by Nillu Nasser
“Am I in any trouble?” Akash asked her. He looked down at his hands. They throbbed. Zahid’s blood had spattered there. Jaya’s ring hung by a thread.
“No. He is badly hurt, but he’ll survive. You’ll have to come down to the station, of course, but Janghir Saheb here told us everything. He saw Zahid use the knife. You have self-defence wounds.”
Akash followed her eyes to the wounds on his arm, one in his leg. He hadn’t felt a thing, but now they burned and he knew he was alive. He nodded, spent of emotion.
There was nothing left to say. Akash walked towards Janghir Saheb on legs that felt ungrounded, separate from his body. The older man grasped him as he would a son. Akash did not spare a glance for Tariq’s killers. It was over. It was a new day.
Chapter 43
Jaya stood on the beach waiting for him, as planned. She had promised she’d be there, but still Akash held his breath as he rounded the corner and only expelled it when he recognised her silhouette against the cloudless sky. The world grew quiet when he looked at her. The pain fell away. She wore Western dress today, his wife. My wife, alive and well, and with me. She had trained her eyes on the horizon, serene, a strong, honest woman doing nothing but holding his future in her hands. Akash’s lips stretched into a smile, too wide, until he felt like a goon.
Excitement propelled him towards her. He yearned to hear her voice, understand her every thought, undo the pain he had caused. He wanted to tell her about Tariq, his kind, funny friend, and the justice he and Fortes had somehow engineered despite the odds. He longed to tell her about Arjun’s invitation. How his son wanted to have dinner, how Jaya could accompany him, if she wanted. They could take this first step together towards being a family.
His excitement gained force as he crossed the sand towards her, ignoring back packers and sun worshippers. He had so much to share. He wanted everything now, to empty his thoughts into her head so she could understand how every fibre of his being was up to the task of earning her forgiveness, of being the most wonderful husband. Slow down, Akash, he told himself, you have all the time in the world. Don’t overwhelm her, you idiot.
He touched her, and she didn’t flinch. She turned to face him. His hot fingers ignited a trail of goosebumps down her bare arm despite the heat. Her expression didn’t mirror his joy, and Akash’s spirits dipped.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
Her chest rose underneath the bodice of her dress as she took a deep breath. Up close, the shape of the dress reminded him of the one she’d burned in. He saw the flames for a moment, the freshly cooked samosas sitting unscathed on the work surface behind her, then blinked the demons away. Everything would be okay.
“Shall we sit?” he asked gently, and led her to the dunes.
They sat, side by side, their bodies carving moulds into the dirty yellow of the beach. Her skirt rose, travelling upwards. Pitted skin, light and dark, showed underneath. She watched him carefully and he sensed her anxiety. He met her challenge, neither gawping nor turning his gaze. He drank in the marks of their history, and reached out to trace them with his calloused fingers.
Jaya grasped his hand firmly, stopping him in his tracks.
“Wait, there is more.” She took off her shoes, undoing the laces. Her choice of shoe stood out as unusual. Most women in India chose sandals. She peeled off her ankle socks. He understood then why her gait was unsteady, the reason for her limp. Sorrow weighed heavy within him as he pivoted in the sand to sit opposite her. The sun beat down on them, exposing, warming. He took her feet in his hands, kissing them with singular intent, feather-light caresses, uncaring about who might see them on the open expanse of beach. First, her right foot with its chipped nail varnish, and then her left one, with its stumps for toes. If only he’d been able to stop her. If only he had declared the love that was buried in him, underneath his immaturity and vanity, underneath the conviction that nothing untoward could ever happen to him or anyone he loved.
Jaya neither pulled away nor softened into his embrace. “Akash.”
He let go of her and saw a seriousness in the planes of her face that he wanted to erase.
“I need you to hear me. These scars are nothing compared to the scars inside. I gave into an urge of annihilation. I lit the match; you left me to burn.”
“Jaya, I tried that day. I couldn’t break down the door. Your screams, I couldn’t see you die.”
She studied his face. “I believe you.”
