I, Shawn Phillips woke up in the cold, dark cell, my eyes numb and my jaw sore laying still staring at the black, stone ceiling. Noises of people suffering in pain echoing in my ears but nothing could be seen. It was like I had been paralyzed from head to toe where only my brain and my eyes worked. Lying there on the cold, stone floor, the only thing I could remember was what happened eight months ago. It had been eight months since I had been brought here but it feels like just yesterday.
It was the trip to Grant Road which changed my life forever. It was something Vikram, my best friend suggested doing one night. He told me that the road was mainly active at night. I didn't have a good feeling about that at all. I didn't want to go but he forced me so I had no choice. He was my best friend so I did have his trust. Grant Road was not what I expected it to be. It was worse. It was the low rundown area of India where people lived in slums and to make it worse it was the red light area. “Where have you brought me Vik?” I asked him before we got out of the taxi. I did not like the way the women were eying me. It was scary. I had read about all that but I didn't expect to ever have been in a situation like that.
“Relax. You're gonna love this just come on OK”. He assured me but still I was not relaxed because I had a bad feeling about what was to come to me so I decided not to go in and told Vikram to go by himself. I protested strongly, refusing to move away from the taxi. I didn't listen to any more of his manipulated words. Instead I sat down in the taxi again.
Few hours later I woke up as I seemed to have fallen asleep. I saw people running around desperately from someone. I looked from the rear window and saw the police chasing after those guys. I thought why? There must have had been a raid but wasn't all that legal? I got out of the taxi to search for Vikram, but before I could, the driver told me that I had forgotten my bag. I hadn't brought a bag with me so where did that come from? I thought but then it struck me that Vikram had brought one so I took it and ran in search for Vikram. People were rushing into me and I couldn't see very clearly when suddenly I was cornered by the police.
“Stop where you are and put your hands up!” One of the officers ordered.
I did as I was told. They took the bag off me. I wondered why they wanted the bag. What was the big deal with Vikram's bag and why was I being held for it? I couldn't see what they were doing because they were behind me and I was not allowed to turn around. They spoke Hindi so I couldn't even understand what they were saying.
The next thing I knew I was being escorted by two constables to the police van. I protested that I had done no crime so why was I being taken. But I was told to shut up and they even slapped me on the head a few times. They cuffed me and threw me into the van.
In the interrogation room they asked me all sorts of questions. “OK Mr. Norton where…” I interrupted them because I heard them say my wrong name.
“Excuse me, but my name is not Mr. Norton, it is Shawn Phillips.” They conferred with each other and then they took something out of the bag. In front of me I saw a British passport, a few documents and some stamped papers, as well as some packets of powder. They showed me the passport. It had my photo on it but my name was not Shawn Phillips. It was Micheal Norton and according to the documents and the packets I was a drug dealer working for a gang in India but smuggling abroad. It was too much news for me. I was being convicted for someone I was not. I tried many ways to prove my innocence. Even told them about my tour group and the hotel I was living at, they told me that there was nothing of the sort. I panicked. I told them about my parents and if they would allow me to call them home. I was glad that they did allow me. Some how, luck was not with me as the number kept on coming as invalid. I had lost all of my prospects to prove I was not who they were saying I was. I lost my identity completely. But I still had my alibi, Vikram. He was the only one left who could have had revealed my true identity to the police. “Sir please, let me call my friend who will tell you the truth.” I pleaded.
They again conferred with each other. Then I saw the officer order the other constables to do something but since it was in Hindi I couldn't understand. I couldn't understand why they were not letting me talk to Vikram. Something had to be wrong with him, but what was it? “Sir, please. Why aren't you letting me just make one phone call?”
“Be quiet! You'll speak when you're asked to speak”. They kept on shutting me down like that. I never knew what happened to Vikram and why they kept him away from me. I suffered through their allegations and their brutal beatings day and night. There was not one time they didn't decide to either screw my face up or smash my ribs.
And now it had been eight months since I had been Micheal Norton and not Shawn Phillips. Nobody looked back at me in these months and nobody even came looking for me. It was like I was living a complete new identity without my consent, something that had been created by the cruel society just for their entertainment. Every night I lowly cried in my mind over my fate. “What happened suddenly that everything turned against me? Had I been living a lie all this time or is this a lie that I am living right now?” thoughts emerged in my head over and over again. Thinking was the only thing my body enabled me to do, other wise it just laid there still like a stone.
My only motive then was to wait. Wait for a miracle to arrive which would bring my old identity, Shawn Phillips back or wait to die from the brutality and grief.
