Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows

by Balli Kaur Jaswal

  ‘No need to leave your house in the middle of the night,’ Gurtaj said.

  Did he just call to have a go at her then? ‘I never said I was at home,’ Kulwinder replied. She left a question as to where she was and what she was doing, and pictured the surprise on Gurtaj’s face.

  Kulwinder marched briskly to the temple, her handbag tucked under her arm and her legs taking lengthy strides. It occurred to her that she might be followed again, but she felt a brazenness from earlier flowing through her blood. Sikhs are warriors, she remembered telling a very young Maya, whose eyes glowed with this knowledge, frightening Kulwinder. ‘But girls must act like girls,’ she had added. Since Maya’s death, Kulwinder had only allowed herself to feel the absence as short, shocking sparks. Now they had ignited something and Kulwinder felt she could breathe fire on anybody who crossed her.

  All of the windows were black with night except the classroom and Kulwinder’s office. She felt a twist of fear but pushed on until she reached the third-floor corridor. ‘Hello?’ she called out, taking measured steps towards the door. There was no response. The light glared through the small window in the door. With a gasp, Kulwinder saw the damage first. The room seemed upside down. The tables and chairs lay toppled and helpless, their legs sticking up in the air. Papers were strewn in every direction, and streaks of red spray paint crudely marked the blackboard and the floor. Kulwinder clutched the fabric of her blouse because this was the closest she could get to her heart. She hurried to her office.

  The vandals had done the same work here – turning over every surface, ruining the order of her work. The file folders had been tossed to the floor and one window bashed through.

  There was the sudden slap of approaching footsteps. Kulwinder scurried through the door into her office and searched wildly for a place to hide. The footsteps became louder. Kulwinder picked up the heaviest thing she could find – an office stapler – and clutched it with both hands. The footsteps stopped and a woman appeared in the doorway. Wearing a midnight blue tunic with a silver chain-stitched border, this woman looked both familiar and strange.

  ‘What happened here?’ the woman asked, staring at the mess. Then Kulwinder recognized Manjeet Kaur. Kulwinder hadn’t seen her out of widow’s clothes in the last year.

  ‘Somebody …’ Kulwinder gestured helplessly at the mess. She had no more words.

  ‘Where are the other women?’ Manjeet asked. ‘I’ve been away but I returned to Southall today. I could see the classroom light on from my house and I walked over to give them a surprise.’

  ‘They’re not meeting here any more. I cancelled the classes.’

  ‘Oh. You found out, then?’

  Still numb with shock, Kulwinder continued to survey the mess. The tidy desk at which she always sat with such pride had been gutted. One drawer hung open lewdly like a tongue.

  ‘I guess we should start cleaning up the place,’ Kulwinder said.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Manjeet replied. ‘I started my day with leaving my husband. I’m not going to end it with cleaning up after another man.’

  Kulwinder looked up in surprise. ‘Your husband? I thought he was …’

  Manjeet shook her head. ‘He left me. Then he wanted me back. I went to him thinking it was my duty but all he wanted was somebody to cook and clean after his new wife ran off. Once I realized it, I packed my bags and came home. The whole journey on the train, every time I felt anxious about what I had done, I just remembered that the other widows and Nikki would be cheering me on.’

  Kulwinder felt a pang of regret. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if the women had been in this building. I shouldn’t have sent them away.’

  Manjeet stepped over the papers and put her arm around Kulwinder. ‘Don’t blame yourself. Nobody can stop these fools.’ She took a moment to look around the room. ‘I thought the Brothers had more respect than to break in and destroy things like this, especially in the gurudwara.’

  Kulwinder crouched to the floor to pick up a folder and, noticing its contents were soggy, she recoiled. The acrid smell of urine wafted to her nostrils. She stepped back to the doorway and felt a surprising sting of tears in her eyes. She wiped them away furiously. Manjeet had a point. The Brothers were capable of vandalizing the cars and homes of women gone astray but temple grounds were sacred. From this distance, Kulwinder could see that everything had been tossed around a bit too deliberately, as if to give the impression of senseless vandalism.

  ‘Did they even find the stories?’ Manjeet asked.

