Chapter 8
663 Words
Aayna’s heart twisted in agony at the sight of her surroundings.
She was a girl from a respectable home girls from such families never even pass by places like this, for fear of tarnishing their name.
Yet here she was, in the very heart of it.
Collapsing onto the ground, she beat her chest and cried out, her hair in disarray, her face wet with tears. She was furious at herself for trusting Faiyaz, furious at the betrayal that had brought her here.
Suddenly, a few men seized her and dragged her into a foul-smelling, filthy room. The stench clung to the air like rot. She pounded at the locked door, shouting for them to open it, but no one paid her the slightest heed.
Inside the room were two other girls. Dressed in revealing clothes, their lips painted a glaring crimson, they lay sprawled on the bed. When they saw her, they hurled vile curses, sneering, “Stop pretending, girl. From today, this is your home.”
By evening, a skimpy dress was thrust into her hands.
“Customers will be here soon,” one of them said coldly.
Aayna pressed herself against the door, sobbing relentlessly.
“Please, let me go… I can’t stay here… please…”
Outside, the day was heavy with clouds, and a restless wind swept through the streets. Traffic crawled along the road. In the midst of it all, a little girl wandered from rickshaw to car, offering strings of jasmine to whoever would buy them.
No one did.
The child’s face fell in quiet disappointment.
From a distance, Police Inspector Harun had been watching her. Leaning out from the window of his patrol car, he called to her. The girl ran over, her face lighting up with joy.
He bought all the jasmine she carried and slipped a little extra money into her hand.
“Go home to your mother now,” he told her gently.
“Sir,” the little girl said shyly, “give the jasmine to your memsahib.”
Harun smiled, but the tears in his eyes betrayed him.
Driving on, he soon pulled over at a cemetery. With the bundle of jasmine in his hand, he walked to his wife’s grave.
“Look,” he whispered, placing the flowers tenderly upon the headstone, “I’ve brought you jasmine.”
His heart felt unbearably heavy.
Moments later, his phone rang it was the police department. A raid was to be carried out in the red-light district.
Inspector Harun arrived at the location. Room by room, the police dragged out the women, rounding them up for the station. Ayna, too, was hauled from her cell. As the female constable gripped her arm, Ayna cried out desperately,
“Save me, Officer! Please, I don’t want to stay here!”
The constable shoved her into the police van. From a short distance, Harun watched. One look at her tear-streaked face, her modest features, and he knew this girl was not from here.
Later, at the station, with all the women behind bars, Harun ordered that Ayna be brought before him. She stood trembling, her voice breaking as she pleaded,
“Sir… please… take me out of here. If you can’t… then kill me, but don’t keep me in this place.”
Moved by her distress, Harun began his investigation. Soon, other women testified that she was indeed not one of them.
“Then let’s call your family,” he suggested.
But Ayna shook her head firmly.
“If my grandfather learns where I was found… learns that I was freed from such a place… and about Faiyaz he will never survive the shame. He’s the only one who has ever truly loved me. I cannot let him come to hate me.”
Harun’s heart softened. Resting a hand gently on her head, he said,
“Then come to my home. My daughter needs a caretaker. She has no mother… Look after her.”
And Ayna agreed.
- Writer
