by Nag Mani
“Where is she?” Payal was screaming behind Aditi. She saw the body and shrieked. Out of all the people present there, she was the only one to go forward in spite of the horrendous smell, and kneel beside the body. “Help!” She gently lifted her mother’s head, as if she were still alive, only sleeping, and put it on her lap. She looked up at the men, pleading, crying as innocently as only a child could. But no one seemed to be willing to help her.
“Let me come! Let me come!” Razzak was making his way through the crowd, his younger brother, Ali, at his heels.
“Isn’t that… isn’t that the handkerchief she gave our daughter to wipe her face last night,” Salman was pointing at the bag, ignoring the girl crying in the middle of what was now a circle of men. “It’s her! She is the god-dammed witch! She came to our house yesterday and cursed our daughter right in front of us!”
Angry murmurs broke in the crowd. Aditi was suddenly alert. She shook her head at Payal, her eyes wide. But Payal could not understand. She was still expecting the men to help.
“That witch!” Salman entered the circle, “took our daughters! She cursed them. She cursed this village. We were so happy! Did you not see them, the lovely flowers they were? Did your faces not brighten when you heard them laugh? Did you not consider them as your own daughters…”
“Salman… stop,” Razzak tried to intervene, his voice frail as ever. “She is just a child…”
“And then came this woman,” Salman continued, his words becoming bolder, “and her daughter. They tore our family apart. Why my girls? Why they? They died the most horrible death! Had I known such was their fate, I would have myself drowned them in the river. But they died in pain and suffering. You all saw it, didn’t you? She brought havoc into our village. Our beloved Mukhiya Ji, his son… What a great man he was, Mahesh Ji. But they are all dead. She killed them all. And this cursed girl continues to live. She continues to live while mine had to die…”
Even if Payal understood what was going on, she made no attempt to escape. Aditi rose silently, grabbed her wrist and began to pull her away. The crowd parted, making way for them. She thought she had almost made it, until a hand reached out from somewhere and slapped Payal hard on her face.
That one slap was enough.
Before Aditi knew, the young woman was snatched away from her. Payal was being pushed and jostled. Her clothes were torn off. Her screams were drowned in the raging shouts of men. She was lost in a chaos of hands and legs and dirt. Then appeared axes and spades and sickle. What was earlier covered in mud, now dripped with blood.
The murderers parted when it was done, mingling with the onlookers.
Aditi collapsed before a bleeding Payal. Her body was in spasms. Her abdomen was a tangle of flesh and blood and cloth. Her right arm was missing. Her legs smashed. She was breathing, blood pouring out of her nostrils and mouth. Her eyes were wide open, her jaws clenching and unclenching. A large chunk of flesh was missing from her cheek. Blood was spurting out from her fractured skull with each heartbeat, and with the failing heart, its pressure was decreasing. The spark in the eyes began to diminish.
She closed her eyes… eventually.
*
Arvind decided to stay back that night. Aditi didn’t know if he did it voluntarily, or Manoj asked him to. Two women were also called to take care of her. She was inconsolable. Bhagvati had caused her far more pain than Ajay could ever have. She trusted her. She loved her like her mother. Was there no one in her life who could love her unconditionally? Was there no one she could call family, who truly cared for her? She cried and cried. She cried for everything that had happened to her.
And she blamed it all on Manoj.
Villagers came to console her as she sat in the backyard. Women gathered around her, patting her, caressing her hair. The police were doing their work. They collected the two bodies. Inspector Mishra came to their house, but didn’t approach her. He roamed in between the gathering, all watching her cry. He asked questions and left. Manoj dared not come near her. He sulked in the rooms, his head lowered.
By evening, Salman had been arrested with three other men.
The women made Aditi lie down on her bed. They cooked kheer and chapattis and left. Aditi couldn’t take Bhagvati off her mind. She kept thinking of her, and what she had done. She couldn’t bring herself to hate her. In fact, she would have happily forgiven her had she just slit her throat while she was sleeping. It was the girls she had ordered to kill that made Aditi sick. But would this all have happened if Ajay had not been driven crazy by his vendetta? If Manoj had controlled his brother right from the beginning? If Manoj… everything pointed back at him!