He shuddered with relief.
“But know this. Pain changes us. I lost my trust in myself and in others after you left. I pushed everyone away because they weren’t you. I missed out on children. Even after the slow rehabilitation, when the raw wounds had closed, I carried my grief with me, a silent companion.” She paused. “I need to tell you this. I searched for you initially because I wanted to see you broken. Then, I searched for you for closure. Eventually, I searched for you because I realised the old me had died but my love for you lived.”
It pained him to hear this, but like her, he realised they needed to excavate their past to progress beyond it. However much his ego, small though it was, compelled him to defend himself, he refused. He had earned these arrows. He would not silence her.
She cut through his thoughts. “I won’t let sorrow and guilt get in the way of us. We won’t carry that weight. I understand now, there is no love without pain. It’s proof of engagement, of being in the fray. There are never any guarantees of a happy ending. I need you to do one thing with me.”
“Anything.” He meant it.
“It is time.” She bent to put her shoes and socks back on.
“For what?”
“To face my parents.”
The market traders had packed away by the time Jaya and Akash reached her parents’ house in Bandra. Jaya slipped her key into the lock and turned it. The door opened, and she took Akash’s hand. He squeezed it, apprehensive. It irked her to see how he had attempted to make himself presentable this morning, combing out his coarse hair, shaving his patchy beard, as if an improved appearance would sway her parents’ opinion of him. She knew how this would unravel. For so long, Jaya had dreamt of honesty with her parents, but now the moment had arrived, her insides twisted, nerves throbbing, heart rate heightened. It thrummed in her ear like a hummingbird’s wings.
She had called Ruhi en route, her plea urgent through her old handset, her fingers determined, clumsy. “Meet me there?”
“Of course. You’re going to tell them?” Ruhi’s concern radiated across the sound waves.
“Yes.”
“They won’t like it.”
“No.” Beside her, Akash pretended not to listen.
“I’ll be there in a quarter of an hour,” said Ruhi.
“Don’t prepare them.”
“I won’t.”
The house smelt of samosas, hot oil and pungent vegetables as they entered. Jaya’s stomach turned. Samosas still made her think of the day of the fire. She grasped Akash’s hand tighter. She’d expected reluctance from him, but he matched her step for step. Her hand fitted into his larger one like a jigsaw puzzle. Her father looked up from the television, roused by their footsteps. He paled. Not a word of greeting.
“Minakshi!” he called to his wife.
Jaya and Akash waited next to Lord Vishnu’s shrine, side by side, expectant and ready. The god watched them, his four arms suspended in time, his cloud-coloured visage unmoved. Her mother emerged from the kitchen, behind her a woman Jaya recognised from temple. She should have known her mother would never have taken it upon herself to cook independently.
“Oh!” said her mother, covering her mouth in surprise. She recovered quickly. “Kanthibai, I’m sorry, you need to go. This is a family matter.” Her voice took on a tone of outrage. “And this is unacceptable of my daughter.”
“This is very unusual, Minakshi,” said Kanthibai, harrumphing. She waddled past, her stomach shaking underneath her salwar, like
a snow-capped mountain preparing to avalanche. She ogled Jaya and Akash as she retrieved her purse, her tongue itching to wag as soon as she stepped outside. Ruhi darted through the open door just in time for the fireworks.
“I came as quickly as I could,” she said, huffing with exertion, dishevelled.
“What’s the meaning of this, Jaya?” Her mother puffed up her chest like a parrot’s. “This man is dead to us.” She surveyed Akash from head to foot, her lip curled, then directed a venomous glance at their joined hands.
Her father stood up, shedding his usually gentle demeanour. “I told you never to come back!” he bristled.
“That’s just it. You took my choice away from me,” said Jaya. Her father shrank. “I thought Akash had left. It broke me. But he came back. Twice. And I didn’t know.”
Ruhi reddened. She, too, had lied. The best intentions counted for nothing in the face of untruths.
“You honestly forgive this man, you stupid girl?” spat her mother.
