Devi

by Nag Mani

  Two women came to ask her if she wanted to attend the ceremony. Aditi didn’t want to, she was too weak for that. But there was nothing she could do in the room either. Why not watch her bitch get all the blood she had been craving for?

  Her bitch.

  Her fucking bitch.

  She held their arms and limped to the temple. Hundreds of villagers had gathered in and around the campus. Boys sat on trees on the rear side, eagerly waiting for the show. Woman had formed their own group at a respectful distance from the sacrificial platform. Razzak and his family were near the temple steps, looking dazzled and lost. The Mukhiya was in a dhoti; his men and family, all dressed for an occasion far more cheerful, were busy giving instructions and pretending to be important.

  Fifty-one goats were tied to a tree beside the temple. White. Black. Brown. Red. Small. Big. Bigger. They moved around in excitement as people offered them water and tender grass. Children, those who chose to stay on the ground and not climb on trees, poked them and laughed. Mothers made them touch their feet to take blessings. The goats were pleased with the sudden change in their behaviour. They ate the tender grass and drank clean water and skittered showers of tiny brown goblets from their rear. They were happy when a priest began to ring a bell in his hand. They were happy when he began to chant. They were happy when one of them was carried to the platform, washed and worshipped… then its front legs pulled back, its head jammed in the wooden stump. A short, curved sword came down like lightning. First came the sound of metal rushing through flesh and bones and then of a head hitting the floor. The headless body fell and squirmed, blood rushing out of the neck in rhythm to its failing heart.

  It was then that the goats realised that everything came for a price.

  Aditi took a place near the campus wall, one towards the pond, overlooking the fields beyond. She leaned against the wall, as the goats were untied and dragged – they were reluctant to leave the herd now – to the platform. She kept an eye on the dark, vacant shrine, alert to catch any unexpected sight. Her elbow rubbed against someone. They both turned to look.

  “Namaste, Madam!” an old woman said in a surprisingly sweet voice.

  Aditi had seen her the first time she came to the temple. She nodded in return.

  “Look at the poor girl,” the old woman continued, raising her chin towards Zoya, “she must be terrified.”

  “And the Devi must be pleased,” Aditi mumbled. My fucking bitch.

  There was silence. The woman tried to say something. She had opened her mouth when Aditi cut her, “Why do you come here? What do you pray for?”

  “We all have our secret little wishes.”

  “Little wishes whose price is the lives of little girls?”

  “That is what happens when you blindly believe in traditions, without knowing why those traditions were created.”

  “What happens?”

  “This,” the old woman looked at the crowd in general.

  “What?”

  “They are blind in their beliefs. They think the Devi took those beautiful girls.” Aditi narrowed her eyes. “And here they are,” the woman continued, half smiling, “appeasing the Devi. Making her stronger.”

  “What are you trying to say? They didn’t die a natural death. I saw. I was there.”

  “The Devi didn’t kill them. That is not the way she takes life.”

  “Then, how does she?”

  “If she did, you would know.”

  Aditi let the words sink in. If she did, you would know. If…

  The Devi didn’t kill them? She looked around nervously at the eager faces of the villagers. The goats were being dragged and beheaded. Dozens of bleeding heads lay in a heap in front of the wooden post. Blood had clotted on the platform on its way to the drain, bright in the middle, darker on the sides.

  “I saw a man,” Aditi whispered, unsure if she was asking or stating.

  The woman nodded to herself. “I thought so.”

  “What? You know? You know this man?”

  She didn’t nod this time. “I know a thing or two, Madam. Things only a few know.”

  “Tell me about it? Who is this man? And what is happening here? Why did the girls die? Who killed them?”

  The woman was looking ahead at something. “I will tell you some time. Call for me when you are free. Maybe…”

  There were hurried footsteps. Rustling of sari. Then Gauri grabbed Aditi’s arms and pulled her away. “You! Get lost you filthy old woman! How dare you talk with Madam!”

  “I was asking her…” Aditi tried to pull back.

