Chapter 4: Fate’s Relentless Cycle

The next dawn, I left with a sore shoulder. Neha’s accusations still gnawed at me—why did she hate me so much? I took a new route to town, nerves taut as a wire. The exam centre loomed, yellow walls behind neem trees, the crowd of students and parents buzzing like flies. I finished the paper and hurried home, heart pounding with hope and fear.

But as I packed my theplas for the last day, a flashlight beam shone through the crack in the door. Sharma uncle’s voice called, "Inspector, yahin hai." Heavy boots stomped, the familiar smell of sweat and cigarettes filling the air. Dadi’s grip on my hand was fierce as I whispered my fears. She brandished her rolling pin, ready to fight for me.

When the police banged on the door, I squared my shoulders and opened it. Two men rushed in, pinned me down, and cuffed my hands behind my back. Dadi’s cries pierced the morning air as the neighbours crowded in, eyes hungry for fresh gossip.

Neha rushed forward, slapping me across the face. Each slap stung, but what hurt more was seeing Dadi’s eyes—wide, helpless, as if the world had ended again. Neha shouted, "Inspector saab! Yeh hi tha—board exam ke din, usne hi mujhe cheda aur mere papers le gaya. Please kuch kijiye!" The crowd jeered, some spitting at my feet. Dadi clung to my schoolbag, sobbing.

As the cuffs bit into my wrists and Dadi’s cries faded behind me, I realised—some curses, you just can’t outrun. Still, I prayed for a miracle. Maybe this time, fate would spare Dadi the storm to come.