“It was you who advised me to agree to this marriage the first time, mother, or don’t you remember? Perhaps your outrage is really targeting me rather than Akash. A disobedient daughter is worth nothing, isn’t that true?”
Her mother failed to register Jaya’s sarcasm. “We brought you up to listen to your elders.”
Jaya let go of Akash’s hand and felt power pulse through her. “We sacrifice ourselves at the altar of family. But what if that family is not functional? What if your mother does not want to mother you? What if instead of freeing you she ensnares you in age old traps out of some corrupted sense of tradition? What if she is so resentful of the way her own life turned out that she supports those same traps by her silence and agreement? What if she wants you to shrink yourself for her own comfort?”
“A mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child,” said her mother. The words reached out and slapped Jaya as if they had been a physical blow.
She stood her ground.
Her father stepped forward. “We love you, Jaya. We tried our best. We had no sons. We invested everything in the two of you. This man is not worthy of you.”
“You’re wrong,” said Jaya. “We all make mistakes.” Her heart broke as she looked at the man she thought had been her supporter. “You knew, Papa. You knew all along. You paid Akash’s parents for ‘a clean break’. My dowry as payment for hiding our skeletons. To keep the peace. Your peace. So you could distract from my scars by pointing to another ogre in the room.” Her bitterness seeped into the air, causing discomfort. Good, she thought. I am not a marionette. This is real. “It’s not Akash on trial here. It is you and Maa. It is India. Can India continue to tolerate crimes against women? Can our parents and grandparents continue to be complicit?”
Her mother grabbed her arm. The nails dug into the bare flesh of Jaya’s arm. Akash and Ruhi stepped forward, vigilant, ready to intervene. Jaya held up her hand, signalling them to stay back.
“You always had ideas above your station. Even as a little girl I had to beat it out of you. A doctor, a lawyer? Not my daughter. You weren’t bright enough for that. I saved you. That marriage, being in the home, that’s where you could have found your place, but you had to ruin that. You weren’t even capable of that.” Her mother nodded over to Akash. “You should be grateful we let you come back here. Really, what good are you to him? A broken, sad woman like you? You think I didn’t know all those years what you were looking for in those newspapers?”
Jaya spoke quietly. “I’m not sure you’ve ever known a day of true happiness, mother.” She bent to touch her mother’s feet, then her father’s. “This is what you want. Love as servitude, as duty, as pain. Can’t it be more?”
Her mother threw her a look of disgust. “I’m warning you, Jaya. You’ll never be happy with that...that vagrant.”
“Enough. My choices are mine alone.” Jaya turned to Ruhi. Ruhi was always there. “Can you arrange for my things to be collected?”
Her sister ignored their bristling mother and hugged her. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll call you.”
“I’ll be waiting. You know my door is open.”
“I know,” said Jaya.
Ruhi’s embrace grew in intensity. “I knew you could do it, my brave, kind sister.” Ruhi stretched out her arms to include Akash in her embrace. He stood, awkward next to Jaya. It was time to go. “Be happy,” she whispered.
Jaya blinked back her tears and took Akash’s hand once more. As they stepped out of the only home Jaya had ever really known into their new life together, the garlanded statue of Vishnu smiled. Her spirit soared at the thought of a fresh beginning, an unblemished page for their new story. She flung her house keys onto the stairs as they left the familiar and the binding behind.
Chapter 44
Akash guided Jaya back towards the beach. The sea washed away his fears. The vast waters reminded him the earth would continue to turn despite human fortunes. Why wouldn’t it help Jaya, too? Their procession, hands linked, summoned grainy memories of the past, their walk looping around the flame at their wedding.
“Are you all right?” asked Akash. Jaya mirrored his step, silent and pensive.
“I will be.”
He didn’t insist on unpacking what had occurred. There would be plenty of time for that in the days that followed. Instead, he pulled her into his arms when they reached the beach, and she relaxed into him inch by inch with the fumbling awkwardness of a newborn foal.
“It shouldn’t be this way, not yet, but in your arms I feel safe,” she said, and he held her tighter.
