The Green Room & Devi Collection

by Nag Mani

  Arvind didn’t slow over ditches or stones. Manoj retched over and over again. They left the village behind and headed north along a broad mud path.

  “Where are we going?” yelled Aditi over the roar of the engine.

  “To my ghetto. We will cross river there.”

  Aditi looked out to see a deep red sky covered in thin film of smoke. Far to the south, smoke still emanated from the forest, flowing westward with the wind. Something over her head caught her attention. She looked up and screamed in terror…

  A woman was flying above their vehicle, arms spread, hair fluttering violently, tattered cloth trailing behind.

  Manoj started shouting out his prayers, clutching a rod in front to keep him from bouncing. The road turned right and ended abruptly. Arvind drove through a patch of grass and bushes and came to a halt by the bank of the river. Lights were shimmering in a closely packed settlement a little way downstream. And in between lay a dozen or so boats upturned and tied to small poles.

  “Get in!” Arvind flipped the nearest boat and waited impatiently as Aditi scrambled in. He pushed the boat to the river. She saw the water and at once knew they wouldn’t make it. She clung to the sides of the boat. She was about to find out what her father felt like so many years ago. People had begun to come out. Arvind untied a pair of oars from the adjacent boat and handed them to Manoj. He himself took a pair and with one final push, set the boat floating in the water. People began to shout, running towards them, yelling that it was not safe.

  The current pulled the boat in. Arvind managed to fling himself aboard just in time. By the time he had setup his oars, they were already moving down the river uncontrollably. Aditi was surprised to find that Manoj knew how to handle the oars. After some effort, they managed to move forward, while the boat kept flowing down with the current. The settlement was left behind, so were the shouts and the shimmering lights. All that now remained were gloomy trees and the black water.

  They had reached halfway across the river, and for the first time Aditi allowed herself to believe that they might make it. That was when the boat stopped moving. It stayed still while the men rowed and rowed. It stayed still as the river rushed on.

  “Give me a man, my bitch!”

  Aditi looked up to see the Devi hovering above their boat.

  She screamed and screwed her eyes shut. The boat began to turn round and round in circles, wobbling dangerously. The water underneath was monstrous. Black. Ferocious. Manoj let go of the oars and clung to the sides for his dear life. He didn’t know how to swim. Neither did Aditi. Arvind rowed and rowed, until his arms resigned and the oars slipped from his grip. Aditi knew that the three of them would never make it to the other side.

  One had to die.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE RITUAL

  … and the tree begins to speak.

  “Hail the Root, womannn, andd makke yourr wissh!”

  “I… I want… I want this woman to…” the cloaked woman’s voice is shrill, weak, terrified. “I want… a man to marry my daughter…” A shadow watches her from the tree, listening to every word quietly. “I want… please help me…” and she can say no more. She knows she has made another mistake. The wish must be stated out clearly. She tries again, “I wish…”

  “The mann you speakkk offf isss alreaddy marrieddd,” says the shadow from above.

  “Yes…”

  “Thennn whatt isss yourrr wissshh, womannn? Do you asskkk thatt I takke hiss wiffe? Free yourr mannn offf herr?”

  “No! She cannot die so soon! That would do no good. I come here to ask you to make her sick! Terribly sick! Yes, that is what I wish for. Make her bed-ridden. Take away her beauty. Destroy her home. Make her so sick that she becomes a burden for her husband.”

  The shadow remains quiet. The ghastly shapes that rose from the graves and climbed down from the trees have started to retreat.

  “And while she suffers in bed, let my daughter take her place. Let her give him company. Let her lighten his burden. Make this woman sick for as long as it takes, but let him fall in love with my daughter. And when he does, the woman must die!”

  Having spoken her wish, the cloaked woman waits. There is a moment of silence. Then, the shadow begins to creep down the trunk of the great tree. The woman tries not to panic as it slithers on the ground towards her. An invisible hand grips her wrist. She flinches and raises her hand. Four finger-marks have appeared on her skin.

