The Momma Clan

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the Ganges, and the air hummed with the rhythm of evening aartis. Yet, amidst the serenity of Benares, a murder had shattered the peace. Pandit Raghav, a man revered for his spiritual prowess, had been found lifeless at the edge of Vishwanath Temple. His body was discovered by a passing devotee, his white dhoti stained with the blood of what should have been a sacred morning.

Inspector Arjun Singh, a man of duty but with a deep reverence for the spiritual heritage of his
homeland, was summoned. He stood at the scene, the echoes of temple bells still ringing faintly in the background. The ghat, usually bustling with prayers and pilgrims, now seemed to hold its breath, waiting for answers.Arjun’s sharp gaze scanned the area, noting the absence of struggle.

The pandit had been struck once, cleanly, on the back of the head. A skilled hand, perhaps? But why would anyone murder a holy man revered by the entire community? The whispers had already begun. Some murmured of an ancient curse, others of jealous rivals who sought to discredit Pandit Raghav’s growing influence. But Arjun was not a man of superstition. He believed in facts, and facts alone. His investigation led him deep into the heart of the city’s labyrinthine lanes. Each step he took echoed against the narrow alleyways, where the walls seemed to listen, as if hiding secrets of their own.

Raghav had no enemies on the surface, but digging deeper revealed simmering tensions. The pandit had recently acquired a prime spot near the temple, displacing an older priest, Pandit Manohar. A man with sharp features and sharper words, Manohar had been bitter about losing his position. But would he resort to murder?

Arjun visited him under the veil of dusk. Manohar, calm and composed, denied any involvement, though Arjun sensed an undercurrent of resentment. But there was something off—a shadow lurking behind his words, a silence that spoke louder than his denials.

As the investigation wore on, a peculiar detail emerged. A note had been found near the pandit’s body, a line from an old scripture. “Karma is relentless.” Arjun couldn’t help but think the message was personal, more than just a religious platitude. One night, standing at the ghat, as the ceremonial bells rang out over the waters, it clicked. The pandit had secrets—ones not even the gods could forgive. Raghav had once wronged someone, deeply, and now that debt had been repaid in blood.

The next morning, Arjun arrested Pandit Manohar. Not out of anger or rivalry, but out of karmic
justice, the final bell that tolled for Pandit Raghav. In Banaras, even the holiest must answer to their karma.

-Twisha Ray