Introduction to the Author:

Onaiza Khan is a writer and loves writing and that says it all.  She writes almost anything, paid or unpaid, starting from news and opinion writing to poetry, fiction, and surrealism to almost anything. If there is anything that can be written, she wants to write it. Once in her lifetime, she want to become an audience of a play written by herself. She loves reading books and watching movies to the extent that she could readily take these things for full time jobs. Her dream is to travel the world with a backpack, a damn good camera, a laptop and not necessarily a lot of money. Now getting serious about the introduction, she’s a 24 year old, simple looking girl with a Management degree, and few certificates in ‘French Language’ and ‘Creative Writing’ lying in her cupboard and dreams encircling the whole world living in her head. And the desire for learning new things in life is always on for Onaiza.

The Confrontation

Mr. Mohan Malhotra sent a servant to call his son. Sameer edged into the drawing room and the servant quietly left.

“Do you have anything to say?” asked Mr. Malhotra with his back towards Sameer.

“Yes, I do” said Sameer, with his face falling into his chest.

“Oh really?” he catcalled and turning around, he addressed Sameer saying “Now that calls for courage. You do nothing in life; spend five years in college doing nothing, not even able to manage a degree. You bring a bad name for your father, in the middle of the night bang into a car with a speed of 100 miles an hour, and stay in a lockup for two days. And well, after your father bails you out, you do have something to say. I’m amazed. Go on.”

“It was 2 a.m., I was studying for my exams, because this time I didn’t wanted to fail. I thought I’ll pass and find myself a job and leave this awful house forever,” he said very cautiously.

“Awful? Did you say awful? This house that I’ve made with my blood, sweat and tears you find it awful?” yelled Mr. Malhotra.

“I do.”

“Go on.”

They never had one to one conversations in the past. They had servants to pass on their messages, if any.

“Then I heard a noise, from the backyard.”

“What noise?”

“I went to the terrace to check it out, there was no sound there, and I came back to my room and continued my studies. I again heard a sound and soon realized that it came from beneath.”

“This is all rubbish that you’re talking. Sound, terrace, and all that bull shit. See, if you’re trying to fool me then please stop. I don’t have time for your ridiculous excuses. You can go.”

“No, I won’t, let me complete.”

“Complete what?”

“What I saw, what I heard, and what I know.” This time Sameer was looking right in the eyes of his father.

“What?”

“I went to the basement then.”

“Which basement? We don’t have any.”

“We do Dad, we do, and I saw kids there, naked, injured kids and a man who had made them hostage, who was raping them.”

“What rubbish is this? Did you see who the man was?”

“No, I didn’t, I was shocked, I didn’t know what to do, it reminded me of a man, a man who had raped me when I was a child, and he had covered my eyes with a black cloth and another piece of it in my mouth so that I couldn’t shout. I was taken aback. I didn’t know how to react, I just didn’t know anything, I just took my car and started driving, driving to nowhere and I didn’t realized, how and when I bumped into this other car. I’m sorry,” he had tears in his eyes.

“It’s okay, go take rest.”

“This sorry is for something else dad.”

“What else?”

“This morning I found something on the staircase of the basement.”

“What?”

“A bracelet, it’s yours dad.”

“What rubbish, how can it be mine? Show me, give it to me.”

“I’ll give it to the police dad; they’ll be here in any moment.”