  Kulwinder shook her head slowly. ‘You’re right – I can’t imagine the Brothers doing this.’

  ‘Then who?

  Kulwinder was about to reply when the open desk drawer caught her attention again. It was completely empty, unlike the others. It was the right-hand second drawer, the only contents of which had been Nikki’s CV and job application. She recalled clearing that drawer of its dusty old files after Nikki applied for the job, pleased to have her own official paperwork to store away.

  Kulwinder searched the floor. The CV, the application, Nikki’s personal particulars … Panic began to rise in her throat.

  ‘I think I know,’ Kulwinder said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A fierce wind stung Nikki’s face as she paced the pavement outside O’Reilly’s, smoking her third cigarette. She had certainly earned this one after struggling through that session with the women, the revelation about Jason turning in her mind. A group of men passed by and one looked back. ‘Give us a smile, luv,’ he called out. In the window of a passing bus, Nikki could see her reflection, her face knotted with rage. She glared at the man, who gave his friend a nudge and strolled off, chuckling.

  Making her way up the stairs to her flat, Nikki’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She stopped on the stairwell and answered.

  ‘Go to hell, Jason.’

  ‘Nikki, please, let’s just talk.’

  Nikki hung up and had an urge to hurl her phone out the window just so she could break something. She carried on up the stairs and reached for her keys. Now the tears began to pour, splashing onto her hands as she fumbled through her pockets. She didn’t notice Tarampal standing there until she reached the top step.

  ‘What …?’ Nikki started. With the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from her eyes.

  ‘Are you all right, Nikki?’ Tarampal asked. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Nikki muttered. What are you doing here?

  Tarampal reached out and gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. ‘You poor thing,’ she said. Her pity felt genuine and gave Nikki a bit of comfort but she still could not hide her bafflement. Had Tarampal heard about the classes in the pub and decided to join? It was unlikely. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of this situation: here was Tarampal at her doorstep, comforting her over her apparently married boyfriend.

  ‘I was wondering if we could have a chat,’ Tarampal said. She looked expectantly at the door.

  ‘Oh. Uh … sure,’ Nikki said. She opened the door to the flat and showed Tarampal in. ‘You don’t have to take your shoes off,’ she said, but of course, Tarampal did before hesitating in the doorway. ‘Please, make yourself at home,’ Nikki said, suddenly conscious of the inadequacy of her hosting skills. She gestured at the small table in the kitchen. Tarampal stepped daintily through the flat in her bare feet, startled by the noisy floorboards. ‘Have a seat,’ Nikki said. Tarampal remained standing. A bra had been slung over one of the kitchen chairs; Tarampal stared at it until Nikki removed it and tossed it into her bedroom. A lighter and a pack of cigarettes were also displayed in full view. Nikki decided that removing them would draw more attention.

  ‘Nikki, I think you have the wrong idea about me,’ Tarampal said when they were both seated.

  ‘Is that what brought you here?’ Nikki asked. She wondered how Tarampal had got her address. Tarampal looked so woeful that Nikki refrained from asking. ‘I don’t have any ideas about you,’ Nikki added.


  ‘I think you do,’ Tarampal replied. ‘I think the widows told you that I’m not a good person. It’s just not true.’

  ‘Is it true that you take money from people in exchange for prayers?’ Nikki asked.

  ‘Yes, but they come to me. They want help.’

  ‘That’s not quite what I heard.’

  Tarampal lowered her eyelids and shuffled her feet like a schoolgirl being reprimanded. Gone was the embittered mother-in-law of the dishonourable Maya. She had been replaced by this lonely, helpless creature, the same person whose illiteracy had compelled Nikki to bring storybook tapes to her home. ‘How would you survive, Nikki,’ Tarampal asked, ‘if you were a widow with no skills? Didn’t I try to learn English to become employable? You and the women turned me away.’

  It just didn’t make sense, Tarampal coming all the way here just to clear up some misconceptions. ‘What is it that you want, Bibi Tarampal?’ Nikki asked.

  ‘I’d like us to be friends,’ Tarampal said. ‘I really would. All those things I said about Maya, they must have scared you off. You must think I wanted her to die. What kind of person would that make me? I just wanted peace in my home. I wanted Jaggi to be happy. I never expected Maya to take her own life. This is something Kulwinder will never accept.’

