Rohit’s temple pulsed faster than the blinking lights of an emergency vehicle. His being called for questioning was another attempt by the authorities to get to the bottom of what happened and catch the culprit. Unfortunately, all the evidence was stacked against him.

He looked up and pleaded innocence. ‘I… I didn’t do it. I didn’t steal that pencil.’

‘There is no reason to believe that you didn’t. The question is why did you, and what made you think you’d get away with it?’ The school principal was unrelenting.

There had to be a way to get at least someone to believe him. Rohit struggled to keep his thoughts coherent. What could he do to prove his innocence? Would they even believe him when there was proof of his guilt? Would they really deal him a punishment as severe as he feared?

Rohit addressed the person on his left and said, ‘I didn’t do it. I promise.’

His mother looked him in the eye and said, ‘I believe you.’

Two years later, he pleaded innocence again. ‘He hit me first. I didn’t do anything. Believe me.’

His mother looked at the principal and said, ‘I believe him. He cannot hurt a fly. Please let him go.’

Even when the whole world was up in arms against him, it was his mother who came to his rescue. Her belief in his innocence made all the difference. It was what he needed to get past all those allegations, despite glaring evidence that pointed to his accountability and involvement.

The soothing balm that is the unconditional love of a mother is all one needs during the toughest of times.

Twenty years later, he stood in the middle of the courtroom and pleaded innocence. He looked to his mother, and said, ‘I didn’t do it. I promise. I didn’t rape and kill her.’

‘I don’t believe you. Not this time.’