Arjun pulled a book from the prison library, only to find his own reflection staring back at him from between its pages. He had wanted to pour his heart out onto paper, to write down the torment gnawing at his soul. These days, he felt profoundly alone and worthless. To the other inmates, he was nothing more than a new plaything—an object they could tease and torment to amuse themselves.
For the past several months, baseless rumours had clung to him like a curse. One viral reel had ignited public outrage: a soldier arriving to meet his beloved had been spotted talking with her, and in a fit of fury, the neighbourhood residents, along with her family, had forcibly dragged the couple to a nearby Durga temple and solemnised their marriage on the spot. The young lovers had been left distraught and humiliated.Lost in these heavy thoughts,
Arjun was suddenly jolted by a constable who informed him that someone was waiting in the visitors' area. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. Since the scandal had broken, only the occasional lawyer had come to see him. This was the first time anyone else had appeared.
Today, it was his ailing mother.Illness and misfortune had etched deep lines of pain across her face. Her body looked frail and depleted, yet her spirit remained unbroken—her faith in God still burned with unyielding strength.Seeing his mother's withered face through the iron bars, Arjun felt a sharp stab in his chest. How wretched he was that she had been forced to visit him in this wretched place because of him. He had failed to be the good son she deserved. His throat tightened with suppressed sobs, but he composed himself and stepped closer.
With reddened, swollen eyes, his mother gazed into his and spoke softly:"Son, never run away from the truth. I know you are innocent. Keep your faith in God. He alone will stand by you. Do not let your trust in Him waver. Even when everyone else abandons you, He continues to hold your hand. No one possesses the power that God does. He will surely deliver us from this calamity."
Hearing her words, Arjun's heart swelled with emotion. Inwardly, he thought how unfortunate he was that his mother had to witness these dark days because of him. The tears in her eyes were his greatest punishment.
"Mother, you still believe I am innocent, don't you?" he began, but his voice choked. A heavy silence descended between them.Just then, the guard announced, "Ma'am, your visiting time is over.
"In his mother's eyes shone an unwavering hope for her son. The world might lose faith, but a mother never gives up—especially when it concerns the well-being of her child.
As she left, she kept looking back at Arjun with helpless, anguished eyes. Before coming, she had lit a lamp at home and prayed fervently for his safety and honourable acquittal.
The court verdict was still pending. Yet the people of the country had already pronounced him guilty in the court of public opinion. Truth be told, prison walls are not built merely of iron and stone. Behind them lie the silent agonies, regrets, and untold stories of the inmates—stories no one has the time or patience to hear.
Arjun kept shouting desperately, "I am a soldier—an Agniveer in the Indian Army! I have not committed any murder!" He explained that soldiers were granted only thirty days of leave per year, and he could rarely manage even twenty. He had returned home joyfully to spend time with his loved ones.
His next posting was supposed to be in the highly sensitive Rajouri sector of Kashmir for two full years, and given the volatile situation there, further leave would have been nearly impossible. While posted in Rajouri, he had faced frequent encounters with terrorists and the Pakistani army. His heart had grown restless with longing for home.
His mother's health was deteriorating day by day, and the worry for her had become unbearable. That was why he had felt compelled to take leave. After his sister moved to her in-laws' house, his mother had been left utterly alone. In the Keri sector of Rajouri district, near the Line of Control, his team had captured an infiltrator from Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (PoK).
The police had registered a case regarding the incident.A few months earlier, an individual had attempted to snatch weapons from on-duty soldiers. A scuffle had ensued, but Arjun had handled the situation with great skill and presence of mind, preventing it from escalating. However, a few days later, terrorists had carried out a bombing in a residential area, causing significant loss of life and property. The investigation into that attack was still ongoing. During a 48-hour-long operation in the Keri area of Rajouri, Arjun had captured a live terrorist. His bravery and tactical acumen had already earned him recognition from his battalion officers. Senior commanders had often praised his efficiency and quick decision-making under pressure. He had been confident that his performance would open doors for further advancement in the Army. Among his fellow soldiers, he had begun to command genuine respect.
Yet, despite evidence and witness statements, his bail had been cancelled. The actual scene of the incident seemed to whisper an entirely different, unheard story—one for which no concrete proof could be found, nor was any CCTV footage available. For over a month now, Arjun had been behind bars. Today, his interim bail application had been rejected once again. The last sliver of hope for release had slipped away. He was living among hardened criminals in the prison. Some looked at him with contempt and hatred, while Madhav Kaka was the only inmate who showed him any sympathy. A couple of policemen, too, seemed to believe he was a victim of circumstances or bad company."
An Agniveer soldier murders the woman who became his wife from his girlfriend!"This sensational headline blared from every television channel. "Love and trust in relationships have vanished… A soldier turns murderer…"—such narratives dominated the airwaves. For a whole month, news channels had been milking the story day and night for TRP ratings.
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