ANJALI:WHISPERS OF RATANPUR

The Price of Silence

It was another fraught Monday morning. Anjali had missed the entire week of school, mandated to rest after the terrifying incident that had transpired the previous week. Despite every tender attempt by her parents to coax the exact truth from her, she remained stubbornly silent, the fear of the event itself and the deeper fear of being casually dismissed as ‘hallucinating’ by her mother, Shanti, a vise around her throat.

The summons had come via the school’s communication team: Ma’am Saresfati, the Principal, required an urgent meeting with Anjali and her parents that very morning, stating that a “long talk” was necessary following the week’s events.

The Principal’s office, housed on the third floor of the duplex that served as St. Joseph’s High School, smelled distinctively of aged paper and stale varnish. The upholsteries were old, but impeccably maintained; a long, imposing wooden table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by stiff, matching chairs. In one dusty corner stood a hunchbacked television with a pair of metallic antennae protruding like questioning horns. Bookcases, overburdened with thousands of meticulously labelled files, clung precariously to the walls. The atmosphere was formal, rigid, and utterly intimidating, giving the setting the gravity of a board meeting.

Anjali sat rigid in her uniform, nestled beside her father, gripping the edge of her chair as she darted anxious glances at the Principal. Shanti occupied a seat directly opposite Prakash and Anjali, positioned squarely next to Master Suryakante, the Biology teacher, and the school’s taciturn yard-man.

“Alright, Anjali,” Ma’am Saresfati began, her voice soft yet subtly demanding. “Tell us, what exactly transpired inside the female restroom that day, while your classmates were seated for the Assembly?”

Anjali kept mute. She wasn’t going to say anything.

“Sorry, Ma’am, to intercede,” Prakash cut in immediately, his hand resting protectively on his daughter’s back. “But Anjali is simply not in the right frame of mind to speak. She genuinely does not wish to revisit the incident.”

“Okay, okay,” Ma’am Saresfati pressed, a sliver of barely concealed vexation sharpening her tone. “If she refuses to cooperate, then how do we intend to address her… mental concern?”

She pivoted, her attention snapping across the table to the Biology master. “Master Suryakante, please, share your full account of that Monday.”

Master Suryakante cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles. “Good morning, everyone. As I reported earlier on, I heard prolonged screams emanating from the female restroom block. I rushed there only to find that Anjali had completely shattered the main light bulb and destroyed the windows. She had then locked herself inside the anteroom and was attempting self-harm. Thankfully, I was able to break through with the assistance of the yard-man here. When we breached the door, Anjali was in a pool of blood, gripping shards of broken mirror, objects she had used to inflict numerous injuries upon herself, hence the severity of the wounds she sustained.” Master Suryakante narrated the account with dramatic, professional gestures.

“Oh, Bhagwan, help me! Sir, that is a monstrous lie! I never did any of that, sir!” Anjali cried out, her voice cracking with the sheer pain of refuting the grave fabrication. “I don’t even know how I was locked in there, or how everything broke! It was a lurking creature after me!”

“Oh, please, Anjali, you are not permitted to speak further,” the Principal dismissed her claim, her smile terrifyingly firm. “You were offered the chance to speak your truth earlier and you declined. Let me be clear: never in the history of St. Joseph’s High School has there been any incident of witches or lurking creatures here.” She adjusted her spectacles, her gaze pinning Anjali. “Anjali, I believe you are grappling with a serious mental issue. Several students saw you at the Assembly that day, seemingly hallucinating and uttering strange gibberish, and then, in a blink, you were gone.”

“That is enough, Ma’am!” Prakash demanded, hammering his hand flat on the wooden table. He swiftly unfolded a crisp document from his bag. “I will not sit quietly and listen to these fabrications and allegations against my child! Anjali is mentally healthy, and her doctor confirmed it! My child is not one to fabricate stories or inflict harm upon herself!” He thrust the paper across the table. “Here, take this. It is the medical report from Mundra General Hospital. She is fit!”

Ma’am Saresfati gave the document a cold, quick glance before passing it to Master Suryakante, who accepted it with a skeptical frown.

“Anjali has always been a gentle girl. She would not do these terrible things you have claimed,” Shanti interceded softly, her voice trembling slightly in defense of her daughter.

A heavy silence descended as the Principal rummaged through a stack of papers.

“Alright, Mr. Prakash,” Ma’am Saresfati stated “While your child might have been a good student, that does not mean changes are not bound to happen. Furthermore, how am I to believe this report? It could easily have been fabricated for convenience.” She subtly gestured to the yard-man, signaling he was dismissed.