  “The womannn you ssspoke off will be sssickk,” bellows a booming voice. “Sshe willl not die asss longg asss yourr daughtter and herr mann are apartt.

  “Now rise woman, andd go backk to the worldd you came fromm. Mark yourr ssacrifices, one by one, jusst asss you nameddd themm. One fingerr on yourr wrisst willl be releaseddd every ttime a girll is enssslaved.

  “You willl be cleanedd offf all fourr markss whenn the womannn iss mine to takke.”

  The cloaked woman rises. Without another glance at the tree, she turns around and walks away. She is troubled. She has paid far more than she had anticipated. She had come with the name of one girl, two in case the price was not enough. She had worked out ways to mark one girl, two if the need be. But three?

  But that is not what troubles her now. It is the mark on her wrist. She mutters a curse. She should have been more careful, should have delved deeper before summoning the spirit.

  She has to be even more careful now, for she has been marked. She knows she will die if anything goes wrong as long as the task is not complete.

  She shudders. But that is the way things work. The deed is done. There is nothing she can do now.

  A mother can sacrifice her own life for her child, she tells herself. Her daughter must live a happy life, even if she could not.

  She needs to buy bangles. Lots of bangles, lest someone saw the marks.

  CHAPTER 20

  THE RIVER

  Poor women sat in a small courtyard in front of a shabby three-room hut. Some were crying. Some were consoling the old woman who visited the temple regularly. Men stood outside the wooden fence surrounding the front yard. Cacti grew in some places where the fence had rotten or was missing a stick or two. They spoke in whispers, watching the mourning women. Away from the mourners, a one-and-a-half-year-old toddler was growing restless. The young woman holding her was doing her best, but the child wanted her father. No one could replace him, no matter how many kisses they planted. What remained of her father was a black-and-white photograph in the centre of an A4 size sheet resting on a plastic chair in the courtyard. It was a magnified Xerox copy, probably taken from his Voter ID card.

  When Aditi opened her eyes, she found herself in one of the rooms of the hut. Her lungs were still burning. Her throat was sore. Her eyes itching. She was in a different sari. She heard the wailing and slowly rose to her feet, taking in her surroundings. She clasped her mouth when she saw the gathering in the courtyard just outside her room. She felt hands supporting her. Someone told her that her husband was in the other room. Aditi found him lying on a bed in a dhoti. He was either sleeping or still hadn’t regained consciousness. There was a young, well-dressed man sitting by the door. He was the compounder who had attended to them both. He stood up as she entered, put his hand on his chest and gave a quick nod. She returned the gesture, but didn’t bother to ask about her husband. She knew he was out of danger. She just wished he could suffer a bit more.

  She had made a decision the previous night. One of them had to die. She could take her husband’s name – option number one. Or Arvind could do both of them a favour and sacrifice himself instead. Or… option number three… she could give up her life… wouldn’t that end everyone’s problem…

  She had stood slowly on the boat, trying to maintain her balance. Arvind cried for her to sit. But she didn’t. She was staring at the black swirling water. She was staring at death. She had to put an end to it all. A drop of tear fell from her eyes. She would be gone, forever, but there would be no one to mourn her death. She tried to
think of someone, at least one person who adored her, who would miss her, cry for her, but none came in her mind. Tears began to flow uncontrollably. And then, she had jumped.

  The world below the surface was cold. Dark. Frightening. She was going lower and lower, to what end she did not know. Her lungs began to burn. She flailed her arms and legs. She wanted to rise to the surface, away from the deadly coldness. She wanted to breathe. But lower and lower she went… and darker and colder the water became…

  They told her that the boat had capsized. That all three of them were flung into the river. That Arvind had rescued her and pulled her ashore. Then he had gone back and pulled out the manager. And then, he had entered the water again, but never returned.

  A team of swimmers searched for the entire night and morning. But there was no sign of him. They concluded that he must have been washed away.

