The Villain – Chapter 4: Sabudana Khichdi

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The Villain – Chapter 4: Sabudana Khichdi

The night had grown quieter after the rain. The streets, though still wet, carried the smell of fried snacks and boiling tea drifting from small roadside dhabas.

Sully walked with his hands tucked in the pockets of his worn-out coat, face hidden under the brim of his cap. To the city, he was invisible—as always. To himself, he was just hungry. Hunger, the only reminder that he was still human.

He stopped at a modest dhaba lit by a single yellow bulb, its benches damp but welcoming. The sound of clattering plates and sizzling oil filled the air. A family sat nearby: a young girl of perhaps twelve, her younger brother beside her, their clothes simple, their laughter fragile but warm.

Sully watched as the girl scooped out steaming sabudana khichdi from a steel plate and fed it gently to her brother. The boy grimaced, making a face, and pushed her hand away.

“It’s worse!” the boy complained, his little voice breaking into laughter.

The girl rolled her eyes, scolding him softly. “Eat it! It will fill your stomach. Mama said no wasting food.”

Their banter echoed like music. Sully stared, transfixed. Something inside him cracked open.

The smell of sabudana carried him back—years, decades. Back to when he was not Sully the killer, but just a starving boy with nothing but a hollow stomach and tired eyes.

He remembered it vividly.

A boy once sat across from him under the same rainy sky, sliding a plate of sabudana khichdi toward him. “Here. Eat. You look like you haven’t had food in days,” the boy had said. His voice had been kind, untainted by judgment.

Sully had eaten greedily then, each bite burning into his memory, not because the food was extraordinary, but because someone had cared enough to give it to him. That boy had been the only one.

Now, watching the girl feed her brother, Sully felt the weight of that memory pressing against his chest. His breath slowed. His hands trembled slightly.

The girl noticed him staring. She hesitated, then got up with her plate and walked toward him. Her eyes were cautious, yet her steps were bold.

“You want some?” she asked, tilting the plate toward him.

Sully blinked, startled. His lips parted but no sound came out at first. Finally, he muttered, voice low and rough, “I… I have no money.”

The girl frowned, then shrugged. “I didn’t ask for money. If you’re hungry, eat.” She pushed the plate closer, her tone as casual as if kindness were the most ordinary thing in the world.

For a long moment, Sully just stared at the plate, at the steaming sabudana khichdi dotted with peanuts and green chilies. Then he looked at her—the innocence in her eyes, the quiet defiance in her small frame. She reminded him of that boy from long ago, the one who had fed him when he was nothing but a ghost even to himself.

Slowly, Sully took the plate. His hands shook as he lifted the first spoonful to his mouth. The taste was simple, humble… and overwhelming. Tears stung his eyes, though none fell. He chewed slowly, every grain a reminder of a kindness that should have been forgotten.

The girl smiled faintly, satisfied. “See? Not so bad.”

Sully swallowed, then whispered, barely audible, “Thank you.”

It was the first time in years those words had passed his lips.

The girl didn’t ask his name. She didn’t ask who he was. She didn’t know she was feeding the most feared killer in the city. To her, he was just another hungry man.

And to Sully, for a fleeting moment, she was proof that humanity still existed in the cracks of this rotten world.

He ate slowly, savoring each bite, not because of the food but because of what it meant. Because somewhere deep inside, the boy who had once been fed sabudana khichdi was still alive—hidden beneath the villain he had become.

When the plate was empty, Sully stood, handing it back carefully. He met the girl’s eyes one last time. “Kindness like yours… it’s rare. Don’t lose it.”

The girl tilted her head, puzzled by his strange tone, but nodded.

Sully turned, melting back into the shadows, his figure swallowed by the night. Behind him, laughter from the children floated through the air, clashing against the silence in his heart.

For the first time in a long time, Sully felt the weight of his choices—not enough to change him, but enough to remind him of the boy he once was.

The city would still bleed. The powerful would still fall. But tonight, Sully carried with him the taste of sabudana khichdi and the memory of a girl’s kindness.

And for a killer who had no face, no name, no past—those were the only things that made him feel human.

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⚡ Cliffhanger Ending:

As Sully disappeared into the night, Detective Nolan’s car stopped near the dhaba. He stepped out, scanning the area, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the same girl. Something about her lingering glance at the empty bench told him—Sully had been there.

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