But this horror film is different. It will not have ghosts and the paranormal. Doors opening by their own self. Headless torsos and torso-less heads. This one is about the horror of sheer terror.

The protagonist always looking over her shoulder. Scared silly the unexpected knock on the door will come. And it will not be the postman!

The central character is a woman in her twenties. Married and employed. The job not plum but quite the pick of the apple. A quiet job at a quiet desk in the quiet of a paneled library.

Surrounded by books. Thick and slim books. Hidebound and not hidebound. Neither fiction nor non-fiction. But about laws and the interpretation of those laws. Observations. Rulings. Judgements…

She works in the library, 9-5, seated amidst the debris of decades of legal battles fought in the drab interiors of halls where legal minds took a stroll and either came stuck at a T-point or found their way to breakthroughs.

Enter the second protagonist, not young as she but older by far. A person steeped in erudition who quotes from the Classics in his judgements. Who is at the pinnacle of his career and presides over the highest constitutional body of the land.

He’s democracy’s shield. Protector of the weak and infirm. The final arbitrator. With a keen mind and a keen eye that spots the ‘she’ in the library. A spark of interest. “What is his role, if he’s the villain, should we be looking for somebody like Amjad Khan or Amrish Puri?” asks the interested producer.

The screenplay writer laughs. No, the actor should be nondescript, somebody who you walk past and not notice. Scholarly and neat, with an old world charm about him. Harmless looks and a quiet voice. You know the deceptive sort. One you will miss in the crowd but who will stand out in the picture.

“How about Alok Nath?” asks the producer, his interest piqued! The screenplay writer nods absently, his mind and eyes on the script. The plot thickens. Backroom decisions are taken. The young woman loses her place in the library. “But, hey, wait you’re still on the job; just a shift of scenery. You will assist the Big Man from his residence office. He wants a bright young assistant to help him get to the bottom of things.”

The young protagonist is thrilled. To be noticed and rewarded for hard work is every employee’s dream come true. ‘He’ is so kind hearted. Well, dreams have a habit of shattering. And this reward has straying hands, the embrace of which revolts the young woman. She leaves but not before Whatsapp and text messages and a promise not to talk to anybody, not even to the husband. Secrets are not dreams.

“Then, why does he not stop, why hound her?” asks the screenplay writer’s teenage daughter. “It’s all over, isn’t it?” No, it’s not over, not for him. It’s about human nature. What cannot be possessed should be destroyed. It’s also about power. How dare she refuse? And also about a skewed sense of justice. Did he not do her favours, got a job for a relative? The ingrate.

“What does he do to her?” This time it’s the screenplay writer’s wife. He smiles, she should know; she should be reading him like a book after all these years of living together. “Imagine the entire might of the State falling on your back. Imagine the brute force of the law at your door. Imagine being handcuffed and locked up. Imagine everyone in the family destroyed, losing perfectly safe jobs one after the other…

“Imagine the horror of not knowing what will happen tomorrow; in the morning, late in the evening; in the dead of the night, the wee hours when even ghosts retire. Imagine afraid to step outdoors for fear of the possible. Imagine no doors opening for you. Nobody to reach out to for succour. Imagine even relatives giving you a wide berth. Imagine the sheer terror of being alive!”

And, then, imagine the Big Man walking free. With a clean chit in his straying hand. He holds court and he knows the law well. That it can be skewed at will. Imagine the horror. Imagine. “The young woman shudders. All young women should shudder after watching the movie. The ball was never in her court,” concludes the screenplay writer. (IPA Service)