1960s

The file in front of me had a label that read "mass murder," and a deep sadness settled in my heart. I didn't quite understand why this heaviness was there, but I knew that what I was about to discover in that file would be incredibly hard to bear. So, I took a deep breath and opened it, feeling a sense of dread as I delved into the terrifying details.

This document told a horrifying story from the 1960s, a time when India was newly independent but struggling with severe economic problems. The main cause of these troubles was a terrible drought. This drought led to the failure of the essential monsoon rains that India depended on for farming and people's livelihoods. It had terrible consequences, with resources becoming scarce, and many lost their jobs. To escape poverty, many people had no choice but to leave their homes and look for better opportunities in other places, and sometimes even in foreign countries. It was a time of hope for a brighter future but also a harsh reality of economic hardships caused by a changing climate.

During this vulnerable time, a sinister group or gang appeared. They focused on the most vulnerable and disadvantaged communities, deceiving them with false promises of wealth and success. These victims mainly came from remote villages and, to make matters worse, many of them couldn't read or write, not even in their own language, let alone English.

The group took advantage of their inability to read and write, making it easy to manipulate and control them. They promised a much better life than they had, luring them into a trap they couldn't escape. Trapped in their circumstances, these vulnerable victims fell for the deceitful promises of a brighter future. This dark part of history showed how some would exploit the most defenseless in society, using their lack of education and their desperate hopes for a better life.

The group took these unsuspecting people to a place where they were promised a vastly improved life, better than they could ever imagine. They were told all they had to do was work and enjoy the rewards. Sometimes, the group even created fake letters, pretending to be from the workers' families, to make it seem like their loved ones back home were happy and well.

But in reality, the group never checked on these families, and the truth was much darker. The families were not thriving; they were slowly suffering from hunger and hardship. The group had heartlessly abandoned them, leaving them to suffer in silence.

The women, whose husbands went to work with the group, had no choice but to manage the households and were essentially trapped in their new lives, unable to escape to neighboring villages or seek help. They struggled to find a way out but were met with insurmountable obstacles. Meanwhile, the men from these families, often the main breadwinners, were forced to work in an underground mine. They couldn't move elsewhere because they held onto the hope that their loved ones would return, and everything would become beautiful and happy again.

Inside the mine, they were exposed to deadly chemicals and gases that seeped into their bodies, causing a slow and agonizing death. As workers fell sick due to the poisonous conditions, they were falsely told about promotions to other departments. Left to suffer and ultimately die, their lifeless bodies would be discarded from the mine once death had claimed them. The group's heartlessness knew no bounds.

As more workers fell ill due to the poisonous conditions, they were left to suffer and ultimately pass away. When enough chemicals had been collected from the deceased, the group intensified the release of gases inside the mine, ensuring the swift demise of all those trapped inside.

There was one courageous man who recognized the horrors and tried to help his fellow workers escape the mine. He had noble intentions, but sadly, his efforts were in vain. Those who did manage to break free were ruthlessly shot by the group members and disposed of in places where it was hard for the police to find out.

The common threads in these two timelines were the use of deadly poisons, shooting victims, and the grim practice of disposing of their bodies somewhere unknown. Initially, I had doubts about the earlier officer's investigation findings. It seemed like he was trying too hard to impress his superiors. However, the connections I discovered between these cases were more similar than I had expected.

These revelations led me to the dark chapter of the 1980s. But before I could delve into the files, the weight of the victims' suffering and the guilt for not being able to help them overwhelmed me. I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The room was dim, and I felt weak and gloomy, a stark contrast to the darkness of the past. The doctors told me that I had pushed myself too hard, and my body had given in to the stress and exhaustion. They recommended at least a month of rest, and my understanding boss granted me the necessary leave. I chose to stay in the hospital, in part to reassure my concerned mother, who remained fiercely protective.

During my recovery, my mother visited me regularly. She had no idea about my ongoing investigations because she wanted to keep me safe. With time on my hands, I tried to piece together the puzzle, determined to make sense of the horrors I had uncovered.

