The unknown women

The clock struck 10 a.m. as Vikram Mehra sat at his desk, sifting through the pile of case files that had accumulated over the week. It was one of those relatively quiet mornings at the station, with only the occasional hum of chatter and the tapping of keyboards breaking the silence. His mind wandered briefly, thinking about the last case he had solved, but the sound of footsteps approaching snapped him back to attention.

"Sir, Inspector Kadam sent me to see you," a voice called out.

Vikram looked up to find a man standing in front of him, his demeanor calm yet serious. Dressed in a simple shirt and jeans, he carried a file under his arm. The man introduced himself, extending his hand.

"Tilak Bhati," he said with a polite nod.

Vikram rose from his chair and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Tilak. What brings you here?"

Tilak took a seat, placing the file on the desk between them. "Sir, I've been assigned to reopen a case from 1955."

Vikram leaned back slightly, surprised by the request. "1955? Is that the name of the case, or are we talking about the actual year?"

"The year, sir," Tilak clarified, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Vikram raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "A case that's more than 20 years old... What's it about?"

"A woman was found murdered in a forest back then. No one knew who she was, and she was given the name 'The Forest Woman.' Her face was so disfigured that identification was impossible at the time."

Vikram's expression turned thoughtful as he tried to process the relevance of a case so old. "What can we possibly uncover from a case that old? The murderer might not even be alive anymore. What's your connection to this?"

Tilak sat forward, his voice taking on a more passionate tone. "Sir, it's not about the murderer. The real injustice was what the police did — or didn't do — back then. They didn't take her case seriously, and because of that, she never had a proper identity. The community just labeled her 'The Forest Woman,' and the investigation led nowhere."

Vikram narrowed his eyes. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"The biggest problem, sir," Tilak continued, "was that the police back then tried to perform forensic anthropology themselves, without experts, which led to nothing but more confusion. They tried to reconstruct her face, but it turned out to be a disaster."

He handed Vikram a piece of paper — an old document with a crude sketch of a face that looked more like a ghost than a human being. Vikram couldn't help but stare in disbelief.

"What... what is this?" Vikram asked, holding the paper up to the light. "This looks more like something out of a horror movie than an actual person."

Tilak sighed, clearly frustrated. "Exactly, sir. When I saw this, I knew I had to do something. I specialize in craniofacial reconstruction. With today's technology, I can give her a real face. She deserves to be remembered, sir, not as some urban legend but as someone's daughter, maybe even someone's mother. I just want to help her find her family, if any still exist."

Vikram was quiet for a moment, taking in Tilak's words. There was something genuine about his determination. He wasn't chasing a mystery for the thrill of it; he wanted to give a nameless victim the justice she never received.

"Alright," Vikram finally said, standing up. "Let's see what we can do. I'll need to find the original case file. If it still exists, it'll take some time to locate."

Tilak nodded, understanding the complexity of the task. "Thank you, sir. I know it's a long shot, but I believe it's worth it."

Vikram began rummaging through the cabinets filled with dusty old files, pulling out one after another, his fingers running over the faded labels. "This might take a while," he said over his shoulder. "In the meantime, go home. I'll call you once I've found something."

Tilak stood, offering a respectful salute. "Thank you again, sir. I'll be waiting for your call."

As Tilak left the station, Vikram continued his search, the dim light of the station illuminating the rows of forgotten cases. He knew this wouldn't be an easy task, but something about Tilak's resolve had sparked his own curiosity. The truth had been buried in that forest for too long, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to dig it up again.

But what would they find? And more importantly, would it lead to any answers?

Vikram pulled open another drawer, this one filled with files from the 1950s. "Forest Woman…" he muttered under his breath. "Let's see if we can finally give you a name."

When he about to leave the room he encounter another file so he picked it up too.

