The weight of a DECISION

A few days passed. Life slowly drifted back to its routine rhythm. One evening, Kriya, Kaaya, Akaay, and Nimish, along with Aaji and Aajoba, went out for dinner. The restaurant buzzed softly with conversation; laughter mingled with the clinking of cutlery. Everything felt ordinary again or at least, it seemed so.

In the middle of their meal, Nimish’s phone started ringing. He ignored it once, twice, five times. Aajoba finally frowned. “Answer it, beta. It might be important.”

With a reluctant sigh, Nimish excused himself and stepped outside. Through the glass window, Kaaya could see his silhouette pacing, phone pressed to his ear. His expression changed almost instantly calmness replaced by alarm.

A panicked voice on the other end stammered, “Sir, Mathew… He, Mathew…”

Nimish’s heart sank. “Yes, Siddappa, what happened to Mathew?”

(Mathew was a prisoner recently released on parole for good behaviour. Nimish’s psychological assessment had played a key role in convincing the authorities that Mathew was ready for the outside world.)

“Sir,” Siddappa said, his voice trembling, “Sir, Mathew has murdered the victim’s family. All seven members are confirmed dead. He set his own house on fire, he was furious with his parents for testifying against him. They’re in critical condition, undergoing treatment. He’s on the run. Media’s already outside the jail, they know about your report and are linking you to the parole decision. They’ve found out about your evaluation being instrumental in his release. Sir, please come here immediately. And be careful.”

Nimish froze. The world seemed to tilt beneath his feet. He felt the blood drain from his face. He could barely process what he was hearing. Something like this had never crossed his mind. "This couldn’t be real!"

From inside, Kriya noticed his restless movements, his clenched jaw. She whispered to Kaaya, “Is everything alright?” Kaaya glanced at him and nodded weakly, unsure herself. Moments later, Nimish rushed out without saying a word. Everyone was puzzled. 

Kaaya, quick to protect him, spoke softly, “He just texted me something urgent came up. He’s sorry. He had to leave.”

Hours turned into night. Ten hours passed and still, no sign of Nimish. His phone remained unreachable. Anxiety filled the house. When the landline rang, thinking it was Nimish, his mother hurried to answer, her voice sharp with worry. “Nimish! What’s this behaviour? Where are you?”

But it wasn’t him.

“Madam, this is Inspector Abhilash. Am I speaking to Mr. Ray’s mother?”

“Yes,” she whispered, clutching the receiver tighter.

“Madam, there’s a situation near Arthur Central Jail. For his safety, Mr. Ray will remain with us for some time. Once the situation calms down, we’ll bring him home.”

Her voice trembled. “What situation? Is he safe? Please tell me.”

The officer hesitated, then said quietly, “Madam… please turn on the news.”

She gestured to Kaaya, who switched on the television.

The headlines screamed across the screen: “MATHEW’S MURDER SPREE — PAROLED PRISONER KILLS SEVEN.”

Within hours, crowds gathered outside Arthur Jail. Reporters circled like vultures. Nimish’s face flashed repeatedly on the screen “Psychologist Behind Parole Decision.”

At the press briefing, Nimish stood alongside jail officials, his face pale but composed. He explained that his report had been professional and based on observed behaviour. But the media wasn’t listening. They accused him of corruption, of taking bribes, of being responsible for seven deaths. His words dissolved under the noise of angry questions and flashing cameras.

Outside, protests broke out. The mob shouted, demanding justice. When the police escorted Nimish out under heavy security, someone hurled a stone. Then another. Two struck him on the shoulder and forehead. He staggered, blood trailing down his temple, as the crowd screamed his name like a curse.

At home, everyone watched in horror. Kaaya covered her mouth, trembling. Kriya called immediately.

“Kaayu, did you see the news?”

Before she could reply, the doorbell rang. A few society members stood outside, anxious but supportive.

“Ma’am,” one said, “there are about thirty, maybe forty people gathered at the gate media too. We’ve called the police. Please don’t worry. We know Nimish’s integrity. He’s a professional.”

Nimish’s father thanked them quietly, though his voice broke halfway through. Then came another breaking update: Mathew’s parents had died during treatment.

It was close to midnight when Nimish was finally brought home secretly, quietly. He looked hollow, his spirit drained. His father grasped his hand; his mother wrapped him in a desperate embrace. Kaaya stood frozen, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kriya reached out and held her tightly.

Without saying a word, Nimish walked past everyone and locked himself in his room. The silence he left behind was heavier than any words.

Deep down, he knew what he could not admit aloud that his decision, his faith in redemption, had cost seven innocent lives.

Three days passed. The search for Mathew continued. Nimish had not stepped out of his room. His untouched meals sat outside his door, cold and forgotten.

And the house waited quiet, suffocating, heavy with the weight of guilt.

13/10/2025