Second Chance: A Dark Tale of Urban India

Rohit leaned forward from the front seat. "Stop here."

The car slowed and pulled over along a quiet, almost deserted lane. A few shuttered shops lined the road, and ahead stood a faded store that looked neglected but still functional.

Artwork.

Akansha peered through the windshield, her brows furrowed. "Here...?"

Rohit didn’t reply. He scanned the rundown building — peeling paint, cracked walls, and a faded board that read: Aadhaar Enrollment Center. There was no crowd, just a few pedestrians walking past or minding their business near the handful of open stores.

Akansha turned to him, arms folded. "You’ve got to be kidding me. You want to enroll for an Aadhaar card right now?"

Rohit ignored her comment and double-checked the address on his phone, then glanced at the number painted near the entrance. Perfect match.

Akansha scanned the place again. "This looks abandoned."

"The door is still open," he said flatly.

She stared at him, then back at the worn-out building. "It’s clearly out of service. You could’ve applied online or sent someone. Why come here yourself?"

"That’s not your concern."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Rohit reached into his jacket, pulled out the gun, and held it out to her discreetly between the seats. "For now."

Akansha hesitated, her eyes shifting between the weapon and his face. "You’re walking into a shady place... and you’re handing me your only protection?"

Rohit nodded.

She finally took the gun and quickly slipped it into her purse. "And, you expect me to just sit here quietly?"

Rohit rested one hand on the car door. "Just.. Wait in the car."

"That’s not an answer."

"You don’t need one."

Akansha exhaled sharply, irritation and worry mixing on her face. "And if this goes sideways?"

"If I’m not back in thirty minutes, leave."

Her fingers tightened on her purse. "Should I call someone if you don’t come out? I have a bad feeling about this."

"I’ll manage."

She held his gaze for a long second. "You really don’t trust anyone, do you?"

Rohit met her eyes, and gave his final statement, his voice uncaring. "Stay there."

Akansha felt speechless. She shook her head and leaned back into the seat, still watching him. "Thirty minutes," she said quietly.

Rohit gave a single nod, shut the door, and walked toward the narrow entrance without looking back.

***

Inside the building

Rohit stepped inside the Aadhaar center and paused.

A long, worn-out desk stretched across the room. A few employees sat behind it, casually talking among themselves, sipping tea as if time had no value here. Not a single client in sight. The place felt less like an office and more like a waiting room where simply showing up earned a salary.

He walked forward, scanning the room. "I want to meet Director Sharma."

The chatter died instantly.

A few exchanged glances. One man, leaning back in his chair while talking on the phone, waved him off without even looking. "No Director Sharma here. This is an Aadhaar enrollment center. If you want to enroll, go to counter three."

Rohit didn’t react. "Rohit Singhania. I was summoned."

A couple of them laughed. A few snickered under their breath.

Rohit turned to leave.

"Rohit Singhania. Age eighteen. Son of Raj Singhania."

The room fell silent again.

Rohit stopped and turned. A clerk was looking down at an A4 sheet, cross-checking details.

Rohit nodded once.

The clerk looked up. "Aadhaar card."

Rohit handed it over. The man verified it quickly, then stood. "Follow me."

The entire atmosphere shifted.

Chairs straightened. Conversations died. The lazy air vanished, replaced by quiet discipline.

Rohit followed him past the desk and into a back room. A lift stood hidden inside.

Another man in formal attire stepped forward and stopped him. "Phone."

Rohit handed it over without a word. The man checked him briefly, then stepped aside.

The lift doors closed and descended.

They stepped into to underground level. The space was quiet, almost sterile. A simple room ahead held a study table and another closed door beyond it.

The clerk turned slightly. "Welcome to our first contact center. Normally, a lower-rank representative handles such matters. But in your case, the director will meet you."

A brief pause.

"Maintain proper etiquette."

Rohit gave a slight nod.

The clerk turned and left through the lift door, leaving him alone in the silent room.