The sun had barely risen over the city when Vikram received a call from Tilak Bhati, eagerly awaiting any news. It had been a long night of searching through dusty files and archived footage, but Vikram's curiosity was now more piqued than ever. He had promised Tilak they would give this forgotten woman a chance at justice, and now, they were closer to something—though what, Vikram didn't know yet.

Around mid-morning, Tilak arrived at the station, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a quiet determination. Vikram greeted him at his desk, holding out the old documents they had finally managed to dig up the night before.

"Here are the original reports," Vikram said, handing over the file. "It's not much, but it's all we've got to work with."

Tilak took the papers with a nod, carefully flipping through them. "I'll get to work on this right away, sir. I've got some newer methods that might give us a better result than that... monstrosity the police came up with back in the day."

Vikram smirked, remembering the crude, almost nightmarish sketch they had seen. "It's hard to imagine they thought that would help solve anything."

Tilak packed up the documents, looking up with a hint of excitement. "Give me a few days, and I promise I'll return with something better, something that might give us a clue about who she was."

"Take your time," Vikram replied. "But keep me updated. I want to know if you find anything unusual."

Tilak nodded again, then headed out of the station, leaving Vikram alone with his thoughts. The 1955 case had started to gnaw at him. It wasn't just the mystery of the woman's identity; it was the way the whole thing had been carelessly brushed aside all those years ago. This wasn't just an old case—it was a forgotten life.

As the hours passed, Vikram decided to take matters into his own hands. He logged into the police database and started searching for any surveillance footage from the area around the forest back in 1955. He didn't expect much, considering how old the case was, but sometimes luck played a role in these things.

After hours of sifting through grainy, black-and-white footage, something caught his eye. There, on the edge of the frame, was a woman—presumably the victim—walking along a path near the forest's edge. But what happened next made Vikram sit up straight. The woman was there, clear as day, then suddenly... gone. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.

He rewound the footage, playing it again and again, until he realized what had happened. There was a tree in the background, just off to the side of the camera's view. As the woman walked past it, something must have happened—something blocked her from view for just a second. But that was enough. She had been kidnapped, likely pulled into a vehicle, but the camera had missed it because of the tree.

"Damn it," Vikram muttered under his breath. "Someone took her, and we never even saw it."

He leaned back in his chair, frustration settling in. He had a clue, but no way to follow it. No one had seen anything back then, and any potential witnesses were long gone. This case was turning out to be more complicated than he had thought.

Hours passed, and Vikram kept digging through old files, trying to find anything that could give him a lead. He combed through missing persons reports, old newspaper clippings, anything that could tie this mysterious woman to a name or a family. But by the time the sun was setting, he had found nothing.

Just as he was about to give up for the day, Tilak returned, carrying a folder under his arm. He walked into Vikram's office with a sense of urgency.

"Sir," Tilak began, setting the folder on the desk. "I've got something."

Vikram's eyes lit up with interest. "What did you find?"

Tilak opened the folder and pulled out a sketch—a new, more detailed reconstruction of the woman's face. This one was far more human, far more lifelike than the crude attempt from 1955. Her features were soft but distinct, her eyes expressive, her lips slightly parted as if she were caught mid-thought. It was the face of a real person, not a ghost or a specter.

Vikram studied the sketch for a long moment, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. This was progress.

"She looks so… real," Vikram said softly.

Tilak nodded, clearly proud of his work. "It's a long shot, but maybe someone out there will recognize her. We might be able to find a relative or someone who can tell us who she was."

Vikram leaned back, his mind racing with possibilities. "This changes everything. We finally have a face. Now we just need a name."

Tilak smiled, hopeful for the first time. "I'll keep working, sir. I'm not stopping until we find out who she was."

Vikram nodded, feeling the weight of the mystery settle over him again. "We're getting closer," he said quietly. "But there's still so much we don't know."

Tilak gathered his things, promising to return with any new information. As he left the station, Vikram sat alone, staring at the woman's reconstructed face. Who was she? What had led her into that forest on that fateful day in 1955? And most importantly, why had no one cared enough to look for her all these years?