Never underestimate what a mother can do for her child… Bhagvati had told her once. She wondered if Bhagvati was justifying her future actions then.
The fire was still burning in the evening, but no longer posed any threat. Manoj was talking to a small crowd in the veranda who had gathered to see the orange halo over the forest. They discussed the murder. Salman would be free, they predicted, police cannot just single him out or any other. It was the work of an angry mob. Then they went ahead to justify the killing. He would be free, they repeated.
The men left, one by one. A watch was being kept on the fire. Arvind collected a worn-out bed-sheet and a pillow and settled on the veranda. Manoj was lying on the cot in the hall. He had made a great show of caring for his wife in public, but now that they were alone, he left her to sulking and sobbing. He did try to enter the bedroom on two occasions to see what she was doing, on the pretext of finding something, but Aditi threw at him one of her sandals each time. He didn’t bother after two attempts.
It was after sunset that they heard screams from the forest. Arvind hurried inside and closed the door. “Stay here, Sir,” he whispered, breathing heavily.
“What happened?” Manoj whispered back.
“Be quiet.” He put a finger to his lips, then on second thought, ushered the manager inside the bedroom and latched the door. Aditi was peeping through the window.
“Don’t, Madam,” Arvind hurriedly shut both the windows. “Be quiet Madam, don’t move.” He then switched off the light.
They waited in silence… they waited, listening to each other’s breaths ….
…until they heard the sound of anklets outside the house.
Footsteps. Someone was climbing up the steps to the veranda. The bolt fell down on its own. The door opened. Footsteps in the hall now. Raspy breaths. Someone stopped outside the door. Manoj was right in front. He backed away, smearing the ash of an incense-stick on his forehead, muttering prayers.
Aditi was in the opposite corner when the latch on the door rose and unlatched itself. The door opened, and the Devi floated in. “Gudiya…!”
Aditi dropped to her knees and bowed. The men took the cue and did the same. “Do you not want to worship me, gudiya?” She stopped in front of Aditi. “Take it, take my feet.” She raised a leg and thrust her feet into Aditi’s chest. “Lick it, gudiya. Kiss my feet.” She was pushing her feet deeper and deeper into her breasts. Aditi found it difficult to breath. “Worship me! Sing my praises! Then give me what you promised!” She bent over, reaching down. Something gleamed in the darkness in between the hair. “Give me a man!”
Aditi tried to crawl away. Her fingers clawed at the bed-sheet. “Take me!” she managed to choke.
“A man was what I asked for. Take a name, my bitch! My fucking bitch!” Her nails were violently rubbing against Aditi’s skin, inflicting bruises on her neck and breasts. “Or make a man sacrifice himself for you.”
“I cannot take a name.”
“You can, my bitch! Take his name. Do you not hate him? Do you not want him to suffer? Look, what he did to you! What are you good for now? Take his name!”
Manoj, who had been cowering in terror till now, leapt up to his feet. His face had reddened as he stared at Aditi with big, bulging eyes. All she had to do was take his name and he was more than certain that she would do i
t. The colour of his pants darkened as urine seeped down to the floor. Arvind too had his eyes fixed on Aditi, waiting for her to utter the name.
Aditi bit her lips and kept them shut.
“Won’t you take his name?” Her foot was now on Aditi’s neck. “Don’t you want to free yourself? Don’t you want to be with him? I can take you to there. The two of you can be together, at last, for the rest of your lives. Answer me, Sonjuhi?”
Arvind was the first one to realize that Aditi would not take the name. Manoj was still frozen at his spot, eyeing her with fear for the first time.
“Sir, we have to leave!” Arvind shouted. “Go out! Run!” Manoj would still not move. “Run, Madam, run! Get out of this house!”
