Sinner's Trial
In the heart of a dense forest, on the edge of a small pond, stood a quaint single-story house. The surrounding was tranquil, with the soft cooing of a cuckoo resonating like a gentle melody. It was the perfect time, the perfect setting, for a carefully crafted plan.
Aniruddha stepped onto the veranda, holding a steaming mug of coffee. The view around him was serene. Five days ago, he had informed his wife, Riya, that he had taken a week off from work. He brought her far away from the city to this secluded house in the forest for a brief getaway. This was where Aniruddha would carry out his plan. No one would disturb him. No one would ever know.
Five days had passed since they arrived. Aniruddha and Riya had spent the past days basking in romance. He ensured Riya experienced moments of joy and love, a gift of happiness before her life took a dark turn. When they first arrived at the house, Riya had squealed with delight and exclaimed,
“Is this all for celebrating my birthday?”
Aniruddha had cupped her cheeks lovingly and said,
“Five days from now is my love’s birthday. Your first birthday since we got married—it had to be special, didn’t it?”
Riya, teary-eyed, asked,
“Do you love me this much? You’ll never leave me like others, will you?”
Holding her hands tenderly, Aniruddha kissed them and promised,
“Never.”
The five days went by smoothly, but the previous night marked a turning point. At midnight, he had Riya cut a cake. She fed him the first piece, her face glowing with joy. After the celebration, Aniruddha offered her a drink.
Riya politely refused, “You know I don’t like such things.”
But Aniruddha insisted, “It’s your first birthday after marriage. Come on, just a little celebration.”
Ignoring her protests, he forced her to drink. What Riya didn’t know was that the drink was laced with sleeping pills. Soon, her head spun, and she fell into a deep slumber.
This was Aniruddha’s cue. He tied Riya’s hands tightly behind her back and bound her ankles with strong nylon ropes that dug into her skin, leaving marks. He sealed her mouth with medical tape and then tied a noose around her neck, suspending her just enough so her toes barely touched the floor.
When Riya regained consciousness, the tautness around her neck jolted her awake. Her terror magnified as she saw Aniruddha holding a drill machine, his eyes burning red with rage.
He approached her, crouched near her feet, and started drilling into her right toes. Blood gushed as her toes were severed. Then, he moved to the left foot and did the same. Tears streamed down Riya’s face as she realized the extent of her beloved husband’s betrayal. She wanted to scream, but her taped mouth stifled any sound.
Aniruddha’s brutality didn’t end there. He drilled through her fingers, one by one, until her hands were reduced to bloody stumps. Then, he pulled out a heavy iron rod and began smashing her legs with all his might. When Riya reflexively kicked, he furiously drew a .22-caliber pistol and shot three bullets into each of her knees.
Riya’s body was paralyzed, her strength drained. Yet, Aniruddha wasn’t satisfied. He retrieved chili powder and rubbed it into her wounds, relishing her agony. His next move was even more horrifying—he used the drill machine on the most intimate part of her body, desecrating what he once called his “treasure.”
Riya’s muffled screams echoed through the room. Her body convulsed in unimaginable pain until her strength ebbed away completely. With one final act of sadistic satisfaction, Aniruddha drove the drill into her skull, piercing her head. Blood gushed out as Riya’s body finally stilled forever.
But Aniruddha wasn’t done yet. He grabbed a chainsaw from his bag and began dismembering her lifeless body, his twisted thirst for revenge finding solace in her destruction.
As the morning sun rose, Aniruddha sat on the veranda, sipping his coffee, reminiscing about the night’s events with satisfaction. This was his sixth murder.
The origin of his hatred was rooted in his past. Years ago, a girl had publicly humiliated his elder brother, falsely accusing him of attempted assault. The scandal had led to his brother’s imprisonment and tarnished the family’s reputation. The humiliation caused their father to die of a heart attack, and in despair, his brother slit his wrists in prison.
Having lost his family, Aniruddha developed a deep-seated hatred for women. To him, every murder was an act of vengeance for his brother’s suffering.
Now, his mission was to find his next prey. As he drove back toward Dhaka, fate intervened. His car broke down on the highway, and as he got out to check, a speeding truck appeared out of nowhere. Before he could react, the truck smashed into him and his car.
Aniruddha’s lifeless body lay mangled on the road. Perhaps his trail of sins had finally reached its limit. After all, no one escapes the grasp of karma.
