by Nag Mani
“You should talk to him. He does have something urgent to discuss.”
Manish studied her for a moment. He had almost turned to leave when he said again, “Can I say something, Ma’am?”
“Call me Aditi,” she said impassively, and looked away.
“I feel a growing unrest in this village. People are angry. Someone unleashed a curse upon us. And you seem to be in the centre of it. I will talk to Sir as well. You should leave as soon as you can. Take a leave and cross the river before it’s too late.” He lingered, hoping for a reply. When none came, he walked out quietly.
It was late afternoon when Manoj returned, furious and fuming. He banged the door open, his breaths coming out as gasps. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Then dashed into the kitchen. Several utensils were thrown on the floor. Bhagvati came running in from the backyard.
“Who was that inspector?” he bellowed, his voice cracking. Aditi stayed on her bed, gritting her teeth. “What has she been doing while I was away? How does he know her? How does he! Did she sleep with him? Did you?” He was back in the hall, pacing up and down like a mad bull, though he didn’t dare enter her room. “This woman has ruined my life! What was I thinking! Curse the day I married her! This cursed women! What do you want? What do you want from me?”
“Please drink some water, son. Oh! This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come here!”
“What do you want from me woman! Tell me! I am just a bank employee. Yet I give you whatever you ask for. And all I ask in return is peace. But what have you given me? Nothing!”
“I will go back, son. I will never bother you again. Please calm down. I will leave.”
“What do you want? Tell me! I struggled my whole life to earn whatever I have today, only to be accused by my own wife of plotting to kill her. Did you hear what the inspector said? Did you see how he threatened me in front of my staff? You want my ruin, don’t you? You want my life, don’t you?”
Silence followed. Then Bhagvati shrieked and rushed to the kitchen. Manoj had picked up a jar of kerosene. She tried to snatch it away from him. He pushed past her and stormed out into the backyard. Payal stood like a statue beside the hand-pump as he uncapped the jar and poured the liquid over his head. The scent of kerosene drifted into the bedroom. Aditi stiffened. She went to the back door to see the drama unfold.
“Pour water!” Bhagvati shouted at her daughter. “What are you staring at! Pour water!”
Payal began to furiously fill a bucket.
Bhagvati ran to him. Manoj pushed her back and banged the jar on the ground. “Get me a match-box! Set me on fire!” He started for the kitchen but found Aditi standing at the doorway. He hesitated.
“What is taking you to fill one goddamn bucket!” Bhagvati screamed.
Manoj inhaled deeply and hurried past Aditi, leaving a trail of kerosene, and began searching for a match-box in the hall. He upturned the cot, heaved a bag, never checking once in the kitchen. Bhagvati hopped behind him, trying to bring him back to the courtyard. He pushed her again and made for the main door. She fell to the ground and grabbed his legs, clinging onto them as if she was hanging off a cliff. “What are you doing there?” she shouted at her daughter. “Come here and stand at the door.”
Payal ran to the door and stood there, not knowing what to do next. Manoj barked at her to move. She didn’t budge. He grabbed her by her arm and pushed her aside. She ran back to her spot. He grabbed her arm again, but this time, twisted it behind her back. She bent forward and screamed. He raised his fist and punched her hard on her back. Once. Twice. On the third time, he let go of her hand and she staggered forward, hit a wall and fell to the floor.
Aditi had had enough. It was one thing putting up a show looking for match sticks. How dare he beat the poor girl! She went to her bedroom and came out with a match-box. “Here,” she flung it at him, then knelt to tend to the crying girl.
Manoj didn’t react. The box hit his chest and fell. He waited a few moments, then bent down to pick it up, giving enough time to Bhagvati to snatch it away. She pulled him out to the yard. “Get the bucket!”
Payal wiped her tears and ran to the hand-pump. Manoj had stopped struggling. He was pacing up and down the courtyard… and his foot fell in the pit Bachcha had dug. He fell on his hips and, for a moment, tried to gather what had happened, looking dazed.
