The warehouse was still echoing with the last screams.
Blood on the concrete. Silence in the air.
Over 3,000 men now stood with bright red headbands—some tied with pride, others with fear, most with trembling hands.
Gajendran stepped forward again.
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It cut through the silence like a razor on raw skin.
"One more time… I will say this."
"And this time—it's the last time."
He looked at the sea of red.
Not a single man blinked.
"Gang Nagas is dead. Finished. Buried. Forgotten."
"If you exit this warehouse today with that red band on your head…"
"And if you even think about going back to your old life…"
He paused. The air thickened.
"Just try."
His tone shifted—
No longer a command.
No longer a warning.
Now it sounded like something darker.
"I'm not threatening you."
"I'm sharing… my experience."
The room froze.
Even the most hardened men leaned in.
And Gajendran continued.
"This was one hour."
"What you felt today? The chaos? The fear? The pain?"
"That was just a preview."
"What we went through for two months… made us wish for death."
He looked down for a breath—then back up, eyes harder than steel.
"They dislocated over thirty of my bones."
"I was hung upside down for two days. No food. No water."
"You know what I drank?"
He raised his hand, just a finger.
"My own piss."
"Flowing down my body… into my mouth… every time I lost control."
"That's what it took to burn Gang Nagas out of me."
He stepped forward one more pace, his voice lowering into a growl.
"So if any of you think this reformation is a joke…"
"If any of you think you'll wear the red band to escape today and return to crime tomorrow…"
"Try."
A pause.
"Just try."
The silence after that?
Felt like divine judgment.
Even Sethu—standing among the red-banded—felt his spine stiffen, as if the floor itself was warning him to never look back.
The silence lingered.
Not out of fear anymore…
But because every single man in that room had the same question sitting on their tongue like poison:
Who did this to Gajendran?
Who broke the beast?
One man finally stepped forward.
He looked no different than the others—scars on his neck, broken fingers that had never healed right.
But his voice… carried a whisper of courage.
"Gajen…"
The name alone made a few men flinch. No one had dared to say it casually since the return.
But Gajendran didn't react.
The man swallowed hard.
"Who are 'they'…?"
"The ones who did all that to you…"
"Who trained you?"
The room held its breath.
Some eyes widened.
Others looked at the floor—as if the answer was something they shouldn't know.
Even Sethu instinctively lowered his gaze.
But Gajendran just stared at the man.
Unblinking.
Unmoving.
Then finally—
"My personal request: I hope you never meet them."
"Because the moment you decide to go against the red band—you will."
"And if that day comes… just remember—it is taboo to even speak their name."
He paused. Then gestured toward the emblem on his shirt.
"Look at the logo on our chest."
"This is our new sacred symbol. The Dharmacakra."
"From today onwards, you are no longer gangsters."
"You are members of a new organization.**
"The Dharma Foundation."
"We help gangsters reform. We build new paths. Clean paths. Business. Jobs. Discipline."
"In three days, we will establish Foundation Offices in every district."
"All of you are required to report to the nearest one."
"Until then—you have three days."
"Burn, wash, or destroy everything illegal you still hold."
"If you have black money—donate it. To a temple. A church. A mosque. A school. An orphanage."
"Come to us as clean as a blank slate.
Gajendran stepped back, then lifted the mic once more.
"Let the medical team enter."
"Everyone—follow the facilitators' guidance."
A side entrance opened, and a group of doctors and nurses entered with first-aid bags strapped to their shoulders.
At the same time, several men wearing shirts marked with the golden Dharmacakra symbol walked into formation.
"Those wearing the golden symbol—they are your facilitators moving forward."
"And you—those with the red bands—you are now known as Class Red."
The facilitators began moving efficiently, directing the 3,000+ reformed gang members into organized lines for medical check-ups. No one resisted.
No one spoke.
The war was over. Now came healing.
Back inside the surveillance van, the air had gone thick.
Officers stared at the monitors with wide eyes.
Men in red bands… standing in line.
Doctors checking vitals. Nurses bandaging wounds.
This was no ordinary gang fallout.
This was something else entirely.
Commissioner Syed Sulaiman leaned forward, stunned.
"What kind of boot camp did they attend…?"
Silence.
He turned to Joseph, eyes narrowing.
"Joseph."
Joseph flinched slightly.
"I don't care if this matter is related to Department Zero or not."
He stepped closer.
"I know you're hiding something from me."
"I might look like a bureaucrat to you—but I became General Commissioner from the bottom."
Sulaiman's tone dropped into something dangerous.
"Now you tell me… who are 'they'?"
"Who's he talking about?"
Joseph remained quiet. His jaw clenched.
That's when Sulaiman grabbed him by the uniform collar.
"If there is something threatening the security of this country…"
"I will not stand on the side."
A tense moment passed.
Joseph closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.
Then finally spoke.
"Commissioner… he told me this day would come."
"The day you'd hold me by the neck, asking this exact question."
"And he told me… to whisper this in your ear. This is closed enough!"
Joseph leaned forward.
He whispered two words into Syed Sulaiman's ear:
"Devil Liberation Army."
Sulaiman's eyes widened.
His grip loosened.
His hand began to tremble.
The van fell deathly silent.
"The Myth… They… they.. cant be real" Sulaiman mind scream in his mind. He don't dare to say that name out loud.
The End
Hindu Mythological / Cultural / Belief References – Chapter 43
Dharmacakra
Also known as the "Wheel of Dharma," this ancient symbol represents cosmic law, righteousness, and the path of truth.In Buddhist and Hindu traditions, it symbolizes the cycle of rebirth, the ongoing battle between chaos and order, and the spreading of righteous teachings.The use of the Dharmacakra logo by Gajendran's new order reflects a complete rejection of lawlessness and a return to discipline and inner purification.Its eight spokes in many depictions also refer to the Noble Eightfold Path—a perfect metaphor for the path of self-control, morality, and spiritual awakening the reformed gangsters must now follow.
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Red Band as Ritual Marker
In traditional Indian rituals, colored threads or cloths often represent initiation, oaths, or penance.The red headband represents more than safety—it marks those who have chosen tapasya (austerity) and transformation.Much like ancient yagyas (sacrificial rituals) demanded symbolic offerings and markings, the red band symbolizes a sacrifice of ego, power, and past sins.
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The Three-Day Cleansing
In Vedic culture, ritual cleansing before transformation or initiation is essential.The three-day period granted for cleansing illegal ties, burning past affiliations, and donating black money mirrors traditional Vratas or purification fasts, where a person must arrive to a temple or ceremony pure of body, mind, and karma.The instruction to donate black money to temples, mosques, churches, or orphanages is aligned with the Hindu concept of Dāna (charity)—a vital act to remove karma and seek rebirth with a clean slate.