Parental Caution Note:
This story includes vulgar street slang common in Indian urban language. All profanity is used intentionally and realistically to reflect real environments, not to glorify them. Reader discretion advised.
The black Scorpio rolled into old Panaji by 3:30 PM. The evening was noisy, tourist lanes filled. Nawaz looked out the window — this part of Goa wasn't the one people posted selfies from.
Balraj:
"Hotel simple hai, par secure. Bas jaldi check-in karte hain, sone ka mann hai."
(The hotel's simple but secure. Let's check in quick, I just want to sleep.)
They stepped into the dim lobby of Hotel Blue Moon — rundown, but cheap and quiet. The clerk barely looked up, handed the key, and muttered, "Second floor, 206."
Nawaz (whispering):
"Yahan toh Katrina bhi na aaye…"
(Even Katrina wouldn't come here…)
As they opened the door, Balraj dropped the bag and threw himself onto the bed like a Snorlax on sedatives.
Balraj:
"Abey, tu andar se lock kar. Goa ke chillar bhi kabhi kabhi AK-47 leke ghoomte hain."
(Oye, lock the door from inside. Even Goa's cheap gangsters sometimes carry AKs.)
Nawaz (smirking):
"Tera kharraate hi kaafi hai dushman bhagane ke liye."
(Your snoring alone is enough to scare enemies away.)
Balraj was about to reply when Nawaz's phone buzzed. A notification: Unknown Number – 2 Missed Calls. Then a third buzz.
He picked up.
Voice (deep, raspy):
"Mumbai ke Shaitaan aaye ho Goa mein? Yahan ke kutte tum jaise ko chaat ke jaate hain."
(So the Devil of Mumbai thinks he can walk into Goa? The dogs here chew up bastards like you.)
Call ends.
Nawaz:
"…what the fuck?"
Before Balraj could sit up, three men burst through the hallway — two with pistols, one with a sawed-off shotgun.
They didn't knock. They fucking kicked the door open.
Goon 1 (shouting):
"Saale chu**e, chhupne aaye ho? Ab nikal apni maa ki…"
(You pussies hiding? Come out you mother—)
BANG.
Balraj had already pulled the Desi katta from under his pillow and shot the first one in the chest.
Blood sprayed the wall. The other two dove for cover.
Balraj (screaming):
"Bhenchod aise entry maarte ho jaise Netflix ka villain ho!"
(Motherfucker, you enter like you're some Netflix villain!)
Nawaz rolled across the floor, grabbing his Glock. The second attacker fired, hitting the window.
Glass exploded.
Nawaz:
"Tere baap ka paisa leke aaya tha ye goli? Abey gand mara lunga tera!"
(You paid for that bullet with your daddy's money? I'll fuck your ass up!)
He returned fire. One bullet grazed the goon's neck, another hit the thigh.
The man screamed, dropped his weapon.
Balraj (laughing):
"Saala remix lag raha hai – ekdum boom boom aur gandi gaaliyon ka live concert!"
(This feels like a remix – full boom-boom and live dirty language concert!)
But the third attacker — the shotgun guy — kicked the bathroom door open and sprayed the bed.
Pellets ripped into the mattress.
Nawaz ducked:
"Saale, tu toh asli ch*t ka pilot nikla — sidha land karta hai bina signal ke!"
(You turned out to be a real pussy pilot — landing straight in without any signal!)
Before he could reload, Balraj lunged and smashed his head with the metal jug from the side table. Skull cracked.
Blood spilled over the cracked tiles.
Silence.
Smoke, blood, and broken tiles.
Their ears rang.
Balraj limped back.
Balraj:
"Madar**d, neend kharaab kar di."
(Motherfucker ruined my sleep.)
Nawaz picked up the fallen phone from the floor — the goon's device.
Still unlocked. One message thread open.
Sender:
"Devil of Mumbai is here. Wipe him. No questions. CM ke bhai tak nahi pahuchna chahiye."
(The Devil of Mumbai is here. Kill him. No questions. This must not reach the CM's brother.)
Nawaz (coldly):
"Netaji ke kutte the… kaun sa CM Goa mein aisa ghoom raha hai?"
(They were Netaji's dogs… Which CM's brother is roaming like this in Goa?)
Balraj (grabbing a towel to wipe blood):
"Woh baad mein. Pehle nikalte hain. Pata chala aur aayenge."
