The Green Room & Devi Collection

by Nag Mani

  Aditi’s condition deteriorated overnight. “What is happening in this family!” Bhagvati exclaimed when she came to see Aditi in the morning. Other that feeling as just as weak as she did the previous day, Aditi didn’t know what had happened that made Bhagvati say so. A mirror told her that her skin had turned pale. Her eyes had sunken in. Her sprained ankle had developed patches of purple. Apparently, Vicks Vaporub had no effect. Stinking of accumulated sweat and dirt, Aditi limped to the hand-pump and took a bath. She didn’t bother asking anyone to carry the buckets to the bathroom indoors.

  While scrubbing soap she saw that her plants had recovered from the flood. The pea climbers had climbed up the bamboo poles. A tiny yellow flower had blossomed in one of the tomato plants. The potential of a new life in times of dark clouds and darker power threatening to crack the earth under their feet, trying to pull them in an abyss from where there was no climbing back… But there it was, the yellow flower. It would struggle to survive, like everything else. Life would continue… no matter what.

  Police came to the village in the afternoon. Two constables stayed outside Laila’s house with their oiled lathis. Ranbir, the milkmaid, supplied them with tea. An officer was inside, asking questions, or rather, just quenching his curiosity.

  “Look at you, my son,” Bhagvati said as she served Aditi tea on her bed, “look at you! Bad times these are. It will pass, I know, but we need to take care of you. I think my daughter can help. Your little sister…”

  “You want to bring your daughter here?” Aditi asked passively.

  “It’s been a long time since I left my house. And I know for certain that she must have used up all the money I had left with her. But I can’t leave you like this. Not in this state! She can help with the household chores, you know. She is a good cook. She can cook for you… She won’t be long here, you know, just till you are better. That’s all. Just to take care…”

  “Oh! Of course,” Aditi said, slightly embarrassed that Bhagvati had to actually enumerate her daughter’s usefulness to bring her there, “she is always welcome here. But will it be safe to bring her… now?”

  “Don’t worry, my son, they are taking care of it.”

  Bhagvati went to the bank to use the telephone. A photocopy shop somewhere in Kishanganj received a call. Bhagvati, a neighbour of the shop owner, asked him to send someone for her daughter. She called back again after half an hour and spoke to her daughter, and then to the owner again. She explained to him why she couldn’t come all the way to Kishanganj and why she could not rely on her husband, the drunkard he was. The shopkeeper understood. It was decided that the shopkeeper’s brother would escort the girl to her mausi, her mother’s sister, in Deepnagar, and Bhagvati would meet them there. She thanked him, came home, packed a bag and left for her sister’s home. But before she did, she asked Ranbir, the milkmaid, to stay with Aditi all day long. The woman told Ranbir, her son, to hang around Aditi’s house with his siblings and friends and come running to her if Madam needed something. Villagers began to gather around Razzak’s house by evening. A small stage was being set up. And the children forgot their task and climbed trees to watch the whole event unfold.

  ‘They are taking care of it’ became clearer when the Mukhiya’s voice crackled from a loudspeaker. He talked about the two deaths in the village. He emphasized how sorry he was. He said that they all knew why it happened. He said they were going to fix it. He said they were going to ask forgiveness.

  He said they were going to sacrifice fifty and one goats to the Devi.

  *

  The following morning Manoj went to the bank early to update records. He had been doing most of the work from home so far, going to the bank only to carry out formalities. The staffs spent their work hours outside gossiping with passer-byes. A ‘Half-Day’ had been declared unofficially, because the sacrificial ceremony was to take place in the evening.

  When Manoj returned in the afternoon, he immediately went to the bedroom and started looking for a small bag. “I have to go to Purnia!” he declared, the words half in his mouth, half out.

  “Purnia? What for?” Aditi asked.

  “There is an urgent meeting. I have to leave. Now.”

  “What? Now?” A dread swept over her. She was in no condition to leave so hurriedly. She ankle hurt, she felt lethargic, sick… how was she going to… wait! “Are you leaving me here?”

