(This story is a rewritten version of 'Harlan County Line' by 'Sickman'. Credits for the plot and premise go to the original author. I hope readers like my rewritten version as well.)
*
In retrospect, I shouldn't have taken that shortcut. We have heard or been told a million times that nothing good comes out of taking shortcuts, but we don't listen, do we? There's no shortcut to making money, and apparently, as I've now learnt, you shouldn't be taking a shortcut on the highway either. Especially if you are an 18-year old girl driving all by herself.
Now that I think about it, I realise it was a mistake, a big mistake. But that night, it didn't seem that way. It seemed practical. I was running late. I wanted to reach my apartment by 11, so that I could tuck in by 12 and get a good night's sleep before my important term exam the next day. Well, I never made it to the exam, so that didn't work out. I had been studying all day at a friend's place, but I didn't want to sleep over. My rented apartment was nearer to our college.
I set out from my friend's place at around 10:30 pm, taking NH 52. At night, the drive took around 30 minutes, but I wanted to cut it short and hence, took a shortcut that I knew of. The shortcut road wasn't bad, but it wasn't as smooth as the highway either. On the couple of occasions when I had ventured through it during the day, it had been largely deserted. At night, it seemed even more deserted and somewhat scary. As the headlights of my car penetrated through the tree-lined road, I rolled up my windows and rechecked the door locks. A couple of minutes later, I contemplated turning around but didn't.
You'll be at the other end in less than 10 minutes.
I clutched the steering wheel, turned on the radio and stepped on the accelerator, wanting to get through the road as soon as I could.
I don't recall exactly what happened a few minutes later, but I do remember hearing a loud bomb-like bang and losing control of the car as it skidded off the road. My head hit something hard and my world became dark.
I woke up on a wooden bench. I tried to rub my eyes but couldn't move my hands up.
Shit, I'm handcuffed!
I pushed myself up on my elbows and sat up. Looking around myself, I realised I was in what looked like a police interrogation room. Of course, I had never been in an interrogation room before, but I had seen plenty in movies to make out where I was. The gray walls, the single iron door, the wooden table, the two wooden chairs and the bench I was upon... it was about the same as I had seen in movies, only a lot more quirky in real.
Suddenly, the door clanked opened and two men in police uniforms walked in. Both looked mean, and both were fat. One of them seemed to be in his 40s, while the other looked much younger.
"Oh, so you're finally up," one of them said.
"Where am I?" I asked. "Why am I in handcuffs?"
Both of them were now standing in front of me in identical positions, leaning against the table, arms folded across their chests and resting on their ample bellies.
"You're in Mithinagar Police Station," replied the older one.
"You're under arrest," added his partner.
"Under arrest? Me? What... why? What did I do?"
"Hah! Don't act as if you don't know," the younger one said, sitting down heavily in a chair.
They were staring at me. To say I was scared would be a major understatement. This was the first time that I was in such close proximity of two policemen. To make things worse, they looked mean and harsh and I was with them in an interrogation room, handcuffed.
Trying to make sense of the situation, I looked at them and asked: "What have I done? How did I get here? Where is my car?"
"You know... what's your name?"
I took me a moment to realise that that question was aimed at me. "Neha," I answered.
"Neha, you know, you're very lucky girl," said the younger one, smiling. "Isn't she, Pankaj?"
"Yes, Hiren, she is, she really is."
What are they talking about?
"You're lucky that we found you and your car on that deserted road," Pankaj continued. "We don't really patrol that road; hardly anyone uses it at night. But I guess it was perfect for you, wasn't it?"
"Perfect for me? Why? What do you mean?" I asked, confused as ever.
"Oh, stop acting now," Hiren said. "We found one bottle of whisky and two empty beer bottles in your car... we know you're a bootlegger."
Bootlegger? Bootlegger?
"I'm not a bootlegger; I'm a college student... I study in JP College."
"A lot of college students make money by bootlegging. We know very well how you people operate," Pankaj said. "We know you were supposed to deliver the whisky to someone on that dark road, but your tyre burst and you hit a tree. That's probably when you lost consciousness."
This is absurd!
I was starting to get angry.
How could these guys just make such assumptions?
"I'm not a bootlegger, this is a mistake. I..."
Pankaj interrupted: "How do you explain the whisky and beer bottles in your car then?"
It hit me then. My boyfriend, he had borrowed my car a couple of days earlier. He had said he was going to party with some friends.
But in my car! How could he party in my car and even leave bottles behind?
"I can explain," I told Pankaj. "My boyfrie... some friends had borrowed my car. They probably left the bottles behind, they're not mine. Please belie..."
"You won't get away by blaming someone else," Hiren said, standing up in front of me. "You youngsters think you can get away with anything, don't you?"
He was looking down at me angrily. Tears welled up in my eyes as I pleaded again, "Please believe me, those bottles are not mine."
"There's no use crying," Pankaj said. "You have been arrested in possession of alcohol, which is a big offence in our dry state. You'll have to spend the night in jail. Tomorrow morning we'll take you to court."
Jail! Court! This can't be happening. Someone please pinch me! This has got to be a nightmare.
