Cyanide Mohan’s Deadly Trust

They didn’t run from him. They trusted him. In the small towns and villages of

Karnataka, Mohan never looked dangerous. He spoke gently, smiled softly,

and listened more than he talked. There was no anger in his voice—only patience,

only comfort. People believed him. Maybe a little too easily.

To women who had lost their husbands, their marriages, or even their sense of self,

Mohan felt like hope. When he said, “I want to get married,” something changed

in their eyes. Dreams returned. Life felt possible again. He met them in temples—places

where faith is strong and doubt feels wrong. He listened to their pain,