  ‘Can you blame her?’ Nikki retorted. ‘Her daughter died under your roof.’

  ‘At her own hands,’ Tarampal said. ‘She was unwell, Nikki. Her mind was not right.’ She tapped her temple with her fingers and nodded knowingly. Nikki realized that this was not a practised gesture; Tarampal was telling the truth she knew. Whatever story Jaggi had spun, she had bought it.

  ‘You don’t think something else might have happened that night?’ Nikki asked.

  Tarampal shook her head. ‘Jaggi would never do anything to hurt anybody. He’s not that kind of man.’ Her eyes shone and a small smile played on her lips. ‘He’s such a good man.’

  Yuck, Nikki thought. She couldn’t help thinking of the widows’ conversations about mothers-in-law sleeping between their sons and their wives. She wondered what Maya’s fate would have been if Tarampal had had sons instead of daughters. Perhaps she would have been less zealous about Jaggi. Or perhaps Maya would have been forced to marry one of her sons.

  ‘Look, I know that you care for Jaggi very much but it’s possible that you don’t have all the details,’ Nikki said.

  Tarampal shook her head. ‘Kulwinder’s just out to get him because she’s feeling guilty.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Nikki asked gently. ‘I think you’ve been misled.’

  ‘You’re the one being misled, Nikki,’ Tarampal insisted. ‘I know you think you’ve got some supposed evidence against Jaggi but I can tell you, it’s not real.’

  ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘I spoke to Kulwinder earlier this evening. She came around to my house and told me she was going to the police. I tried to talk her out of it; I finally convinced her to give me your address so I could talk to you myself.’

  ‘Kulwinder gave you my address?’ What was Kulwinder playing at, sending Tarampal here? And why go to Tarampal’s house to gloat about finding evidence? Something did not make sense. ‘I don’t have the registration form, if that’s what you’re here for.’

  Tarampal’s face fell. ‘Who has it then?’

  ‘Kulwinder does. She didn’t show it to you?’

  Tarampal’s eyes darted away from Nikki’s. ‘No, she said you have it and she told me if I wanted it, I needed to talk to you.’ Her voice wavered. She was clearly lying.

  In her mind, Nikki could see the registration form neatly folded in her satchel, which she had kicked under her bed after taking out her phone and going downstairs for the pub session with the widows earlier. ‘I don’t have it,’ Nikki said. She noticed Tarampal looking around the flat, searching desperately. Nikki stood up. ‘I think you should leave, Bibi Tarampal.’

  ‘I’ve come all this way,’ Tarampal said. ‘At least make me a cup of tea? I offered you that courtesy when you came to my home.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t got tea. I wasn’t expecting guests,’ Nikki replied. She knew she was being uncivil but this visit was making her uneasy. Tarampal cleared her throat loudly and nodded. She stood up and walked ahead of Nikki towards the door, no longer careful to avoid the creaky floorboards. While putting on her shoes, she cleared her throat once more and began to cough.

  ‘Oh,’ Tarampal cried. ‘Oh, I’ve got this terrible cough from being out in the rain.’ With a thud, she leaned her weight against the door and continued to cough. ‘Could you please just put the kettle on and warm some water for me before I go back out there?’

  Tarampal’s theatrics rivalled Preetam’s. ‘Fine,’ Nikki said. She returned to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, sneaking glances at Tarampal. She coughed again. Nikki wished she didn’t feel a little bit sorry for her. She opened her cupboard. If Tarampal didn’t mind an Earl Grey, maybe Nikki should just make her a cup before sending her on her way.

  ‘Tarampal, would you like—’ Nikki looked up and stopped. The door was open and Tarampal was leaning outside, whispering urgently to someone. ‘Who’s there?’ Nikki demanded. The door flung open and a man barged into the flat, ushering Tarampal back inside, kicking the door shut behind him. A scream rose and died in Nikki’s throat. It was the man who had followed her the other night.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ she gasped.

