When the TV Went Silent - Part 4

 

Monday Knows Too Much

The radio across the lane crackled.

“Yeh shaam mastani…”

The song floated through the night, cheerful, careless—completely wrong for the fear curling inside Ravi’s house.

Meera slowly pulled the curtain aside.

The radio was coming from Narayan Rao’s veranda.

And it was playing exactly the same Monday evening program that Mr. Krishnamurthy used to listen to.

“Coincidence?” Anjali whispered.

“In 1994,” Ravi replied grimly, “there is no such thing.”

Someone Was Inside the House

They checked again.

The cupboard lock was still intact—but the door had been slid open from the inside.

Karthik crouched near the window.

“Mud,” he said. “Fresh. Someone entered through here.”

Munna looked offended.
“That is impossible. Only I know how to enter through that window.”

Everyone turned.

“You… know how?” Meera asked slowly.

Munna shrugged.
“I once lost the key and didn’t want to wake my mother.”

Ravi closed his eyes.

The Worst Timing Possible

Just then, a torch beam flashed across the room.

“Open the door.”

Police.

Inspector Shankar Rao stood outside, eyebrows already raised.

“Interesting,” he said, stepping in. “Window open. People nervous.”

Then his eyes fell on Munna’s muddy slippers.

“Mud,” the inspector said. “Same type as outside.”

Munna panicked.

“This mud is very common mud, sir,” he blurted.
“Government-supplied mud.”

Meera facepalmed.

Munna Becomes the Suspect

The inspector folded his arms.

“You were last seen near House No. 24 multiple times.
You admit you enter houses through windows.
And now, important evidence goes missing.”

Munna’s voice cracked.

“I am innocent,” he said.
“Also very afraid.”

The inspector softened slightly—but only slightly.

“Until further notice,” he said, “don’t leave the society.”

Munna looked at the others.

“If I get arrested,” he whispered,
“please water my plants.”

The Gang Regroups

Later that night, they sat quietly.

“We have to find proof,” Ravi said.
“Before Munna becomes headline news.”

“But Narayan Rao is careful,” Anjali said.
“He controls records. He knows police timing.”

Karthik suddenly remembered something.

“Monday,” he said. “That word on the cassette.”

Meera snapped her fingers.
“Maintenance collection!”

Every Monday evening, Narayan Rao went house to house collecting money—entering houses, noting details, learning routines.

“And Krishnamurthy uncle,” Ravi added slowly,
“had once refused to pay extra charges.”

The room went silent.

Munna blinked.
“So this is about… money?”

“No,” Karthik said.
“It’s about control.”

A Risky Plan

They made a decision.

They would trap Narayan Rao.

How?

By using the one thing he couldn’t resist—

Society records.

Anjali smiled nervously.
“If we alter a fake entry… he will come.”

Munna raised his hand.

“I can act as bait,” he said proudly.

Everyone shouted at once.

“No!”

But Munna continued,
“He already suspects me. What more can happen?”

Outside, the radio switched off.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Slow.

Measured.

Someone stopped near Ravi’s door.

A soft voice called out.

“Munna?”

Everyone froze.