Long ring.
"Madam, Chennai Central Station Sub Inspector, Madam."
Night-screaming, hysterical, Fourth Estate Madam's must be treated with due respect; two Madam's thus happily elevating my status two-fold.
"About that night Madam..."
I'm uh-huh'ing. Umm-hmm'ing.
"Anybody saw, Madam?"
Did they?
"I don't know."
"Anybody came to your rescue, Madam?"
No.
"Anybody said anything?"
No.
"Anybody said anything after you screamed?"
No.
So does public apathy (or deep sleep) weaken my case?
The no's continue.
"Anybody came to pick you up?"
No.
"You were alone?"
Yes. (Finally). "That was the problem, no, sir?" I say. Was it? I just needed to break the trail of "no's".
Now what?
Sanjeev Kumar vs. me. Or him vs. State of Tamil Nadu.
Either way, I just want to go on a long holiday and go back in time and remove that damn 'Train to Chennai' blog post.
