Khusi watched the father daughter duo wrangling in the middle of the police station, with a bewildered gaze, her lips tightly shut, as she stood in between them awkwardly.
"Yuti, you are going home! Right now!" the man hollered, pin drop silence booming in the police station. The criminals behind the bars as well as other inspectors shivered at his tone, no one daring to speak up.
"No, I won't. Call me a spoiled brat, but you can't ignore this matter anymore. Either you listen to me, or I will complain about you to Bari Ma," Yuti warned, taking a threatening step towards the man.
"Oh really? As if your Bari ma can protect you," he gritted, his stance malicious.
"Abhay sir, please." Khusi watched with a wide open mouth, her gaze baffled, as the man's temper increased with every passing second, turning his face ruddy, his jaw clenched and nose flaring.
"What!? Yeah! Take her away," he snarled at one of the constables as he carried a floundering Yuti out from the scene.
The officer, whose name was Abhay, as Khusi heard the junior inspectors whispering, banged his fist on the wall, leaving a dent behind on the already disintegrating surface.
"Fucking shit! I shouldn't have done that. I should not have done that." Abhay's gravelly mumblings were only audible to Khusi, as it was only her who was still standing anywhere close to him. All the other cops had already retreated back.
Khusi felt tongue tied as well as highly irritated. It was already afternoon, so she wanted to go home, but couldn't, without filing the missing report.
Abhay turned away from everyone else, heaved a deep sigh, and strode into his chambers, leaving an addled Khusi behind, who blinked in confusion.
What was she supposed to do now?
Clicking her tongue in annoyance she asked for Yuti from one of the inspectors, who informed her that Yuti was safe and sound, and she didn't need to worry about her. It was her father's office so Khusi was assured no harm would come upon Yuti.
"Can someone please just lodge my FIR now?" Khusi enquired to particularly no one, her palms up in the air.
"Go that way ma'am. The head constable will lodge your complaint." One of the homeguards informed her, and Khusi walked away, thanking him.
"Excuse me?"
A pot bellied man was sitting across the desk of the head constable, sipping coffee, his interlocked ankles resting on the desk and was reading a travel magazine, when Khusi called out for his attention.
"Yes?" He didn't bother to look up.
"I want to report a missing person."
He chortled, snickering at Khusi's words. "Firse kon kho gaya humare manhush seher mai?"
(Who got lost again in our fucked up town?)
Khusi's eyebrows arched up at his statement. Again? Was it normal for people to go missing often in that town?
The inspector gestured to Khusi to take her seat and opened up a notepad, keeping away his magazine and grabbed an uncapped pen.
"Ha ji, naam bataiye. Kon kho gaya hai?"
(Okay, tell me the name. Who is lost?)
"David Joshi, a student from my class. He hadn't been coming to school for a week ... "
"What did you say?" His pen stopped before it could start it's work.
"He is absent for the last ... "
YOU ARE READING
Not Her
Romance"I don't want to become a mother." This line is a taboo for women in some parts of the world, and so was for Khusi Mukherjee. At the age of 25, independent and single, she wanted to live her life according to her rules. But everything changed when...