  “No Didi, please, you can’t talk to her. She is a daayan. And why are you even here, woman? Get lost! Get out! And what are you doing here, Didi? Why aren’t you with us? Why are you standing here, with your swollen ankle? You should sit there. Come…”

  People were looking now. So were the goats, the live ones, and the dead.

  “How do I call for you?” Aditi asked, as she limped towards the temple.

  “Ask Arvind,” the woman replied and sat down on her haunches, ignoring the hostile glances being thrown at her.

  *

  If you turn the knob of a kerosene lamp, the wicker is pulled in and the flame begins to flicker, until it dies completely. If you turn it the other way, the wicker rises and so does the flame, sending wisps of black carbon up through the narrow opening on top, until the wicker collapses and the flame dies due to insufficient oxygen. And if the wicker doesn’t collapse, the glass will soon be covered with soot and will absorb most of the light. The lamp in Aditi’s room was well adjusted. The flame was smooth and even. She sat on the bed with her back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. Beside her, the window was shut. It had been open till some time ago, moonlight casting a silvery rectangle that stretched on the floor and then rose up the opposite wall, outshining the light of the poor lamp. When Aditi looked out, she saw bare land stretch till the horizon under a clear starry sky and a brilliant moon. Intertwined, dark shapes of trees rose at the horizon. The land seemed to be ploughed, with a few structures here and there. There was no trace of man-made light. It was a view of a world devoid of human presence. It was divine. And it was frightening. Aditi had shut the window and crept back to her bed.

  Her skin was burning. Fever. She stared at the dark, wooden door in front of her. Her ears were strained to the sounds coming from outside. The general din of human activities began to die. There seemed to be a cow shed nearby, for she heard gentle tinkering of tiny bells. A child was coughing in one of the rooms in the house.

  It wasn’t the Devi, the old woman had said. It was not the way she killed. Then, how did she? Aditi would know if she killed one. How did she, the old woman, know that she, Aditi, would know if she, the Devi, killed one. Had she, the Devi, killed anyone before in recent time?

  Then there was this man. She recalled seeing him outside the window. Even though she was fainting, she knew there was something unusual about the sight, only that she couldn’t remember what it was. She felt extremely weak. She wanted to lie down. But she knew that sleep wouldn’t come. So she stared at the lamp instead, the only thing that seemed to be alive and moving in the room.

  Inhale. Exhale. 109.

  Inhale. Exhale. 108.

  Inhale. Exhale. 107.

  When would Manoj return? What was so bloody urgent?

  Inhale. Exhale. 106.

  Inhale. Exhale. 105.

  How was Zoya doing? Was she, Zoya, still awake like her, Aditi?

  Inhale. Exhale. 104.

  Inhale. Exhale. 103.

  Inhale. Exhale. 102.

  Inhale. Exhale. 101.

  Who was that man? That man she saw by the window…

  Inhale. Exhale. 100.

  Inhale. Exhale. 99.

  Zeenat was creeping up her window…

  Inhale. Exhale. 98.

  Inhale. Exhale. 99.

  Inhale. Exhale. 98.

  Inhale. Exhale. 97.

  Inhale. Exhale. 96.


  Inhale. Exhale. 95.

  Was Arvind really sick? Sick like Laila had told her.

  Inhale. Exhale. 96.

  Inhale. Exhale. 95.

  Inhale. Exhale. 94.

  Did she repeat the numbering somewhere…

  Inhale. Exhale. 93.

  Inhale. Exhale. 92.

  Inhale. Exhale. 91.

  How was her house back in Purnia? The gardener was the least punctual. He would have killed her roses by now.

  Inhale. Exhale. 90.

  Inhale. Exhale. 89.

  Inhale. Exhale. 88.

  Inhale. Exhale. 87.

  Inhale. Exhale. 86.

  Inhale. Exhale…

  Inhale. Exhale. 85.

  Inhale. Exhale. 84.

  Inhale…

  Did she miss a count? What was the last number? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember when she last remembered. Had she dozed off? How much time had passed since…

  And all of a sudden it struck her. The man… outside the window… Now she realized what was odd. He couldn’t have been standing outside.

