The night was cold and dark. Not a single soul was present on the highway except her brutalised body that carried a dead soul. The vehicles kept plying on the stretch, majority heavy, rest small. She tried to stop a few, waving out her bloodied hands at them. Few stopped, they even had the heart to help her but the worry of getting into a legal loop overweighed their compassion, and they left into oblivion, leaving her in that half-dead state. She tried for some more time before falling unconscious. When she opened her eyes, she found her abused, battered body lying on the hospital bed with many tubes twisted in and around her mortal self, giving their support to let the body breathe, feed and cleanse itself.
Somewhere at the far end, beyond those green curtains and glass windows, she saw her parents trying hard to get a glimpse of her.
How much she wanted to scream and call them to hug her. She longed for one.
She desperately wished to place her head on her mother's lap, the way she did as a child.
She recalled how her parents had been proud of her when she topped her matriculation exams. She had been a good student throughout. She had a penchant for new technology and hence she pursued her further education in machine learning and artificial intelligence.
They were on cloud nine when she clenched a job with a handsome salary. She had chuckled to her mom," Why do they say handsome salary when it could be termed beautiful too?" Her mom had laughed with her and so did her dad.
She loved her job from day one. It made her smarter, sharper, independent and kept her on her toes. She never felt exhausted by putting those extra hours in the office until that fateful evening when she booked a cab to head straight home after a tiringly long day. She usually took the train but that day she chose a cab over an overcrowded compartment.
She was decently dressed from head to toe. The driver too had looked professional and dependable. Her last call was to her parents," I'll be home in less than an hour."
Once she cut the call, her eyelids got heavier. She tried to remain awake but they rebelled. When she woke up after a quick nap she found herself in an isolated place. She tried using her cell but a guy snatched it from her and dragged her out of the car. In no time she had men hovering all around and over her.
She initially resisted, fought with them, and later begged for mercy but it all fell on deaf ears. They feasted on her like ravenous vultures.
Now strapped to a hospital bed, she pondered, 'Where did I go wrong that evening?'
She was neither wearing any revealing clothes nor was she with a guy. She wasn't drunk or was travelling at wee hours. She had not harmed them in any way; their paths had never crossed each other until that evening. Then what made them abuse and torment her?
A nurse came inside the ward to check on her. When she found her half-awake, she ran outside to inform the authorities. A doctor came in and checked her vitals. Later, a khaki-clad person stood beside her. It all began with a gentle probing which gradually intensified. The questions forced her to revisit the harrowing incident in detail. It distressed her further. She could see her poor parents helplessly standing in the doorway.
Her breathing shallowed and in no time she fell unconscious again.
The next morning, every newspaper, news channel covered her story. She had always wanted fame in life but not like this for sure. The articles covered her story as that of a survivor of brutal abuse. The media houses gave her a new identity, some called her Durga while some Shakti and whatnot. Celebrities shared the posts on their platforms that carried the news of her trauma and the brutality she had undergone. A tsunami of social media posts demanded the death penalty for the culprits while some wished-for chemical castration. There were candle marches held all over with activists raising their voices to bring in a change in the law, demanding better law and order and safety for women. The debates amongst various political parties in the parliament House intensified, demanding quick justice.
From being a young girl with dreams she had turned into a nameless being with whom the world sympathized. Thousands of curious eyeballs Google searched to know her real identity. The company with whom she worked, stated that her medical expenses would be borne by them. They, along with other corporate houses, decided to improve the HR policies for the safety of their female employees.
Amidst this cacophony and commotion, one fine morning her already dead soul decided to snip its final ties with her mortal body.
As it rose above the bed, beyond the concrete ceilings, and up above the sky, it came face to face with the Death Angel, who showed her the path to heaven.
But it refused, it rebelled and decided to stay in the world of mortals. It argued, " It's not my time yet for justice is still awaited."
Saying this it perched itself on an old Banyan tree. From there it kept looking at its former parents. A smart cuckoo was its new neighbour. It kept the insurgent soul entertained with its coo-coos.
Days passed and so did the years. The parents kept fighting to serve justice to their deceased daughter.
Eventually, one fine morning the wandering soul of the girl saw her parents smile. From the vibes that the air carried it imbibed the positive emotion.
It realised justice was served. And there it prepared itself to go up towards the gates of heaven. It had started its upward journey when it felt sad again. It witnessed that the breeze grew wild forcing even the mightiest branches and shoots to swish and sway to its tunes, forwards and backward, this way and that. The cuckoo bird continued its coos; "coo-coo-one-was-not-enough-here’s-another."
The departing soul understood from its neighbour's cry that something unusual had happened yet again. A closer look back home and it found another headstrong soul hanging around the Banyan tree with vengeance. Though souls have no gender, it could sense from the other soul's vibes, it was that of a female; who once again was a victim of male brutality.
"The candle march will take place for you too and so will the debate in the parliament. Till yesterday they did it for me and now they have you. Will this venomous vicious cycle ever end?" It whispered in the air, blew a kiss, and continued with its afterlife journey never to come back again.
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