At the Police Station
Police stations in India are like stepping back in time. If you want to relive the 1970s—with no computers and piles of dusty brown files—just walk into one.
The Hauz Khas station had some modern touches: two computers with bulky CRT monitors running outdated Windows. At 9 a.m., the place was packed, like a queue for free mobile data.
I hadn't slept. The alcohol from last night still echoed in my head. The noise made the headache worse.
Saurabh and I were made to sit apart so we wouldn't "cook up a story." As if we couldn't just text each other.
After hours, Inspector Rana finally called me in. His office was tiny—just one desk and two chairs crammed inside.
I yawned.
"Sleepy?" he asked.
"A little."
"Go wash your face."
"It's okay."
"Do it," he snapped. I obeyed. The tap water was filthy. I splashed it on my face and returned.
"I made you wait outside. The other option was lockup."
I imagined my parents learning I was in jail. I shuddered.
"No, sir. Waiting is fine."
"Jail is where you'll end up if you killed her."
"I didn't, sir. I swear. I loved her more than anything."
"Maybe that's why you killed her. You couldn't have her."
"No, sir. She messaged me first."
I showed him our WhatsApp conversation.
"Ask anyone from my batch what it meant for Zara to reach out."
He read through it. I kept talking.
"I called the police. I called her father. I even tried calling her boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" he said, suddenly alert.
"Yes. Raghu. He lives in Hyderabad."
"Give me his number."
"It's in my phone. Raghu Venkatesh."
He noted it down. A constable entered.
"Her father took the body home."
"So soon?" the inspector asked, annoyed.
"He's influential, sir. Maybe used his contacts."
"Where do they live?"
"Westend Greens, near the Shiv statue on the Delhi border."
"Rich girl," he muttered. "Did you request a post-mortem?"
"Yes, sir, but her father declined. Said he was too disturbed."
"Typical. Muslim families don't want autopsies. But without one, how do we investigate?"
He turned back to me.
"You loved her. Why aren't you crying?"
"I don't know. It doesn't feel real yet."
"She's dead. And you may have killed her."
"No, sir! I just went to wish her. That's all."
Finally, the weight of it all crushed me. I broke down in tears.
"I didn't do it, sir. I couldn't."
"Then who did? And stop crying like a child."
"I don't know."
The inspector called in a constable.
"Any luck unlocking her phone?"
"It's a locked iPhone, sir. We need her passcode."
"Use her thumbprint."
"Not possible—it restarted while charging. Needs the code."
"Get call logs from the provider."
"Already requested. Two missed calls this morning—from Raghu Cutie Pie."
"Call him. Also check his location last night."
He turned to me.
"Wait outside. No FIR yet. But you're not leaving the station."
"I won't, sir."
"Find a corner to sleep in."
"I'll sit. But sir, one request."
"What?"
"When you call Raghu… can I listen?"
"Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe I can help."
The inspector shrugged and put the phone on speaker.
A woman answered in a Telugu accent.
"Hello, good morning. This is Nurse Janie. Doctor is inspecting Raghu sir. One moment."
Moments later, Raghu came on.
"Hello?"
"This is Inspector Vikas Rana from Hauz Khas Police. Do you know Zara Lone?"
"My fiancée."
"I'm sorry. She's been found dead. Likely murdered."
Silence.
"Mr. Raghu?"
"What?" he finally whispered.
"You called her twice this morning."
We heard him fumbling with his phone.
"This can't be real."
"You can confirm with her parents."
"It's her birthday today. We were getting married in two months."
Even I felt a pang of pain. The inspector continued.
"Do you know anyone who might've wanted to hurt her?"
"I was attacked three days ago outside my office in Cyber City. Three men on bikes hit me with hockey sticks. My car windows were smashed. I managed to scream and they fled."
"You're injured?"
"Head wound. Fractured arm. I'm in Apollo Hospital."
The inspector scribbled everything.
"Alright. We'll be in touch. Take care."
He ended the call.
Another constable entered.
"Sir, phone records will arrive tomorrow. Raghu's phone was in Hyderabad last night."
Rana turned to me.
"Are you going to sit in my office like a son-in-law? Get out."
"Yes, sir," I said and left.