© Shruti Priyaa 2019 All rights reserved All rights reserved by author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within. First Published in October 2019 ISBN: 978-93-5347-848-3

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Dedication To my dear uncle SIVAKUMAR, who wanted to see me accomplished, but passed away before I could even take my first step.

Acknowledgement Hi all, This book is the first step towards my dream of becoming a writer. While many guided and supported me in the journey, I’d like to express my sincere gratitude to: BLUEROSE PUBLISHERS team, who gave wings to my dream by agreeing to publish my novel, and for their wonderful suggestions that made my writing better. My dad, mom and sister, for their unconditional love and support throughout the journey. PRISTINA ROSALYN, my dear friend, who played a major role in structuring the story and content of the novel. She was also a moral support during the days the story fell apart. Her knowledge in psychiatry made it easier for us to depict the deepest emotions of people. Mr LLOYD GONSALVEZ, my English teacher, who taught me to relish the beauty of English literature and motivated me to write every day. His passion towards the language and his excellence in storytelling inspired me to try my hand at novel writing. Last but not the least, I express my sincere love and gratitude to my dear readers who picked up a copy of FORLORN TRUTH. I hope to take you on a mysterious and exuberant journey throughout the novel. With that, I welcome you to FORLORN TRUTH.

Preface We all love reading thrilling articles in newspapers, and we love to discuss their possibilities with our family and friends. No matter how much the article intrigues us, we can do nothing but patiently wait for the next piece of news for closure. But how would you react if you stumble upon an actual mystery through a newspaper article by mistake? And what if the article actually involves you? FORLORN TRUTH is a mystery novel that aims at giving the reader a bone-chilling ride through the darkest tunnels of crime and corruption, whilst providing them with the deepest sentiments of love and friendship. As the story revolves around a young lad named Vihaan, it helps the reader to put themselves in Vihaan’s shoes as they thoroughly experience the pains and pleasures faced by him throughout his journey of finding the truth.

Prologue The heavy footsteps sounded distinct in the quiet forest as he trampled on the dried leaves and ran ahead. He looked frantically from side to side. Where is the girl? he thought. I’m sure she ran this way. He rested his hand on a tree and panted hard. The moon shone brightly, and the swooshing leaves of the tall trees glistened eerily in the moonlight. It was nine in the evening and he hadn’t expected to be alone in the forest following an unknown girl. Who is she? Why was she running? Was someone following her? Where is she now? With trail of unanswered questions, he trod ahead, his eyes on the lookout for the girl. ‘Hello!’ he yelled. ‘Are you there?’ Silence. He ran ahead to a clearing. The moist earth was covered with fallen leaves, except under a tree. His eyes widened. He tried to get a better look at it as his heart beat fast. Is that blood? He shivered as he trod slowly to the spot. The stench of fresh blood filled his nostrils. He bent down to get a clear look at the source of blood. There she lay, her eyes partially closed, and her mouth open. ‘Oh my god,’ he said as he bent down to take the girl in his arms. He ran his hand over her head. It had an open dent from which the blood kept gushing. Her skull is broken. He checked her pulse. Nothing.

The girl was absolutely unfamiliar to him until a few moments ago, but he felt immense agony on seeing her lifeless. Tears emerged from his eyes. He shook her and yelled into her ears despite the fact that she was long gone. Her clothes were tattered everywhere and blood flowed continuously from her head. Just then, the leaves behind him rustled. He thought he heard footsteps, but wasn’t sure. In an instance, he heard a thunderous clank on the back of his head. Just when he tried to respond to the whack, intense pain seeped inside his head and spread through his neck. His vision blurred with each passing second. His hair grew wet with blood. He caressed the back of his head to find his scalp peeling from his skull. Blood tricked slowly and dripped on his shoulders. The whole world swirled around him, and he fell down face first on the ground, unconscious.

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Resting his flawless skin on his steepled hands, he heaved a sigh as the sun emanated its glorious heat, sheathing his divine pate and body from all the evils that surrounded him. He heeded intently to the murmurs and cheers from them – his crowd! This was the moment. His moment. Ultimately, he was about to give his people what they were praying for years. Adjusting his posture, he shot a speedy glance down at his massive crowd of semi naked faithful followers who looked up at him, anticipating with excitement and trepidation, for the one word that would depict his moment of revelation, his moment of truth – that one word that could liberate their souls and free them from their mortal bodies. The crowd gasped anxiously as the words drawled from his mouth. ‘Vihaan, you’re psychotic.’ His crowd seemed visibly devastated. There were bloodcurdling howls of dismay. They lost their reverie as years of unflappable wait went down the trash right in front of their eyes. Women began tugging at their hair and men began beating their chests, as the inevitable has happened. His mouth curved into a wicked smile as he felt the power, the immense power of controlling his semi naked inmates. He was about to say another word unaware of the Shruti Priyaa || 1