  They were on the second floor!

  She opened her eyes. The passive shadows had become agitated. They were flickering angrily up and down the walls. Aditi had just moved to turn the knob when she heard something. It was the jingling of bangles. She felt someone pass outside her door. One of the many maids, maybe…

  But then the maid returned.

  Slowly. Lingering outside...

  Aditi watched the shadow in the gap under the door darken.

  Then came the tune of an old song. Someone was humming.

  The movements behind the door ceased. Aditi felt a heaviness that had suddenly crept into her room. Someone was breathing outside. Loud and raspy. Humming all along.

  No! It could not be the Devi!

  “Who… who’s there?” Aditi almost choked out the words.

  The humming stopped.

  The breathing continued.

  “Answer me! Who’s there?” she managed to say it clearly this time.

  Then came a voice. Loud and raspy. Like the breathing.

  “YOUR FUCKING BITCH!”

  The next second froze. Aditi on her bed. The shadow outside the room.

  Then the door burst open.

  In the doorframe stood a tall woman. The aanchal of her sari was draped over her head, her face veiled in its shadows. Her hair fell till her waist. She entered the room with all the authority in the world. The door shut behind her.

  Aditi backed against the wall on her bed. She saw the woman’s face as she glided into the room.

  There was no face, just a swirling chaos of dark vapours in its place.

  Aditi screamed and screamed. Then her throat began to hurt. Her body shuddered. She began to cry.

  The Devi rose in the air. Aditi covered her face.

  “Who is this child? Let me see,” the Devi said in a bold, rather seductive voice, as she sat down next to Aditi. The room grew darker. The air thicker. “This child who wants a baby?” Then her tone changed, it was that of a mother pampering her child, “Show me your face, dear. Look at me!”

  Aditi pulled her knees closer to her chest and buried her face in between, her body trembling. She jerked as rough fingers crawled through her hair. She felt her heart go cold. The fingers stopped. Then all of a sudden, they gripped her hair and pulled with unfathomable strength. Aditi was forced to look up at the darkness swirling in the canopy of wire like hair. There was no trace of a face. No slits for eyes or lips or nose. Just chaos and madness.

  “She wants a baby,” the Devi said, chuckling. “Is that what you came to me for? With your promises of goats and lambs?” The fingers pushed and pulled. Went round and round. Threatened to pull every hair off her scalp. “That is what they all promise! Blood worthless than dirt! Can you not offer me more, lovely child? Is that what your wish is worth? Can you not offer me real blood? Human blood, my dear?” The fingers left her hair. Now they began to caress her back. Touching her skin ever so softly, leaving a trail of coldness behind.

  “No,” Aditi mumbled, “I don’t want anything…” her voice not audible to even herself.

  “Now she doesn’t want anything?” The fingers were moving down her thighs now. “But can someone not want any thing? Is that so? Hmmm… Rare… but someone always needs something… Tell me, my child, what is it that you need?” Fingers on her knee now, rubbing, poking…

  “Nothing…” Aditi kept her eyes tight shut, her lips trembling.

  “She is weak.” The voice changed. Aditi felt a weight lift from the bed. But the fingers lingered. “Can she not pay the price?” There was silence now. Questioning. Reasoning. Even the fingers had stopped their movements. Aditi held her breath. “No. She must pay. You must, my dear child! And a heavy price it should be! What is the worth of a reward cheaply given! Will she love her cheap baby? Will she protect it? Will she not kill it herself… like the first one…”

  It had taken tremendous effort to keep her eyes closed and un-watching. But now they popped open. The Devi was hovering in the air, her legs towards the ceiling, her face just inches from Aditi’s.

  “I… did… not… kill him…” she managed to say, tears shimmering on her cheeks.

  “But you did not protect him either.” The Devi was speaking soothingly now, caressing her, just like Doctor Sangeeta Nurse had done. “But everything turned out all right, didn’t it… gudiya?”

  “How could I have protected him?”

