Tashi nodded vigorously, her fists balled tight, the skin stretched over her knuckles.
“The sad thing is that the criminal got only the first batch of photos from Akash’s phone,” Indrajit said, looking Tashi straight in the eye. “The rest of the information – like your phone number and address – was handed to him on a platter by your social media handles.”
Tashi nodded, head hung in shame. “I had never thought keeping my Instagram profile public would have such repercussions,” she said.
The Inspector looked thoughtful when he said, “This generation of young women fail to realize how important it is to keep their personal details private. The fact that Akash didn’t delete those old photographs was his fault, but the fact that you left your phone number and address so easily discoverable by the world is…” he trailed off, but his meaning was apparent.
Tashi looked ready to burst into tears. To ease the tension in the air, Manav cleared his throat and said, “Inspector, what options do you think are open to a woman who finds herself the victim of cyber-attacks like Tashi did?”
“Today, there are helpline numbers solely designed for women to anonymously lodge complaints. In fact, there are websites where friends or family can lodge a report if they suspect some crime like this is being committed.”
“I wish the society viewed such crimes differently too,” Manav added. “Rather than shaming the woman for having her pictures splashed all over revenge porn websites, people should extend their support and shame the criminal instead. If this simple action takes away the sense of power the perverts feel from having a woman under their control, it might lead to lesser instances of such cases repeating.”
Inspector Indrajit nodded and shook hands with both of them. Tashi gave him a weak smile and asked, “There is one last question I had, officer,” she said.
Inspector Indrajit nodded, urging her to go on.
“What is there to guarantee that this man would not do something even more horrific to get back at me if he is released on bail?”
At this, the inspector frowned. “The prosecution will actively attempt to oppose the bail of the criminal,” he said at length. “And even if, by some miracle, he succeeds in getting bail, he has to sign a bond that forbids him from continuing the offence or harming the witness in any way. If he violates these conditions and contacts you in any form, please inform me immediately. I will see to it that the court forfeits his bail amount, cancels his bail and adds to his crime count. If he does something so foolhardy, he will be thoroughly screwed on the day of judgement.”
Tashi looked at Manav. He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. “We thank you for your help, inspector,” he said, rising.
“The police department salutes the strength of will you displayed throughout this case,” Indrajit said, standing up. “You may rest assured that this man would not trouble you again,” he bade them goodbye with a smile.
When they stepped out of the police station, the sun was still shining weakly through the clouds, but to Tashi, the day seemed to have grown infinitely brighter.
She looked at Manav, tossed her black hair hair out of her face and smiled, “Why don’t we grab some ice cream on the way back home.”
He grinned at her, “Blackcurrant or chocolate?”
“Like the old times, chocolate.”
Epilogue: And After
It was a chilly Friday afternoon, almost eight months after the blackmailer had been caught. In their cosy two-bedroom apartment, Mrs Chotten was shelling some peas in the kitchen when her phone screen flashed with a call. Wiping her hands on her apron, she leaned over to pick up her daughter’s call.
“Mom, I have to tell you something,” Tashi gushed.
“Even I have to tell you something,” she smiled.
“I got a promotion and a raise,” she squealed in joy, without letting her mother finish.
“That is such good news. I am so happy for you, Ashi dear.”
“Let’s celebrate by taking a trip to Shimla – just you and I.”
“I would love that,” her mother laughed. “Are you sure you don’t want to bring Venkat along?”
“Mom!" she chided, blushing. “Venkat is just a friend; you know that.”
“Yeah, and who are you going out for dinner and drinks tonight?”
“Mom, stop pulling my leg. Tell me, what were you about to say?”
“Manav called. He said he is back in town for a few days.”
“Aww, he called you? That is so sweet. I know he is in Delhi. In fact, Venkat and I are meeting Manav and his fiancée in the evening. Also, I have booked our tickets to Shimla for tonight.”
“Okay, dear. But,” she said, her voice losing the laughter. “Are you sure a trip is a good idea right now? I mean…”
“Mom,” Tashi stopped her mid-sentence. “I have thought about it long enough. I am ready for a holiday.”
“But Dr Prasad said – “
“The counsellor said my heart knows what’s best for me better than any medicines or therapy sessions. And right now, every particle in my body is screaming that a change of scenery is exactly what I need.”
“I am happy you feel that way. But what if-“
“What if, what, mom? You’re worried I might get another anxiety attack on being surrounded by so many strangers?”
“I didn’t mean that, dear,” her mother blurted.
“I have been working on myself, mom. For months after the blackmailer was caught, I felt as if there was a volcano inside my chest, flaming with heat each time I took a breath. But it has subsided, the fear is gone. This is the most confident I have felt since then. I’ll be fine – I cannot live in terror all my life, can I? You get busy packing. Take all the woollens you might need and a big bag for we will do lots of shopping.”
“Okay dear,” her mother replied with a sigh. “Take care.”
“I will, mom. And this weekend, you and I are going to have a blast.”
***
If you stay silent now,
years down the line
when you find enough courage,
the world is not going to believe
your pain was real.
Why, they will ask,
did you let the demon breathe?
Why did you let it take the fire from your soul
and breathe it down your body?
They will see your bruises,
the broken bones,
the scars all over your fair skin,
and even then, they will say
that somehow,
in some twisted, inhuman way,
all of it was your fault.
Don’t believe them.
You are the one who lived through it.
They didn’t.
It is easy to criticise a home
someone else has built.
It is crushing
to put your blood and sweat
into building one,
watch it die in front of your eyes,
and still, bring out courage
from the depths of your soul-
courage to hope that,
somehow,
it would survive.
Yes, you were late in admitting the hurt
but being late doesn’t mean you were wrong.
Darling, this wasn’t your fault.
About The Author
A two-time Quora Top Writer and top writer in fiction on Medium, Anangsha specializes in poetry and short fiction. Her compositions have won several national and international awards. Her poetry debut Stolen Reflections ended up as an Amazon bestseller within four days of its release and is still going strong on the Amazon Bestsellers list.
Apart from her writing career, Anangsha holds a masters degree in civil engineering from IIT Guwahati. She is currently pursuing her Ph.D. part-time while working as an Assistant Professor at NIT Silchar. She hopes to write her own fantasy fiction series someday.
Note From The Author
M
y Facebook account was hacked in 2016.
For about two weeks, an anonymous stranger on the internet had access to every post I had shared over the last six years of being active on social media. He could read every message I had sent, go through every desperate 3 AM-call-for-help to my nearest ones. He could see the photographs I had shared with my boyfriend over the one year or so we spent in a long distance relationship.
Basically, someone gained access to a large chunk of my online life without me ever letting him in. It was akin to a stranger entering your home and looking through your personal documents and photographs without your consent.
And it was terrifying.
Soul-crushing, self-esteem shattering.
I had to pull some strings to gain access back into my account. But two weeks is a long time. He could have already made a backup of my files somewhere.
I got my Facebook account back, but the hacker was never caught. And it makes my breath catch in my throat every time I think that someone out there in the world has seen me at my most vulnerable.
To be honest, even now, three years down the line, I sometimes worry about what would happen if he chooses to release all the photographs and videos online.
This incident changed me as a person. It made me realise how easy it is to be a victim of cybercrime, and how much effect threats like these have on a woman’s emotional and mental well-being.
This was when Tashi’s story started to dig roots in the deepest pits of my consciousness. I knew I had to share my story, my pain, and trauma with the world; and a fiction novella was the best way to do so.
And thus, the story for “What did Tashi do?” was born.
What Did Tashi Do Page 8