The answers were out there, somewhere, waiting to be uncovered.

The sky outside Vikram's office window had turned an ominous shade of gray. It had been days since he and Tilak had sent the newly reconstructed sketch of the unknown woman to every newspaper in the region, plastered it across notice boards, and spread it through various social channels. But the result was the same: silence.

Vikram sat at his desk, staring at the sketch that now felt like a ghost haunting him. A face with no name, no story, no justice. Tilak sat across from him, equally frustrated but far more patient.

"It's been almost a week, Tilak," Vikram sighed, pushing the papers away. "No one's come forward. Maybe it's time to close the case."

Tilak frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "You want to give up? We've gotten this far, sir. I know we're close."

"I'm not saying give up," Vikram replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But we've done everything we can. If no one recognizes her—"

A loud ring from the phone on Vikram's desk cut him off. He exchanged a glance with Tilak before picking up the receiver.

"Inspector Vikram Mehra," he answered.

A voice, soft and trembling, came through the line. "Hello? Is this... is this the police who put up that picture of a woman from 1955?"

Vikram's pulse quickened. "Yes, ma'am. Who is this?"

"My name is Savitri," the woman replied, her voice thick with emotion. "I think the woman in that picture... I think it's my sister. Her name was Prakrati. She went missing decades ago after visiting a temple."

Tilak's eyes widened, and he sat up straighter in his chair. Vikram felt a wave of hope, but he kept his tone steady. "Are you certain, ma'am? Can you tell me more about what happened to your sister?"

There was a pause on the other end, as if the weight of the memories was almost too much to bear. When Savitri finally spoke, her voice was heavy with sorrow. "Prakrati went to the temple one day, and she never came back. We searched for her everywhere. Filed a missing person's report, spoke to the police, but nothing came of it. They showed us a sketch once, years ago, but..."

"The sketch didn't look like her?" Vikram guessed, already knowing the answer.

"No," Savitri confirmed, her voice breaking. "It didn't look like her at all. We didn't even know where to start. We waited and waited, hoping she'd come back one day. But now, after all this time... it seems like she's finally been found. My sister can finally rest in peace."

Vikram glanced at Tilak, who was watching with bated breath. He could hear Savitri's quiet sobs on the other end of the line. It wasn't the ending they had hoped for, but it was an ending nonetheless.

"Thank you for calling, Savitri," Vikram said gently. "I know this is difficult, but if you could come down to the station to confirm some details, we'd appreciate it."

"I'll be there," Savitri whispered. "Thank you... for not forgetting her."

Vikram hung up the phone, a strange silence falling over the office. He leaned back in his chair, processing what had just happened. A missing person, finally identified after all these years. Prakrati had been found, not by luck, but by determination.

Tilak, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, suddenly smiled, a bittersweet expression on his face.

"You did it," Vikram said, looking at Tilak. "You really did it."

Tilak shook his head modestly. "We did it, sir. If it weren't for your persistence, I don't think we'd be here. And I'm just glad Prakrati can finally be recognized for who she was."

Vikram stood and walked over to the younger officer, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short, Tilak. You put in the work—risked your own time, even your career, to see this through. That takes more than just skill. It takes heart."

Tilak looked down, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I just couldn't let it go, sir. It didn't seem right that she was left in the dark like that. No one deserves to disappear without a trace."

Vikram nodded. "And thanks to you, she hasn't. You've given her family a chance to finally know what happened, and that's something no one else could do. You've got incredible determination, Tilak. Never forget that."

Tilak smiled again, this time with pride. "Thank you, sir."

They both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the case lifting, though not completely gone. There was still work to be done, paperwork to file, and an official investigation to close. But for now, they could both breathe a little easier.

As the day wound down, Vikram stared at the picture of Prakrati once more, her face no longer a haunting reminder of what was lost but a symbol of what had been found.

For the first time in a long while, Vikram felt something rare in his line of work—closure. He knew Prakrati's family could now have the same.