Read Online Desh by Kim Kellas - Free Book Online

seat with Mazid buckled up beside him. In the front, Gourab’s sister said how beautiful Munni was, and how lucky to have a sister-in-law from London. Then someone added that she might be beautiful but she couldn’t talk. ‘What’s the use of a bride that won’t speak?’ and they all laughed, except Mazid. Aila thought of her cousin. She took the beating and didn’t cry, so Aila wouldn’t either.
    When the car stopped she stepped out under the thick black sky. Her mother-in-law waited outside the house. Aila felt chilled to depths of her being and realised she hadn’t eaten, drunk or spoken, but she managed to calm the shaking enough to walk through the open courtyard, past the tethered dog and the hen cages, and into the house.
    The front room was full of people – friends of her husband and more photographers and a table had been laid with sherbets and cakes. “Come, you must have something,” Gourab’s mother said and she handed her a goblet. Behind her, Gourab hissed, “You can’t refuse the food your mother-in-law offers you.” She knew to take three sips of the ceremonial drink and, as the gritty liquid hit her throat, she remembered what Shaf had said, but then her legs buckled and she reached for Mazid, just before they gave way underneath her.
    He managed to drag her to a bedroom where she felt her body collapse and fall. He rolled her on one side and tried to tuck her arms into what she recognised as a recovery position, and wrapped his scarf round her shoulders, as violent shakes took over her body.
    Other people seemed to have followed them into the room and heads loomed over her. She heard her brother telling them to leave her alone, but they wanted pictures with the husband and then there was someone lying behind her on the bed. No one seemed to notice the spiders crawling up the wall. She tried to speak, to warn Mazid about the spiders, but her mouth wouldn’t work and her mind shut down.
    Someone slapped her face and shook her shoulder. Sadhan wanted her to get up. He’d come to take her home. She tried to sit, but her head wouldn’t lift and even with his help, her arms wouldn’t work either. So he wrapped his sinewy arms around her and lifted her off the bed, while Gourab watched from the other side of the room.
    Downstairs she heard wailing as her father carried her out. “This is outrageous. You can’t take the bride away on the wedding night.”
    He stopped at the front door. “I can’t leave my daughter in a house with no bathroom. She’s not accustomed to that. I will return later for my son-in-law.”
    As they left the wailing rose behind them. “Nothing’s going to happen, now. Nothing’s going to happen. She’s the cousin of the bad sister’s husband. What do you expect?”

A good yield
    The New Year saw Sheikh Hasina sworn in as Prime Minister. She promised to find the people who killed her father and to bring the Islamicist party to justice, although everyone said she was just as corrupt as the rest of them and the system would never change.
    Mazid and Sobia became the great success story and with any luck, the aunties were heard to say, there’d be a pregnancy to cement things. Aila, however became ‘a gaping wound that showed no sign of healing.’ Her skin started to flake and hair fell out in clumps wherever she walked; then Gourab moved into her room one night.
    She lay in bed fully clothed and wide awake, vigilant for the hand under the sheet that crept towards her thigh. “You’re beautiful,” he said as the leg moved away.
    â€œCan you give it a rest and just listen? Try to understand it’s very different in England. People get to know each other first, even in arranged marriages; you spend time together. You at least get to see each other in person.”
    He rolled towards her. “You saw my photo and said I was