“Tring…Tring…”, the phone bell rang.
Mrs. Iyer ran to her landline connection as it came to life. “Hullo! Hullo!”, she sounded quite nervous. The phone call did not continue any further. Her six years old daughter Latha who had gone to school in the morning had not returned home after the school gave over. Mr. Iyer got the alarm while in the office. He ran up to the Police Station with Latha’s recent photographs so that the Police department could get into fruitful action. Beads of perspiration lead to a stream that trickled down his forehead.
Having done the needful, he drove his car on the already empty roads around the school, in busy areas, in the close by parks where he could expect his daughter. He got down at places, cupped his mouth and yelled out for his little princess with all his might. When the sun strode behind the horizon, Mr. Iyer was reminded of his wife, Bharthi who had already collapsed once in agony. Back at home, Bharthi was frightened like a bird. She felt a blob at her throat that caused her pain in gulping down her spit. She wondered why did the person on the other end of the phone did not speak.
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