Silent Whispers

Prologue

The Indian system of justice was known for it's soft-heartedness. Or so they said.

Why else would the court not place a death penalty on a murderer? Or a rapist and for that matter a kidnapper? Once a criminal will surely always be a criminal.

At least that's what a young boy of twelve thought as he anxiously paced in front of Delhi Supreme Court of Justice. Being tall for his age, there was nothing about his appearance that made anyone think he was a child. Whether it was his neatly ironed shirt or a serious expression on his rather handsome face – all of it screamed maturity.

It was as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes that he was finally interrupted.

"Bhaiyya... Why are we here? I want to go home!"

The boy turned to see his little sister – a girl of just eight – seated on the stairs in front of the court.

"A few more minutes Meeti."

And then he was back to pacing, simply because there was no other way he could handle the worry creeping through him. No other way to push the scary thoughts coursing through his mind.

Interestingly, the reason for the boy and his sister to be at court on a bright Monday morning, instead of attending school was not a case of murder or rape or kidnapping. It was an ordinary case of divorce. And yet, it meant the world for the two siblings. One knew it, the other didn't.

"Bhaiyya?"

"Hmm..."

"Why did they tie up that man?"

The boy turned to see his sister point to a middle-aged man in handcuffs, being escorted into the courtroom by two police officers.

"Because he is a bad guy and needs to be punished."

"Do all bad guys get tied up like that? Because then Pranav should be tied up too! He makes fun of my ponytails all the time."

For the first time that entire day, the boy cracked a smile. "Yes, Meeti... all bad guys get tied up like that, but only when they do really bad things like stealing or hurting people."

"But making fun of my ponytails is a bad thing too right?"

"Yes, it is. But I have a better solution than tying Pranav up. Next time he makes fun of you, tell him you have a big brother who knows how to fight, okay?

The boy smiled at his sister as she began to giggle at his suggestion. But it was short lived for the court doors suddenly opened and spectators of the hearing slowly began to file out. The boy watched in anticipation, his heart thudding in unknown fear, for the one person he knew would have all the answers.

He let out a small sigh of relief when he finally spotted him.

"Babuji..."

But it was useless, for his father disregarded him and swiftly walked to the white Mercedes waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He turned speechlessly back to the doors to see his mother standing with a pale face and bloodshot eyes.

It was at that moment, that he knew it was all over.

That people had it all wrong right from the beginning. The Indian system of justice wasn't softhearted – it was wrong.

And it was as he grasped his mother's hand and pulled her out of the court along with his sister, that he vowed to make it right. All of it.