It was a busy evening. Everyone was walking up and down the street heading towards their homes after a tiring day. The streetlights flooded the entire area and the orange lights danced on the road and pavement. Nearby, was a tea stall where people retired for a cup of hot tea to refresh them after all the pain they endured during their hardworking day.
Among all the noises filling the area, came rushing a local bus which seemed to have lost all control over it’s speed, sped past me and tossed a cargo lying onto the road and sped away. All this happened within a few seconds span of time.
Like everyone I too was shocked over what my eyes just witnessed. The home rushing people waiting to be back in the arms of their loved ones halted in their paths. The tea cups were placed on the table and were forgotten. The noise now subdued into a deady silence.
All of us had only one question in mind. What was it that the people from the bus dropped? People were scared as it could have been a bomb. The cargo. Ah! The precious cargo. What everyone was thinking about. To begin with let me say that it surely wasn’t a bomb, it could not have been. Because it was too big to be a bomb and nobody wraps a bomb in paper and cover it all over with cellotape, right?
It more like looked like the size of a human being. Wait! A human being? How could this be possible? And if it were a human why haven’t the concerned body made any sign of life yet? Was it dead? Was it delivered dead? Or did the impact killed him? Or maybe her? So many questions clouded up the minds and were all unanswered.
Some brave men gathered up some courage, including me too. The ladies were advised to step back as what was to be unvieled may not be eye soothing. With a heavy heart, shaking fingers, prayers on lips, and only one request to god to please not curse us, we tore apart the cellotape and paper from the body. It was a woman. No, the skin was fair and looked young, she was a girl. We all gasped when we realised what the cargo was. We were dealing with a rape victim. Dead rape victim.
I glanced back over my shoulders and was surprised too see that everyone had their cellphones in their hand, ready to shoot, to capture the perfect moment of nakedness in their secure mobile gallery. To save the image of a young, naked female in their cells. To soothe their eyes. Was this our society? Were these so called educated people? These were the same people who asked their wives to never leave the house without a duppatta over them and didn’t allowed their daughters to wear modern western dresses fearing who might see them and prepare lustful eyes for them. And satisfying their lust with this girl was acceptable? Was she not a daughter of some old man who would be devasted to know what his daughter went through before her life came to an end? Was she not a sister to a brother somewhere who would be heartbroken to know that his sister was made to endure the worst kind of pains and then ended her life?
I looked at the dead lady. She was fair, had long black hair which went down a long way. The eyes closed. Her cheeks were dry and reflected light. She had cried, incontrollably. The fair skin was covered with red marks everywhere. Some marks were covered with blood clots which showed use of physical violence and signs of struggle. Her age? She would not have been more than 26 years of age.
The people were still busy taking the pictures of the nude dead victim and had completely forgotten their morality. Amid all these inhumans I removed my blazer and covered the body. Realising the show was over some people went off on their own merry ways. I asked the person next to me to call the police and report whatever event took place. It was only about 10-15 minutes to the episode when I saw vans approaching in the distance. What the hell was happening? In a few minutes several vans arranged themselves around the scene of crime. It was the media.
Reporters and cameramen were flowling in from over a dozen news channels, all trying to get a shoot of the body and cover the exclusive news. I was astonished with what I was seeing. These people had no moral value, no humanity, no selflessness left inside them. All they cared about was getting a good look over the scene, cover a hot news, get good TRP ratings and earning a handsome commission.
Amidst all the noise and loud whispers, a sound caught my attention, the sound of sirens and I knew that the police had arrived. At last, the drama came to an end. The police established the barricades around the scene of crime and asked all the spectators to stay back. The F.I.R. was filed, all the people who approached the body were asked to file their respective statements with the police officer to help the investigation.
What still itches me is that in a country of a population of 120 crore people, some goons were able to kidnap a young girl, rape her, kill her and fearlessly drop her body on a busy street. We cannot blame the government and police for every flaw in the society. The goverment has formulated laws and police officials are there to file the report and investigate the matter. What needs to change is the society itself. We need to stop accusing and start assuming our role as a human being.