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"Woh kadi saat sau chaar, Kaala Kotha se tha. Shaant, na hansmukh, khamosh aur gareeb tha- lekin woh dil ka Kohinoor tha."
The man said.
I paused mid-scribble, my fingers went frozen over the page. Kohinoor. The word stuck in my mind.
I still didn't know Rutvik's full story, his past since birth, or even the way his voice sounded when he is breaking apart. But each clue I gathered added shape to he was.
The man sitting before us said, "I was Jailor of Central Jail once, retired three years ago. Now I run this NGO and help reintegrate those boys when they're out." He continued, "He never got into fights. Didn't speak unless spoken to. Helped the older inmates clean. Once gave away his blanket in cold winter night to a newcomer who was shivering. I didn't forget that."
Dixit gave a low whistle beside me, impressed.
"He could've been like the rest. Bitter, angry, dangerous, but no, he never raised his voice." The man said, placing his cup down. "He always choose kindness, gentleness over violence."
My throat tightened. I kept my face neutral. I am here to document his behaviour, not... feel things.
We were interrupted by the arrival of a young woman in her late twenties, maybe. Hijab in dusty lilac, kurta with ink-stains down one arm. Volunteer badge swinging from her neck. "Assalamualaikum," she greeted gently, then looked to me. "You're here about 704?"
"Yes ma'am, I'm collecting testimonies on 704's conduct inside." I replied.
She smiled, "I saw him first in the classroom. Never complained always busy with taking his education seriously and we don't even know why he study's so hard but it's really inspiring and admirable. And i still remember once, an inmate threw roti in the bin because it was burnt. He picked it out, dusted it, ate it, and said food was gift, you don't waste what God sends you."
I slowly noted that down.
Behind her, another male staffer with files under his arm added, "He read books. Every books except the Bhagavad Gita in the jail library because according to him a criminal like him should not touch a holy book with the hands which committed crime. He didn't speak German, but once asked someone to translate what Ella means. I remember his eyes when he found out Ella means goddess."
My hand stopped so does my heart.
Dixit leaned toward me. "I love him dude. Can't believe your taste in criminals are so illegally sexy." He whispered.
I gave him a death glare, but I knew what he meant. Alisha rolled her eyes but nodded to me, silent supporting me as always.
Rutvik is no monster or delinquent. Just a boy thrown into a cell, treated like rot and somehow still fragrant with decency.
When we were done, I stood outside for a moment. Alisha touched my arm gently. "You okay?"
"I don't know..." I murmured. "I came looking for evidence, and I found a human being." I grabbed her hand, "Alisha... he was an innocent child. Just a poor little boy."
