by Nag Mani
And the Devi? How did she come in the picture? Aditi could recall only vaguely what had transpired that night when the Devi had come to her room. She couldn’t forget the pain. The Devi had told her that she would protect her. That she, Aditi, needed protection. She had then cut her wrist…
And out of nowhere, she recalled something else. What had the Mukhiya said when he received her that evening? Something about swearing on the Devi his head if something happened to her.
Damn! Aditi cursed.
She knew it was just an expression. And that was exactly what took place! He had meant her harm and he lost his head! The Devi had actually saved her! But it came for a price – her blood!
Would the Devi listen to another wish? To save Zoya? She would readily give her life in return. Wouldn’t it all end if she took her life?
The inspector had taken Ajay and Manoj to a shade in a deserted field. Bhagvati had followed them, leaving her daughter behind. Payal stood still beside Aditi, watching her cry. Then she slid down beside her. She tried to wipe her tears, but that proved futile, for they kept coming. “It will be okay, Didi,” she kept repeating. Aditi put her head on her shoulder, and like that she had stayed, her eyes wandering aimlessly.
Sometime later, the constable had returned with a piece of paper. “Sir has asked you to read this and sign. It’s just a precaution. He will keep it with himself, just in case…”
Aditi took the paper. It said that she felt her life was threatened and should anything happen to her, Manoj and his brother were to be held responsible.
She had signed and handed it back.
Sitting by the hand-pump now, Aditi began to run the knife over her wound. The men and Bhagvati were still out. Payal was sitting in the bedroom now, quiet and gloomy, unaware that Aditi had latched the backyard door from outside. Blood flowed down her wrist and onto the soil. Her cut felt as if on fire. She dug deeper, using her fingers to claw out chunks of flesh. More blood. Her vision darkened. Her head began to stoop. The knife fell.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw the outhouse door open, ever so silently.
Then there was jingling of anklets.
A pair of feet emerged from inside; and in the little light of dusk, Aditi saw a woman approach her.
“Gudiya!” said a voice from above as the woman stopped in front of her, her knees in level with Aditi’s face. Aditi held her head down, her eyes on the disfigured feet poking out from the hem of a tattered sari. “Is everything all right, gudiya?”
A hand reached out and held her bleeding wrist.
“You… you saved me! You killed the Mukhiya. You killed his son…”
“You needed protection, gudiya, didn’t you!” Something pink and slimy slithered out from the shadow above the neck. It began to lick the blood off her wrist.
“Then save Zoya! She has been cursed. That man will take her the moment she is marked…”
“She has already been marked. She will be taken tonight.”
“Then do something!” Aditi shrieked. “Save her life! Take mine instead. You want a price, a sacrifice? Take me!”
The woman smacked her lips. Aditi looked up, but all she saw was the sari falling in layers over her. Somewhere in that fabric was a waist, dirty, yet fair. “What good are you, gudiya? Your blood is stale,” said the voice from above. “And your heart? Feeble. Worthless.” The woman retreated, and as Aditi watched, one of the legs began to rise. The feet landed on her head. Aditi was forced to look up at the headless figure, a swirl of shadows and darkness where the head should have been, entrapped in a tangle of black, dirty hail falling down till the thighs. “But if you could give me the blood of someone more valuable… someone… stronger. If you can sacrifice a man…”
“Why not me! I am going to die anyway. I want to die!” Aditi managed to speak, even as terror rendered her limbs immovable. “I was the target… take me!”
The feet began to shove her head in circles. “You are not going to die.” There was anger in the voice now. “Not so soon, my bitch! My fucking bitch!” Darkness crept in from the skies above, so that all Aditi could see was the abominable figure standing in front of her. She realised she had lost a lot of blood. But there was no trace on her wrist, or on the soil. The Devi had drunk it all. “You will be sick. Terribly sick. Your skin will peel. Your hair will fall, and your bones will crack, but you will not die, my bitch, not so soon. You will rot in bed, unable to stir, unable to blink. You will be in pain. And when the deed is done, he will come for you. You will know when the time comes. You will fear every shadow that thrives around you, for one of them will move, creeping like the night, and as you helplessly watch, it will shred you to pieces.”
