Inspector Chaand tossed in his bed; he still heard the cries of rioters screaming as he and other policemen beat them with sticks. Many of them had cried, ‘’I didn’t do it. I was a pedestrian.’’ Among them was a 10-year-old boy. Chaand shuddered; he no longer loved the city in which he was brought up. He looked out of his window at the full moon. It seemed stained with all the blood he had caused and endured that day. Turning away, he stared at the dark, quiet ceiling with glassy, tired eyes.
Ignoring a group of waiting investors, politician Raaz went to his study to prepare his next hate speech. He had become the most revered and the most hated amongst two sections of the country. His new speech would create further divisions, but what were a few lives compared to his progress? His leader had promised him a seat in the parliament. Raaz smiled. He turned, as he often did, to the full moon for inspiration.