Payal seized the opportunity and emptied the bucket over his head.
The four of them didn’t move for some time. The women watched Manoj as he sat in the middle of the yard, his legs sprawled in front of him, his mouth wide open, water trickling down his head. Then Bhagvati began to take off his shirt. He didn’t protest. He was in his vest when someone knocked at the door.
Payal opened it.
“I want to see the manager,” demanded Inspector Mishra and marched in, only to stop dead when he saw the scene in the backyard. He looked around the hall, sniffing. “What is going on here?”
“Why have you come again?” screamed Bhagvati. “Can’t you see what you have done? Was this not enough?”
“We have made an arrest. I thought Manager Sahib would be interested. It’s someone he knows very well.” With that he went back to the hall and waited. Manoj dried himself and came in, still in his drenched vest. Aditi remained at the back door, her arms folded.
“You, girl, what is your name?”
“Payal.”
“Yes, Payal. Go outside and shut the door behind you.” Inspector Mishra waited till Payal had gone out. He studied Manoj for some time, but didn’t make any comment. “As I said, we have made an arrest. But what still remains uncertain is your role in this whole conspiracy.”
“What the hell conspiracy?” Manoj gritted his teeth.
“Again, I need a few answers. First, did you come here alone this morning?”
“Yes.”
“No one was with you?”
“No.”
“You took a bus?”
“Yes.”
“Show me the ticket.”
Manoj didn’t move. He sat on the cot, his head hung low, fingers clasped together, a drop of water falling off his hair every now and then. Just as the inspector opened his mouth to ask again, Manoj began to search his pockets. “The shirt,” he whispered hoarsely. Bhagvati went to the backyard and found a ticket in the front pocket.
“Just one then,” Inspector Mishra said, examining the wet piece of paper. “Your brother didn’t come with you?”
Manoj raised his head, alert for the first time.
Inspector Mishra adjusted his belt and turned to Aditi. “Have you heard of M. G. Market? Mahatma Gandhi Market?”
“Ajay’s gas agency is in M. G. Market,” Aditi replied.
“And Parvati Utensils?”
Aditi shook her head. The inspector turned back to Manoj.
“I don’t know any Parvati Utensils,” Manoj said. He was shivering.
“Oh! I see. Parvati Utensils is in M. G. Market, just in front of your agency, where your brother sits all day. And it is run by a widow, Madhu, short for Madhumita. Does her name ring any bell?” Manoj had his eyes fixed on the inspector now. “Of course it does! Her husband was a dentist. About three years ago, two men barged into his clinic and shot him dead. But you know her because she is your brother’s current landlord… and the woman he is having an affair with.” He paused. “And it also happens that she is Heera Lal Singh’s eldest daughter!”
“You said you have arrested someone?” Manoj said flatly.
“Yes,” the inspector was observing him closely, “the person who followed you to Ufrail.”
Manoj was still impassive. “Who?”
“You brother, Ajay Prasad.”
Manoj leapt from his seat. “What? He is in Madhepura!”
“Is he? We found him holed up in Heera Singh’s house this very afternoon.”
“I know what this is,” barked Manoj, taking a step forward, “you have to show something for the Mukhiya’s death. And you are draggin
g us into…”
“No I am not! In fact, I am keeping you away from his case.”
“Where is Ajay? You are just accusing him with your made-up conspiracy. And what is this conspiracy?” Manoj turned to Aditi, “You see what you have done? You see? My brother… arrested. Only he knows what he must be going through. Are you happy now?”
“Don’t blame your wife, Mr Prasad, your brother has confessed.”
“No, he didn’t! You must have forced him!”
“Why does he hate your wife, Mr Prasad?” Inspector Mishra dragged a chair in front of Manoj and sat down. “Are you aware that he has been telling everyone he meets that you two have filed for a divorce, that your wife is good for nothing and you have had enough of her. That she is characterless. She used to roam around with men before marriage and even after. That she cannot even give you a child. What a poor man his brother is, living in misery with his wife!” When Manoj remained silent, the inspector continued, “Of course you knew. He used to come to this village for this very reason. To spread rumours. Before Aditi came here, many people actually believed that you two were divorced. And some sought to take advantage of this situation. Like our Mukhiya and his cousin, Heera Lal Singh.”