“Why?” Aditi asked as an excruciating pain began to rise up her spine.
“To take your place.”
Aditi wasn’t sure she heard the words. The feet withdrew and she slumped forward. Someone was knocking at the door. The feet left the ground and began to ascend, hovering above her. The knocks became impatient. Aditi made for the door, but instead, crashed on the ground. She began to crawl, frighteningly aware of the pair of pale feet floating beside her. She managed to pull herself up the steps. Payal was calling out to her. Aditi unlatched the door and collapsed. Payal embraced her and pulled her into her lap. The Devi had disappeared. But unlike Payal, Aditi saw a faint shadow mingling with that of the edge of the roof.
Aditi was in bed when Manoj returned that night. Bhagvati was already home, having been called by Payal, and was massaging Aditi with warm mustard oil. Her wrist had been re-bandaged. Manoj didn’t dare enter the bedroom. He paced up and down in the hall, until his legs tired and he sat down on the cot. After having a meagre dinner of chapattis and pickle, Bhagvati and Manoj sat in the hall to talk. Apparently, Manoj had learnt about Aditi’s adventure that morning. And of all the people, he had asked Arvind to do something about the black magic. Aditi wanted to march out and slap him again. But it wasn’t just him, even Razzak had the same thing in mind, a feeble hope that he might save his third daughter, so he had asked Arvind for help. Arvind had gone home, promising he would do everything he could to find the culprit. Their voices dropped when they discussed Ajay. He had been instructed to leave the village immediately. Manoj was worried about him, but not about what he did. He was his little brother, and little brothers sometimes made mistakes. Manoj had planned to leave the village the next day. He would call the head-office from the bank, explain it was urgent and leave. Bhagvati and Payal had agreed to accompany. Aditi would need someone to care of her. And he very well knew who would be held responsible in case something happened to her on their way home.
Aditi was resting beside Payal. She had a little difficulty in breathing. But her mind was on the headless woman she had met in the evening. The Devi wanted a man for the sacrifice this time. And how happy Aditi would have been to name her husband. Let the Devi take him away. It would have solved all her troubles. Or would it? What about the problems it would create? Anyway, she should have been willing to take his name without hesitation, but like the time she couldn’t nod when Inspector Neeraj Mishra had asked for her consent to register a complaint, she couldn’t open her mouth and say it. Her thoughts drifted to the last thing the Devi had said. To take her place! Under other circumstances, it would have made no sense, out of context. But she very well knew what it meant.
But why the double attack? The conspiracy and the black magic? Aditi agreed with the inspector that Manoj had not been involved in the plot to kidnap her, although he had everything to gain. He had just been a pawn his brother had shrewdly used to play his move. The phone call that Ajay had picked up a fight and had been arrested was enough for Manoj to abandon his wife and rush to him. Aditi had learnt from Bhagvati, who in turn had picked up words from some men sitting by the gumti, that the Mukhiya had been sitting with the manager when the call came and it was the Mukhiya who had offered him to be the host while he was away.
But why the black magic?
Aditi allowed Payal and Bhagvati to sleep next to her, but Manoj was left to take care of himself in the hall. She heard the cot creak as he shifted again and again. He wasn’t snoring, which meant he wasn’t having a good sleep. Aditi enjoyed his discomfort, another of her small victories, for though he had nothing to do with the conspiracy, she still held him responsible for letting it happen right under his nose, and then, showing no concern for her when it was unearthed.
She dozed off and dreamt of something, or maybe she didn’t; maybe, she was just thinking. Her mother was brushing her hair. She was sitting in her lap, a winter sun warm and soothing on her shoulders. Her mother was telling her about a man in their neighbourhood who had two wives. Before the second marriage, his wife fell sick one day. The treatment was long and soul consuming with little chances of recovering. Her younger sister was called to take care of her. The young woman looked after her sister with utter devotion. She gave up her comforts to ease her sister’s pain.
