ENTER 1.1
The printing house of a small-town newspaper, Punjab Kesari, in Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh, India. Buzzed with the mechanical hum of presses and the rhythmic clatter of machinery.
The room was dimly lit, with flickering fluorescent lights casting a cold, harsh glow over the space. Ink and paper scented the air, mingling with the faint aroma of old wood and metal.
In a corner office, separated by a glass partition from the main printing area, sat AYAN, a strikingly handsome young man of twenty-five. His mid-length hair framed his face, and he was dressed in smart formal attire, though his posture suggested a mind elsewhere.
He stared intently at his hands, lost in thought, oblivious to the surrounding activity.
Seated across from him was his BOSS, a man of serene demeanor, whose eyes carried the weight of years and wisdom. Besides the boss, Vinayak Baba spiritual guru. Standing slightly behind Ayan was Guru's lawyer.
ADYA, Ayan's girlfriend cum assistant, stood nearby. At twenty-three, she possessed a divine beauty that seemed almost ethereal. Her flirtatious manner was tempered by the seriousness of the moment, as she diligently took notes, her eyes occasionally darting towards Ayan with a mix of concern and affection.
The boss, holding a freshly printed newspaper, began to read aloud, his voice steady and measured: "Vinayak Guru called Sanya to his room to prepare for the evening Aarti ceremony. As Sanya was arranging the pooja plate, Baba summoned her closer. He said, "What you are doing is a long path to meet God. Your devotion has pleased me... therefore, I want to make you special in God's eyes as soon as possible. And the simplest way is through the service of your Guru. Baba called her, Sanya went to him and, following his instructions began to massage his feet."
The room fell silent, the only sounds being the distant whirr of the printing presses and the occasional rustle of paper. Ayan's eyes darkened with contemplation, his fingers clenching subtly as he absorbed the implications of the story. The boss's voice had a hypnotic quality, weaving a narrative that seemed both ancient and immediate, filled with unspoken mysteries and hidden truths.
Adya's pen hovered over her notebook, her expression a blend of curiosity and unease. The words hung in the air, a reminder of the power dynamics and the spiritual undertones that permeated their world.
The spiritual guru's serene smile never wavered, his presence a silent testament to the influence he wielded over their lives. The atmosphere in the office grew even more charged, the hum of the printing presses in the background now a distant murmur.
AYAN's unease deepened as the BOSS continued reading from the newspaper, his voice unwavering as he delved into the disturbing details. "Then Baba told her to lie on the bed to properly teach her how to massage his feet. According to Sanya, Baba's hand slowly moved up her thigh, and he told her to remove her pajama. Despite her refusal, Baba insisted, saying that to learn the path correctly, she must do this. After removing her pajamas..."
Ayan's eyes were drawn to the Guru's hands, resting on his thighs. The fingers began to move, subtly rotating as if recreating and feeling the moment described in the article. Each motion seemed to mirror the narrative, a silent reenactment that sent a shiver down Ayan's spine.
The Guru's face remained impassive, but his eyes held a dark, knowing glint. Ayan's discomfort turned to a gnawing anxiety. He felt a knot form in his stomach as he watched the Guru's fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns on his thighs, almost as if he was savoring a memory. The Guru finally looked up, meeting Ayan's gaze with a smirk that was both sinister and triumphant.
The boss's voice continued, cutting through the thick silence that had settled over the room "After removing her pajama, Baba instructed her to remove all her clothes..."
Ayan's breath caught in his throat. The words hung in the air, heavy with implication and dread. The Guru's smirk deepened, his fingers pausing their movement to rest gently on his thighs.
Adya, standing behind Ayan, noticed his tension. Her pen hovered over the notebook, her eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and concern.
The lawyer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the tension in the room palpable and suffocating. Ayan felt trapped in a web of power and manipulation, the narrative of Sanya and Vinayak Baba reflecting the darker undercurrents that seemed to swirl around the Guru.
AYAN still fixated on the Guru's unsettling hand movements, felt the weight of each word the BOSS read aloud. "FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD Sanya's family filed a report against Baba at the nearest police station," the Boss continued.