The cell phone beside me was ringing. I know it is weird to mention such an obvious event but this ringing drove a chill down my spine.
3 DAYS AGO:
“Daddy! The college is organizing a party for our farewell.”
“Really? Have you seriously finished your grad school? It seems like just yesterday that I admitted you into college.” I chuckled in response to my daughter’s cute voice. She always makes this voice whenever she wants to convince me for something; just like a cute little five year old girl. Well! I don’t blame her. She is pretty good at it.
“I want a new dress”, she said with a puppy like face.
“No! I am not buying you that short dress for a farewell party with teenage boys” I know she will convince me at last. But a dad in me is worried about her.
“Even before you ask me to, mom has granted her permission. Please dad! Don’t act old school. Let me buy that dress. All my girlfriends have decided a dress code. Please! Please! Please!” and with this I lost my credit card to her. Again!
Oh! Sorry for my late introduction but here I am. My name is Guru; Guru Kumar Bajaj, Branch manager of a leading bank living in Delhi with my small family. My beautiful and extremely talented wife Pooja and beloved, cute, little and extremely charming daughter Suhani. I am the one who named her. As soon as I first saw her I felt like my last desire in life have turned to reality. It was all soothing, relaxing and charming (Suhani). I feel I have a perfect life. A wife who manages everything so well that even I can’t do that at my office. My daughter scores brownie points in all her exams. All her friends are from good families which assures me that she is in good company. And what else? I even have a crazy boss who always keeps yelling. (PERFECT, ISN’T IT?)
LATER THAT EVENING:
“Tell me dad, how I am looking?” she asked with the same cute voice.
To my amazement it was the first time I looked at her this way. She has really grown up into a big girl (don’t dare call my angel a lady, she is just a big girl.) more beautiful than ever. I cannot blame the guy who falls for her. I can see her smile just like her mother’s beautiful broad smile across her face, surely she has my eyes and face structure. I am feeling like I have just woken up from a dream. A dream where I was teaching her how to ride a bicycle and she drove round that corner, laughing with amazement and excitement, yelling ‘daddy it feels awesome.’ unaware that I have already left my grip from the bike.
Hey why is my vision blurring?
“What happened daddy? Why are you crying?” she said wiping water off my eyes, which to my amazement popped out without my permission.
“Just some happy tears baby” I kissed her forehead. That’s all I could do to express my love to her, to say her that she is looking beautiful than ever. No words no promises. I always felt I should express more often the love I feel for her. But I guess that’s how fathers are. We don’t want to lose our disciplined and strict image. Expressing love should be left to mothers.
“Here take my car too” I added. I know! I know! I am loosing too much in a single day but she is mature enough now to drive herself to that farewell party. I don’t want her to be embarrassed by accompanying her to the venue.
She kissed me back rushed to the garage and drove the car away. I can see her hand out of the window waving me and my wife a goodbye.
“Daddy! I Love You!” She shouted poking her head out of the window just before disappearing around the corner.
PRESENT DAY:
The cell phone beside me was ringing. I know it is weird to mention such an obvious event but this ringing drove a chill down my spine. I have had no clue of where my daughter is from whole last week. Her friends say she was at the party. The friend she last dropped is safe at her home. The car was found abandoned on the highway by the cops with her cellphone there.
“Sir, this is Inspector Bhalerao from Chandani Chowk Police Station.” He said in his pure desi Indian accent.
“Yes tell me” I replied controlling my heart beat.
“Sir you got to come to the police station for body verification sir” he said following the tradition of using ‘Sir’ both at the start and at the end of the sentence.
“What do you mean by b……” he hung up just before I could complete my sentence.
I rushed to the station with my wife and then to the government hospital’s morgue.
I never expected myself in this place before I die. The temperature in the room was set to non-zero levels and the smell in the room was rotten, I could hardly breathe. To my right is my wife holding my arm tightly, all in tears. It was only when the constable pointed towards a table I gained my senses. He removed the bed sheet to reveal her face.
She is looking pale, yet beautiful. She is sleeping, a sound, relaxing warm sleep. Sash! Don’t make a noise. Be quite!
Wait a minute!
There is scar on her right cheek and a wound on the top left corner of her head. It was not there earlier when she left the house. Something wrong as happened with her.
“Suhani! Wake up baby!
What happened?
How did you get hurt?
Did someone hit you?
You met an accident?
Tell me dear I will not shout at you. Wake up dear! Wake up! SUHANIIIII!”
