It was 1993 in the walled lanes of Old Delhi. A man named Chanakya ran a small, cluttered electronics repair shop called "Chanakya’s Radios & Repairs." He was not the ancient strategist; he was a wiry, bespectacled man in his forties with grease under his fingernails and an encyclopedic memory for circuit diagrams.
Officially, it was a heart attack. His Walkman was missing from his pocket. The shop was ransacked, but the thieves seemed to have left the radios and cassettes. They took only one thing: the 905. walkman chanakya 905
The voice belonged to a senior police officer. It was 1993 in the walled lanes of Old Delhi
A week later, Meera received an anonymous envelope. Inside was a single cassette, with a note typed on a crumbling piece of paper: "For the professor. Press play in court." His Walkman was missing from his pocket