A new case

Anya

12-year-old Anya ran, dreading for her life. The overgrown shrubs must have grown bigger. They were almost reaching her waist now. 

Her worn-out flip flops were broken, so she left them behind and ran bare feet. Thorns pricking the soft soles of her feet. Pain shooting through her legs and her stomach cramping up with hunger. 

She couldn't remember when she had last eaten. She fell down and tried to get up but Tatya was at her side. She sat on the rocky ground, terrified. He poured a bucket full of warm blood on her. The warm blood soaked her clothes, turning her little hands red, reeking of death. No, No, No, stop...

"STOP!!!" Shouting, Anya woke up with a start. Hyperventilating and disoriented, she looked around her, anxiously. 

She was in her one-bedroom apartment. Heaving a sigh of relief she checked the time. Her mobile phone on the bedside table said 3.00 am. Feeling frustrated, she got off the bed. 

This was the reason why she had decided against a roommate. With a roommate, and a rent share arrangement, she could have stayed closer to her place of work, Pune city (A bustling cosmopolitan city in Western India. Also known as Oxford of the East). 

Thanks to her insomnia and bad dreams she had ended up in this tiny apartment in a suburb.

Her apartment had a bedroom with a small balcony and a kitchen with no dining area. Thankfully it had a largish living room. 

She had converted a part of the living room into a gym with a training bench, some weights, her kickboxing practice material and a stationary cycle. 

The other side of the living room had a desk. The adjoining wall was lined with her favourite books from literature and law. 

In the middle of the room, there was a couch which she hardly used. She didn't have any friends or visitors. Sana, her only friend, was happily married and lived in Mumbai.

She walked over to her kitchen, grabbed a tumbler, opened the small fridge and pulled out the ice tray. She poured herself a whiskey on the rocks and drank it as a single shot, letting the bitterness cut the pain. 

Then she wandered into her gym area and started working out with her kickboxing equipment. Channelising her anger and pain towards the innocent punching bag. 

The nightmares were always on similar lines. It had been 9 years since that fateful accident, yet she smelled and felt her brother's blood almost every day.

She had no idea whether she was going to forget it or if her brain would eventually accept it. She hadn’t been around when Sana had met her brother. 

Countless times she had asked Sana to repeat her version of the story. She loved the emotions that rose within her whenever Sana spoke about her interaction with Palash. She cherished the feeling that she was loved by her brother to the extent that he gave up his life for her. 

Thankfully, Sana had arrived in time with her dad and the cops. She was a smart girl and had coaxed her father to go to the cops and get help. Sana had a sense of foreboding. 

The cops had arrested the bastard but the others ran away. Anya’s brother was gone forever. Leaving a void in her life and her heart which constantly reminded her of her loss. There wasn't a single day that she didn't regret her decision of going to that hill.

The memory made her punch the bag repeatedly, the pain in her knuckles comfortably numbing the pain in her heart.

Holding her brother's body, she had made up her mind. She was going to hunt down all the motherfuckers. Every step she took after that day had brought her here. 

At 21 she was already a Sub Inspector of Police (PSI) in the most liveable city of India.

*****

She reached her office before most people. Always early to arrive, she loved her workplace more than her apartment. 

Thanks to her designation, she had a tiny cove of her own which was separated by a plywood partition from her colleague’s cabin. Her desk space was cluttered with some files stacked in a corner.

A small glass of steaming hot tea and a bun on a grubby looking steel plate was kept ready for her by chotu, the young boy who got cutting chai for all the cops. She saw her brother’s younger days in the young hardworking boy.

“Chotu, what’s up?”

“Nothing tai (elder sister). Just routine. Serving cutting ( slang for the 60 ml shot of milky tea boiled with spices) and hanging out with friends.”

“Be careful of who you hang out with!”

“You always say that.” He laughed and pranced away.

Her work was hectic and at times she wouldn’t have time for lunch so she loved her morning tea with a sweet bun. No one was supposed to disturb her when she had her tea.

“Anya,” her colleague said. 

“What?” She spat angrily. She hated anyone who disturbed her routine of bun and tea.

“Sorry. There is a case. No other female cop is around. You would need to take it. Or should I ask them to wait?”

She saw a young girl, crying, height around 5 feet- 4 inches, dusky skin, dark brown eyes, curly hair, torn clothes, bruises all over the body, bleeding lip. A boy was with her, supporting her. Similar age, around 6 feet tall, mesmerising black eyes (what was that?), wheatish but tanned skin, and an athletic build. Boyfriend? Didn’t look like it. Then must be her brother or a friend.

It took her trained mind only a few seconds to take in all the information. The poor girl was in shock. She drained her tea and kept her half-eaten bun aside. A hovering fly immediately sat on it. “Send them over.”

She asked them to sit on the chairs in front of her. The girl had calmed down into sobs but the boy was still supporting the girl with his arms around her. 

He guided her towards the chair. The girl meekly sat down. The boy took the chair next to her and looked towards Anya. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Hi, I am Anand Gore and this is Mia Singh,” said the boy. He tried to speak but Anya stopped him. 

She spoke directly to the girl, “Don’t worry. You are safe here. Tell me what happened.”

The girl burst out into a fresh bout of crying. Anya got up. She asked the constable to get a glass of water and sat on the edge of her table facing the girl.

Resting her hand on the girl's arm she said, “I know it must be terrible, but if you want us to help, you will need to tell me what happened. Take your time and try to relax.”

“I was attacked,” said Mia, ”by my boyfriend. He tried to force himself on me.”

She was still sobbing.

Anya cursed under her breath, “mother*fuc*ker!”

She shouted at the constable, “Can you get the water quickly? And get the First Information Report (FIR) register too.”

She sat back in her chair. Picking up her pen with determination in her eyes, she declared. “Tell me all about it and I will personally put the bastard behind bars.” 

The sweet bun was forgotten.

*****