Abdul just felt frustrated. His fingers tightly clutched the paper, crumpling the edges a bit. He was always a man who followed the legal rule book, but right now, he was in a dilemma. Slow wind blew from the rickety fan above him. With every swirl, the fan threatened to just fall off from its hook, but it didn't. The top button of his khaki uniform was unbuttoned and his lips gently blew wind inside trying to cool off his sweaty body. Today, after hunting the streets for over a month, another scum was in the lock up, another scum that caused pain, but as long as he was behind those bars, he couldn't hurt anyone.
Six months as station officer and he already knew what was going to happen. Next day he would be presented to the court, bail would be granted and then he would just vanish. The same thing happened last month with another scum criminal. That was the system and Abdul knew he was in it.
The scum in his jail was a rapist and a child fucker. Yet, tomorrow, he would walk out. Only, if the legal system was stronger, more sufficient.
“Chai, sahib” a voice interrupted his thoughts. A fifteen year old child placed a glass of the hot beverage on his table. His head nodded, his hand put down the FIR that supposed to be filed and picked up the tea.
“Saab”, spoke up Sameer, “You don’t need to think much about it, let me do it”. A constable with a large waist breath sat on a stood near the office entrance. His hand were wrapped around the stick which tapped on the floor. He was obviously annoyed at the Station Officer’s decision making process.
The officer heard about such circumvention at the Academy, but he promised himself, it wouldn't turn out this way.
The last of the hot tea drained down his throat and the office jerked his body up. “You’ve decided?” questioned the constable. The officer did not reply.
From his office, past the small waiting area of the police station, he stood outside the lock up. A few petty thieves stood inside with the scum. “Get them out of there”, he ordered the constable. The fat constable charged inside and chased them out of the lockup and put them into the spare one.
“Give me the stick”, the officer called out another order. The stick was placed in his hand, his feet charged inside the cell and his arm swung back. But the blow did not land on the scum.
He couldn't do what needs to be done.
Someone was tugging the stick out his hand. “Go home”, the constable suggested, “I will take care of this. Go home to your family.”
The stick slipped off his hand and into the constable’s.
Six months as station officer and he already knew what was going to happen. Next day he would be presented to the court, bail would be granted and then he would just vanish. The same thing happened last month with another scum criminal. That was the system and Abdul knew he was in it.
The scum in his jail was a rapist and a child fucker. Yet, tomorrow, he would walk out. Only, if the legal system was stronger, more sufficient.
“Chai, sahib” a voice interrupted his thoughts. A fifteen year old child placed a glass of the hot beverage on his table. His head nodded, his hand put down the FIR that supposed to be filed and picked up the tea.
“Saab”, spoke up Sameer, “You don’t need to think much about it, let me do it”. A constable with a large waist breath sat on a stood near the office entrance. His hand were wrapped around the stick which tapped on the floor. He was obviously annoyed at the Station Officer’s decision making process.
The officer heard about such circumvention at the Academy, but he promised himself, it wouldn't turn out this way.
The last of the hot tea drained down his throat and the office jerked his body up. “You’ve decided?” questioned the constable. The officer did not reply.
From his office, past the small waiting area of the police station, he stood outside the lock up. A few petty thieves stood inside with the scum. “Get them out of there”, he ordered the constable. The fat constable charged inside and chased them out of the lockup and put them into the spare one.
“Give me the stick”, the officer called out another order. The stick was placed in his hand, his feet charged inside the cell and his arm swung back. But the blow did not land on the scum.
He couldn't do what needs to be done.
Someone was tugging the stick out his hand. “Go home”, the constable suggested, “I will take care of this. Go home to your family.”
The stick slipped off his hand and into the constable’s.
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