Chapter 3: Slander in the Square

I’m a cheerful guy—get along with the square-dancing aunties. Hearing my shout, they turned the Bluetooth speaker up. Mrs. Lobo winked, “Let’s show these young people how to party!” Dupattas swirling, hips swaying, their laughter echoing. For a few minutes, I let myself forget—dancing along, feet thumping, learning hook steps from Mrs. Singh.

But the girl had already climbed ashore. Muddy, hair wild, she staggered toward us. My heart skipped. How did she manage? No one on the bridge, no boats. Was she a chudail, immune to drowning?

“Help, help me...” She waved, then ran straight into Mrs. Lobo’s arms, sobbing like the world had ended. She jabbed a finger at me: “Molester! He’s a molester, a pervert!”

My pupils contracted, disbelief plain on my face. This time, no mention of her dog—just accusations, sharp and cold. Where’s her dog? Why not a word?

The aunties switched off the music, exchanging worried glances. Mrs. Singh stroked her hair. “Beta, kya hua? Kaun hai yeh?”

She trembled, clinging to Mrs. Lobo’s saree. “He—when I was jogging at night, he grabbed me from behind and molested me. I tried to run, but fell into the river. I’m alive only because I swim, aunty. Please help me call the police, my phone broke...”

I couldn’t take it. I strode over, fists clenched. “Accha, enough! How long will you keep lying? Why are you doing this to me? Tum mujhe jaanti bhi nahi!”

She whimpered, hiding her face. Mrs. Lobo gave me a warning look, then gently stroked her back. “Beta, maybe you’ve made a mistake? Rohan toh humare saath hi tha, ek minute ke liye bhi nahi gaya.”

She pulled out her phone. “Bol, beta. Main police ko bulati hoon.”

The girl’s eyes flashed. “Impossible! It was him! I’ll never forget his face!”

Trying to keep my temper, I pressed her: “You said I grabbed you from behind, so how did you see my face clearly?”

She stomped her foot. “I turned as I fell! I saw you standing there!”

I clenched my fists. “We’re strangers! Why are you ruining my life?”

She spat, “You did it! Bastard!” The aunties gasped. I shook with rage. For a second, I wanted to throw down my lathi, but held back. I’d suffered this injustice before—was this my kismet?

No CCTV, only gossiping aunties and the echo of a dholak. Why me? Fate, bad luck, or something darker? No one’s this unlucky twice.

“Aunties, please be my witnesses. I don’t know her, never went to the river.” I dialed 100, hands trembling. Police arrived. “Sahab, yeh jhoot bol rahi hai. Please check with the aunties.”

The girl threw herself at the police: “Sir, please, I beg you! I’m alone in this city, just a student. If I can’t get justice, I don’t want to live.”

No cameras by the river, so police promised to investigate. The aunties urged her, “Beta, kapde badal lo. You’ll get pneumonia.” She ignored them, demanding an FIR with my name. My stomach dropped. She wanted written proof—to post online again.

I stood firm. “No FIR without proof, sir. I have witnesses.” I folded my hands to the aunties. “Please, sach sach batao.” One by one, they told the police: “Rohan toh idhar hi tha, hum sab ke saath.”

With so many witnesses, the police’s suspicion shifted. “No FIR unless we find something concrete,” Inspector Sinha said. “We will check all details, but don’t accuse without proof.”

When they asked her for ID, she stalled. “Lost in the river!” she claimed. Only then did she sob, “I... I’m Priya. Please investigate quickly.”

Her name meant nothing to me. I couldn’t remember ever meeting her. Maybe she picked me at random—maybe fate just wanted to test me.

As the police prepared to leave, I panicked. “Sahab, please. Protect me too. Don’t let her post anything online.”

Inspector Sinha warned her: “Beta, don’t make trouble online. The law will handle this.” She nodded, but my heart sank. Last time, she didn’t listen.

No matter how hard I tried, the damage was done. Reputation is everything in India; once lost, it can’t be regained. This time, I’d act before she could destroy me.