Syma stepped forward. “But truth doesn’t need translation.” She pressed a button. The real footage of Shiva saving a burning orphanage played on every screen in the city.
Shiva, the fearless Rowdy Rathore , had cleaned up his town. The fake Vikram Singh Rathore had become a real hero. But peace never lasts for a rowdy.
Shiva’s fists clenched. “Koi mujhe joke bolega, toh uski aukat dikha dunga.”
Hndy Kaml laughed. “You can’t stop translation, Rathore. Every language changes you.”