“What are you implying?”
“Your brother and his lover, this Madhu, plotted to have your wife kidnapped. Madhu had heard him for years cursing your wife. And then she came up with an idea. You see, she has a younger sister, unmarried sister, mentally underdeveloped. I think you know her very well, Mr Prasad. What’s her name… Geeta, or Gitanjali, right? What better a groom for her than a bank manager! And what’s more, once you married her, Ajay could move into your house, which I assume, Aditi had not allowed so far. And then Madhu could visit her sister, you and of course your beloved brother anytime she wanted to without any suspicious glances from others. What a happy family it would make, wouldn’t it? Two brothers and two sisters living together in a house full of happiness and laughter!
“But then, your wife was there to ruin it all. It was where the Mukhiya came in. He would get rid of her, and keep her as his payment. Aditi was going to disappear. And then you would need a new wife, sooner or later. That is why Heera Lal Singh met you on the pretext of a loan. And soon, what was initially a business affair, turned into wooing a groom for his daughter. He made sure that you came close to her, so that even if you denied marrying her, they could allege exploitation, or even rape, and force you into marriage. Everyone would get what they wanted. Your brother, his mistress. The Mukhiya, a woman. And you, another wife.”
“Inspector Sahib,” Bhagvati said, her voice low and quavering, “I know Ajay. He would never do such a thing…”
“Well Ma Ji,” Inspector Mishra marched to the door, “ask him yourself.” He went to the veranda and called out to someone.
It was a couple of minutes before Ajay appeared at the door, his hands behind his back, a constable following in his wake. He seemed to be handcuffed, but when the constable turned to close the door, his hands fell to his sides. Manoj rushed to him, but Ajay ignored his brother. He was taller than Manoj, and broader, and darker. His hair was parted in the middle. His eyes were fixed on Aditi, and hers fixed on him. No one else seemed to exist in the room.
Aditi, who had been standing by the backyard door so far, came forward. Her head was spinning. She was a burden for so many. Her mere existence seemed to be a prick. She glared at Ajay and he stared back. “Why?” was the only word she could utter.
“Why?” Ajay shouted in his hoarse voice and spat at her feet. “You want to know why? Because you ruined our family! You pulled us apart and left us on our own. We were happy before you came. Happy in our little house that you found unbearable to live in. My brother worked in the bank. Everyone respected him. Every child born in our village admired him. And then you came along, with your pride and arrogance. You thought we were illiterate village people who knew damn shit. You thought you were more learned than my brother. More qualified. You always undermined him…”
“I didn’t…”
Ajay was shouting now. “And you couldn’t see us living together, could you? You thought we were living off your husband’s money, when everything could be yours. He was your husband, wasn’t he? Whatever he earned, was yours. You claimed it as if it was your right. But he was also a brother and a son. And let me tell you one thing, Bhabhi, we both gave our XIIth boards together. We both sat in the same exam centre. I always knew my brother was intelligent and would make a successful man someday. And all I could do was eat and shit. So, when a chit was found lying next to his seat during the exam, I thought he was done for. I was sitting few rows behind him. And I rose. And I said it was my chit. Everyone was cheating that day. They had to catch someone to show on paper. It would have been my brother. But I took the blame. And after that I never appeared for the exams, whereas my brother, he went ahead to become an officer. But you couldn’t see us together. You thought we were vermin living on your husband’s income. So, you coaxed him to shift to Purnia. Then you made him take a house loan. Built yourself a pretty house while we lived under a leaking roof.