  Manoj didn’t reply for a while. He packed a pair of clothes, his daily necessities and zipped the bag dramatically. “It’s urgent. There is a place up the river where it is wide, so less current. I can cross from there. You…”

  Aditi wanted to ask what was so urgent that he was required immediately. Did something happen in the bank? Did he do something? Rather she shouted, “How did you even think of leaving me here all alone, in this house, in this state?” If her ankle would have allowed, she would have even got up and slapped him.

  “I have asked the Mukhiya to take you in as his guest for a few days.”

  “You have what?”

  “He said he will take care of you. He has enough servants…”

  Before she could reply, there was a knock on the door, then a crude female voice, “Sahib?”

  It was Ranbir, the milkmaid. Manoj had called her to help Aditi pack. That was what the woman thought. She had actually been called so that Aditi would not throw tantrums in her presence. But Aditi did. She was past maintaining her dignity. She could have stayed back and waited for Bhagvati to return, but she had a feeling that Bhagvati would not be returning that day. Her daughter could not have reached Deepnagar any time before evening. Aditi shouted and abused her husband. Ranbir diligently did her duty and packed a few clothes and other essentials. She placed the bag on the floor and tried to pacify Aditi.

  Behind the two women, hidden under the mattress, was a knife.

  The chain of the bag unzipped on its own.

  The knife slid out and fell into the bag.

  An auto-rickshaw arrived half an hour later. Manoj had his mind set. He had to go to Purnia. And he just said it was an urgent meeting. No, it was not about the bank not operating for the last few days. No, he was not caught taking commissions. No, he had not made a blunder in his work. It was an internal meeting. Very urgent. And no matter how much she resisted, when Bachcha came home in the evening, he found the door locked.

  The Mukhiya was waiting for them with a big smile, big moustache and folded hands. “Welcome to my humble home, Madam!” Pleasantries were exchanged. She didn’t take part in it. She kept her eyes averted, looking at a distant herd of cows grazing in a field. “Is everything all right, Madam? She doesn’t look happy coming here, is it?”

  Aditi didn’t bother to respond.

  “Oh, sheee..aaa…” Manoj tried to think of something.

  “She doesn’t feel comfortable here, is it? She doesn’t feel safe? And that should be. But let me tell you Madam, think of this as your second home. There is no need to worry. Manager Sahib has some urgent business in Purnia. He will be back in a blink. And your mother, she will be back in a day or two, could have been earlier had it not been for this weather. The road to that side is treacherous these days. Till then, consider this your home. I, Om Prakash Singh, by the name of the Devi, promise you that I will lay down my head to keep you safe and sound. There is no need to worry. And, yes, please do come for the sacrificial ceremony, now that it is taking place just backdoors.”

  Gauri, his young wife, led her to one of the inner rooms along a dark corridor. The room was itself small, but clean and tidy. Light swarmed in through a window just above a narrow bed. An oil lamp and a match box were placed on a table by the door. Manoj came in to check once she had settled. She didn’t speak to him.

  “Rest, Didi,” Gauri came in once Manoj had left, “the ceremony will start in an hour or so.” Then she closed the door.

  Two women came to ask her if she wanted to attend the ceremony. Aditi didn’t want to, she was too weak for that. But there was nothing
she could do in the room either. Why not watch her bitch get all the blood she had been craving for?

  Her bitch.

  Her fucking bitch.

  She held their arms and limped to the temple. Hundreds of villagers had gathered in and around the campus. Boys sat on trees on the rear side, eagerly waiting for the show. Woman had formed their own group at a respectful distance from the sacrificial platform. Razzak and his family were near the temple steps, looking dazzled and lost. The Mukhiya was in a dhoti; his men and family, all dressed for an occasion far more cheerful, were busy giving instructions and pretending to be important.