Weeks turned into months. Patience turned into frustration. The husband and the sister tried their best not to show it. But the wife could not un-see the way her sister’s face lit up every time her husband entered the room. She could not un-hear the whispering and the giggling that came from empty rooms of the house.
After days and days of thinking, she decided to ask for her dying wish – that her sister took her place when she died. Filled with love, she asked for the marriage to take place before she died, so that she could see for herself the newly married couple and be happy about it. Her husband and her sister married in a temple and came to her for her blessing. She was satisfied. She could die in peace. But instead of death, came a miracle. She recovered. And ever since the two sisters lived together and shared the same man.
“Me too,” Aditi said when the story ended. Aakriti was playing with a kitten nearby. Smriti was sucking noisily at the nipple of a milk-bottle. “I have two sisters to take my place!” “Lucky man!” her mother commented but Aditi was too young to understand sarcasm.
When Aditi opened her eyes, she wondered how she could remember something that old. She had no idea that a conversation like that even took place until then. She turned to look at the window, the source of the disturbance that might have woken her. Someone was outside. There were hurried footsteps, then someone began to pound furiously at the door.
Manoj jumped off the cot and ran to the bedroom.
“Sahib! Sahib!” said a frail, frightened voice. “My daughter is sick! Zoya is sick! Please help me.”
This was it, Aditi thought, as Payal pulled herself up. The Devi had told her that it would happen that night. She was on her feet, a little shaky and in pain.
“Where are you going?” Bhagvati sprang out of the bed.
“It’s Zoya,” Aditi whispered. “She is going to die tonight. We have to help Razzak.”
“Sahib, please, open the door. Come with me!”
“There is nothing you can do to help her.” Bhagvati was blocking her path. “We are leaving tomorrow. Please, Aditi, my son, don’t go looking for trouble.”
“They are the ones in trouble,” Aditi retorted, “and that too because of us. Because of this man here…”
“I did nothing…” Manoj mumbled.
“You didn’t? All you wanted was for me to be bed ridden, so that you continue your affair with that slut with lots of looks and lots of lands. Even if it meant killing three girls…”
“Why would I…”
“Trust me Mr Manoj Prasad, whatever you did will come back to haunt you. If she dies, I am going to tell the whole village that it was you who did it!”
“You will…”
“Let’s see if you can leave this village alive!” Aditi pushed Bhagvati and rushed to the door. She had raised her hand to pull down the bolt when Manoj grabbed her and pulled her back. She shoved him too. He tripped on a bag on the floor and fell. “I will do whatever I can to help Razzak,” Aditi screamed at him even as his head struck the wall behind.
“Razzak does not call me ‘Sahib’!” Manoj managed to say from the floor.
Aditi froze at her place. Manoj straightened himself, rubbing his head, his eyes watery. The knocking came again, softer this time. “Sahib, she is going to die. Please help me! Let me in,” said a voice that very much resembled that of Razzak. She stepped back. “Memsahib? Can you hear me? Let me in!”
“Come inside,” Manoj whispered, ushering all of them back into the bedroom.
“Won’t you let me in, Sahib?” The helplessness in the voice was replaced with a cold mockery. Manoj lit an incense-stick and began to chant prayers.
“Oh god save us!” Bhagvati was trembling.
The presence outside seemed to withdraw. The women sat huddled together on the bed. Manoj stood close to the portraits of the gods. The clock went Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The fan churned reluctantly. The bulb flickered for a moment, then sprang back to life.
Then all of a sudden, the window began to rattle. Payal shrieked and dug her nails into Aditi’s arms.
“LET ME IN!” boomed a voice. And with that came other sounds. Laughter. Scuffling. Arguing. And in the backdrop, the shrill cry of a baby.
“LET ME IN, SAHIB!”
