Sonu was a 24-year-old delivery boy for Popmart. He had moved to Delhi from his village in Assam four years earlier, along with his mother and younger sister. His father still worked as a farm laborer back home. 

Their finances were so fragile that they could not afford to live together. Work in the city was scarce, and jobs for people without degrees were even harder to find. The three of them lived in a single-room house with a tin roof in an area near South Delhi. In the summer, the heat clung to the walls.

His mother worked as a daily wage laborer, washing clothes for families in posher neighborhoods. His sister was seven, and Sonu was determined to keep her in school. He often argued with his father about it, but his father believed education was a waste of time. They rarely saw eye to eye. Still, deep down, Sonu wished he could earn enough to bring his father to Delhi, so all four of them could live under one roof. 

Two years ago, when demand for delivery workers surged, Sonu grabbed the opportunity. Since then, he had been cycling across the city from early morning to late at night, delivering everything from groceries to gadgets. His job had become the backbone of their survival—their bread and butter.

On a cool October morning, Sonu woke at 6 a.m. to get ready for work. A strange anxiety sat in his chest that day. For a moment, he didn’t want to go. But some things can’t be avoided. As soon as he stepped out, his phone buzzed. A new order. Order number 45. A packet of biscuits to be delivered to a jewelry shop in Vasant Vihar.

He picked up the order from the warehouse and started pedaling. At a traffic light, he looked down and noticed that his bicycle chain had come off. 

“Mujhe pata tha kuch na kuch toh gadbad honi thi aaj,”[I knew something bad was going to happen today.] he muttered, sighing. Luckily, one of his friends worked at a nearby repair shop. Sonu rushed there, his heart racing—not from the run, but from fear of being late.

“Arun bhai, aaj ka din hi kharab hai. Jaldi se theek kar do, customer wait kar raha hoga.” [Brother Arun, today is a bad day. Please repair it quickly, the customer must be waiting.]

After a frustrating 20-minute delay, Sonu finally got back on the road. By the time he reached the jewelry shop, he noticed something was amiss. A large crowd had gathered outside. Police cars. Voices overlapping.

“Bhai, yeh rush kis cheez ka hai?” [Brother, what is all this rush for?] he asked a man standing nearby.

“Woh… dukan ka malik subah taala khol raha tha. Peeche se koi chaku lekar aaya… usse maar diya. Bohat sona bhi le gaya. Ab police CCTV dekh rahi hai chor ko pakadne ke liye.” [The owner of the shop was opening the lock in the morning when someone came from behind and stabbed him with a knife. He took a lot of gold with him, too. Now the police are watching CCTV to catch the accused.]

Sonu felt a chill run through him.

Yeh din aur kharab nahi ho sakta. [Today can’t get any worse.] He thought to himself, but he didn’t know he was wrong. Curiosity pulled him closer. He leaned in, peering over a policeman’s shoulder at the CCTV footage. The grainy video flickered. A man rushed out of the shop. For a second, Sonu didn’t breathe. The biscuit packet slipped from his hands and hit the ground

The man on the screen looked exactly like his father.