Her new home was the opulent, marble-floored bungalow of Commander Rana, a man in his late fifties with cold, reptilian eyes. Her life became a silent, waking nightmare. She was given a uniform: a sheer, white saree worn without a blouse or petticoat, her branded ass and nipples constantly visible. Her days were a blur of domestic labor—scrubbing the floors, cooking the Commander’s meals, washing his clothes. At night, she was summoned to his bedroom. The violation was methodical, devoid of passion. He would fuck her from behind while forcing her to watch videos of Hindu mythology, his grunts a counterpoint to the epic chants on the screen. He would make her thank him for “purifying” her womb. If she cried, he would calmly explain that tears were an unclean fluid and punish her by making her clean the toilet with her tongue. Her spirit was not broken; it was pulverized into dust, leaving only a hollow shell that performed its functions without thought or feeling.
**Inaya (18, The Sister):**
Inaya, with her large, dark eyes and lithe, dancer’s body, was deemed a “Mare,” the most coveted category. She was destined for the National Integration Center. Her hair was also shaved, and she was subjected to the “re-education” program. She was injected with hormones that made her breasts swell and her skin hypersensitive. She was taught the Kama Sutra, not as an art of love, but as a manual of service. She was trained to dance, not for joy, but to arouse.
Her uniform was the same sheer saree, but she was also fitted with a small, silver bell that was clipped to her clitoris. It tinkled softly with every step she took, a constant, humiliating reminder of her purpose. Every night, the Integration Center held its ceremonies. Inaya would stand on a stage with a dozen other girls, her body trembling as wealthy Hindu men and their sons would inspect them like cattle.
One night, a portuous industrialist chose her. He took her to a private room, lavishly decorated. He didn’t rape her immediately. He made her pour him wine, then made her kneel and lick his boots. He spoke to her gently, a kindness that was more terrifying than any cruelty. He told her she was beautiful, that her suffering was a necessary sacrifice for a new, stronger India. Then, he tied her face-down to a bench and sodomized her for an hour, whispering praises to Shri Ram in her ear as she bled and screamed into a pillow. She became one of the most popular girls at the center, prized for her vacant, doll-like eyes and her complete lack of resistance. She was a vessel, a perfect instrument of pleasure, her mind retreated so far into itself that she no longer recognized her own face in the mirror.
**Hamid (16, The Son):**
Hamid and his father were taken to the Re-Education and Labor Camp. His father, a proud man who tried to resist, was beaten to death in the first week for refusing to eat beef. Hamid was left alone. His head was shaved, and he was branded with a trishul on his forehead. He was no longer Hamid. He was Resource M-7341.