Payal began to cry. Aditi hugged her. They all sat together – Manoj had joined them too, a rudraksha bead in his hands – in the far corner of the bed. The window bulged as if it was on the verge of breaking. The Devi had said that it would be happening tonight. The last sacrifice had been marked. Aditi knew the Jinn now needed to gain entrance to her house, to do his job, to make her sick… terribly sick. He could have just entered the house, like he did when he came to take the girls. Why this trickery? He was trying to invite himself in – opening the door when he knocked was an invitation in itself. Why couldn’t he just break his way in? Aditi wondered what was stopping him from entering, until...
“OPEN THE DOOR,” the demeaning voice roared, “ELSE I TEAR THE HOUSE APART.”
Then came the sound of footsteps.
Something dark crossed the hall.
There was a THUD as the bolt slipped from its holder… and the front door creaked open.
“The door is open,” said a ferocious female voice from the hall. “Enter – if you dare!”
“Enter I will!” replied the booming voice, “And burn this house to ash!”
“This is not your house to burn. Be gone! Return to your Root and hide. Hide till your essence fades and your core turns cold!”
“Have you forgotten, Queen, the faces of the men who spat on you? The laughter of those who dragged you to the post? Have you forgotten, the pain as metal cut through your flesh and bones? The pain, hotter than fire. He was there. He saw the elements ooze out from your flesh, from your bones. Ah! How they dragged your headless body! That petty queen now dares to stand in our way!”
“Go, you wretched soul, flee to your master and whine!”
“This be it then.” There was silence now. All the sounds outside ceased suddenly. The women realised that they had been holding their breaths far too long, and just as they were about to release, the booming voice said again, “I am here to take the woman, and take her I will.”
The door shut with a bang and the bolt jerked up into the holder.
“Mummy, I don’t want to stay here,” Payal whimpered. “Let’s go.” Bhagvati patted her head and no one spoke after that. The night deepened. The fan continued to churn. Payal was first to close her eyes. Aditi leaned against her, after pushing Manoj out of the bed and throwing a bed-sheet after him. He curled on the floor. Bhagvati folded her arms around her knees and waited for the sun to rise.
It was around four that sounds of nature tore the peaceful sheet of silence that had covered the village. Birds began to chirp. Goats began to bleat and scuffle. It was the beginning of another usual day… until a painful cry of a woman rang across the fields. Doors were opened. Babies cried. Someone somewhere shouted, “It’s her!”
Bhagvati summoned the courage
to open the window slightly and peep. She saw a crowd forming outside Laila’s house. “Zoya,” she whispered to herself.
Aditi ran to the hall, and before anyone could stop her this time, she opened the door and was out in the cold morning. The sky had lightened towards the east, while few stars still twinkled in the west. She ran down the veranda, and just as she did, something grabbed her wrist. She turned around, flustered.
Nothing but thin air.
She lifted her hand. Black marks had appeared on her wrist. This was it, she thought. The Jinn had made his contact. She had been marked.
She turned around and ran towards Zoya’s house. Ignoring the excruciating pain in her spine, she dashed through the front door. People were already up, scurrying like busy rats. The wailing was coming from a room upstairs. She bounded up the steps and just as she reached the landing, a sudden fatigue grasped her. She fell to her knees and vomited. She clutched the door and pulled herself up. Zoya was on a bed, wide eyed, crying. Laila stood beside her. Aditi noticed at once that unlike the previous times, there was no one else in the room. People had gathered in the hall downstairs, but no one dared to come up.
Aditi dragged herself towards the bed. “Come Zoya. Come to my house! The Devi will save you!”
Zoya began to cry even louder. Aditi couldn’t see anything suspicious with her body, yet Zoya screamed as if she was on fire. Aditi turned to Laila for support. “We have to take her. The Devi will save her! I will give my life if I have to. Take her before it’s too late. Before he comes here.”
Laila didn’t move. She stared behind Aditi, her face pale, expressionless. Her lips didn’t move, yet Aditi heard her say, “But he is already here!”
Aditi swung around. There, in the corner, was a shadow that shouldn’t have been there. It was that of a squatting man, his head bent low. The edges were flickering.