Vikram landed and an car was waiting for him. The official car moved smoothly on the narrow roads. The air that came through the open window was thick with the smell of wet earth and jasmine, a stark contrast to the diesel and sea salt scent of Mumbai. This was his father's world. This was the home he had been exiled from.

Vikram's thoughts were a tangled mess of duty and the lingering memory of a girl named Ananya. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the car slowing down until it came to a complete stop.

Up ahead, a small crowd had gathered, blocking the road. A heated argument was in progress. Vikram, annoyed by the delay, was about to tell his driver to honk, but then he saw the cause of the commotion.

An old man, standing straight and tall despite his age, was single-handedly blocking a small truck. His white hair and dhoti were simple, but he carried an aura of immense power. He was yelling at a group of rough-looking men who were unloading plastic pots.

"How many times do I have to tell you people?" the old man's voice boomed, clear and strong. "This poison will not enter my village! Our boys are destroying their lives, becoming useless drunkards because of this illegal liquor you keep smuggling in!"

One of the men, a burly goon with a red bandana, sneered. "Move aside, old man. We have to make our delivery. This has nothing to do with you."

"Everything that happens in this village has to do with me!" Raghava retorted, jabbing a finger at him. "As long as I am alive, I will not let you ruin another generation!"

"Oh, really?" the goon laughed mockingly. "What are you going to do? Hit me?" He took a threatening step forward and raised his hand to shove the old man out of the way.

Before his hand could make contact, a grip of pure steel clamped down on his wrist. The goon cried out as a jolt of sharp pain shot up his arm.

Vikram stood there, his face like stone, twisting the man's wrist until he fell to his knees. "Enti edho chepthunnav " ("You were saying something?")Vikram's voice was dangerously calm.

Without waiting for an answer, he slapped the man so hard that his head snapped back. Another man from the group stepped forward. "Hey! Do you know who we are..."

SLAP!

Vikram slapped him with his other hand, silencing him instantly. The crowd gasped. One of the other smugglers, seeing the authority in Vikram's eyes, quickly tried to de-escalate. "Sir, sir, please!"

Vikram's eyes blazed. "I don't care if you are the Chief Minister's men." He walked over to the truck and, one by one, started kicking the pots. They smashed onto the road, the sharp, foul smell of cheap alcohol filling the air. The smugglers watched in horror as their entire consignment was destroyed.

After smashing the last pot, Vikram turned back to them, his eyes like chips of ice. "There is a new police officer in charge of this district now. Me. If I ever see your faces, or this poison, in this area again... I will put you in a jail cell.Now get out of my sight."

Terrified, the men scrambled back into their truck and sped away.

The crowd of villagers started cheering. Vikram turned his attention to the old man, who was watching him with a look of stunned admiration.

"Are you alright, sir?" Vikram asked politely. "What's your name?"

Before the old man could reply, a villager from behind him spoke up, his voice filled with reverence. "Sir He is our village head. He is Raghava Ramineni-garu."

The name hit Vikram like a physical blow. He stared at the old man. His grandfather. The mountain. He looked exactly like the photograph, but filled with a life and fire that no picture could capture.

Raghava stepped forward, a slow, impressed smile spreading across his stern face. He reached out and cupped Vikram's cheek, his rough hand surprisingly gentle. "Well done, my boy. It takes courage to stand up to those political goons. You have fire in you. I like it."

Overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotion he couldn't control-28 years of longing, of anger, of a grandson's duty-Vikram bent down and touched his grandfather's feet.

A strange jolt, a forgotten warmth, bloomed in Raghava's heart. He was taken aback by the gesture. He quickly pulled Vikram up by the shoulders. "Hey, hey, that's not necessary. You are a brave man." He looked at Vikram's formal clothes. "You are the new officer you mentioned?"

"Yes, sir," Vikram managed to say.

"Where did you work before?"

"Mumbai, sir."

"Mumbai..." Raghava repeated, a flicker of an old memory in his eyes before he pushed it away. "And where will you be staying? The police quarters here are in bad shape."