  ‘Block the door,’ he said to Tarampal. She scrambled to the door and pressed her back against it. He pointed a finger at Nikki. ‘If you scream, you’ll pay for it,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Do you understand?’ She nodded quickly. Over the man’s shoulder, she could see that Tarampal’s eyes were wide with attention, not surprise. She had helped him enter her flat. This had to be Jaggi.

  ‘I saw you the other night,’ Nikki said. ‘You … you were following me.’ He must have overheard her talking about the form.

  Jaggi glared at her. ‘You’ve been stirring up trouble since the day you got to Southall. You wanted to teach dirty stories to widows, fine. Why poke around in our lives as well?’ He looked around the flat. ‘I’m going to make this simple: all I want is the form. Give it to me and we’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘You think you can just break into my home—’

  ‘You let me in,’ Jaggi said, pointing at the door. ‘No signs of forced entry.’

  ‘I haven’t got the form,’ Nikki said. She noticed Tarampal shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her arms almost comically splayed across the door like she was guarding a goal post. She felt her courage building. ‘You can search the place if you want.’ She prayed he would not look under the bed first so she could buy some time.

  ‘I’m not searching the place. I want you to bring it to me,’ Jaggi said.

  ‘I don’t have it,’ Nikki said. From the corner of her eye, she could see the kettle filled with boiling hot water. If she inched her way closer to the counter without Jaggi noticing, she could grab it.

  Jaggi took her by the arm and pushed her onto a chair. ‘Tarampal, come here and keep an eye on her,’ he said.

  Tarampal obeyed, moving to stand over her. She crossed her arms over her chest but there was the beginning of fear in her eyes. Behind her, Jaggi could be heard tearing through the bedroom. ‘Just give him the form and he’ll go,’ Tarampal whispered. ‘You’re making things more difficult for yourself.’

  ‘Do you still believe he’s innocent?’ Nikki asked. ‘He got you to help him break into my flat. Now he’s searching for evidence to destroy.’

  ‘You don’t know him,’ Tarampal said. Nikki could hear Jaggi cursing now. For a supposedly “good son-in-law,” Jaggi certainly had no qualms about swearing in Tarampal’s presence. He had called her by her first name as well, a sign of familiarity that Nikki found jarring.

  ‘He’s not very respectful towards you, is he?’ Nikki asked. She could guess from the nervous way Tarampal kept cas
ting glances towards the bedroom that she had never seen him like this. ‘I mean, as a son—’

  ‘I’ve told you, he’s not my son,’ Tarampal interjected.

  ‘I mean you’re his elder.’

  Tarampal balked. ‘I’m only twelve years older than him.’

  Could they be …? A fresh suspicion began to take root within Nikki. Then a crashing sound chased the thought away. A lamp had fallen. It was enough to distract Tarampal for a moment. Nikki shot out of the chair and pushed past Tarampal, who chased after her into the bedroom. ‘Get out of my flat!’ she shouted, hoping that somebody would hear her.

  Jaggi lunged for her and clamped his fingers around her neck. ‘Give me the form,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  Nikki gasped for breath. ‘Jaggi, don’t!’ Tarampal cried, trying to pry his hands off. He released Nikki and with one powerful swing, he threw Tarampal off, knocking her off her feet. Nikki took in a big gulp of air and held up her arms in surrender. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Okay. I’ll get it.’ She had to think quickly. ‘I hid it in the kitchen cupboard.’

  Jaggi crouched next to Tarampal. ‘Bring it to me,’ he ordered Nikki. She took in another shaky breath and hurried back to the kitchen. The kettle was right there but she hesitated to reach for it. Jaggi was strong; if her escape didn’t work, he’d kill her. She knew that much from the way his fingers had dug into her throat.

  ‘Why did you do that to me?’ Tarampal whimpered. Jaggi murmured back a reply that Nikki couldn’t hear. Her heart pounded in her chest – there was only so much stalling she could do. She grabbed the kettle and spun around just in time to see Jaggi tucking Tarampal’s hair behind her ear. It was a gesture too intimate to mean anything else.

  They were lovers.

  The realization clanged in Nikki’s head like a bell. She put the kettle back on the counter. The sound alerted Tarampal, who looked up and withdrew quickly from Jaggi. She avoided Nikki’s gaze.

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ Nikki asked her.