Aditi summoned all her strength and pushed the foot away. Surprisingly, the Devi let it go. Aditi scrambled on her fours, making for the door. Arvind helped her up and the three of them ran out.
“I will haunt you, my bitch,” the Devi yelled after them, “till you give what was promised!”
Once out, Aditi made for the field. Her instincts told her to hide. Manoj didn’t make it any farther than the veranda before collapsing.
“That auto Madam,” Arvind pointed at an auto-rickshaw parked on the brick road as he struggled to pull the manager to his feet.
“Where is the driver?”
“I am driver. I borrowed it…”
Arvind helped Manoj in the backseat and jumped behind the handle. People were watching from inside their dark houses. They had all put off their lamps. As the auto-rickshaw moved on, Aditi saw a woman standing on the roof of their house, watching them.
Arvind didn’t slow over ditches or stones. Manoj retched over and over again. They left the village behind and headed north along a broad mud path.
“Where are we going?” yelled Aditi over the roar of the engine.
“To my ghetto. We will cross river there.”
Aditi looked out to see a deep red sky covered in thin film of smoke. Far to the south, smoke still emanated from the forest, flowing westward with the wind. Something over her head caught her attention. She looked up and screamed in terror…
A woman was flying above their vehicle, arms spread, hair fluttering violently, tattered cloth trailing behind.
Manoj started shouting out his prayers, clutching a rod in front to keep him from bouncing. The road turned right and ended abruptly. Arvind drove through a patch of grass and bushes and came to a halt by the bank of the river. Lights were shimmering in a closely packed settlement a little way downstream. And in between lay a dozen or so boats upturned and tied to small poles.
“Get in!” Arvind flipped the nearest boat and waited impatiently as Aditi scrambled in. He pushed the boat to the river. She saw the water and at once knew they wouldn’t make it. She clung to the sides of the boat. She was about to find out what her father felt like so many years ago. People had begun to come out. Arvind untied a pair of oars from the adjacent boat and handed them to Manoj. He himself took a pair and with one final push, set the boat floating in the water. People began to shout, running towards them, yelling that it was not safe.
The current pulled the boat in. Arvind managed to fling himself aboard just in time. By the time he had setup his oars, they were already moving down the river uncontrollably. Aditi was surprised to find that Manoj knew how to handle the oars. After some effort, they managed to move forward, while the boat kept flowing down with the current. The settlement was left behind, so were the shouts and the shimmering lights. All that now remained were gloomy trees and the black water.
They had reached halfway across the river, and for the first time Aditi allowed herself to believe that they might make it. That was when the boat stopped moving. It stayed still while the men rowed and rowed. It stayed still as the river rushed on.
“Give me a man, my bitch!”
Aditi looked up to see the Devi hovering above their boat.
She screamed and screwed her eyes shut. The boat began to turn round and round in circles, wobbling dangerously. The water underneath was monstrous. Black. Ferocious. Manoj let go of the oars and clung to the sides for his dear life. He didn’t know how to swim. Neither did Aditi. Arvind rowed and rowed, until his arms resigned and the oars slipped from his grip. Aditi knew that the three of them would never make it to the other side.
One had to die.
CHAPTER 19
THE RITUAL
… and the tree begins to speak.
“Hail the Root, womannn, andd makke yourr wissh!”
“I… I want… I want this woman to…” the cloaked woman’s voice is shrill, weak, terrified. “I want… a man to marry my daughter…” A shadow watches her from the tree, listening to every word quietly. “I want… please help me…” and she can say no more. She knows she has made another mistake. The wish must be stated out clearly. She tries again, “I wish…”
“The mann you speakkk offf isss alreaddy marrieddd,” says the shadow from above.
“Yes…”
“Thennn whatt isss yourrr wissshh, womannn? Do you asskkk thatt I takke hiss wiffe? Free yourr mannn offf herr?”
“No! She cannot die so soon! That would do no good. I come here to ask you to make her sick! Terribly sick! Yes, that is what I wish for. Make her bed-ridden. Take away her beauty. Destroy her home. Make her so sick that she becomes a burden for her husband.”
