It was around midnight, and a long convoy of cars raced down the rough roads of Bangalore. In the middle car sat Vivian Singhania, his face radiating a rare sense of calm. A lit cigarette dangled between his lips, the car windows rolled down, allowing the wind to rush through as the vehicle sped over the bumpy streets. Blood streaks lined the road, accompanied by agonizing screams that echoed through the eerie silence of the night. But whose screams were they?

They belonged to Aarush, whose foot was tied to the trunk of the car, his arms bound tightly behind his back. His bloodied face dragged mercilessly across the jagged ground as the car sped on. His shrieks were so intense they could rupture anyone's eardrums, but, unfortunately, there was no one to hear them. The desolate roads of Bangalore bore witness to his pain as the car continued its relentless course, the screams persisting for nearly ten minutes.