The constable beside me asked his subordinates to inform the officer that the body is verified.
“Whom are you saying a body he.n?” His shirt’s collar is now in my hands. “She is just tired due to the party and sleeping. She will wake up!” I turned to Suhani “Baby Come on get up.”
Two constables caught hold of me and pulled me back.
“Leave me just leave, she is not dead you morons.” I tried to resist.
“Sir, we can understand your pain but that’s the truth. Would you like to know what happened to your daughter sir?” The inspector was back standing in front of me. My wife’s loud cries can be heard in the background.
“Go ahead.” I controlled myself.
“Two guys followed your daughter after the party, while she was driving back home. Here are their photos and names” the pictures were of two boys with their name written below it.
“Your daughter stopped the car to teach them a lesson. The boys being teens got angry and they got into a fight beating each other, it was only when one of the guys tore your daughter’s dress they backed off. Your daughter was getting into the car warning them of a report against them under eve teasing charges. The boys in fear and anger kidnapped her, took her to one of their father’s farm house and killed her yesterday. One of the neighbors reported us that there is some irregular activities going on in the farmhouse. But we were late to reach.”
“Can I meet those guys”, I said.
“Wait there is more. The neighbors saw your daughter get beaten and heard her cries. While at the farmhouse they ra…..”
“May you please take me to those guys? I want to meet them.” I just cut the cop.
“Come follow me.” I did.
They are just two innocent looking guys. Shivering while looking at me. He has left them to me.
“He is the girl’s father” he announced to the guys “they are all yours Mr. Bajaj. Do whatever you want to.” Saying so he left the prisoner’s cell.
“We are sorry uncle. We are really sorry!” both of them cried, their hands joined and bent in front of me holding my feet.
I just banged them into the wall and left the cell. While I was making an exit from the police station a lady fell onto my feet.
“Please leave my son. He has made a mistake I know it but please forgive him.” she said crying loudly. I was about to answer but her husband (presumably) said, “Don’t do it Rakhi, our children are not at fault. These parents don’t know how to handle their daughter. The cop told me what the girl was wearing, and was driving a car by herself. Anybody can easily tear off that dress, our son is just a kid.”
Each and every drop of blood in my body boiled up. I was about to raise my hand and kill that guy but something stopped me. He made me realize why the boys did so. It’s their parents fault. I have always taught my daughter to be brave and to respect everyone. The boys wouldn’t have followed my daughter if the parents would have had taken care of them. Taught them about what is right and what is wrong. Even if they would have followed in youthful excitement they would not have had dared to kill her. I went to the boys hugged them in pity I felt for them, for what their values for life are going to be. I didn’t even touch that man or even reply him. Throw a stone in a puddle and you will stain yourself.
“Inspector drag them to the court of law. Now when you have the boys’ confessions, I don’t think it would be any problem to put them behind bars for a quite good period of time. I will try my best and see to it that they get death penalty. Punishment is necessary for them. Rather less for them and more for their parents.” I said eyeing that guy.
FUNERAL:
I just whispered this in her ear:
“Before I see you burnt to ashes my dear, I promise you baby that in all the forthcoming lives I wish I get a daughter as my child. You made me see the world in a whole new way. You made me to respect women. You gave me the happiness and pride of being a father to a girl. Your smile will always remain in my heart and will keep me going. I will always remember to wake up on time now as you are not going to come to wake me up. Yes I promise! Don’t worry about the medicines I will take them on time. That’s a promise too! I am sorry but now I am going to ask your mother all the secret conversation you both used to have while I was not at home and giggle when I returned. It’s my promise I will not be that father, who will ask her daughter to roll herself in bed sheets just because boys like those are have a spoiled set of values. I will never be old school.
Sorry for boring you. I know I should talk some cool stuff, as you like, but a last promise dear. I will adopt a boy. Why a boy? I will start with teaching him how to treat girls. I will ask him to respect women from the core of his heart. I will make him a man not a coward like those guys. This is all I can do for you. I don’t want any more Suhanis to be killed. Their death penalty is not enough. Believe me this problem has deeper roots.”
Yes she did reply “DADDY! I LOVE YOU!”
I LOVE YOU TOO! – a proud father of a great and brave daughter.
THIS STORY WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN “VIHAAN”. A MAGAZINE PUBLISH BY MIT-SCHOOL OF MANAGEMENT, PUNE’S AKRITI CLUB, ANNUALY. TO READ THE LATEST FULL MAGAZINE CLICK HERE
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