In the afternoon, a few police officers visited my home. One of them, an officer with three stars on his insignia named Rishi Kumar, spoke with me. I explained what happened the day before. My family members had taken photos of my diary, which contains sensitive information like my banking details and my Aadhar card, without my permission. This felt like a huge breach of trust and privacy.
Rishi sir listened carefully and connected me with Mr. Manmohan Sharma, a Junior Technical Expert from the National Commission for Women (NCW) in New Delhi. My legal representative had already filed a complaint with the NCW on my behalf. Mr. Sharma spoke to both me and my mother. He asked if I wanted to file an FIR (First Information Report) against my father. Without hesitation, I said yes. I had no choice, my father’s actions had crossed every boundary.
While this was happening, my father showed up and started making personal remarks and accusations about me. It was very uncomfortable. Rishi sir mentioned that the Circle Officer (CO) was on his way, and soon after, the officers had to leave. I begged them to take me with them, to get me out of this house, but they didn’t. They promised to return. I would soon learn, it was nothing but an empty promise.
As soon as the officers left, my father came into my room, where my mother, sister-in-law Princy, and the security guard Riya were already present. He claimed he had cracked my phone password, my bank passwords, and even knew my account balance. He taunted me with details: “You transferred 50,000 rupees from your PNB to SBI account in April. You have 19,000 rupees left in your PNB account.” He even knew my bank PIN. (I found out few months later that he has changed the pins of all my bank cards). How could he know all this? He didn’t stop there. He threatened to close my bank account and boasted about installing software to monitor me 24/7. He was watching my every move, recording everything.
As I sat there, he began recording me with his phone. I wasn’t doing anything. I was just existing in my own space, crying, but he followed me with his camera. He kept recording me. No matter where I went, he followed, filming me.
He called someone to get a SIM card registered in my name. They demanded my biometrics, including my fingerprints. I refused. How could I trust them? My father, sensing my resistance, mocked me. “If you have doubts, talk to the cybercrime department,” he said, and handed me the phone. I spoke to someone claiming to be from cybercrime, explaining everything. I demanded a lawyer before agreeing to anything. The person on the other end had no answers, no reassurance. It felt very shady and suspicious.
My father stayed in my room, refusing to leave even when I asked him repeatedly. He made a chilling comment, saying, “Your time is over,” which felt like a direct threat. To make matters worse, my parents and Princy searched my room and bathroom thoroughly, though I have no idea what they were looking for. It left me feeling violated and helpless. The worst part? DSP Amrish Kumar, who promised to return and help me leave this unsafe environment, never showed up. It was another broken promise. I waited, hoping, praying for rescue, but the day ended with me still trapped.
