A girl in Delhi has a brilliant mind and secrets darker than the nights that won't let her eyes close.
She lives in the Labyrinth, a place that always seems dim, even in the middle of the day. There, customers flock in their dozens, and there, th...
"You pretend to run an organization? You're anything but organized!"
"We must be practical here."
"Girls throughout India! Abducted in their thousands! Say it with me! Abducted! Not merely inconvenienced, no! Abducted! Girls, some as young as seven or eight, their identities changed so often they forget who they are! Abducted! What about 'practical'? Save the girls! Save them!"
"Ucchal, I beg you. Keep your voice down. We are handling the abductions."
"And the customers who play along like it's a game to keep the fun going? And the police bribed to turn a blind eye? Are you handling that, Detective Ahuja? India's epidemic, its exploiters, its crime lords, its pedophiles? Are you handling any of them?" Ucchal turns dreadfully pale, battling a persistent virus. She practiced her speech fifteen times in the women's washroom prior to stepping into Detective Kristi Ahuja's office.
Ucchal lowers herself to her seat. "Forgive me."
Detective Ahuja slouches over her desk, appearing merged with it, her posture blunted by sedentary tasks. "You're passionate. Don't apologize for passion."
Ucchal coughs into a napkin. "There are fates worse than death, and one of them is living unfree."
The desk creature vanishes beneath her desk to sort through a box of files. She resurfaces with a beige folder. "Just a bit more paperwork."
Ucchal opens the folder in her lap, finding a form nine pages in length: questions about credentials, health information, work experience. "When does protocol become prevention, Detective Ahuja?" She fills the form out in a half-conscious, automatic fashion.
"Do you," asks the desk creature, "have endurance, Ucchal."
"I'd say so."
"And stamina?"
"I stave off my illnesses however possible."
"What about humility?"
"Not if I answer yes."
Detective Ahuja pokes her head out her office door and scans the hall outside. "Decent answers, decent answers."
"Answers are meaningless. I want action."
"Well, misguided action can be worse than doing nothing at all." The detective eases her office door closed with the utmost tact, cringing at the inevitable sound of its closing click. "We have to do this intelligently. As a unit. This is bigger than you or I. If we don't work together, we will be ineffectual. Now, let's keep our voices down, Ucchal, so my colleagues can do their jobs. You gave us your evidence on Prithviraj Natarajan. If it's good evidence, we could be looking hope straight in the invisible heart."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
