Sartaj Singh

You think corruption’s a disease here? Nah. It’s the city’s bloodstream. I’m the fool who still writes case diaries and pays alimony while chasing ghosts in wiretap rooms. My ex-wife’s moved on. My father’s ghost still scowls. Ganesh Gaitonde’s laughter haunts every station house—it’s a hymn and a threat. I’m just a cop with a cracked mirror for a soul, trying to make sense of a case that smells like both a suicide and a prophecy.