A Desperate Act

A dark street led to the gutter of the Prime Minister’s residence at 7, Race Course, New Delhi. A shabby man dressed inappropriately loitered around. He had been starving for days now. Murderer, rapist, pedophile, and more. He had been accused of more crimes than he ever committed. And of all the petty crimes he actually did, nobody caught him for the one that made the most difference. On one very cold, December night, he met someone far worse than him. Highly unimaginable but there she was. Dressed in a bright magenta saree. The most beautiful he had ever seen. Her face was visibly dazed, as though under alcoholic influence. Her protruding breasts fell seductively from the blouse. He could feel something down in his body. The thought of raping her was provoking and inescapable. He had never raped anyone before. Only once he convinced Babita to go down on him despite her reluctance. Babita was the lust of his life. So when she married an old crook of the village(it was the only way to settle Babita’s family debt) he took the liberty to take her behind the old Peepul tree, next to the Nanga Talaab and made love to her many times in one single night. Soon afterwards, he left his village and came far, far, away to New Delhi. 

Delhi had been his dream. He loved the city during night time. Even with all the shutters drawn, there was always something to happen. Unavoidably, crime was rampant and easy in the city at wee dark hours as nobody walked the secluded lanes of Alexander Dubchek Marg or Dara Shukoh Lane in the shivering cold. He should have died that day as the odds were not in his favour but fate had other plans. He intently fixed his gaze on her. It didn't seem to make any difference to her. She paced with a cigarette in one hand and lighter in other. He could feel himself getting harder. Prostitute, he concluded. Just when he decided to get on with the unlawful act, a shining black car brushed passed him and stopped right where the woman stood. She got inside the car immediately. He knew he wouldn't see that woman ever again, just like he would never see his Babita. He masturbated thinking of Babita’s body. After getting his act together, he was reminded of his starvation. He was about to give up when the same black car made a comeback. This time it stopped exactly where he sat. The driver had changed. The woman in the magenta saree was driver. She opened the passenger door. She didn't say anything but he understood. Worse things have happened, he thought. With no further delay he sat in the car. After being seated, he instantly felt rich. Manners that were never taught slid like his seatbelt. He had noticed people with cars at Traffic signals. The woman spoke nothing. She drove the car all the way outside Delhi. Parts that he had never seen. He was mesmerised by the highway, chain of hotels and the big AirIndia aircraft that glided few hundred metres above them.

Finally, he said something very basic. Food. The woman stopped the car at a corner shop and fed the man. There were no words exchanged. But he couldn't complain. When they hit the road again she asked him from where he was. A small village in Madhya Pradesh, he answered. She didn't get him at first but the man attempted to deliver his answer clearly. After few minutes they established a common frequency and accent to speak with each other harmoniously. The car stopped at a very secluded spot under the flyover on NH 24. The man was ordered to get out of the car. He hesitated but got out eventually, after all his stomach was full. She handed him a pouch. I know this is not what you desire but this is what I can give, she said to him. He opened the pouch and it had a wad of thousand rupee notes. He couldn't believe his eyes. God had never been so kind. All this because he controlled his desire? So he was made to believe. The car pulled back and the woman disappeared into thin air. The night was still young, and with all the new money, he could easily do whatever he wanted. He walked along the highway towards the city. He tried to get hold of a truck but none stopped. After many failed attempts, he took out one note and flashed it. A white car stopped for him. Unexpectedly, the man changed his mind, he didn't want to get robbed of his newfound wealth. He let go of the white car and decided to walk back to the city. After walking for almost an hour, she found him again. She looked different. Her hair were open and messy. The sari lost its pleats. Get in, she ordered. They sat in silence. She drove right back to the place she picked him up. It was the final goodbye, he thought. He was about to get down but instead she got down first. A PCR van drove right past them and the woman started screaming. He realised that she had blood all over her! The man decided to run and that was his stupid mistake. Within minutes, three policemen gagged and locked him up in the van. They retrieved the small pouch with all the cash from him. The woman was taken for questioning. She had been lying through her teeth. The policemen opened the trunk of her car and there was something completely disorienting about the entire scene. They found a dead body. That night, the man was charged with murder and rape. 

The woman was powerful. Nobody wanted to represent the man. He was doomed for all they knew. It was the last time he ever saw her. The man fled the court on the day of his sentencing. It wasn't easy, but nobody cared enough either. An absconding criminal roamed free in the streets of Delhi. All he had to do was look like scum. He navigated his way from gutter to gutter. The labyrinth of sewers became his best friends. One such sewer led him to the most powerful man’s house. Justice wasn't served to him. He held onto that grudge. Every night he would come there and sit to think about everything that was wrong with the country. How the powerful get away with everything and the poor get nothing but lies and deceit. Whenever a black car would go past him he would think of one only thing. Rape. How he wished to have given in to his desires and done the deed for real, at least then he wouldn't feel bad about the entire situation. He wanted to feel that woman. He wanted to grab that woman. Babita could never be her. She was perfect. Her face; so distinct and unlike any other woman he had seen. His obsession had become madness. Mad with frustration, he decided to get out in Delhi. He had no money so he sat in whatever bus was available. The bus had only six passengers left including the driver and a young couple. The bus took a different course of direction but the man couldn't care less…he was starved and she was fresh prey.

Few days later, the man found himself on every TV screen of the nation. His act had come to everyone's notice. He made sure that the gutters from where he rose echoed his crime. The world was known to the man like no other. Everyone hated him and five others. But he didn't regret a single thing.