“Master Suryakante, don’t you agree this seems the most likely scenario?” she asked, her eyes rolling above her spectacles.

“No one forges a report from Mundra General Hospital, Ma’am,” Prakash countered sharply, his respect now completely dissolved. “Nothing should ever happen to my child, and no one, not the teachers, not the administration, should ever dare call her mentally ill. I will not take this lightly with anyone.”

“Sir, your child is, right now, a palpable threat to the safety of other students,” the Principal warned, her polite mask finally cracking. She reached for a paper, neatly scribbled with points, and handed it to Prakash. “The school’s board has deliberated on Anjali’s case, and this is our final resolve. Everything highlighted here must be adhered to strictly. I am sure you do not wish for your child to be expelled from St. Joseph’s.”

The conversation devolved into an angry back-and-forth, achieving no good end. Prakash eventually left in a state of barely controlled fury. Anjali, forced to join her class, felt a deep, chilling terror, not just from the creature, but from the grave lie fabricated against her. The fear of expulsion and the feeling of being utterly misunderstood isolated her, leading to long hours of silence in her classroom, avoiding even the comfort of Mengah and Sushi.

Prakash, driving home in his sputtering Padmini, complained bitterly to Shanti. He cursed the lack of alternative schools in Ratanpur. Shanti, meanwhile, was sinking into total confusion, unable to reconcile the doctor’s clean bill of health with the school’s severe judgment. She could only hope this agonizing phase of parenthood would soon pass.

****************************************************

​The Padmini’s engine was cold, the remnants of the evening’s Aarti and Halwa celebrations settled, yet Prakash could not rest. The Principal’s terse ultimatum, the fear of expulsion, burned a hole in his mind. He found the letter in his jacket pocket, the paper stiff and formal, a stark contrast to the comforting warmth of his home.

He sat at the low, wooden dining table, illuminated by the harsh, solitary light of a bare bulb hanging overhead. Shanti, who had been trying to coax the younger boys into sleep, noticed his strained posture and sat beside him, her exhaustion warring with her anxiety.

“Prakash, please. What did that woman demand?” she whispered, her voice tight.

Prakash unfolded the document. It wasn’t a formal, typed letter; it was a hasty memorandum, signed by Ma’am Saresfati and rubber-stamped with the seal of the St. Joseph’s School Board. It read:

“ST. JOSEPH’S HIGH SCHOOL BOARD RESOLVE – CASE: ANJALI PRAKASH (Grade 9)

Date: 01/08/1988

Resolution: Following the incident of attempted self-harm and public disruption on school premises, the Board has arrived at the following conditions for Anjali Prakash to avoid immediate expulsion and continue her studies:

1. Mandatory Counseling: Anjali Prakash must submit to bi-weekly sessions with a certified Counselor/Psychologist, with verifiable progress reports to be submitted to the school administration monthly.

2. Suspension of Extracurriculars: Anjali is immediately suspended from all extracurricular activities and school teams for the remainder of the term.

3. ​Medical Declaration: A signed declaration must be obtained from the consulting medical professional stating that Anjali is not a danger to herself or other students, and is mentally stable to attend a high-pressure academic environment. This must be updated quarterly. ​

4. No Repeat Incidents: Any further disruption, self-harm, or reported ‘hallucination’ will result in immediate, irreversible expulsion from St. Joseph’s High School.

-Ma’am Saresfati, Principal (On behalf of the School Board)”

Prakash crushed the paper in his fist. “She wants to label our child!” he hissed, throwing the crumpled sheet onto the table. “They demand we agree that she is mentally ill, that she is a danger, or they will throw her out! This is an ultimatum, Shanti, not a resolution.”

Shanti picked up the paper, smoothing it out with shaking hands. The requirement for a certified Counselor was a heavy burden in Ratanpur, where specialists were rare and expensive. But it was the final clause that gutted her: any mention of a ‘hallucination’ would mean Anjali’s future was gone.

“Prakash, we have to fight this. We have the Mundra General Hospital report! Daktar Sanjul declared her mentally sound!” Shanti cried, her initial doubt dissolving into fierce maternal protection.

“They dismissed the hospital report as fabricated!” Prakash paced the small room, his anger a visible heat. “They have already convicted her! If we adhere to this, we admit they are right. If we refuse, we lose her education.”

He stopped abruptly. “We will follow the conditions, but only partially. I will find a Counselor, but Anjali will never admit to hallucinating. We will find a way to meet their demands while protecting her truth.”