Akash traced out the constellations for her: Saptarshi, Kalpurush, Vrishabh. Over the years the sky had become as familiar to him as wallpaper to a house-proud man. He intimately knew its every colour, its every form. He grew fearful when the customary shapes morphed into something altogether alien and monstrous. It couldn’t be a bad omen, there was nothing left to fear.
He didn’t know how to chase away his disquiet and so he repeated what he had told her before but she hadn’t believed, hoping that the words would bring her comfort when she felt alone.
“I love you.”
Her eyes were black wells of endless depth when she looked at him. She faced the sea, and her words floated away on the wind so he had to strain to hear her. “One thing I have learned, though it has taken me a lifetime to understand it, is never to regret love, in all its forms. My love for my sister, my love for my parents, however flawed, my love for my nephew and my friends, my love for you. That love never went away, though I was hurt. I feel the same about Soraya. Your love for her happened. You don’t need to wish it away. It created Arjun. I am happy for you. Anything else would only harm myself.” Had the tides been turned, Akash felt sure his bitterness would have eroded their second chance, a seeping poison. He accepted her graciousness with relief.
Eventually, Jaya tired and her head lolled against his chest. She had not spoken of where she might go and Akash avoided it, not wanting to misstep. The beach was no place for his wife to sleep. So he woke her, nuzzling her cheek with his cracked lips.
“Would you like me to take you to Ruhi or Firoz?”
“No. Tonight, I want to come with you.”
“To Janghir Saheb’s store? Are you sure? I don’t own many possessions. It is not a home.” Shame filled him at the thought of how little he had to offer her.
“I’m sure. It is yours.” Jaya’s eyelids drooped with weariness and protectiveness surged within him, as if she were a small child and he her father.
The night had cooled and she shivered. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, and helped shake the sand from her dress. They strolled through the murky streets while Akash kept watch for a passing rickshaw. The city reeked of body odour and spices, of agarwood and tobacco, but when he leant his head on the clouds of her hair he could smell only coconut and sun.
When they arrived, Akash unlocked the shop and ushered Jaya inside, where she waited in the darkness for him
to join her. She followed him through the aisles to the back room, where he turned on the light. Her eyes swept across his meagre possessions neatly stacked in the corner. She hesitated and he feared she regretted it all.
He set to work making a bed for her, unrolling the blankets, layering them so Jaya would be comfortable. He didn’t presume that he would sleep next to her. The chair would suit him just fine. It honoured him to sacrifice his comfort for her.
She sat on the bed. “Come,” she said, eyes downcast, shielding her emotion from him. It pulsed there, beneath the surface, anxiety and longing, too. She patted the bedding. Fear paralysed Akash. Clammy air weighed on him. He stood, motionless, until she beckoned him again.
He didn’t need the perfect love story. Bollywood was obsolete to him, like a hothouse bloom in an artificial colour. He needed Jaya, the truth only she could offer him. She held his gaze in the harsh light, her tiredness forgotten as she unfastened the tiny buttons at her bodice, slipping her arms out of the capped sleeves and letting the material drape at her waist. His breath caught in his throat. He wanted to dart feather kisses across her body, but he held back. He wanted it to be perfect, not to sully her by making love to her in a back office. More than that, he wasn’t sure if he was enough.
“I break everything I touch,” he said.
She sought his eyes and forced him to hold her gaze.
Electricity shot through him as his body responded.
“You are my husband are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then touch me.” The shadows played on her skin. The power was all hers, and she knew it.
He sucked in a ragged breath. He worried she’d find him repulsive. The years had changed him. He could not hide his yellowed teeth, his weathered skin that always seemed dirty, or the twisted sculpture of his skeletal frame. “Shall I turn the lights off?”
“No.”
She unhooked her bra and lifted her hips to unfasten her skirt at her waist. Akash’s breath caught in his throat, and, for a moment, he forgot everything but her. She beckoned him, and he pushed her skirt gently over her rounded hips, marvelling at the skin underneath. She lay there in all her vulnerability and splendour, and he’d never loved her more than in that instant.