THE DHOKLA SCANDAL
When he woke up, he felt groggy and weak.
He didn't actually feel the bullet that had been shot at him, but he felt an
even greater sense of danger and fear. Truth be told, he did not have even a
scar to show where the bullet had hit him. There was nothing, and he distinctly
remembered the incident. It had been inside a dhokla shop- a place of his
nightmares. Maybe there was no gun. No bullet. Just the fear of Dhoklas playing
with his mind, causing him hallucinations. He tried to sit up straight, and
found that his hand was tied with strings. He tore them apart, and the rotting
strings succumbed to his power. Now standing up, he saw that he was inside a
factory. It was dark and desolate. Nota should inside, except two soft voices
that were playing in the background. Famished and very weak, he walked over to
the voices. He was disoriented after long hours of unconsciousness and he
didn't take much notice of what was around him. Some kind of yellow material
packed in transparent plastic pouches was all around him, stacked in large wooden
crates. He did not notice what they were. Walking to those voices, he very
slowly started to make sense of his surroundings. Those yellow things seemed
eerily familiar. Oh! He saw it all now, it hit him like a sudden enlightment.
He had been transported to a dhokla factory. He felt weak. Very weak. He
started getting more and more fearful and sick, especially learning what they
were.
The two men came into vision, standing
amidst huge Dhokla making machinery. One of them was loading a white substance
into a tray in the machinery. Although the dhokla made him weak, it also made
him more aware of his surroundings. He could clearly see what they were doing.
They were transporing drugs through the dhokla supply chain. The dealer would
deliver the dhokla to the customers house, unsuspected by everyone. The
customer would know how to extract the drug. A quick look around told Pingo he
was in Gujarat.