  Fifty-one goats were tied to a tree beside the temple. White. Black. Brown. Red. Small. Big. Bigger. They moved around in excitement as people offered them water and tender grass. Children, those who chose to stay on the ground and not climb on trees, poked them and laughed. Mothers made them touch their feet to take blessings. The goats were pleased with the sudden change in their behaviour. They ate the tender grass and drank clean water and skittered showers of tiny brown goblets from their rear. They were happy when a priest began to ring a bell in his hand. They were happy when he began to chant. They were happy when one of them was carried to the platform, washed and worshipped… then its front legs pulled back, its head jammed in the wooden stump. A short, curved sword came down like lightning. First came the sound of metal rushing through flesh and bones and then of a head hitting the floor. The headless body fell and squirmed, blood rushing out of the neck in rhythm to its failing heart.

  It was then that the goats realised that everything came for a price.

  Aditi took a place near the campus wall, one towards the pond, overlooking the fields beyond. She leaned against the wall, as the goats were untied and dragged – they were reluctant to leave the herd now – to the platform. She kept an eye on the dark, vacant shrine, alert to catch any unexpected sight. Her elbow rubbed against someone. They both turned to look.

  “Namaste, Madam!” an old woman said in a surprisingly sweet voice.

  Aditi had seen her the first time she came to the temple. She nodded in return.

  “Look at the poor girl,” the old woman continued, raising her chin towards Zoya, “she must be terrified.”

  “And the Devi must be pleased,” Aditi mumbled. My fucking bitch.

  There was silence. The woman tried to say something. She had opened her mouth when Aditi cut her, “Why do you come here? What do you pray for?”

  “We all have our secret little wishes.”

  “Little wishes whose price is the lives of little girls?”

  “That is what happens when you blindly believe in traditions, without knowing why those traditions were created.”

  “What happens?”

  “This,” the old woman looked at the crowd in general.

  “What?”

  “They are blind in their beliefs. They think the Devi took those beautiful girls.” Aditi narrowed her eyes. “And here they are,” the woman continued, half smiling, “appeasing the Devi. Making her stronger.”

  “What are you trying to say? They didn’t die a natural death. I saw. I was there.”

  “The Devi didn’t kill them. That is not the way she takes life.”

  “Then, how does she?”

  “If she did, you would know.”

  Aditi let the words sink in. If she did, you would know. If…

  The Devi didn’t kill them? She looked around nervously at the eager faces of the villagers. The goats were being dragged and beheaded. Dozens of bleeding heads lay in a heap in front of the wooden post. Blood had clotted on the platform on its way to the drain, bright in the middle, darker on the sides.

  “I saw a man,” Aditi whispered, unsure if she was asking or stating.

  The woman nodded to herself. “I thought so.”

  “What? You know? You know this man?”

  She didn’t nod this time. “I know a thing or two, Madam. Things only a few know.”

  “Tell me about it? Who is this man? And what is happening here? Why did the girls die? Who killed them?”

  The woman was looking ahead at something. “I will tell you some time. Call for me when you are free. Maybe…”

  There were hurried footsteps. Rustling of sari. Then Gauri grabbed Aditi’s arms and pulled her away. “You! Get lost you filthy old woman! How dare you talk with Madam!”

  “I was asking her…” Aditi tried to pull back.

  “No Didi, please, you can’t talk to her. She is a daayan. And why are you even here, woman? Get lost! Get out! And what are you doing here, Didi? Why aren’t you with us? Why are you standing here, with your swollen ankle? You should sit there. Come…”

  People were looking now. So were the goats, the live ones, and the dead.

  “How do I call for you?” Aditi asked, as she limped towards the temple.

  “Ask Arvind,” the woman replied and sat down on her haunches, ignoring the hostile glances being thrown at her.

