Creativity & Humor
Moral Policing
By Naina Bhattacharya
Shyamali sat on the bench and smiled to herself. She liked coming to the sea side. Watching the surf always made her happy. Her eyes went to the roof of her chawl and she sighed. She wished college could be residential. In just her first year of college she was in love with the place. It wasn’t just the place. She met Sachin there.
Sachin, her senior by two years was vivacious, talkative, and popular, quite unlike herself. She had been brought up as a quiet and demure girl. She loved his spontaneity. They complimented each other beautifully. But she realized it was never to be. Sachin was fine with the situation, but her parents were not. In fact her mother started crying each time the talk veered to her marriage.
A scramble nearby grabbed her attention. She noticed a bunch of kids and an ice cream push cart. She wanted to buy one; she looked at the ice cream longingly before turning away. Ice creams were not for her. She saw Sachin approaching. He had got bhel puri for her. He was always so thoughtful.
Today they met for the last time. For the first time since she had known Sachin- they were alone. Amidst a crowd, yet alone. They could not meet in college; her professors would detain her for being out with a guy. They could not meet at his chawl or hers, the neighbors would gossip themselves to death. Finally they decided to meet at the seaside.
After three months of exchanging letters and love notes and making phone calls from PCOs, their relationship had to be abandoned. They had discussed this. Sachin had a job and would not be coming to college anymore. And Shyamali would have to go to college to keep her busy. They would be alright. They wanted to meet once to bid goodbye.
Sachin looked at her and his heart melted. She was so pretty and nice. To him, she looked like an angel in her pink polka dotted salwar and ribbons in her pigtails. He wished and wished the best for her. He extended his hand and held hers. Shyamali put her head on his shoulder.
Suddenly, Sachin felt a sharp pain in his thigh. He looked up. A couple of policemen were standing there.
"This is not a place for spreading obscenity...," said one hefty fellow, hitting Sachin again.
Shyamali was very scared. Sachin was speechless. "But, but… we… umm… er,” he stammered.
"C’mon, let’s go to the police station," said the other policeman. They were shoved into jeeps. In the meantime, television crews appeared on the scene and suddenly the press was there in full force. Pictures were being clicked at random and there was bedlam.
Shyamali and Sachin were so scared; they forgot to cover their faces. They were shocked beyond words. They sat far away from each other. They were both feeling guilty. Their parents told them this " Love, Shove" was not for them. If only they had listened, they would not be in this trouble.
The jeep rolled away from the curb.
* * *
...And rolled into the police station, five minutes later.
Shyamali was weeping. Sachin looked like he was going to sob any moment. For all his bravado, he was just twenty years old. The inspector summoned them. They stood in front of him, eyes downcast.
The inspector asked Sachin, "What is your relationship?"
"We,...we are friends sir," he stammered turning red.
"Friends, what nonsense! What were you doing at the sea side alone?"
Sachin had no reply.
"You have to pay a fine for Rs. 1200," the inspector continued.
Sachin and Shyamali did not have the money. The inspector ordered them to be locked up in adjacent cells. Sachin, with the men and Shyamali with the women.
Sachin was dismayed. This would never do. Shyamali needed her medicine. For the first time he noticed the heat and the humidity. He spoke up.
"Please sir, keep me here. But let her go. She has diabetes. She needs her medicine."
"Diabetes indeed!" snorted the inspector. "An 18 year- old and diabetes! These kinds of excuses won’t let you go away. Lock them both up."
* * *
Radha Prasad was worried. His daughter had not come home. He wondered where Shyamali was. It was 8 in the evening and she was not home. He absently switched on the TV. The news was on and he saw her with a group of miscreants. They were at the Navy Nagar police station.
As he rushed out, he could hear the sounds of his wife wailing.
* * *
At the police station, Prasadji was denied entry. He was denied permission to see his daughter. The inspector had gone home for the day; the others could not do anything. Prasadji could pay 1200 rupees fine the next day and take her home.
Prasad’s anguish and anger intermingled into rage. But there was nothing he could do. His eighteen year old had diabetes. She could not survive the night without insulin, but no one listened to his pleas!
* * *
Even the next morning, the inspector did not make an appearance. He had gone to inaugurate some function. Prasadji waited at the doorstep of the police station, looking into the horizon, waiting for the inspector.
At 2pm, the inspector arrived and ordered tea. Other parents and relatives were all at the police station by now, all clamouring for attention. Finally at 5pm, RP was able to pay the fine and get his daughter out.
Shyamali came out of the cell and collapsed into her fathers arms. She had fainted.
* * *
At the hospital, the doctors declared that Shyamali had entered Diabetic Coma. She needed to be at the hospital for a week.
* * *
At the college, Shyamali was expelled for the disgrace she had gotten herself into. Her parents were sent a letter, explaining that the college could no longer enroll her.
* * *
At the chawl, there were all sorts of rumors. "She is a .....," whispered everyone.
At the end of the week, Shyamali returned home. She was weaker; she had nothing to look forward to.
Her mother’s tears had turned into wails.
