Mother

Labu inquired sharply, "So these are the brats Diljeet was talking about?"

Diljeet nodded calmly, exhaling a plume of smoke from his cigar. "Yes, Labu. They're my responsibility now. You need not worry about them."

Parm and Jaga, standing silently beside Labu, exchanged uneasy glances. They had never witnessed such a decisive show of authority.

Diljeet continued, his voice low and deliberate, "Let's free all the prisoners. Confuse the police on who the real mastermind is."

Labu, after a moment of contemplation, nodded in agreement. "Alright then. Free them all."

Labu signaled his men, who swiftly unlocked the cell doors. A torrent of people surged out, a chaotic mix of relief and urgency as they escaped the confines of the prison.

Labu turned to Diljeet as the commotion settled down. "Come with me, Diljeet," he urged.

Diljeet shook his head firmly. "Not yet, Labu. I have to take care of Parm and Jaga first."

Labu's expression hardened. "What are you going to do with them?"

Diljeet's eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "I'll take them to the Mother."

Labu's shock was palpable. "What do you mean? You can't do that!"

Diljeet chuckled softly. "It's my affair, Labu. I'll explain to Mother. She'll understand."

Labu, still visibly angered but recognizing Diljeet's resolve, reluctantly acquiesced. He and his men left the prison, leaving behind a small truck for Diljeet, Parm, and Jaga.

As Labu's men departed, the prison grounds fell silent once more, save for the distant sounds of the freed prisoners finding their way to freedom. Diljeet, Parm, and Jaga stood in the stillness of the night beside the waiting truck, the weight of their recent actions and the uncertainty of their future hanging palpably in the air. Diljeet's decision to switch from the conspicuous truck to a nondescript car was a subtle yet deliberate move, a testament to his astuteness in navigating the precarious underworld they inhabited.

They drove through the quiet streets until they reached a modest tea shop on the outskirts of the city of amritsar. Inside, the atmosphere was tense yet subdued as they settled at a corner table. Diljeet ordered three teas and a plate of samosas from the vendor, who served them with a mixture of curiosity and caution, aware of the recent turmoil in the region.

The tranquility of the moment was shattered by the crackling voice of KPS Gill over the radio. His words reverberated through the small shop, condemning the security lapse that led to the massive prison break. "We are ashamed of our department," Gill's voice thundered. "My brothers lost their lives. I promise that I will find every bastard responsible and bury them in the grave."

Diljeet, Jaga, and Parm exchanged uneasy glances, absorbing the gravity of Gill's words. As they finished their tea, Jaga, his frustration and concern mounting, turned sharply to Diljeet.

"Why did your trucks attacking the prison have Khalistan flags on them? Are you trying to frame someone?" His voice was accusatory, eyes blazing with anger and apprehension for the innocent lives that might be at stake.

Diljeet's response was calm, almost amused, yet underscored with a darker edge. "Sometimes, appearances are as important as actions, Jaga. The flags serve a purpose."

Jaga's jaw tightened, his fists clenching in frustration. "You're playing a dangerous game, Diljeet. Innocent people could die because of this."

Diljeet's demeanor shifted to one of seriousness as he met Jaga's gaze squarely. "In this world, survival often demands tough choices. If you let your compassion dictate your actions, you may not live to see another day."

Parm, seeking to steer the conversation away from escalating tensions, interjected with a more pressing question. "Diljeet, are we really going to meet your mother? You mentioned it earlier."

Diljeet's expression softened briefly as he looked at Parm, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "Yes, we are. She's not just my mother; she's a figure who can provide guidance and protection in our world. You'll understand once you meet her."

Jaga, still defiant and protective of his own family bonds, retorted adamantly, "We already have a mother. I'm not calling anyone else 'mother'."

Diljeet's gaze held steady, his voice firm yet tinged with understanding. "Trust me, Jaga. She is unlike anyone you've known. She can offer us more than just familial ties."

Outside the tea shop, the night continued its quiet vigil, oblivious to the complex web of alliances and strategies being woven within. Diljeet, Parm, and Jaga finished their tea in a contemplative silence, each pondering the uncertain path that lay ahead. They knew with certainty that the events of this night had set them on a course where loyalties would be tested, alliances would shift like sand in the wind, and the consequences of their actions would resonate far beyond the confines of the present moment.