"The government will arrange something, sir," Vikram said.

"Nonsense," Raghava declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "As long as I am here, an officer who has protected my village will not stay in some rundown building. You will stay in my house. Until your quarters are ready, you are my guest."

Vikram's heart hammered in his chest. "Sir, I couldn't possibly..."

"I wasn't asking."

And that was that. Vikram, the DCP who commanded hundreds of officers, found himself completely unable to refuse. He nodded in acceptance. "Thank you, sir."

"Sir enti sir thathaya ani piluvu" Raghava said with a small smile.

Vikram smiled "ok thathaya garu".

He led his grandfather towards his car. "Please, Thathayya-garu, let me drop you."

Raghava chuckled. "That gas-guzzling machine? No, thank you." He pointed to an old, sturdy bicycle leaning against a tree. "That is my vehicle. It keeps the heart strong."

Not wanting to seem disrespectful, Vikram made a quick decision. He turned to his driver. "Go on to the station. I will come later."

Then, he turned to his grandfather. "Then I will walk with you."

Raghava looked at the young city officer in his polished shoes and smiled again. He liked this boy more and more.

As they walked through the fields, a comfortable silence settled between them. They soon arrived at a large, traditional house with a beautiful courtyard. A woman in her late forties and a man of a similar age rushed out.

"Nanna, are you okay? We heard there was some trouble," the man said with concern.

"I am fine, Sudhakar," Raghava said, waving a dismissive hand. He introduced Vikram. "This is our new police officer. He taught those smugglers a lesson they won't forget. He will be staying with us for a few days."

Sudhakar, his uncle, and his wife Ramani greeted Vikram with warm smiles and folded hands. Raghava called out, "Sita! Suryakantham! Come out!"

An elderly woman with kind, gentle eyes and a younger woman who Vikram assumed was his aunt came out. They were followed by three young children who ran and hugged Raghava.

"This is Vikram, our guest," Raghava announced.

Sitadevi, his grandmother, walked towards Vikram. Her steps were slow, but her eyes were sharp. She came close and placed a trembling hand on his cheek, just as her husband had. A tear escaped her eye. "God bless you, my child. You look... familiar."

A strange happiness filled her heart, an instinct she couldn't explain. Vikram, feeling his own eyes burn, bent down and took her blessings.

"Ramani, take him inside. Let him freshen up," Sitadevi said, her voice soft. She turned to Sudhakar's young son. "Manu, show your uncle Ananya's room. She is not here now, no? He can use that room for now."

Vikram froze for a second when he heard the name. Ananya. He quickly reminded himself that it was a common name. It had to be a coincidence. It was impossible.

He followed the boy into a room that was simple, neat, and had a faint scent of sandalwood. His gaze fell on a stack of engineering textbooks on a study table. His heart began to beat a little faster.

---

Miles away, in Mumbai, Ananya and Radhika slammed their final exam papers on the supervisor's desk and walked out of the hall with a loud cheer.

"Freedom!" Ananya shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

Back in their room, they were packing their trunks, a bittersweet feeling in the air. "I'm going to miss this mess," Radhika said, looking around the room.

"I'm not," Ananya laughed. "I'm ready to go home and eat Amma's food."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. A junior girl told Radhika she had a visitor downstairs. Radhika went, and returned a few minutes later with a blush on her cheeks and a small, happy smile on her lips.

Ananya saw it immediately. "Okay, who was that? And don't you dare say 'just a classmate'."

"It was nothing!" Radhika said, getting flustered.

"Your smile says it's not nothing," Ananya teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

"It's just friend anu" Radhika said.

Ani smiled" Okay let's pack we have a train to catch"

A train whistle blew in the distance. They grabbed their bags and headed for the station. As they settled into their seats on the train that would take them home, Ananya looked out the window at the city lights.Train started leaving Mumbai but ananya has the feeling that she didn't meet Vikram.

She was finally going home to Devipuram. Unaware that a handsome policeman with angry eyes was already waiting for her, sleeping in her very own room.

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