"You’re the one who buried that politician’s son under his own garden. I need a drishyam."
"This doesn’t prove—"
George is packing. He always leaves after a job. But this time, there’s a knock. Gaitonde. Alone. No gun. gaitonde drishyam
"I was here."
"The body is in your house. But the house has six cameras. Two are fake. The real ones don’t record audio. So here’s your drishyam: you were not home. From 9 PM to 11 PM, you were at a dhaba 22 km away. The waiter remembers you because you argued about the price of chai." "You’re the one who buried that politician’s son
Silence.
"No. Now you weren’t. See — drishyam means 'visual phenomenon'. What people see is what happened. So we show them a different film. Your phone pinged near the dhaba. I’ll spoof that. Your car’s GPS — already edited. And the dead man? He walked in after you left. You never met him." But this time, there’s a knock