It was evening in Lonavala, and the sky had turned orange and purple. The road was completely empty, with no people or cars in sight. There was an old, broken tea stall on the side, covered in dust and spiderwebs. The chairs were lying around, some upside down, and the whole area felt quiet and creepy. A black Thar was parked near the stall, and a few men stood around it. They were laughing, smoking, and talking loudly, even though everything else was silent. The wind was blowing softly, and dry leaves were flying across the road. Sitting on the bonnet of the car was a man wearing black sunglasses. He wasn’t laughing like the others—he just kept staring ahead, looking serious. It felt like something bad was going to happen.

“Bhau... nayi maal aayi hai! Bilkul fresh piece!”Suddenly a man whistled low, flicking his cigarette toward the ground.