The shadow remains quiet. The ghastly shapes that rose from the graves and climbed down from the trees have started to retreat.
“And while she suffers in bed, let my daughter take her place. Let her give him company. Let her lighten his burden. Make this woman sick for as long as it takes, but let him fall in love with my daughter. And when he does, the woman must die!”
Having spoken her wish, the cloaked woman waits. There is a moment of silence. Then, the shadow begins to creep down the trunk of the great tree. The woman tries not to panic as it slithers on the ground towards her. An invisible hand grips her wrist. She flinches and raises her hand. Four finger-marks have appeared on her skin.
“The womannn you ssspoke off will be sssickk,” bellows a booming voice. “Sshe willl not die asss longg asss yourr daughtter and herr mann are apartt.
“Now rise woman, andd go backk to the worldd you came fromm. Mark yourr ssacrifices, one by one, jusst asss you nameddd themm. One fingerr on yourr wrisst willl be releaseddd every ttime a girll is enssslaved.
“You willl be cleanedd offf all fourr markss whenn the womannn iss mine to takke.”
The cloaked woman rises. Without another glance at the tree, she turns around and walks away. She is troubled. She has paid far more than she had anticipated. She had come with the name of one girl, two in case the price was not enough. She had worked out ways to mark one girl, two if the need be. But three?
But that is not what troubles her now. It is the mark on her wrist. She mutters a curse. She should have been more careful, should have delved deeper before summoning the spirit.
She has to be even more careful now, for she has been marked. She knows she will die if anything goes wrong as long as the task is not complete.
She shudders. But that is the way things work. The deed is done. There is nothing she can do now.
A mother can sacrifice her own life for her child, she tells herself. Her daughter must live a happy life, even if she could not.
She needs to buy bangles. Lots of bangles, lest someone saw the marks.
CHAPTER 20
THE RIVER
Poor women sat in a small courtyard in front of a shabby three-room hut. Some were crying. Some were consoling the old woman who visited the temple regularly. Men stood outside the wooden fence surrounding the front yard. Cacti grew in some places where the fence had rotten or was missing a stick or two. They spoke in whispers, watching the mourning women. Away from the mourners, a one-and-a-half-year-old toddler was growing restless. The young woman holding her was doing her best, but the child wanted her father. No one could replace him,
no matter how many kisses they planted. What remained of her father was a black-and-white photograph in the centre of an A4 size sheet resting on a plastic chair in the courtyard. It was a magnified Xerox copy, probably taken from his Voter ID card.
When Aditi opened her eyes, she found herself in one of the rooms of the hut. Her lungs were still burning. Her throat was sore. Her eyes itching. She was in a different sari. She heard the wailing and slowly rose to her feet, taking in her surroundings. She clasped her mouth when she saw the gathering in the courtyard just outside her room. She felt hands supporting her. Someone told her that her husband was in the other room. Aditi found him lying on a bed in a dhoti. He was either sleeping or still hadn’t regained consciousness. There was a young, well-dressed man sitting by the door. He was the compounder who had attended to them both. He stood up as she entered, put his hand on his chest and gave a quick nod. She returned the gesture, but didn’t bother to ask about her husband. She knew he was out of danger. She just wished he could suffer a bit more.
She had made a decision the previous night. One of them had to die. She could take her husband’s name – option number one. Or Arvind could do both of them a favour and sacrifice himself instead. Or… option number three… she could give up her life… wouldn’t that end everyone’s problem…
She had stood slowly on the boat, trying to maintain her balance. Arvind cried for her to sit. But she didn’t. She was staring at the black swirling water. She was staring at death. She had to put an end to it all. A drop of tear fell from her eyes. She would be gone, forever, but there would be no one to mourn her death. She tried to think of someone, at least one person who adored her, who would miss her, cry for her, but none came in her mind. Tears began to flow uncontrollably. And then, she had jumped.