Nakul sat numbly in the hard, cold chair as the first rays of dawn started creeping into the police station. He had been here all night, trying to make sense of the nightmare unfolding around him. Just yesterday morning, he had been a normal 17-year-old focused on studying for his exams. Now here he was, accused of the unthinkable crimes of assault and rape by girls from his own school.
The day had started out normally enough. Nakul woke up early, changed into his uniform, and sat down to have breakfast with his parents before leaving for school. His parents, both successful doctors who had adopted Nakul as a baby, were chatting about their plans to marry him off to a nice, wealthy family once he was a bit older. Nakul didn't contribute much to the conversation, his mind preoccupied with memorizing compounds and equations for his chemistry test.
The morning passed in the usual blur of classes and notes. Nakul ate his tiffin with his few acquaintances during recess, then headed to his math tuition after school ended. Tuition went smoothly, the quadratic formulas gliding effortlessly as he practiced problem after problem. Nakul took pride in his academic achievements. Though he wasn't very social, he hoped excelling in studies would pave his way to a coveted computer science program in America.
It was evening by the time Nakul returned home, tired but satisfied with his progress. His satisfaction evaporated instantly when he saw the police vehicle parked outside his house. Nakul froze, his heartbeat thundering in his ears as the worst possibilities flooded his mind. His parents stood at the door speaking to stern-looking officers, their faces clouded with anger.
Before Nakul could utter a word, his father grabbed him roughly, face contorted in rage. "How could you do this Nakul? Assaulting your own classmates? Have you no shame?" His mother, tears in her eyes, began hitting him with her chappals. "We gave you everything! How could you repay us like this? Monster!"
Stunned and confused, Nakul could barely get a word out before the police dragged him into the vehicle. At the station, his hands were cuffed brutally behind his back as the officers continued to hurl accusations. Rape! Assault! Nakul desperately pleaded his innocence but his words fell on deaf ears.
Now, after a full night of "interrogation", Nakul sat defeated in the station as Head Inspector Harsha continued his tirade. "Innocent? Don't make me laugh! That brave girl Ayesha exposed all your heinous acts. The other victims are now speaking up too. Your life is over, scumbag."
Ayesha? Nakul was shocked to hear her name. She was the topper of his class, the polite girl who always kept to herself. Nakul had barely spoken to her directly. How was he being accused of assault by her?
As Harsha continued to berate him, Nakul's shock turned into anger. None of this made sense. He was an exemplary student who avoided trouble and had big dreams. He wasn't even interested in romantic relationships, his singular ambition being to excel academically. How could anyone believe these horrific allegations?
Yet here he was, treated like a depraved criminal based on the word of a girl he barely knew. It was his word against hers, but no one cared to even listen to his side of the story. Nakul seethed at the injustice, even as the police continued their "questioning" through the day. He refused to break or give in, staunch in his innocence.
But as the days turned into weeks in the dark cell, Nakul's steadfast denials wavered. Each interrogation chipped away at his resolve as the police verbally abused him and coercive tactics intensified. They mocked his academic dreams, denying him even basic rights like access to books. His reputation lay in tatters, with even his parents now convinced of his supposed 'crimes'.
The final straw came when the police began rounding up other girls from his school as 'victims'. Each one spun elaborate stories of how Nakul had threatened and abused them over the years. There was no proof beyond their words, but nobody cared for evidence when the accusations involved sexual crimes. With each new 'testimony', the noose tightened around Nakul's already oppressed spirit.
On the 60th day of his Kafkaesque ordeal, Nakul finally broke down and signed the confession placed before him. The details were immaterial by now. Admitting guilt was the only way to end the neverending nightmare. With hollow eyes and crushed hopes, Nakul resolved that he would get justice some day. For now, he would quietly serve out whatever sentence was handed down. At the tender age of 17, in the eyes of the world, Nakul's life was already over.