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Delhi ke GK-II mein ek upscale writer’s retreat ka final day tha. Paas ke café ‘Writer’s Brew’ mein sab log virasat foundation ke annual online contest ke winners ke announcement ka intezaar kar rahe the. Ye competition iss saal viral ho gaya tha, kyunki is baar prize tha ek lakh rupaye aur publishing deal.
Twenty-seven year old Anvesha, ek underrated content writer, apni friend Tara ke saath moka par pohchi thi. “Mujhe toh bas sunna hai kisne jeeta. Shayd mera naam aa jaye, ha!” Tara hans ke boli.
Announcement hua — jeetne wali kahaani: “Aakhri Panna”, anonymous naam se likhi gayi thi. Lekin jisne likhi, wo verify hi nahi ho raha tha. Email pe contact bekaar. Phone number invalid.
Foundation ne bola: “Agar teen din mein winner sampark nahi karta, toh runner-up ko award diya jayega.” Aur runner-up thi… Tara.
Usi raat Tara ne phone uthaya aur Anvesha se bola: “Tu mere ghar aa, kuch ajeeb ho gaya hai.”
Anvesha pahunchi, dekha Tara ka chehra safed. “Vo blog post… jisme jeetne wali kahaani daali thi? Maine usse decrypt kiya.”
Tara ne bataya: “Kahaani fictional nahi lagti. Har paragraph mein ek naam chhupa hai — jab usko nikaalo, toh ek sequence milti hai.”
Sequence: “Nandita-Dhruv-Vatika-Godavari-102.”
“Tara, ye toh kisi building ka flat number lagta hai!” Anvesha ne kaha.
Dono ne milkar search kiya — Godavari Apartments, Saket mein ek flat 102 tha — news reports ke mutabik vahan ek 65 saal ki woman Nandita Sharma ka death hua tha pichle mahine, cardiac arrest bataya gaya tha.
Tara ka kehna tha, ye kahaani unki granddaughter, Vatika, ne likhi hai. “Ye confession hai Anu. Isme likha hai kaise unhone intentional overdose use kiya, lekin kahani itni literary hai ki kisi ko samajh nahi aaya.”
Anvesha ne socha: “Par agar ye sach hai… to winner ka trace hona chahiye.” Achanak Tara ka phone bajta hai. “Private Caller” likha hota hai. Tara ne speaker pe rakha.
Awaz aayi: “I know you decrypted it. Don’t take my words out of context.”
Call cut ho gaya.
Next day Tara missing thi. Police ne Anvesha pe doubt kiya kyunki unka last call gesture record unke beech ka tha.
Kuch hi din mein Anvesha ko blog comment section mein ek aur encoded message milta hai. “Dil mein chhupa jo aakhri raaz, usse sirf wah samjhe jo varnon se pare dekh sake.”
Anvesha ne firse poori kahaani padi — har paragraph ki pehli line ko joda. Ek aur sentence nikla: “I did what had to be done. Vatika.”
Ye clear confession tha.
Anvesha ne police ko bataya. Police ne Vatika ko trace kiya. Jab confront kiya gaya, usne bola, “My grandmother was suffering for years. Us din unhone khud hi kaha — ‘End it.’ I just helped her. And then I wrote it out. It was my way of healing.”
Par yaha twist tha — Tara ko kisne uthaya? Vatika confused thi — usne kabhi Tara se baat bhi nahi ki thi.
Clue mila ek hidden audio file mein blog ke metadata section mein. File mein record tha — Tara aur ek aur ladke Dhruv ke conversation ka. Dhruv ka naam pehle decode hua tha.
Dhruv, Vatika ka ex-boyfriend, aur writing contest ka pichhla winner tha. Uska career crash ho gaya tha. Usne Tara ko use kiya tha winner trace karne ke liye, taaki wo uss confession ka use blackmail mein kar sake. Jab Tara sacchai tak pahunchi, Dhruv ne usse hata diya.
Police ne Dhruv ko tap kiya, aur uske device se Tara ka location mila. Zinda mili — par heavily sedated. Usne Anvesha ko dekha aur bas itna kaha: “Usne bola — ‘Kahaniya sab kuch keh deti hain…’”
Aakhir mein, case closed hua. Vatika pe legally euthanasia case chala, jo dismiss hua mental trauma ke basis par. Dhruv ko kidnapping aur blackmail charges mein saza mili. Anvesha ne “Aakhri Panna” pe ek expose likha, jiska title tha — “How a Story Solved a Murder.”
Aur Tara? Writer’s Brew café mein phir se writing sessions lene lagi. Ab har lafz sunke wo pehle sochti hai — kahani hai… ya confession?
