Fair
Enough??
Sitting on the
floor cross-legged, with her hair ruffled like a cuckoo’s nest, her black-tee
drenched in sweat and her denim shorts stained with blood, Anwesha stared at
the floor like a baby in front of a sea. All these years, she lived in a world
of coherence. She had parents, siblings, friends, neighbours, people with human
traits, predictable and laughable. On that day, in those moments, her world
turned upside down. A cave inhibiting a blood-thirsty beast came alive. She
thought it to be just another fun-filled day in her life, another memorable day
with her loved ones. Another outing to the unknown, another adventurous day! A
teenage girl who could drive a car like a pro at the age of 12 through the busy
streets of Connaught Place in the capital city of New Delhi, on a weekend, on
her debut driving experience, nothing seemed unfamiliar, unknown or impossible.
But a decade is just not enough to unearth the filthy face of a civilized
society. In spite of being regarded as the bravest kid in the block, Anwesha
succumbed to her worst fear in a matter of few seconds. Trapped, dragged,
stripped, raped and beaten, the 17-year-old braveheart gave up on her belief in
humanity. Being traumatised by her own kin was the last thing that could have
happened to a person who regarded them to be her greatest strength.
Ankit Chaturvedi
always wanted a daughter. On 14th February, 1998, his wife Anisha
Chaturvedi, gave birth to a seven pound miracle, whom they named Anwesha. To be
straightaway categorized in the lower-middle class template of the Indian
society, can be the greatest and funniest experience for a family. Mediocrity
being a persistent quality in Ankit’s life, excellence was no less than a kilo
of the American apple breed in a Wednesday market of a dingy and congested
bylane of the capital city. Born and brought up amidst a chaotic, yet admirable
survival platter of New Delhi, Anwesha grew up to be a wonder kid.
She was five years
old when she walked up to the stage and hummed ‘Ek tu hi bharosa’, sung by
India’s nightingale Lata Mangeshkar from the Anil Kapoor starrer ‘PUKAR’. She
sang it so well that Mr. Gupta, the principal of her school was in tears. Mr. Gupta
suggested Mr. And Mrs. Chaturvedi that she should learn singing.
A dry and sunny
day near the India gate, Mr. Chaturvedi and his little princess were enjoying
bhelpuri under the humungous shade of a Banyan tree, near the historic tourist
attraction of India’s capital city. Anwesha brought with her a drawing book and
some colour pencils before she came to her favourite place with her father.
Just after they finished their street food session, she sat down and poured in
her magical canvas of the day on the papyrus. Mr. Chaturvedi was stunned to see
her drawing skills. His thought – ‘How can a nine-year-old do that?’ However,
he was puffed with pride about her little angel’s abilities.
At the age of 16,
she had won all major competitions in her school, 5 national-level debate championships,
8 national-level quiz competitions and was on the verge of creating history on
a singing reality show on national television.
A week before the
finale of the singing reality show, she arrived at her hometown. She was given
a hero’s welcome, with people roaring ‘We love Anwesha’ and ‘Anwesha, you are amazing,
fantastic’, the chaotic and mad love exhibition for her was somehow
unbelievable for her. With more than 3000 people gathered at the Terminus 1 of
the Indira Gandhi International Airport, the Delhi Police was witnessing the toughest
job of their life – controlling a maniac crowd. Amidst the fanfare and needless
cacophony, Mr. Chaturvedi saw her little girl getting intimidated by the love,
or rather the alien love that she witnessed, thrust towards her. He opened his
arms to her and asked her to run towards him, blindly. She almost stumbled
before reaching the most peaceful corner of her life.
Back at Karol
Bagh, Her mother was busy making her favourite Palak Paneer, Butter chicken
and Baingan ka bharta, eagerly
waiting for her little girl and to see those bright eyes, filled with pride and
love. As Anwesha stepped inside the now-20-year-old 2-BHK apartment in Karol Bagh,
she was smitten by the smell of her favourite dishes. After receiving and
returning the hugs and kisses, Anwesha and her family sat down and devoured on
their lunch.
