his family. Somewhere inside that little boy, something changed that day. He understood that nobody was coming to live his life for him. If he wanted to survive, he would have to fight his own battle. A few days later, the government arranged a new place for the displaced families to settle. The villagers gathered whatever little belongings they had left and began walking toward their new destination. Sanjay walked along with a group of men, carrying nothing more than what he could manage. As they moved, he suddenly heard a distant sound that he had never been able to ignore—the rumbling of a train. His eyes turned toward the railway tracks. The sound grew louder, and his curiosity grew with it. He began imagining the places that train could take him, places beyond the hills, beyond the village, beyond the life he had known. He looked at the people around him, then back toward the tracks. Slowly, an idea entered his mind. The group continued walking, but Sanjay began slowing down. First by a few steps, then a little more. Nobody noticed. The others were busy talking among themselves and carrying whatever belongings they had managed to save. Sanjay looked back once, then again. When he was sure nobody was watching him, he stopped following the group and ran toward the railway line. He ran as fast as his small legs could carry him. But when he reached the tracks, the train was already moving. He stood there helplessly as it passed, unable to climb aboard. Finally, exhausted, he sat on a sandbag beside the tracks and watched the long train disappear into the distance. He began counting the coaches as they passed. “Ten… twelve… thirteen… fourteen… fifteen…” He kept counting until the last coach vanished from sight. Then he sat quietly, staring at the empty tracks. Nearly three hours passed. Another train finally arrived and came to a stop nearby. Sanjay watched carefully. It was heading toward the southern part of India. He looked around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to him. His heart began beating faster. He didn’t know where the train would take him, and he didn’t know what waited at the other end. But staying behind meant returning to a life where he had already lost everything. Sanjay took a deep breath, waited for the right moment and quietly climbed aboard. One old woman saw Sanjay climbing the train and began to shout. He found a place where he could remain hidden and squeezed himself inside. The train began to move. Sanjay sat silently in the darkness, listening to the wheels beneath him. For the first time since the flood, he wasn’t running away from something. He was going somewhere. He just didn’t know where. But everything is going to start now in his life. 

Back…………

Pardhu was hiding inside a broken mechanic shed on the outskirts of town. The place was dark, dusty and filled with the smell of old oil and rust. Every small sound outside made him tense. He sat against a wall with his knees pulled close, trying to control his breathing, but his mind refused to become quiet. Where were Shiva, Kumar, Chinna and Rolex? Were they alive? Had the police caught any of them? How could he contact them without exposing himself? And then came the question that frightened him more than the police—the two unknown men. Who were they? Where had they come from? Why had they joined them while they were escaping? Why had their faces been covered? And, most importantly, why were they carrying five huge bags of money? Pardhu had never planned for those men. He had never even known they existed. For the first time, he wondered whether Rolex had known something all along. Rolex’s strange behaviour, his phone, his secretive attitude, the bag he had brought that morning—everything suddenly felt connected. But Pardhu had no proof. He had nothing except questions. He stayed hidden near one of his old friends without telling him what had happened. He couldn’t trust anyone enough to tell the truth. Every two days, he changed his hiding place, moving from one relative’s house to another, keeping his head down and avoiding unnecessary conversations. He listened to the news whenever he could, trying to collect whatever information was available about the robbery. The police were still searching. The town was talking about the seven men, the missing money and the bloodshed inside YCYC Bank. Pardhu barely slept. Every knock on a door sounded like police. Every passing vehicle made him freeze. After five days, he finally returned to the town, but he no longer looked like the same man who had walked into the bank. He kept himself quiet, stayed away from familiar places and began searching for one thing above everything else—news about Chinna. Alive or dead. That was all Pardhu wanted to know. Days passed. Nearly ten of them. Finally, Pardhu heard a faint lead about Shiva. He followed it outside the town until he reached a huge garbage dumping yard. The smell hit him before he even entered. Rotten food, plastic, sewage and decaying waste filled the air. Garbage trucks came and went constantly, dumping their loads before disappearing back onto the road. Pardhu covered his nose with his shirt and walked deeper into the yard. Among the mountains of waste, he saw workers separating dry garbage from wet garbage. One man was sitting there with a towel covering most of his face. Pardhu took another step forward. The man looked up. It was Shiva. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Shiva pulled the towel away from his face and ran toward Pardhu. He grabbed him and hugged him tightly. Tears came down his face before he could stop them. “Pardhu…” His voice broke. “We made the biggest mistake of our lives.” Pardhu held him tightly. Shiva continued crying. “We should never have done it. We should never have gone into that bank.” Pardhu pushed him back and looked directly into his eyes. There was no time for regret. Not yet. “Where is Chinna?” he asked. Shiva’s face changed. Pardhu’s voice became desperate. “Is he alive?” Shiva didn’t answer immediately. He simply turned around and started walking. Pardhu followed him through the garbage yard until they reached a small shed nearly eight hundred metres away. Shiva opened the door. Inside, the air was heavy and silent. On a rough wooden bed lay Chinna. He looked nothing like the man Pardhu remembered from before the robbery. His face was pale, his body weak and one side of his head was covered with dirty cotton and a towel. Pardhu stopped at the doorway. For several seconds, he couldn’t speak. Then he slowly walked toward him. “What did you do to him?” he asked, his voice shaking. Shiva looked down. “We couldn’t take him to a hospital,” he said quietly. “The police were looking everywhere. If we took him there, they would find us.” He explained that Chinna had been suffering ever since the shooting and that he had tried to keep him alive inside the shed with whatever little help he could manage. Chinna barely responded to them anymore. Pardhu sat beside the wooden bed and looked at his friend. The anger, the fear, the money, the robbery—all of it suddenly felt meaningless. He reached toward Chinna but stopped before touching him. “Chinna…” he whispered. There was no answer. Shiva stood behind him, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. Outside, garbage trucks continued arriving and leaving, completely indifferent to the two men sitting inside that miserable shed. Ten days earlier, they had entered a bank believing they were going to become rich. Now one friend was fighting for his life, another was crying beside him, and Pardhu finally understood the real cost of the five minutes they had once believed would change everything. Pardhu stood beside Chinna’s wooden bed, staring at him as if he was looking at someone he had already lost. His heart felt squeezed from inside. The swelling around Chinna’s ear had become frightening, and the skin had started turning green. Pardhu couldn’t take his eyes away from it. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the little cash he had left and placed it in Shiva’s hand. “Go,” he said. “Find someone. Anyone you trust. A doctor, a medical person, somebody who can treat him. Don’t worry about what you have to say. Say whatever you need to say, but bring someone here immediately. If we leave him like this, he won’t survive for many more days.” Shiva looked at the money in his hand and then at Chinna. His eyes filled again. He nodded and hurried out of the shed, disappearing into the filthy yard in search of someone who could help. Pardhu remained beside Chinna. The shed was silent except for Chinna’s weak breathing. Pardhu sat down on the floor and rubbed his face with both hands. Ten days ago, they had walked into YCYC Bank believing they were going to control everything. Now they were hiding in a garbage yard, afraid to even take an injured friend to a hospital. The money they had risked everything for suddenly looked worthless. Pardhu looked at Chinna again and whispered, “You have to live, ra. We will get you out of this.” But even as he said those words, fear was growing inside him. He didn’t know whether he was promising Chinna or trying to convince himself. Meanwhile, the police investigation was moving in a completely different direction. Officers were questioning suspects, checking movements around the town and searching for anyone connected to the robbery. The damaged CCTV cameras had made the officers believe that the robbers had deliberately destroyed the evidence, and the strange mixture of blood, powders and strong perfume at the crime scene had made the investigation even more confusing. The police were struggling to find a clear trail. The five men believed their precautions had worked. They thought the masks, coverings and chaos inside the bank had made them almost impossible to identify. What they didn’t know was that destroying the cameras had not necessarily destroyed everything the cameras had recorded. Inside the investigation room, officers continued examining whatever evidence they could recover. Every possible suspect was questioned. Every unusual movement around the bank was investigated. Every lead was followed, even when it ended in nothing. Inspector Vijay Kantha was under increasing pressure from his superiors. A robbery involving nearly ninety lakhs, injured bank staff, an injured guard and unidentified robbers had turned into a major case for the department. Calls kept coming from higher officers demanding progress. “Who are these men?” was the question everyone wanted answered. Vijay had no answer yet. But he refused to let the case disappear into another unsolved file. Days passed, and the pressure only increased. The police had the crime scene, witnesses and fragments of evidence, but the faces of the robbers remained hidden behind masks. Somewhere outside the town, the five men were hiding, actually seven each carrying their own fear. And somewhere inside a police system they believed they had defeated; a small piece of evidence was still waiting to be discovered.