“But you didn’t stop even then. You knew your husband would always be obliged to help his younger brother as long as he was unemployed. So, you made me look after a gas agency, your gas agency. Everyone praised you. But no one noticed that it was on your name. No one noticed that you had deliberately not taken the agency in Purnia. You kept saying that Purnia was already blooming with agencies, but you knew right from the start that you would be giving me the agency to run; and opening it in Purnia would mean that I would continue to live with you. You made me your puppet, knowing all along that you could throw me out anytime you felt like because the business was on your name! YOU BROKE MY FAMILY.”
Aditi realised that her throat had dried. She fell to the floor, her back against the wall.
Damn it! He had seen through it all!
Yes, she had wanted to get rid of his family. They were nothing more than parasites living off whatever should have been hers. They treated her like a maid, who had to fulfil each of their whims and fancies for three meals a day and a roof to sleep under.
Yes, she had cajoled Manoj into moving away from his family. She felt suffocated with them and their primitive ways of living. They had no purpose in life other than to eat and shit and sleep, and taunt her in between.
Yes, she had handed the gas agency to Ajay not because she cared for him. It was her master move. When her father died, two truths hit her face like a hot desert wind. One – anything could happen to anyone at anytime. Two – if that anything happened to her anytime, she would not have anyone to support her. She knew her in-laws didn’t love her; there was no respect, no care, no feelings or emotions that ought to be in a family. They thought of her as no more than a woman doing her duty that she was obliged to do, rather paid to do. As with an open market, the problem was that there would always come a better product. And her in-laws wouldn’t have hesitated to replace her if it came. She needed a ground on which she could stand, and she knew she was far from cracking the civil services examination. Giving Ajay the gas agency had two benefits – her in-laws, especially her husband began to think more highly of her, it was her idea after all. Ajay would do all the hard work in the initial stages and she could have taken over the already established business anytime the situation demanded.
Aditi saw the men quarrel. Bhagvati sat on the floor beating her chest. The constable was pressed against the wall, trying to mix with the background. She couldn’t hear them. Her ears were ringing. What had she hoped with her life, and what had it actually turned out to be? Is a normal life so difficult to come by?
Manoj was talking something about an arrest and was continually throwing glances at her. It was some time before the ringing stopped. “… not arrested him. All this was informal enquiry. But I will make the two of them confess. Arrest him and his lover…” Inspector Mishra was saying. Ajay was perturbed with the threat. He might h
ave already accepted his fate, though there was not a glint of guilt or regret in his eyes.
“But the most important question is,” the inspector continued, “is your wife willing to make a formal complain?”
The answer should have been a simple yes. But what then…
Ajay would be arrested. Manoj was likely to be suspended while the case was going on. It would tarnish his reputation and chances of promotion even if he came clean. He and his parents would never forgive her, even though, they would surely forget what Ajay did. And what would happen to her? How long would her widowed mother support her? Where would she live? She could take up a job. But she knew a few women, divorcees or widows, who lived alone and were considered a black mark in the society. They were never invited to any social event and were regarded as bad omens during festivities. And she also knew of men who swarmed them like fleas around a carcass. Day and night. Year after year. Wasn’t dying a far better option?
She burst into tears. Just two days ago she wanted to fight for her rights. She felt that those women were weak who couldn’t take a stand for themselves, and that she was a strong and independent woman. But judgement is best served when you are not the victim. For victims have far more things to consider than morals and rights.
Bhagvati was shaking her head vigorously. Manoj seemed ready to strangle her the moment she nodded. Ajay stared at her shamelessly, threateningly, defying. Inspector Mishra waited for her to nod…
…but he wasn’t disappointed when she didn’t.
CHAPTER 18
DEVI
The sky was deep blue, mutating into an expanse of red westward. The stars bright and glittering. Aditi sat on the hand-pump platform, a knife in her hands, shivering.
Ajay Prasad. She wanted to scoop his eyes out with a spoon and feed them to him. And what did Manoj do when he found out? Nothing! He was just worried about his arrest, but not as much as gave a thought as to what would have happened had his plan succeeded. Ajay was his brother. But she just a wife. And what would have happened anyway, Manoj would have married someone else, the wife of his dreams – the not-so-learned and not-so-smart.