The day after was
special for Anwesha. She was invited by her maternal uncle and aunty to their
C-67 duplex apartment in Noida, Sector – 13. Anwesha’s uncle, Mr. Dinkar
Sharma, was an ardent admirer of her. He was the one who gifted Anwesha her
first keyboard, knowing very well that she will be a ‘Rockstar’, as he used to
call her, someday. Mr. Sharma was the one who urged Mr. Chaturvedi to allow
Anwesha to participate in the auditions of the singing reality show. Mr. Sharma
himself was a musician, trained in Indian classical and semi-classical from
Lucknow’s Bhatkhande University. Anwesha’s love for music was first identified
by him and since then, both Mr. Sharma and Anwesha shared an amazing chemistry –
something which was pretty alien to Mr. And Mrs. Chaturvedi. Mr. And Mrs. Sharma
lost their daughter in a horrifying car accident. Their daughter, Maahi, was
also a gifted musician. However, her gift was valued by those who always wanted
a price for it. Months before she breathed her last, Mr. And Mrs. Sharma tried
their level best to understand their little star’s woe, but she never spoke
about anything. Maahi, slowly and gradually, turned out to be a complete failure
in studies as well as in her singing classes. Just when they found a way out to
figure out Maahi’s issues, tragedy struck Sharma family. One fine day, lost in
her thoughts, Maahi opened the gate of their duplex apartment, walked straight
to the middle of the road and before she could come to her senses, a black SUV
hit her and threw her on the barbed wire fencing of Mr. Sharma’s apartment. The
musical sensation was spiked from her head to toe, leaving the wall beside Mr.
Sharma’s study, blood red.
Although it’s been
a decade now, Mr. Sharma has fought hard to forget the incident, but Anwesha
and her innocence brings back all the memories of Maahi in front of his eyes. He
is elated, but equally grief-stricken, whenever Anwesha takes a leap to hug Mr.
Sharma’s 6 ft 5 inches persona. The love is reciprocated by him, but with an unspoken
envy, which has no measures. With a grown-up girl like Anwesha, it was hard for
him to behave in a way that he used to when she was a 5-year-old kid. He was
careful enough to be cordial and friendly with the future singing superstar.
Moments after Anwesha arrived with her parents and her family had the usual
family chat with the Sharmas, lunch was served. It was lavish and delicious;
each member of both the families enjoyed the mouth-watering dishes displayed in
front of them. A rare family reunion every Indian girl or boy dies to be a part
of.
Mrs. Chaturvedi’s
anxiety suddenly rose to an unprecedented level when she could not find her daughter
in her room. Mr. Chaturvedi gave a call to Mr. Sharma, without wasting any
time. But it was of no use as Mr. Sharma’s phone was repeating the same banter
again and again, ‘Is samay upbhokta ka
mobile switched off hai, kripya thodi der baad dial karein’. At 6 in the
morning, Mr. Chaturvedi remembered that Dinkar usually goes for a jog in the
nearby park of his house, but not without his phone. Mr. Chaturvedi was not
convinced, and so he drove to Mr. Sharma’s place. To his surprise, the
apartment was locked. The neighbours had no clue and the guards were absolutely
oblivious about the fact that there was a Sharma family residing in this
apartment. Probably the guards were new, Mr. Chaturvedi thought. But then he
wondered that how can a family travelling in a black SUV sneak away from the colony
unnoticed. A police investigation was an inevitable scenario at this point. They
searched the house, inch by inch, brick by brick, even the probable areas near
the house. There was no trace of Anwesha anywhere, not even a clue that would
suggest something.
Desserts have
always been Anwesha’s weakness and Mrs. Sharma knew this pretty well. She
prepared five different desserts, just to make sure that the other members of
both the families don’t run out of options! Family get-togethers like these
were incomplete without Anwesha’s performance. Both the families were
spellbound with her magical voice. While Anwesha sang her favourite Lata
Mangeshkar song, ‘Tu Jahan Jahan Chalega, Mera Saya Saath Hoga’, Mr. Sharma was
transported to those fun-filled singing sessions that he used to have with his
daughter.
She was nothing
less than his prized treasure. But one fine day, when she returned from Mr.
