The Green Room & Devi Collection

by Nag Mani

  “But then, your wife was there to ruin it all. It was where the Mukhiya came in. He would get rid of her, and keep her as his payment. Aditi was going to disappear. And then you would need a new wife, sooner or later. That is why Heera Lal Singh met you on the pretext of a loan. And soon, what was initially a business affair, turned into wooing a groom for his daughter. He made sure that you came close to her, so that even if you denied marrying her, they could allege exploitation, or even rape, and force you into marriage. Everyone would get what they wanted. Your brother, his mistress. The Mukhiya, a woman. And you, another wife.”

  “Inspector Sahib,” Bhagvati said, her voice low and quavering, “I know Ajay. He would never do such a thing…”

  “Well Ma Ji,” Inspector Mishra marched to the door, “ask him yourself.” He went to the veranda and called out to someone.

  It was a couple of minutes before Ajay appeared at the door, his hands behind his back, a constable following in his wake. He seemed to be handcuffed, but when the constable turned to close the door, his hands fell to his sides. Manoj rushed to him, but Ajay ignored his brother. He was taller than Manoj, and broader, and darker. His hair was parted in the middle. His eyes were fixed on Aditi, and hers fixed on him. No one else seemed to exist in the room.

  Aditi, who had been standing by the backyard door so far, came forward. Her head was spinning. She was a burden for so many. Her mere existence seemed to be a prick. She glared at Ajay and he stared back. “Why?” was the only word she could utter.

  “Why?” Ajay shouted in his hoarse voice and spat at her feet. “You want to know why? Because you ruined our family! You pulled us apart and left us on our own. We were happy before you came. Happy in our little house that you found unbearable to live in. My brother worked in the bank. Everyone respected him. Every child born in our village admired him. And then you came along, with your pride and arrogance. You thought we were illiterate village people who knew damn shit. You thought you were more learned than my brother. More qualified. You always undermined him…”

  “I didn’t…”

  Ajay was shouting now. “And you couldn’t see us living together, could you? You thought we were living off your husband’s money, when everything could be yours. He was your husband, wasn’t he? Whatever he earned, was yours. You claimed it as if it was your right. But he was also a brother and a son. And let me tell you one thing, Bhabhi, we both gave our XIIth boards together. We both sat in the same exam centre. I always knew my brother was intelligent and would make a successful man someday. And all I could do was eat and shit. So, when a chit was found lying next to his seat during the exam, I thought he was done for. I was sitting few rows behind him. And I rose. And I said it was my chit. Everyone was cheating that day. They had to catch someone to show on paper. It would have been my brother. But I took the blame. And after that I never appeared for the exams, whereas my brother, he went ahead to become an officer. But you couldn’t see us together. You thought we were vermin living on your husband’s income. So, you coaxed him to shift to Purnia. Then you made him take a house loan. Built yourself a pretty house while we lived under a leaking roof.

  “But you didn’t stop even then. You knew your husband would always be obliged to help his younger brother as long as he was unemployed. So, you made me look after a gas agency, your gas agency. Everyone praised you. But no one noticed that it was on your name. No one noticed that you had deliberately not taken the agency in Purnia. You kept saying that Purnia was already blooming with agencies, but you knew right from the start that you would be giving me the agency to run; and opening it in Purnia would mean that I would continue to live with you. You made me your puppet, knowing all along that you could throw me out anytime you felt like because the business was on your name! YOU BROKE MY FAMILY.”

  Aditi realised that her throat had dried. She fell to the floor, her back against the wall.

  Damn it! He had seen through it all!

  Yes, she had wanted to get rid of his family. They were nothing more than parasites living off whatever should have been hers. They treated her like a maid, who had to fulfil each of their whims and fancies for three meals a day and a roof to sleep under.

  Yes, she had cajoled Manoj into moving away from his family. She felt suffocated with them and their primitive ways of living. They had no purpose in life other than to eat and shit and sleep, and taunt her in between.

