Chapter 3 A new case

Anya

12 year old Anya ran, dreading for her life. The overgrown shrubs must have grown bigger. They were reaching her waist. 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 eaten last. She fell down and tried to get up but Tatya was at her side. She sat terrified. He poured a bucket full of warm blood on her. The warm blood soaking 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. Frustrated, she got off the bed.

This was the reason why she had decided against a roommate. With a roommate, she could have stayed closer to her place of work which was in the Pune city, but thanks to her insomnia, she had ended up in this tiny apartment in a suburb.

Her apartment had a bedroom with a small balcony, a kitchen with no dining area and thankfully a largish living room. She had converted a part of the living room into a gym with 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, 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 when she was going to forget it or when her brain would 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 she felt 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. They had arrested the bastard but the others ran away. Her 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 a few extra times.

Holding her brother's body, she had made up her mind. She was going to hunt down all the motherfuckers. Every step 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 work more than her apartment. Thanks to her designation, she had a tiny cabin of her own which was separated by a partition from her colleague's cabin. Her desk space was cluttered with some files stacked on 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 tea 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 chai (Indian tea latte with spices) and hanging out with friends."

"Be careful 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 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 kept her half eaten bun aside. "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. 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 hand 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, "motherfucker"

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

She sat back on the chair. Picking up her pen with determination in her eyes, she said, "tell me all about it and I will personally put the bastard behind bars."

*****