The car door shut with a thud. The footsteps sounded worried. The man who came running into the Police Inspector's office seemed stressed, as he called, "S—Sir?"
"Huh? Yeah?" muttered his superior, while not caring to look anywhere other than this mobile screen.
"Sir, th—the rape case...There's been a—suicide."
"What?" he cried.
"We found this letter with the body."
The inspector swallowed, reached for the letter but stopped. "What does it say?" he asked.
"Uh—"
"Read it out!" he shouted.
With eyes filled with a curious refrain, the constable coughed and began...
"It was late night. I could really use some money and so, I used to do overtime usually. I had just gotten done with my work and was standing out of my office building, waiting for a rickshaw, when a colleague of mine approached me and offered me a lift to my home, as the person had a car and it really seemed impossible to find a rickshaw that late. We had worked together on quite a few projects and I felt like I knew that person. So, I said yes.
"While in the car, I was asked several questions, like where I lived, and with whom. I mostly replied with, 'Alone.' My mom was out of town, and wasn't well, and so, I needed money, and I told so. My colleague showed concern and asked if I needed some help. I refused, but was told that it was fine, and that it was for my mother. And then, I observed the car turn around the next U-turn. While on the way, I tried to refuse many times but the person seemed adamant to help me. It felt, I accept, quite good for the moment, because for a moment, I felt what I had never felt before. I felt – like I wasn't alone. And as I said, I could really use the money.
"The car stopped after some time and, 'Home!' said my colleague. We got out of the car, into the lift of a tall building, out of it, and inside the big, kind of filmy, home of the person. I was amazed at how charming it was, and I wondered if I could afford a home like it one day. I was then shown my way to the living room, where, on a really comfortable sofa, I was offered drinks. I refused but my colleague winked, and got them anyway. We had a couple of drinks. We talked, we joked, and we laughed. We had fun. I was waiting to get the money I came for but it felt inappropriate to ask. So, I just went with the flow.
"'It's tough, isn't it, living all alone in this city?' my companion said, and I couldn't agree more. I had seen a lot of dreams, and had tasted a lot of tears, I had felt a lot of bad feelings, and being alone was the most consistent, and the worst. And I was ranting about the same, when I felt a hand touching my thighs, and then, it went upwards and upwards until it reached my—" the constable halted.
"What happened?" roared the inspector.
"Uh...nothing," a whisper came out of the subordinate, and he continued.
"I got a little agitated and pushed myself a little away. But my colleague chuckled, and said that it was fine; it was for my mother. And I was told that no one will ever know. But this wasn't what I came for. I was being forced. I tried to get away but the person wouldn't let me go. I was shown a deck of cash, but I just didn't want that then. So, I got up, pushed that person away, found my bag and tried to get out, but the door was locked. I tried to knock but it felt like my hands had no energy, like I had no weight. I just remember my mind whispering words, like 'drinks', and 'can't...see'.
"The next thing I remember is waking up, without my clothes on, on the floor, near the sofa, where I could recall some blurry screams I let out, where I was – raped," the constable swallowed a large bulk of saliva, as he kept on, "I ran for my clothes that were thrown in the corner of the room and as I was wearing them, I heard, 'Don't even try to tell anybody about it! You know that, don't you? It'll be of no use.'
"But who was that person to say so? I felt rage. I felt empty. At first, it felt like I wanted to kill that person. But then, it was like I wanted to kill myself. I felt like I was nothing. I felt hollow. I felt I was robbed. I felt like I was a toy that somebody just used, just broke. I felt broken. I ran out of the house, in tears, and reached the local police station, to file an FIR.
"The inspector was half-asleep when he asked what happened. I told him that I was raped. He asked for my name, and it was when I told my name, he opened his eyes properly. 'I'm Ashish, sir,' I had said.
"In surprise, and confusion, he asked again if I am sure that I was raped. I told him everything, about Sneha, about last night, and how I felt. But, he reached out for his stick, and asked if I thought he was a fool. I cried. I told, again and again, that it was true, that I wasn't lying. But then he started shouting at me, humiliated me, in front of everyone who was there, and said that I was recounting some fantasy of mine. He laughed. And I felt embarrassed. It was then, I realised, I was alone and it was because I never belonged to this world.
"After I cried for some hours, they called Sneha. And Sneha barged in the station, tears all over her face, and looked at me, screamed, that I raped her last night, and then ran away, taking her money.
"My bag was checked and as much money was found in it as much I had never even seen in my life. I should've checked my bag when I left her home. And then she told everybody the story of how I forced her to drink more than she usually did and when she was not in her senses, raped her and stole her money.
"The policeman locked me up straight away, even before she actually filed an FIR. I kept on crying how it was me who was raped but every time I did, I was laughed at. Not even my mother believed me. Not having money to get a lawyer, I was given a government lawyer who stayed silent in the hearings and it was never proved who raped who, but I was imprisoned. What did I do wrong? Why did it happen to me?
"I–am alone, lonelier than I ever was. I cannot take this, this punishment of a crime that I, not only never committed, but was also a victim of. I've found a blade through a prison-mate, and I'm freeing myself of this humiliation, this feeling of being alone, and this feeling of being – a rapist."
The constable concluded, to be followed theinspector's heavy breaths. A burdensome noise of the slow running fan was allthat filled the room. The air in the office remained still for a while, theeyes of the two stayed locked into the ground for a while, before the inspectorsaid, "Do one thing," his eyes still deep in an intimacy with the floor, thedoor still closed, "Burn this letter down. And write a new one. One that saysthat he killed himself. In remorse."