I longed for the files that my friend had promised to bring. Until those crucial documents arrived, I had ample time to ponder and connect the haunting fragments of these interconnected tragedies. The weight of these unsolved cases, the victims' pain, and the chilling mysteries left an indelible mark on my soul. I was committed to seeking justice, uncovering the truth hidden in these chilling files, and bringing closure to those who had suffered for far too long. 

As I lay in that hospital bed, the heavy burden of what I had uncovered weighed on my mind. The stories of the victims and the atrocities committed against them haunted my every thought. I couldn't escape the images of those vulnerable people, lured by false promises into a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. It was a nightmare that played out against the backdrop of a struggling India, grappling with the harsh realities of economic hardship brought on by a devastating drought.

The 1960s were a tumultuous time for India. The country had gained its independence just a few decades earlier, and the promise of a better future was still within reach. However, the grip of poverty and the devastating impact of a drought had pushed many to the brink. Families faced the grim prospect of hunger and despair as their traditional sources of income dried up with the failure of the monsoon rains.

Amid this dire situation, the sinister group or gang emerged, preying on the desperation of the most vulnerable. They targeted remote villages, where illiteracy was widespread, and hope was scarce. These unsuspecting villagers, unable to read or write, were easy prey for the manipulative promises of a better life. The group exploited their lack of education, using it to control and deceive them.

The false hope offered by the group was a lifeline to these vulnerable families. They were promised a life of abundance and happiness, far from the hardships they faced in their villages. It was a tantalizing vision that lured them into a trap from which they could not escape. For the women left behind, it meant shouldering the responsibilities of managing households and families, trapped in a cycle of despair.

The men, the primary breadwinners, were led into the darkness of an underground mine. There, they faced not only the harsh physical labor but also

 the insidious threat of deadly chemicals and gases that seeped into their bodies. The slow and agonizing death that awaited them was a stark contrast to the promises of a better future.

As the workers fell ill from the poisonous conditions, they were fed false hopes of promotions and better prospects. These lies only prolonged their suffering, ensuring that they would meet their end within the confines of the mine. Their lifeless bodies, once claimed by death, were discarded without a second thought.

The group's cruelty knew no bounds. It extended to those who dared to resist, like the courageous man who tried to free his fellow workers from the grip of this malevolent organization. His noble intentions were met with ruthless violence, as those who managed to escape were hunted down and eliminated, their bodies hidden in remote locations.

The common elements in these horrific stories were the use of deadly poisons, the cold-blooded act of shooting victims, and the macabre practice of disposing of their bodies in places where they would remain hidden from the authorities. At first, I had my doubts about the earlier officer's investigations. It seemed like he was eager to impress his superiors. However, as I delved deeper into the cases, I discovered that the connections between them were more significant than I had initially thought.

The horrifying events of the 1960s were just the tip of the iceberg. The darkness of this criminal organization extended into the 1980s, where more sinister chapters awaited. But before I could delve into those files, the weight of the victims' suffering and the guilt of not being able to help them became overwhelming. I lost consciousness and found myself in a hospital bed.

The hospital room was dim and gloomy, a stark contrast to the darkness of the past. The doctors explained that I had pushed myself beyond my limits, and my body had given in to stress and exhaustion. They recommended at least a month of rest, and my understanding boss granted me the necessary leave. I chose to stay in the hospital, partly to reassure my concerned mother, who remained fiercely protective.

During my recovery, my mother visited me regularly, her maternal instincts driving her to protect me from the dangers I was uncovering. She had no knowledge of my ongoing investigations, as I didn't want to burden her with the horrors I was unraveling. With time on my hands, I delved deeper into the chilling cases, determined to make sense of the mysteries that had plagued these victims for far too long.

I longed for the files that my friend had promised to bring, as they held the key to unraveling the truth. Until those crucial documents arrived, I had ample time to reflect on the haunting fragments of these interconnected tragedies. The weight of these unsolved cases, the pain of the victims, and the chilling mysteries left an indelible mark on my soul. I was unwavering in my commitment to seek justice, expose the hidden truths in those chilling files, and bring closure to those who had suffered for far too long.