  There was a sudden scuffle as Arvind’s mother fainted in the courtyard amid the mourners. She was brought inside. Someone massaged her feet. Someone rubbed her palms. When she regained consciousness, she didn’t cry. She just stared blankly at the roof. Aditi wanted to apologise, but said nothing. They sat in silence.

  The baby started crying. “PA! PA!” She was brought to the old woman, her grandmother, who hugged her. The baby went on crying. “Ma, PA? PA?” A woman took her away, thinking food would calm her down.

  “I am sorry… your son… he died saving us!” Aditi managed to say at last.

  “He was dying anyway,” said the old woman, her voice firm and resolute. Her under-eyes were puffed and her cheeks sagging. “It is his Bijju I was crying for. His daughter. He wanted to give her a life he never had. What will happen to her now? We have no family. His wife left us. Then he. And what about this old woman? I might die before the sun sets.” She went quiet. “I always knew this was coming.” Fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks. “She is a good child, Madam. Very beautiful. Just like her mother. I thought she will grow up one day. Marry some handsome prince. But what will happen to her now? How will I raise her? And after I die? How long will she live? Would they even give her proper funeral or just throw her in the river for the fish to eat!”

  “Don’t say that…”

  “Don’t say what, Madam? I am just an old good-for-nothing burden on this soil. But it is all she has. A useless grandmother and a hut that is falling apart.”

  “I will take her with me,” Aditi said, unsure at first, then more resolute. “I will adopt her.”

  The old woman looked at her as she was a goddess. Then her expression changed. “Adopt her? Adopt a village child? It is easily said than…”

  “No, I am not just saying.” Aditi felt exhilarated as she spoke the words. Was she actually adopting a child? Was she? Yes, she actually was. Hadn’t she asked for a child? And here it was, a child waiting just for her. “I will treat her like my own daughter. We are going back today, no matter what. I will take her with me. And why just her, why don’t you come along as well?”

  The old woman did not reply. Her milky eyes were fixed on Aditi. And then tears began to form in them again. She hurriedly wiped them off with her aanchal and with an unexpected agility for an old woman, jumped out of the bed and went outdoors. She took Bijju from some woman and pulled her into a deep embrace, and as the crowd watched, both the chid and the grandmother began to cry.

  Someone whispered something and the gathering became strangely curious. The neighbours developed sudden interest in the city woman. Young women flocked Aditi and told her tales of the toddler. Older ones told her about the beautiful mother. Inspector Neeraj Mishra arrived with constables in a private Bolero and roamed around the neighbourhood gathering information. When Manoj woke up – he had regained consciousness quite some time ago, but had dosed off due to some drug that had been injected – and heard of the proposal to adopt the child, his first reaction was shock. He did not believe in adoption, let alone adopting the child of his assistant. Nevertheless, as always, he chose not to articulate his opinion. He would have the lifetime to express his feelings. Aditi knew he would explode the moment they reached their home. But she had had enough. She was not going to succumb to his tortures or subjugation again. The inspector took Manoj out and, for the first time, they talked without hostility. And without informing her, they climbed back into the Bolero and drove away.

  They returned about an hour later carrying two suitcases. Manoj told her that they would be leaving the village soon. He had telephoned their tenant that they would be returning.

  The news set the women in frenzy. Bijju was quickly taken to a hand-pump where her grandmother bathed her with diligence. Someone brought a new soap for her. She did not have new clothes, so the neighbours were most eager to provide her. Her grandmother got to select which one she would wear and which ones would be packed and sent. Her hair was oiled and combed and her forehead wiped. Her temple was marked with a big dot of kajal. Neighbours came in bearing gifts – small clay toys, plastic bangles, beady anklets, amulets, more clay toys, a little money. Bijju was enjoying all the attention she was getting. But soon she realized that all the faces were unfamiliar. Her father had still not returned. The old woman picked her up. She was growing more restless with every passing moment. “You will take care of her, no?”

  “Yes, of course. More than my own daughter. And why don’t you come along as well? Why aren’t you packing? You can stay with us!”

