Smoke in the Gurdwara

Location: Tarn Taran, Punjab

Tarn Taran was quieter than Amritsar, but only on the surface. The streets here didn’t scream with noise — they whispered. Old buildings leaned over narrow lanes, and gurdwaras echoed with shabads during the day. But after sunset, those same lanes carried the sound of secrets.

Inside Gurdwara Baba Deep Singh Ji, the holy shabad played softly in the background. People bowed, prayed, and walked out. No one knew what was happening in the basement below.

The Jandiala Thugs — a rising gang — had made this gurdwara their cover. Not out of hate for faith, but because they knew:

“Jithe Rab da ghar hove, othe police vi pair dharn to darte ne.”

(Where God’s home stands, even the police hesitate to step in.)

The gang’s leader, Lovepreet Cheema, sat cross-legged on a dusty rug downstairs. In front of him were guns wrapped in red cloth — the kind used for religious offerings. One of his men, Sukhi, lit a cigarette.

“Hoy Sukhi, tu pagal hoya?”

(Hey Sukhi, are you crazy?)

Lovepreet growled.

“Ithe Rab da na chal reha, tu dhuan kar reha?”

(God’s name is echoing upstairs, and you're making smoke down here?)

“Veer, tension ch si… sorry,” Sukhi replied quickly.

(Bro, I was just stressed... sorry.)

“Bas soch reha si… Gurpreet ne saadi territory vich pair pa ditta.”

(I was thinking... Gurpreet has stepped into our territory.)

Lovepreet’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t a big man, but his silence could freeze blood.

“Main keh reha aa, ae banda shant ni chhaduga.

(I'm telling you, this man won't stay quiet.)

Ae banda taan Lahore de bande naal vi gallan kar reha.”

(He's even talking to the guys from Lahore.)

“Othe vi hath paa reha.”

(He's making moves there too.)

Just then, an old man walked into the basement with folded hands. Bapu Balbir, a respected sevadaar of the gurdwara.

“Puttar, ae ki horha ae?

(Son, what is happening here?)

Tusi Rab de ghar vich yeh sab kaam karde?”

(You’re doing all this inside God’s house?)

Lovepreet stood up and bowed slightly.

“Bapu ji, asi vi Rab de bande aa.

(Bapu ji, we are also God’s people.)

Par rabb de naal nafrat karde ne oh bande,

(But those who hate God...)

jinnah nu asi khatam karna chahunde aa.”

(...they are the ones we want to destroy.)

“Rabb kabhi khushi nai hunda jado bandeya da lahu bahida,”

(God is never pleased when a man’s blood is spilled,)

Bapu replied, shaking his head.

“Bas yaad rakhin, ek din har ek bande nu apna hisaab dena painda.”

(Just remember, one day everyone has to answer for their actions.)

Lovepreet said nothing. But his eyes turned cold again.

Later that night, on a quiet road between Tarn Taran and Goindwal, a Mahindra Scorpio parked under a broken streetlight. Inside sat Inspector Rajdeep Sandhu, his eyes heavy with confusion.

He whispered to himself,

> “Every time I try to clean this city, some bloody ghost rises from the dirt.”

Just then, his phone buzzed.

A message.

“Watch your step. Tarn Taran is not yours anymore.”

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