  Yes, she had handed the gas agency to Ajay not because she cared for him. It was her master move. When her father died, two truths hit her face like a hot desert wind. One – anything could happen to anyone at anytime. Two – if that anything happened to her anytime, she would not have anyone to support her. She knew her in-laws didn’t love her; there was no respect, no care, no feelings or emotions that ought to be in a family. They thought of her as no more than a woman doing her duty that she was obliged to do, rather paid to do. As with an open market, the problem was that there would always come a better product. And her in-laws wouldn’t have hesitated to replace her if it came. She needed a ground on which she could stand, and she knew she was far from cracking the civil services examination. Giving Ajay the gas agency had two benefits – her in-laws, especially her husband began to think more highly of her, it was her idea after all. Ajay would do all the hard work in the initial stages and she could have taken over the already established business anytime the situation demanded.

  Aditi saw the men quarrel. Bhagvati sat on the floor beating her chest. The constable was pressed against the wall, trying to mix with the background. She couldn’t hear them. Her ears were ringing. What had she hoped with her life, and what had it actually turned out to be? Is a normal life so difficult to come by?

  Manoj was talking something about an arrest and was continually throwing glances at her. It was some time before the ringing stopped. “… not arrested him. All this was informal enquiry. But I will make the two of them confess. Arrest him and his lover…” Inspector Mishra was saying. Ajay was perturbed with the threat. He might have already accepted his fate, though there was not a glint of guilt or regret in his eyes.

  “But the most important question is,” the inspector continued, “is your wife willing to make a formal complain?”

  The answer should have been a simple yes. But what then…

  Ajay would be arrested. Manoj was likely to be suspended while the case was going on. It would tarnish his reputation and chances of promotion even if he came clean. He and his parents would never forgive her, even though, they would surely forget what Ajay did. And what would happen to her? How long would her widowed mother support her? Where would she live? She could take up a job. But she knew a few women, divorcees or widows, who lived alone and were considered a black mark in the society. They were never invited to any social event and were regarded as bad omens during festivities. And she also knew of men who swarmed them like fleas around a carcass. Day and night. Year after year. Wasn’t dying a far better option?

  She burst into tears. Just two days ago she wanted to fight for her rights. She felt that those women were weak who couldn’t take a stand for themselves, and that she was a strong and independent woman. But judgement is best served when you are not the victim. For victims have far more things to consider than morals and rights.

  Bhagvati was shaking her head vigorously. Manoj seemed ready to strangle her the moment she nodded. Ajay stared at her shamelessly, threateningly, defying. Inspector Mishra waited for her to nod…

  …but he wasn’t disappointed when she didn’t.

  CHAPTER 18

  DEVI

  The sky was deep blue, mutating into an expanse of red westward. The stars bright and glittering. Aditi sat on the hand-pump platform, a knife in her hands, shivering.

  Ajay Prasad. She wanted to scoop his eyes out with a spoon and feed them to him. And what did Manoj do when he found out? Nothing! He was just worried about his arrest, but not as much as gave a thought as to what would have happened had his plan succeeded.
Ajay was his brother. But she just a wife. And what would have happened anyway, Manoj would have married someone else, the wife of his dreams – the not-so-learned and not-so-smart.

  And the Devi? How did she come in the picture? Aditi could recall only vaguely what had transpired that night when the Devi had come to her room. She couldn’t forget the pain. The Devi had told her that she would protect her. That she, Aditi, needed protection. She had then cut her wrist…

  And out of nowhere, she recalled something else. What had the Mukhiya said when he received her that evening? Something about swearing on the Devi his head if something happened to her.

  Damn! Aditi cursed.

  She knew it was just an expression. And that was exactly what took place! He had meant her harm and he lost his head! The Devi had actually saved her! But it came for a price – her blood!

  Would the Devi listen to another wish? To save Zoya? She would readily give her life in return. Wouldn’t it all end if she took her life?