***

Rohit stepped inside, scanning the interior before taking a seat at the visitor’s chair.

In the corner, just as expected, a CCTV camera watched silently.

On the desk, a laptop was already arranged. Beside it lay a used ashtray, a landline, a ringing desk bell, and a paper holder clipped neatly with documents. A small portrait of India stood at the edge, the same one he had seen in last exhibition, depicting the Mauryan Empire stretching from Afghanistan to the northeast, from Kashmir to the southern states.

Behind the desk, portraits of key freedom fighters lined the wall: Bhagat Singh, Netaji, and the all-time favorite of Indians, Mahatma Gandhi.

But what stood out the most was a large photograph of Swami Vivekananda at centre giving speech in chicago, with a quote beneath it:

"Like me or hate me, both are in my favour. If you like me, I am in your heart. If you hate me, I am in your mind."

Artwork.

Rohit couldn’t help but feel impressed. It aligned closely with his own outlook. Perhaps that was the core mindset of the IB, to get the job done at any cost.

To the side were bookshelves, filled neatly. He glanced at them briefly, wondering if they were ever actually read or simply placed for show.

A moment later, a man in his fifties entered — white hair, clean-shaven, broad-shouldered, dressed in a grey suit. A younger man followed behind him in formal attire, carrying a briefcase, and took position quietly to the side.

The older man extended his hand. "Vikram Sharma. People often call me Director Sharma."

Rohit stood and shook it. "Rohit Singhania. We spoke on the phone."

Sharma took his seat and gestured for Rohit to do the same. He pulled out a spectacles case, wore them, and leaned back as the younger man handed him a file from the briefcase.

He flipped it open and began reading.

"Let me give you the details we’ve collected so far from public records. Adopted at the age of four into the Singhania household. Satisfactory academic record. Yet to clear intermediate board. Currently studying at Genesis Public School."

He turned the page.

"Memory loss reported a few days ago. Also involved as a victim in an assault and a possible subway kidnapping incident. Currently out on bail for fraud and kidnapping charges involving a friend."

Rohit simply nodded, unfazed by the scrutiny.

Sharma continued, eyes scanning the document.

"Last night, based on received intel — and thanks to your input — we were able to seize approximately eleven hundred kilograms of narcotics. Cocaine, opium, morphine. The implications are significant."

He closed the file and smiled faintly.

"As per the law, an informant is entitled to twenty percent of the seized value. Your share comes to roughly eighteen crore eighty-three lakh rupees.(₹183 million)"

He leaned back slightly.

"That’s a substantial amount. My five-year salary doesn’t come close."

Rohit narrowed his eyes, waiting. Internally though he was surprised. ’Damn, that was a big amount. Doesnt feel like it would be that easy. What’s the catch.’

Sharma didn’t push. Instead, he gestured lightly. "Kabir."

The younger man stepped forward and handed over another document.

Sharma slid it across the table. "There are formalities. Fill in the required details."

Rohit picked it up.

Basic information — name, address, intent. And below, a mandatory field:

Source of information.

He smirked faintly and placed the paper back down.’Classic setup to make me reveal. like hell I would do that.’

He added non chalantly, "Sorry, Director. I can’t reveal my source. Safety and privacy concerns."

Sharma smiled, unfazed.

"You’re saying that to the Director of IB, inside this office." He leaned forward slightly. "Trust me, son. We are the eyes and ears of this country. With us, your safety is far more secure."

Rohit met his eyes without flinching, completely ignoring the subtle threat behind the reassurance.

"Director, let’s not waste time," he said evenly. "If reward was your concern, you wouldn’t be here personally. I’m certain it’s within your power to overlook that field. So I’m wondering... what do you actually want?"

Sharma’s smile widened slightly. He glanced at Kabir. "Smart. Straight to business."

Kabir nodded and handed over another file.

This time, Sharma pushed it toward Rohit.

"I need you to become our eyes," he said calmly. "Find a person connected to your mother, Ragini Singhania."

Rohit’s expression darkened as he opened the file.