Hashwini watched in horror as the bedlam escalated. She saw the sergeant and the bus driver retreat into the patrol car. The corporal tried to back the vehicle onto the main road but the migrant workers encircled the patrol car and blocked its exit. Someone picked up the toppled rubbish bin and hurled it at the windshield. That act of rebellion excited the mob and brought on cheers. The bold among them laid their hands on the patrol car and began to rock it, eliciting more cheers from the onlookers. For a moment, it looked as though the mob might pry open the doors, drag the hostages out of the car and shred them to pieces. But a shot suddenly rang out and the crowd fell over one another to back away.

It was the sergeant who had fired his pistol out of the window. He got out of the patrol car looking pallid, and motioned to the corporal and the bus driver to follow suit. Holding his pistol above his head, pointing it straight up, he fired another warning shot into the air before signalling his companions to retreat from the mob on foot. The crowd jeered loudly as the three scrambled across the road. Someone shouted a command, upon which the mob reconvened around the patrol car and worked together to upturn it. Once the vehicle flipped over, a celebratory hooting erupted. Within minutes, the vehicle was set on fire. The mob pranced around the burning effigy until someone goaded them to move onto the main road. The celebration ought to be spread and shared.

Although Hashwini felt shaken by the sudden, senseless death she had witnessed a moment ago, she could not deny the buzz of excitement under her skin as she watched the upturned police patrol car burn like a torch less than 30 metres away. This was not something she was watching on television. This was happening, in real time, and she was a part of it. In fact, she was the one who had started this madness, for crying out loud!

Hashwini turned when she felt a tug on her sleeve. It was Kaustubh.

“Can I have my phone back?”

Hashwini extracted the mobile phone from her pocket and handed it over wordlessly. But a flash of inspiration struck her and she snatched it back.

“Just a minute.”

She held it up high, angled it to capture the flaming police vehicle in the background, and contorted her face to look appropriately alarmed before taking a selfie.

Chapter 2

Truth be told, Jessica was of the opinion that honesty was overrated.

Were she honest, she would turn to her friend seated next to her on the dragon boat and break the latter’s heart with the truth—that the hunky team captain working the drums with majestic fervour up ahead was not in the least bit interested in her.