  The inspector had taken Ajay and Manoj to a shade in a deserted field. Bhagvati had followed them, leaving her daughter behind. Payal stood still beside Aditi, watching her cry. Then she slid down beside her. She tried to wipe her tears, but that proved futile, for they kept coming. “It will be okay, Didi,” she kept repeating. Aditi put her head on her shoulder, and like that she had stayed, her eyes wandering aimlessly.

  Sometime later, the constable had returned with a piece of paper. “Sir has asked you to read this and sign. It’s just a precaution. He will keep it with himself, just in case…”

  Aditi took the paper. It said that she felt her life was threatened and should anything happen to her, Manoj and his brother were to be held responsible.

  She had signed and handed it back.

  Sitting by the hand-pump now, Aditi began to run the knife over her wound. The men and Bhagvati were still out. Payal was sitting in the bedroom now, quiet and gloomy, unaware that Aditi had latched the backyard door from outside. Blood flowed down her wrist and onto the soil. Her cut felt as if on fire. She dug deeper, using her fingers to claw out chunks of flesh. More blood. Her vision darkened. Her head began to stoop. The knife fell.

  From the corner of her eyes, she saw the outhouse door open, ever so silently.

  Then there was jingling of anklets.

  A pair of feet emerged from inside; and in the little light of dusk, Aditi saw a woman approach her.

  “Gudiya!” said a voice from above as the woman stopped in front of her, her knees in level with Aditi’s face. Aditi held her head down, her eyes on the disfigured feet poking out from the hem of a tattered sari. “Is everything all right, gudiya?”

  A hand reached out and held her bleeding wrist.

  “You… you saved me! You killed the Mukhiya. You killed his son…”

  “You needed protection, gudiya, didn’t you!” Something pink and slimy slithered out from the shadow above the neck. It began to lick the blood off her wrist.

  “Then save Zoya! She has been cursed. That man will take her the moment she is marked…”

  “She has already been marked. She will be taken tonight.”

  “Then do something!” Aditi shrieked. “Save her life! Take mine instead. You want a price, a sacrifice? Take me!”

  The woman smacked her lips. Aditi looked up, but all she saw was the sari falling in layers over her. Somewhere in that fabric was a waist, dirty, yet fair. “What good are you, gudiya? Your blood is stale,” said the voice from above. “And your heart? Feeble. Worthless.” The woman retreated, and as Aditi watched, one of the legs began to rise. The feet landed on her head. Aditi was forced to look up at the headless figure, a swirl of shadows and darkness where the head should have been, entrapped in a tangle of black, dirty hail falling down till the thighs. “But if you could give me the blood of someone more valuable… someone… stronger. If you can sacrifice a man…”

  “Why not me! I am going to die anyway. I want to die!” Aditi managed to speak, even as terror rendered her limbs immovable. “I was the target… take me!”

  The feet began to shove her head in circles. “You are not going to die.” There was anger in the voice now. “Not so soon, my bitch! My fucking bitch!” Darkness crept in from the skies above, so that all Aditi could see was the abominable figure standing in front of her. She realised she had lost a lot of blood. But there was no trace on her wrist, or on the soil. The Devi had drunk it all. “You will be sick. Terribly sick. Your skin will peel. Your hair will fall, and your bones will crack, but you will not die, my bitch, not so soon. You will rot in bed, unable to stir, unable to blink. You will be in pain. And when the deed is done, he will come for you. You will know when the time comes. You will fear every shadow that thrives around you, for one of them will move, creeping like the night, and as you helplessly watch, it will shred you to pieces.”

  “Why?” Aditi asked as an excruciating pain began to rise up her spine.

  “To take your place.”

  Aditi wasn’t sure she heard the words. The feet withdrew and she slumped forward. Someone was knocking at the door. The feet left the ground and began to ascend, hovering above her. The knocks became impatient. Aditi made for the door, but instead, crashed on the ground. She began to crawl, frighteningly aware of the pair of pale feet floating beside her. She managed to pull herself up the steps. Payal was calling out to her. Aditi unlatched the door and collapsed. Payal embraced her and pulled her into her lap. The Devi had disappeared. But unlike Payal, Aditi saw a faint shadow mingling with that of the edge of the roof.