(Later. First, let's get out. What if more show up?)
They cleaned up quick, burned the bloodied towels in the bathroom trash bin, and left the hotel via the backstairs.
By 5:00 PM, they were riding deeper into Goa, towards a corner property Nawaz once used during a courier job — an old Portuguese house near Chapora Fort.
They reached. It was silent, secluded.
No one around.
Balraj (exhaling):
"Abey Goa mein aaye the chill karne… mil gaya chill. Ekdum freezer mein daal diya madarchodo ne."
(Came to Goa to chill… got frozen instead, those motherfuckers.)
Nawaz (cold eyes):
"Yeh sirf shuruaat thi. Ab dekhte hain, kaun kiski g*** maarne aaya hai."
(This was just the start. Let's see who came to fuck whom.)
He tossed the dead goon's phone onto the table.
Nawaz:
"Next move unpe depend karega… par bhool gaya ek kaanun – street ka."
(Our next move depends on them… but they forgot one law – the street's.)
Balraj (lighting a bidi, muttering):
"Jisne Devil ko chheda na... uski laash bhi ghar waale pehchaan nahi paate."
(Whoever messed with the Devil… even their family won't recognize the corpse.)
Nawaz (cold, calm):
"Yeh Goa ka beach nahi, bhonsdiwalo. Yahaan khoon ki lehar chalti hai."
(This ain't some Goa beach, motherfuckers. Here, the tide flows with blood.)
----------------------------------------------------------
[INT. CHEAP HOTEL ROOM, CORNER OF GOA – 9:30 PM]
Fan ki awaz mein gunpowder ka smell ghula tha. Bloodstained shirts, khule bags, ek table pe rakha phone — goon ka phone.
Balraj (lighting a cigarette, wiping blood from his neck):
"Chutiya phone unlock hogaya. Dekh kisne bheje the yeh kutte."
(The dumbass's phone's unlocked. Look who sent these dogs.)
Nawaz (calm but dead cold):
"Bata na, kaun tha maa ka l***?"
(Tell me, who was the motherf***er?)
Balraj screen ghumata hai. Ek naam chamakta hai: "Surya Patil – MLA"
Balraj:
"Yeh wahi l*** hai jiska photo har nukkad pe poster ban ke laga hota hai – 'Seva karo, desh badlo'. Saala andhar se poora naala."
(That's the same f***er whose posters are all over saying 'Serve the nation'. From inside, he's pure gutter.)
Nawaz (grits his teeth):
"Toh yeh politician apne kutto ko bhej ke sochta hai hum mar jaayenge? Chutiya samjha hai kya?"
(So this politician sends his dogs and thinks we'll die? Thinks we're dumb?)
Balraj:
"Plan toh simple tha… darwaza kholo, goli maaro, clean escape. Par yeh bhool gaya—"
Nawaz (interrupts):
"—ki Shaitan ko chhedne waalon ki gaand pe kabristaan likha hota hai."
(That those who mess with the Devil have 'graveyard' written on their asses.)
Balraj:
"Saale ne socha Goa ke kutte humse bade hain. Ab dekhega asli jungle ka niyam."
(That bastard thought Goa's dogs were deadlier than us. He'll now see the real law of the jungle.)
Nawaz slowly gets up, grabs his phone, and stares at the screen. There's a photo—Surya Patil, casually leaning against a wall in a dimly lit club, standing right next to a known goon.
Nawaz (cold whisper):
"Agle hafte election hai. Yeh MLA toh na neta banega… na jinda rahega."
(Next week is the election. This MLA won't become a leader… or stay alive.)
He throws the phone on the bed, walks to the window, cracks it open, lights a beedi.
Balraj (staring at Nawaz):
"Toh ab?"
(So now?)
Nawaz (inhales deep, exhales slow):
"Ab Goa sirf raat bhar ka aaram hai. Kal sidha Mangaluru jaake kaam niptayenge... phir Surya Patil ki maut ka countdown shuru hoga."
(Goa is just a pitstop for the night. Tomorrow, we head straight to Mangaluru, finish the job... then Surya Patil's death countdown begins.)
Nawaz looks at Balraj, fast asleep .
Nawaz (laughing):
"Yeh Snorlax bhi na... jab dekho soya pada rehta hai."
(This Snorlax, man… always sleeping like a damn log.)