Chaturvedi’s place, after enjoying Anwesha’s birthday party, Maahi looked all
weared out. It was as if someone had sucked the life out of her right in front
of her eyes. Being a father, Mr. Sharma noticed Maahi’s face and asked her
about what was wrong with her. Maahi’s face was bereft of all kinds of emotion
at that point of time. She called out her mother immediately, with a voice that
was fiercely fear-stricken. Mrs. Sharma took her to the bathroom, asked her to
undress. As she was untying the waist belt of her denims, Mrs. Sharma started
to sense the wrong. As Maahi was standing with her undergarment, Mrs. Sharma
could not believe her eyes. She was devastated. She wanted to scream, but
somehow held herself. She pulled down Maahi’s panty, washed her properly, and
asked her to keep her mouth shut about this. But Mrs. Sharma knew that at that
moment, she was speaking to a lifeless Maahi. Maahi was unable to grasp the
incidents that she witnessed. It was only her mother who knew what the consequences
will be after this day. Mr. Sharma was worried to his heart and bone about his
little superstar. However, Mrs. Sharma somehow picked herself together and
succeeded in convincing Mr. Sharma that it was just a game played amongst the
children in Anwesha’s birthday party. Maahi lost the game pretty badly and so
she was upset. Later on, when both of them were about to take a nap, Mrs.
Sharma told Mr. Sharma that their kid’s innocence has been tampered with, that
she was sexually abused and that she is in shock and trauma; a trauma
which might wither away the best in her.
Mr. Sharma was desperate to take the legal way, but his wife begged of him to
not make it a public affair. She wanted her family to gulp in this treacherous
event of their life and move on, because such incidents are bound to happen in
families like theirs. However, the next morning, when they saw their kid’s body
spiked on their barbed wire fencing wall, avenging her death became an
inevitable truth of their life.
After leaving the
Sharma and Chaturvedi audience spellbound, Anwesha urged to stay back at Mr.
Sharma’s. Anwesha’s parents considered the Sharmas as the second home for her. They
agreed and asked her to be early at home. Mr. Sharma knew that this was the
moment that he was waiting for since a decade. As the Sharmas bid adieu to the
Chaturvedis, Anwesha ran towards Maahi’s room. Mr. Sharma followed her. In the
meantime, he asked his wife to shut all the lights and go to sleep, as the
decisive moment of their lives was just here.
As Anwesha sat on
the cozy little bed of Maahi, Mr. Sharma approached her with a fatherly
affection and planted a kiss on her forehead. He told Anwesha about things that
Maahi loved in this room – the huge Barbie poster that was stuck on the wall
just beside the bed, the framed masterpieces that Maahi created with her own
little, magical hands, the toy guitar, lying on the floor like an orphan, the
cute little teddies that exhibited an innocent stare, the floral bed cover,
which was no more fragrant with her smell, the slippers that she often wore to
take a walk with her father – all of them seemed to miss Maahi, just like her
father.
Suddenly, Mr.
Sharma lost his usual calmness and started to sound like a maniac. Anwesha was
a little surprised to see such a transformation of her beloved uncle. The moment
she wanted to ask him as to what went wrong with him, she received a tight slap
on her soft and supple cheeks, making them blood red, instantly. Terrified, she
started to cry out loud for help. But Mr. And Mrs. Sharma had planned for this
far too long and they just could not let things falter their plans now. Mr.
Sharma grabbed Anwesha’s tenderly grown neck, squeezed it so hard that she
started to cough out blood. Anwesha was then laid out forcibly on Maahi’s bed,
stripped to her undergarments and left to scream and cry for some time. Why was
he doing this? What’s her fault? Why can’t she go home? She was terrified and
was desperate enough to go home, but somehow she knew that she could not. She
was again grabbed by her hair, and was thrown to the floor. She was beaten and
kicked, repeatedly. Mr. Sharma unleashed the beast inside him. As Anwesha was
lying down on the floor, helpless, wounded and traumatised, Mr. Sharma dropped
his trousers, held Anwesha by her midriff, turned her around and tore apart
Anwesha’s virginity. A 20-minute ordeal came to an end when Mr. Sharma was
assured that she was now dipped in the marsh of shame, shock and trauma. Just
when she thought that she was on the brink of death, Mrs. Sharma stepped in.
She brought along a black tee that Maahi wore, when she was in a similar
situation. The Sharmas left the room for a while, only to return, tie Anwesha’s
hands by the back, tie her mouth and tell her that they are leaving this house,
forever and that Anwesha will stay in Maahi’s room from now, forever. Flabbergasted,
it was as if Anwesha lost her vocal chords. She could see everything, but her
senses, her emotion were put to sleep. A day later, she saw someone in uniform
approach her, but he too seemed to be part of the ploy.
At last, Anwesha
had to stay in the desolate house with Maahi’s grief-stricken spirit, forever.