  Aditi was in bed when Manoj returned that night. Bhagvati was already home, having been called by Payal, and was massaging Aditi with warm mustard oil. Her wrist had been re-bandaged. Manoj didn’t dare enter the bedroom. He paced up and down in the hall, until his legs tired and he sat down on the cot. After having a meagre dinner of chapattis and pickle, Bhagvati and Manoj sat in the hall to talk. Apparently, Manoj had learnt about Aditi’s adventure that morning. And of all the people, he had asked Arvind to do something about the black magic. Aditi wanted to march out and slap him again. But it wasn’t just him, even Razzak had the same thing in mind, a feeble hope that he might save his third daughter, so he had asked Arvind for help. Arvind had gone home, promising he would do everything he could to find the culprit. Their voices dropped when they discussed Ajay. He had been instructed to leave the village immediately. Manoj was worried about him, but not about what he did. He was his little brother, and little brothers sometimes made mistakes. Manoj had planned to leave the village the next day. He would call the head-office from the bank, explain it was urgent and leave. Bhagvati and Payal had agreed to accompany. Aditi would need someone to care of her. And he very well knew who would be held responsible in case something happened to her on their way home.

  Aditi was resting beside Payal. She had a little difficulty in breathing. But her mind was on the headless woman she had met in the evening. The Devi wanted a man for the sacrifice this time. And how happy Aditi would have been to name her husband. Let the Devi take him away. It would have solved all her troubles. Or would it? What about the problems it would create? Anyway, she should have been willing to take his name without hesitation, but like the time she couldn’t nod when Inspector Neeraj Mishra had asked for her consent to register a complaint, she couldn’t open her mouth and say it. Her thoughts drifted to the last thing the Devi had said. To take her place! Under other circumstances, it would have made no sense, out of context. But she very well knew what it meant.

  But why the double attack? The conspiracy and the black magic? Aditi agreed with the inspector that Manoj had not been involved in the plot to kidnap her, although he had everything to gain. He had just been a pawn his brother had shrewdly used to play his move. The phone call that Ajay had picked up a fight and had been arrested was enough for Manoj to abandon his wife and rush to him. Aditi had learnt from Bhagvati, who in turn had picked up words from some men sitting by the gumti, that the Mukhiya had
been sitting with the manager when the call came and it was the Mukhiya who had offered him to be the host while he was away.

  But why the black magic?

  Aditi allowed Payal and Bhagvati to sleep next to her, but Manoj was left to take care of himself in the hall. She heard the cot creak as he shifted again and again. He wasn’t snoring, which meant he wasn’t having a good sleep. Aditi enjoyed his discomfort, another of her small victories, for though he had nothing to do with the conspiracy, she still held him responsible for letting it happen right under his nose, and then, showing no concern for her when it was unearthed.

  She dozed off and dreamt of something, or maybe she didn’t; maybe, she was just thinking. Her mother was brushing her hair. She was sitting in her lap, a winter sun warm and soothing on her shoulders. Her mother was telling her about a man in their neighbourhood who had two wives. Before the second marriage, his wife fell sick one day. The treatment was long and soul consuming with little chances of recovering. Her younger sister was called to take care of her. The young woman looked after her sister with utter devotion. She gave up her comforts to ease her sister’s pain.

  Weeks turned into months. Patience turned into frustration. The husband and the sister tried their best not to show it. But the wife could not un-see the way her sister’s face lit up every time her husband entered the room. She could not un-hear the whispering and the giggling that came from empty rooms of the house.

  After days and days of thinking, she decided to ask for her dying wish – that her sister took her place when she died. Filled with love, she asked for the marriage to take place before she died, so that she could see for herself the newly married couple and be happy about it. Her husband and her sister married in a temple and came to her for her blessing. She was satisfied. She could die in peace. But instead of death, came a miracle. She recovered. And ever since the two sisters lived together and shared the same man.