  “Ah, my gudiya, I feel for you! How could you have protected him when you yourself needed protection then, and now…”

  “I don’t need protection…”

  “Don’t cry, gudiya, don’t! I know what you need. Let me help you. Let me protect you from men who mean you harm!” The fingers were caressing her hair again, running down the length and rubbing her back before moving to the top again. “But what shall I get in return?”

  “No, please don’t, I can’t give anything…”

  “Yes, you can, gudiya, you can give your blood!” The fingers were moving down her thigh. “Is it so much I am asking for?”

  “Please…”

  The fingers grabbed her swollen ankle and pressed. Aditi screamed. They pressed harder, threatening to shatter the bones in their grip. “GIVE ME YOUR BLOOD!” The voice had lost its softness. It was demanding. Frightening. Aditi tried to wriggle out of her grip, but she felt too weak. The world around her was darkening. She was losing her senses. Only the pain lingered, extreme and cold and piercing. She slithered against the wall and slumped on the bed. Rough hair was brushing her cheeks. The fingers continued to tightened around her ankle, harder and harder… the other hand was on her neck. “YOUR BLOOD, GUDIYA! IS IT WORTH THE PAIN? IS IT THAT PRECIOUS TO YOU?”

  Aditi felt something land on the bed. Her bag. She heard the chain open. Her hand was lifted and placed on top. She felt something hard and cold… and sharp. A knife!

  No! She could not! She tried to remove her hands…

  But she could also not bear the torment any longer. She had had enough. She grabbed the knife and gathering all her strength and courage, ran it over her wrist.

  The fingers withdrew immediately. Hair fell on her wrist. And from within the darkness of the face something began to suck and lick and smack on the cut like a desperate lover.

  Aditi lay still on the bed and waited for death to end her misery.

  III

  CHAPTER 15

  A SMALL GIFT

  The men branded torches and swords as the boat carried them across the river. More men surrounded the police station and threatened to set it on fire. Constables were dragged outside and kicked and slapped. The inspector was made to escort Mahesh to the river, where more of his supporters awaited him.

  Mahesh got down from the jeep. With his father gone, the village was his. There was no one to question his authority. He was the new Mukhiya. But first, he had an unfinished business to take care of. That ci
ty woman had to be punished. He had to avenge his father.

  The clouds burst into a torrential downpour. He let himself get wet.

  Someone handed him a sword. He stepped in the boat waiting for him. It began to move forward amid loud hooting and cheering. He wasn’t particularly fond of his father. But that wasn’t the end he had expected for the old man. Nevertheless, this was a new start, his start, however chaotic it had been. He wasn’t afraid of the storm raging around him. He wasn’t afraid of the furious river. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Then he saw it. Away from the crowd, wrapped in the darkness, was a woman hovering above the water…

  …and then fear crept in.

  *

  It was a hot afternoon when Aditi opened her eyes. Her bedroom was extremely humid. She was wet with sweat. The storm had died. She was wearing a different sari. A bandage had been wrapped around her left wrist. Just then a girl hurried inside the room, and seeing her awake, turned around abruptly and ran out. Moments later Bhagvati rushed in.

  “My son, my son…” she hugged Aditi, filling her nostrils with the odour of stale sweat. She held Aditi at an arm’s length and studied her. “That Om Prakash’s house? What were you thinking? I could have stayed back. I would have, if I knew. But what was he thinking leaving you all alone out there…”

  The girl returned, but lingered at the door.

  “You girl,” Bhagvati hissed, “go, fetch water for your sister.” Then she held Aditi’s hands with her gnarled fingers. “I am your mother, dear. Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

  Aditi was too weak to speak. She could still see the two girls hovering as the bearded man led them forward. She remembered distinctly the rumbling of the ground. The absolute darkness. And the Devi… she shuddered… coming down the tree.

  Then came the thought of the men hunting for her. Her running into the Aambari. She seemed unconvinced that she was actually sitting on her bed.

  “Didi.” The girl returned with a glass of water and stood beside her. Aditi looked at her blankly.