  *

  If you turn the knob of a kerosene lamp, the wicker is pulled in and the flame begins to flicker, until it dies completely. If you turn it the other way, the wicker rises and so does the flame, sending wisps of black carbon up through the narrow opening on top, until the wicker collapses and the flame dies due to insufficient oxygen. And if the wicker doesn’t collapse, the glass will soon be covered with soot and will absorb most of the light. The lamp in Aditi’s room was well adjusted. The flame was smooth and even. She sat on the bed with her back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. Beside her, the window was shut. It had been open till some time ago, moonlight casting a silvery rectangle that stretched on the floor and then rose up the opposite wall, outshining the light of the poor lamp. When Aditi looked out, she saw bare land stretch till the horizon under a clear starry sky and a brilliant moon. Intertwined, dark shapes of trees rose at the horizon. The land seemed to be ploughed, with a few structures here and there. There was no trace of man-made light. It was a view of a world devoid of human presence. It was divine. And it was frightening. Aditi had shut the window and crept back to her bed.

  Her skin was burning. Fever. She stared at the dark, wooden door in front of her. Her ears were strained to the sounds coming from outside. The general din of human activities began to die. There seemed to be a cow shed nearby, for she heard gentle tinkering of tiny bells. A child was coughing in one of the rooms in the house.

  It wasn’t the Devi, the old woman had said. It was not the way she killed. Then, how did she? Aditi would know if she killed one. How did she, the old woman, know that she, Aditi, would know if she, the Devi, killed one. Had she, the Devi, killed anyone before in recent time?

  Then there was this man. She recalled seeing him outside the window. Even though she was fainting, she knew there was something unusual about the sight, only that she couldn’t remember what it was. She felt extremely weak. She wanted to lie down. But she knew that sleep wouldn’t come. So she stared at the lamp instead, the only thing that seemed to be alive and moving in the room.

  Inhale. Exhale. 109.

  Inhale. Exhale. 108.

  Inhale. Exhale. 107.

  When would Manoj return? What was so bloody urgent?

  Inhale. Exhale. 106.

  Inhale. Exhale. 105.

  How was Zoya doing? Was she, Zoya, still awake like her, Aditi?

  Inhale. Exhale. 104.

  Inhale. Exhale. 103.

  Inhale. Exhale. 102.

  Inhale. Exhale. 101.

  Who was that man? That man she saw by the window…

  Inhale. Exhale. 100.

  Inhale. Exhale. 99.

  Zeenat was creeping up her window…

  Inhale. Exhale. 98.

  Inhale. Exhale. 99.

  Inhale. Exhale. 98.

  Inhale. Exhale. 97.

  Inhale. Exhale. 96.

  Inhale. Exhale. 95.

  Was Arvind really sick? Sick like Laila had told her.

  Inhale. Exhale. 96.
>
  Inhale. Exhale. 95.

  Inhale. Exhale. 94.

  Did she repeat the numbering somewhere…

  Inhale. Exhale. 93.

  Inhale. Exhale. 92.

  Inhale. Exhale. 91.

  How was her house back in Purnia? The gardener was the least punctual. He would have killed her roses by now.

  Inhale. Exhale. 90.

  Inhale. Exhale. 89.

  Inhale. Exhale. 88.

  Inhale. Exhale. 87.

  Inhale. Exhale. 86.

  Inhale. Exhale…

  Inhale. Exhale. 85.

  Inhale. Exhale. 84.

  Inhale…

  Did she miss a count? What was the last number? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember when she last remembered. Had she dozed off? How much time had passed since…

  And all of a sudden it struck her. The man… outside the window… Now she realized what was odd. He couldn’t have been standing outside.

  They were on the second floor!

  She opened her eyes. The passive shadows had become agitated. They were flickering angrily up and down the walls. Aditi had just moved to turn the knob when she heard something. It was the jingling of bangles. She felt someone pass outside her door. One of the many maids, maybe…

  But then the maid returned.

  Slowly. Lingering outside...

  Aditi watched the shadow in the gap under the door darken.

  Then came the tune of an old song. Someone was humming.

  The movements behind the door ceased. Aditi felt a heaviness that had suddenly crept into her room. Someone was breathing outside. Loud and raspy. Humming all along.

  No! It could not be the Devi!

  “Who… who’s there?” Aditi almost choked out the words.

  The humming stopped.

  The breathing continued.

  “Answer me! Who’s there?” she managed to say it clearly this time.

  Then came a voice. Loud and raspy. Like the breathing.