forthcoming sway of a steel plate that made its disastrous landing on his head, advancing beyond his mohawk and colliding with his cranium with a bang. ‘Ouch,’ Gokul winced as he was pulled back to reality. He sat at his college canteen opposite to his best friends – Aryan, Vihaan and Michelle. ‘Don’t you dare do this again, Aryan.’ ‘Yeah, and don’t you dare start dreaming again,’ said Aryan with a serious face as he brought the plate down on the abnormally chill canteen table. ‘Tons of dreaming before saying something stupid. You and your naked crowd!’ Gokul sulked. ‘Don’t blame my crowd.’ It was eight in the morning and the golden glow of the mild morning sun seeped in through the awning windows of the canteen, bleaching gold the heads of several students who were bustling like a swarm of bees in the dining area. The whole place was filled with clattering of utensils, scraping of chairs being pulled, nervous murmurs among nerds about their assignments that had six-month deadlines, gossips amidst girls about their newest and hottest celeb crush, shy glances and stolen kisses among the couples much to the entertainment of the guys around, and a loud scuffle between a student and a pathetic food server regarding the unavailability of extra gravy. ‘Chuck it, Gokul, we know Vihaan isn’t as psychotic as you are,’ said Michelle as she eyed Vihaan to see if he approved her of her twee attempt of defending him. She wore a laced black blouse and paired it with a jean bottom. Her pitch-black shoulder length hair was let loose, and her catchy downturned eyes had a hint of kohl. Her wheatish brown face had little make up in a way not to conceal her exotic complexion. And yes, she was breathtaking. Especially today. Every guy who entered the canteen took a minute to check her out, while some of them 2 || Forlorn Truth

entered just to check her out. ‘Don’t care about this duffer, Vihaan. I think what you said is highly plausible.’ ‘I appreciate you for taking my side, Michelle,’ Vihaan snapped. ‘But no thanks. I don’t think I need anyone to back me up.’ Aryan’s mouth dropped open. ‘Seriously Vihaan? You don’t need someone like Michelle to support you? It is like having a plate of Canadian poutine and not eating it. I go with Gokul. You are a lunatic indeed.’ ‘Come on Aryan. It’s okay,’ said Michelle and looked away. ‘Let him be.’ Their so-called parley was interrupted by a loud panting female voice. And the newcomer placed her huge clown hand on Aryan’s shoulder. ‘Sorry guys. I slept late. Did I miss something? Wow, Michelle! You look pulchritudinous!’ said Sandya, a stout girl with unusually large breasts. People loved her for her carefree nature and candid behaviour. She was the one person in the college who found even the most drastic incident funny. Ironically, she had the most melancholic laugh that sounded ridiculous and was obviously contagious to the people around her. She wore a sleeveless top with tribal patterns on it, and a short skirt with a tribal design. She held her mobile with a back cover incorporating a tribal pattern on it.  Assign her to submit a project and she would never fail to enlighten you on the detailed life history of an infamous tribe. ‘You must know them, don’t you?’ she would ask munching her waffle, as if that was an any time talk-ofthe-town like Donald Trump getting in the White House or Modi actually planning to stay in India. People sometimes wondered if she could be a cannibal appraising her interest in the tribes. ‘Stop spitting on my neck,’ Aryan flinched. ‘Do take a seat. Let’s see what you think about Vihaan’s covet.’ Shruti Priyaa || 3

‘It’s for the umpteenth time I tell you, Sandya,’ Michelle tutored, ‘you cannot wear both your top and bottom printed. If the top is printed, the bottom should be plain and vice versa.’ ‘Alright alright, you fashion freak. I’m famished. You guys move your butts a little and make room for mine.’ And the five students were polishing away the canteen food. They absolutely loathed being called so, because they had just passed out from school and couldn’t feel any difference in college. So yes, it was them, Michelle the pretty slim girl. Thanks to her rigorous workouts, of course. But diets? No, absolutely not. She’d rather choose heavy workouts or even death than deprive herself of her favourite food in the name of diet. And there was Gokul, the day dreamer, with his childlike behaviour which the guys might have mistaken as his inability to get laid; but he could woo the whole town with his cute demeanour. One would not mistake in calling him ‘the baby of the gang’ owing to the kind of defence he got from his friends, who would punch every guy who tried to break his leg and every girl who tried to break his heart. Then there was Sandya who absolutely loved her curves. She was a person who believed that losing weight would only mean losing the glow and looking sick. And she loved her friends like she loved her fries. Not to forget Aryan, the tall handsome fair guy with his hair trimmed too close. The soft vanilla dream to every girl’s fantasy was personified as Aryan. He was the source of vitality for his friends and the go-to-person during sticky situations. And then there was Vihaan, the tall, dusky, handsome guy who could make any girl (sometimes even guys) fall for him completely just with his dreamy face. His deep eyes 4 || Forlorn Truth

looked kind of feminine and had the ability to gaze right into the realms of people’s lives, which wasn’t intentional of him as he never wanted any girl to fall for him. But sadly, things hadn’t turned out the way he had wanted. Being the possessor of light beard on his perfectly chiselled jawline, Vihaan was the first person to exhibit a close connection with the rest of them even before they were a gang, his absence thus rendering it dysfunctional. When Sandya had joined their school, Gokul, Aryan and Vihaan took an instant liking to her, but more to the aloo parathas she had brought on her first day. If her mother had intended on hypnotizing its recipients into a spell that cast them into being friends with her daughter, well, she had succeeded. The four of them had been together since. Little had they expected an exceptionally pretty looking girl to walk in on them and play an integral part in their lives. They still had nostalgic memories of her walking into their class with her head held low exposing a cute french braid, and her smooth brown hands that were pinching each other out of fear and excitement. ‘Meet Michelle, your new classmate,’ their teacher, Mr Joseph had introduced. The class had given out collective ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s, not because they had a chance of getting a new friend, but because, oh come on, you don’t easily get to see a little goddess carved by god with such patience and splendour, spawned exclusively for himself, but sent to the earth by mistake. Aryan chewed his chapatti with mushrooms, keenly eyeing Michelle from time to time. No, he did not have a crush on her, or so he told himself. Even when he found her perfectly shaped body and exemplary face eminently attractive, he just restrained himself. She had been a very close friend of his for years. Probably that was the reason he couldn’t confess to her. Or probably that was not the Shruti Priyaa || 5