  The old woman started crying again. “What will I do in a city, Madam? This is my home. This village. I was born here. And here I will die. Else my spirit will never be reunited with my family. Where will it go if I die in a city? It will be lost. And it will never be at peace.”

  “But why here? You will be all alone and…”

  “No Madam. You do not worry about me. I know the streets here.” Then her lips began quavering. She took Bijju in a room and shut the door.

  Two boats were arranged. The river was calmer than it had been the previous night. As Aditi watched the men prepare the boats, the inspector sneaked beside her and slipped her a note. It was an address in Darbhanga. “Do visit us sometime,” he said, “when you have left all this behind. My wife and I will be looking forward to it.”

  “I will,” she replied and they watched the river for some time, silent. “Why did Payal have to pay for what her mother did?” she asked after a while.

  “That’s how things work,” he replied solemnly. “She paid for her mother’s love, if that can be called love.”

  “Yes, it was love. Love can be evil, but it is still love. And Salman? He ruined his life for what?”

  “What ruin? He was just eating and sleeping here. He will eat and sleep in custody. That is his life. But he will walk free. It will be a lengthy case, but he will walk free at the end of it.”

  “What about the law? He did kill her, you know it!”

  “Who will fight for her? Her aunt, who lives nearby but did not come to claim their bodies? Her father, who is a jobless drunkard? The lawyers will drag the case but eventually, he will walk free, so will the others.”

  They were quiet again. This time Inspector Mishra broke the silence, rubbing his hands, “I will get the grandmother sign a letter that she has appointed you the guardian of the child.”

  “That will do?” asked Aditi, surprised.

  “This is a village, Aditi, no one cares about legal procedures. Anyway, that will just be a formal record. Ask your husband to take care of other legalities once he is back in Purnia. But there was no need for all this. There are orphanages that…”

  “No! She is my daughter. I cannot abandon her.”

  Inspector Mishra nodded, but didn’t speak. Eventually, he turned around to leave.

  “This number,” she said, tapping on a telephone number scribbled below the address. The STD code was 0612 – definitely not of Darbhanga. “That is where he is? Patna?” The inspector nodded. Aditi took a deep breath. Then she asked the question she had dreaded to be answered all along. “What does he do?
”

  Inspector Mishra took his time answering. “He is doing well. He married not five months ago. Beautiful wife, I must tell you. She is a clerk in a bank. Yes, they are doing pretty well.”

  “What does he do?” she asked again.

  “He couldn’t make it, you know. He couldn’t graduate after they expelled him. He had to then take up a job, for his family, you know. And one thing led to another, and he… it’s funny, isn’t it? I was the one who had no goal in life. I knew I would never make it. It was he who motivated me. It was he who believed in me when I myself didn’t. He used to come to my house before my exams to teach me. And he was bloody good at that. And look at us now! Here I am! And he is…”

  “What?”

  “He runs a coaching centre in Patna, for UPSC. He has a few students, yes… he is doing fine.” Inspector Neeraj Mishra settled his belt and left her to give orders to the boatmen.

  Aditi tore off the phone number and tossed it in the river. She watched it as the water carried it away. It was as if a part of her life was going away from her. Her lips trembled as she tried not to cry. She had carried it long enough. The two of them had totally different lives now. Like that little piece of paper, he was gone… forever. Their paths were never going to cross again.

  A small group of women accompanied Bijju and her grandmother, singing a song in their local tongue. The baby was handed to Aditi in front of the river.

  “She will be happy, won’t she Madam? She will be happy away from this village?” the old woman asked, more to herself than Aditi.

  “Why don’t you visit us from time to time? You will see…”

  “Promise me, Madam,” the woman grabbed Aditi’s hands, “you will never tell her about this village. You will not tell her about her father, or mother… or me!”

  “But…”

  “No, Madam, no! She must not know anything. This is not a good place, Madam. Give her a chance to grow away from this dirt. Let her be happy in her new world! If you promise me this, Madam, I can die in peace.”