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Authors: Karan Mahajan
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brutal, ugly, awful.
She was sobbing now in great malarial spasms; her jewelry was rustling and grinding like ancient machinery; she raised the back of her right hand to her eyes but the hand itself was trembling, ineffectual, and Rakesh watched with perverse fascination as her tongue shot out to divert the goo of tears and makeup and snot dripping down her face. Then he rescued her. He reached for her and pulled her down by her bare shoulders onto the bed. He lay next to her, stroking her hair. Both of them stared at the ceiling. In the side mirror it looked like Rakesh was dusting a jacket rather than stroking the black hair of his sudden bride.
This is the most awful thing I have done to a woman, he thought. I hope I am never forgiven for it.
He never hit her again. He whispered into her ear, “Now tell me.”
“She forced me to wear her clothes and come to the tent. She is a very difficult woman. How can I explain it to you? How?” She was whimpering more than talking.
“Who is she?” he whispered gruffly. “Don’t use pronouns.”
“My mother, ji: She is not wanting any of us to get married. Yes, there are people like that in the world also. She wants all of us to grow old in her company. To be with her always. She is a hypochondriac and is always sick. She wants us all to take care of her till she passes away. But she will never die. A person as sick as her never dies.”
She sat up and frizzed up her hair in what was a surprisingly mannish manner; fingers forking through from the front of the scalp to the back.
“For me, who am oldest and not so attractive, she always tried to find a boy who was too good-looking. This meant that no boy said yes to me. I got used to this. I thought I would not get married ever. But Asha, my sister—”
“Yes,” Rakesh snapped. “I know her. I know she is your sister. I was supposed to marry her. Perhaps you remember?”
She ignored this. “Asha is very pretty. On her side, Mummy thinks no boy is good enough. For five years, we have been looking. Then you came. We were all so impressed by your picture. You are so fair. You have such a good height. You have fine shoulders. We all liked the way you part your hair on the side and the way you had grown your sideburns like a film star. You also have a very nice set of eyes. They are not quite brown.
“So Asha said yes. But then what always happens happened. Mummy started poisoning Asha’s mind. She started saying she had talked to her astrologer and he said the starswere bad. That you were a widower and you would always miss your first wife. That it was very strange that your parents were so sick that they could not even meet us.” (That was the excuse Rakesh had used to justify their absence.)
“Then ten days ago, Mummy almost phoned your house and said no. That was when I got very angry. We started shouting at each other. And I said, just as a thing to say, Fine, if Asha will not marry him, then I will .
“That was it. Then she forced me, ji. I had just said it as a thing to say only. And she forced me. She forced me to wear Asha’s clothes and marry you.”
“But you don’t look the type to get forced.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I know what my mother thought. She thought you would expose me and bring disgrace upon the family. And then no one would ever want to marry me or Asha or Raghav. Raghav is my good brother.”
“So why did you do it?”
“I was forced.”
Again she began to bite her nails, but Rakesh grabbed her hand from her mouth and held her thick fingers tight. “You don’t look like the type to get forced. Admit it. You wanted it also. You are making this up. You wanted it also. You secretly wished this would happen. That I wouldn’t expose you. You’re happy right now. You’ve taken revenge on your family, on your mother. Admit it—you’re happy.”
When Rakesh looked back days later, it was apparent he had been speaking for himself. This girl—this girl lying naked next
She was sobbing now in great malarial spasms; her jewelry was rustling and grinding like ancient machinery; she raised the back of her right hand to her eyes but the hand itself was trembling, ineffectual, and Rakesh watched with perverse fascination as her tongue shot out to divert the goo of tears and makeup and snot dripping down her face. Then he rescued her. He reached for her and pulled her down by her bare shoulders onto the bed. He lay next to her, stroking her hair. Both of them stared at the ceiling. In the side mirror it looked like Rakesh was dusting a jacket rather than stroking the black hair of his sudden bride.
This is the most awful thing I have done to a woman, he thought. I hope I am never forgiven for it.
He never hit her again. He whispered into her ear, “Now tell me.”
“She forced me to wear her clothes and come to the tent. She is a very difficult woman. How can I explain it to you? How?” She was whimpering more than talking.
“Who is she?” he whispered gruffly. “Don’t use pronouns.”
“My mother, ji: She is not wanting any of us to get married. Yes, there are people like that in the world also. She wants all of us to grow old in her company. To be with her always. She is a hypochondriac and is always sick. She wants us all to take care of her till she passes away. But she will never die. A person as sick as her never dies.”
She sat up and frizzed up her hair in what was a surprisingly mannish manner; fingers forking through from the front of the scalp to the back.
“For me, who am oldest and not so attractive, she always tried to find a boy who was too good-looking. This meant that no boy said yes to me. I got used to this. I thought I would not get married ever. But Asha, my sister—”
“Yes,” Rakesh snapped. “I know her. I know she is your sister. I was supposed to marry her. Perhaps you remember?”
She ignored this. “Asha is very pretty. On her side, Mummy thinks no boy is good enough. For five years, we have been looking. Then you came. We were all so impressed by your picture. You are so fair. You have such a good height. You have fine shoulders. We all liked the way you part your hair on the side and the way you had grown your sideburns like a film star. You also have a very nice set of eyes. They are not quite brown.
“So Asha said yes. But then what always happens happened. Mummy started poisoning Asha’s mind. She started saying she had talked to her astrologer and he said the starswere bad. That you were a widower and you would always miss your first wife. That it was very strange that your parents were so sick that they could not even meet us.” (That was the excuse Rakesh had used to justify their absence.)
“Then ten days ago, Mummy almost phoned your house and said no. That was when I got very angry. We started shouting at each other. And I said, just as a thing to say, Fine, if Asha will not marry him, then I will .
“That was it. Then she forced me, ji. I had just said it as a thing to say only. And she forced me. She forced me to wear Asha’s clothes and marry you.”
“But you don’t look the type to get forced.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I know what my mother thought. She thought you would expose me and bring disgrace upon the family. And then no one would ever want to marry me or Asha or Raghav. Raghav is my good brother.”
“So why did you do it?”
“I was forced.”
Again she began to bite her nails, but Rakesh grabbed her hand from her mouth and held her thick fingers tight. “You don’t look like the type to get forced. Admit it. You wanted it also. You are making this up. You wanted it also. You secretly wished this would happen. That I wouldn’t expose you. You’re happy right now. You’ve taken revenge on your family, on your mother. Admit it—you’re happy.”
When Rakesh looked back days later, it was apparent he had been speaking for himself. This girl—this girl lying naked next
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