The Night the Society Forgot to Breathe
No one slept that night.
In the 1990s, news didn’t spread through WhatsApp.
It spread through windows, whispers, and walking back and forth in nightgowns.
By 10:30 PM, the entire Shantivana Layout stood outside House No. 24. Someone had switched off the TV inside. The blue glow that usually leaked through the curtains was missing. That absence itself felt frightening.
Mr. Krishnamurthy lay still, eyes half open, spectacles broken beside him.
“Maybe he slipped,” an uncle suggested, hopeful.
“Slipped on what? Air?” Meera snapped.
Munna stood near the gate, trying to look brave but failing terribly.
“I told him last week,” Munna whispered, “not to use that chair. Very dangerous chair.”
Everyone turned to him.
“You went inside his house?” Ravi asked sharply.
Munna swallowed. “Only once. To return his The Hindu newspaper. I accidentally read half of it also.”
Suspicion hung in the air like humidity before rain.
The Police Arrive
The police jeep arrived with a sound that felt too loud for the silence.
Inspector Shankar Rao stepped out—thick moustache, tired eyes, and the confidence of a man who had seen too much human foolishness.
He scanned the crowd.
“Alright. One by one. Nobody leaves.”
That sentence alone made the aunties gasp.
Statements began.
“Nice man.”
“Very quiet.”
“Never fought.”
“Paid maintenance on time.”
Inspector Rao scribbled and frowned.
“People who are very quiet,” he muttered, “usually have very noisy secrets.”
Karthik noticed something odd.
The TV in House No. 24 was unplugged.
“In 1994,” Karthik whispered to Ravi, “who unplugs a TV at night?”
Ravi nodded slowly. A thought formed—but he pushed it away.
Munna Becomes… Useful?
Inspector Rao turned to Munna.
“You. What were you doing at 8:30 PM?”
Munna straightened proudly.
“I was teaching mathematics to children.”
The inspector raised an eyebrow.
“Teaching?”
“Yes, sir. Division.”
“Did you divide anyone’s head?” Meera muttered.
Munna ignored her.
“I even wrote on the blackboard. Ask anyone.”
The children nodded enthusiastically. Munna looked relieved—until the inspector asked:
“And after that?”
Munna froze.
“After that… I went home… and ate dosa.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone saw you?”
Munna’s confidence deflated like a punctured cycle tube.
“I waved at Mrs. Gowramma while chewing,” he said weakly.
Mrs. Gowramma squinted.
“I thought he was choking.”
The inspector sighed.
The Society Changes Overnight
By morning, Shantivana Layout felt different.
Doors stayed closed. Smiles disappeared. Kids weren’t allowed outside.
The TV volume in every house was lower than usual, as if laughter itself had become risky.
The gang met near House No. 17—but this time, no one turned the TV on.
“We should stop the evening classes,” Anjali said softly.
“No,” Ravi replied. “If we stop now, fear wins.”
“But what if the murderer is one of us?” she asked.
That question sat heavily between them.
Munna broke the silence.
“If the murderer is one of us,” he said thoughtfully,
“then at least we already know his weaknesses.”
Everyone stared.
“For example,” Munna continued, “if it’s me, I can’t run fast.”
Despite themselves, they laughed. Just a little.
A Small Detail No One Noticed
Later that evening, Karthik went back near House No. 24.
He wasn’t sure why. Something pulled him there.
Near the window, under the sill, he saw it—
A broken cassette tape.
The label was half torn, but one word was still readable:
“Monday…”
Footsteps approached.
Karthik quickly pocketed the cassette.
From behind him, a voice said calmly,
“Looking for something?”
Karthik turned around.
It was Mr. Krishnamurthy’s neighbour.
And he was smiling.
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