The Dowry Bride

by Shobhan Bantwal

  Though hovering on the brink of a furious outburst, Kiran kept his rage under control. Megha needed him, needed his strength and sympathy. She had come here looking for protection and support. Giving in to the urge to go on a ferocious tirade against his aunt and cousin would do nothing to dispel Megha’s fears and misery. So he held his own emotions tightly restrained.

  As he pictured the gruesome scene in his mind, Kiran shuddered inwardly. Thousands of young brides perished each year in India because of dowry, or the lack of it—heartlessly killed—some crushed to death, some thrown out of high buildings, others strangled or poisoned, many burned like so much refuse. How could one human being do that to another? In this day and age, in a middle-class, educated family no less? How could his aunt and cousin dream of doing that to a sweet, innocent daughter of the house? And all that, for money. How sickening!

  Well, he wouldn’t let those monsters succeed. Never! He glanced at Megha, suddenly feeling possessive and custodial of her. “Shh, try not to think about it.”

  She raised her gaze to him, her exquisite eyes still damp and rimmed with red. “Kiran, why are you being so supportive of me?”

  Kiran asked himself the same question. Though he knew the answer, of course—he was in love with her. Was this a good time to be honest about that with Megha? Probably not. She was too distraught and fragile to handle that kind of confession from him at the moment. On the other hand, he couldn’t altogether lie to her either. “Because I care…you’re family, Megha,” he said finally, making it sound harmless without being dishonest.

  “But I’m the outsider. The Ramnaths are your family.”

  “That’s not the issue here. This is a matter of life and death—your life. In fact, I was hoping Amma was planning on getting Suresh to divorce you.”

  “You were?” She stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown an extra pair of ears. “Why would you want to see your cousin divorced?”

  “Because I…uh…realized you were being mistreated in that house.”

  Her expression looked uncertain. “How did you guess that?”

  Kiran chided himself privately for his outburst. It had only served to make her suspicious of him. But part of the truth had slipped out and there was nothing he could do to take it back. At least he’d had enough sense not to confess his deeper, more personal feelings for her. It was time for some damage control. “It didn’t take much to guess, Megha,” he said. “I’ve watched you wither away under Amma’s thumb and Suresh’s weakness.”

  “How? You were only a visitor.”

  “I’m not blind. I noticed the way Amma treated you and how Suresh never lifted a finger to defend you. Despite the smile on your face at all times, you’ve lost weight and there are dark shadows around your eyes—you weren’t like this when you first got married. I could tell you were unhappy with the Ramnaths. I came to the conclusion that divorce would be your only way out of there.”

  “Hmm.” She continued to look skeptical.

  “You could have done a hell of a lot better than having Suresh for a husband. I can’t imagine why your father turned you over to him.”

  “I think the Ramnaths lied to my parents about a lot of things. My father was told Suresh earned a high salary and the family was cultured and well-off.”

  “Is there no end to Amma’s deceit?” Kiran groaned. “I’m convinced you should get a divorce, Megha. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  She turned to him again, her expression hopeless. “But you can’t really help me all that much, Kiran. Suresh and Amma can force me back. You won’t be able to stop them.”

  “I won’t let them harm you, Megha,” he assured her. “I went there to save you tonight. After I returned home from dinner at your house earlier, I just couldn’t relax. At first I tried to tell myself that my imagination was running wild. Since I thought it was divorce that Amma was planning, I decided I’d let it take its course, because it would be the best thing for everyone, especially you. But then, those printouts I had seen in her bag kept bothering me. The possibilities were ghastly. I couldn’t let them come true, so I came to look for you.”

  “Even if it meant antagonizing your family?” When Kiran nodded, she said, “But I still don’t understand. You’re one of them, Kiran.”

  “Being one of them doesn’t mean I support them in everything. I happen to believe in things like decency and integrity, you know.”

  “Oh.” Megha looked away, apparently not quite convinced.

  “Listen, Megha, I just thought of something. Part of my future plans is to quit my job and move to Mumbai to take over my father’s branch office. I’ve already purchased a flat there in preparation for my move. Maybe you can stay in the flat for a while?”

  “I can’t stay—”

  “You’ll be safe there. Mumbai’s a huge city and it’s easy to remain anonymous there. When the police give up their hunt, Suresh and Amma will file for divorce on grounds of desertion. They’re desperate to find Suresh another wife. I believe they’ll welcome this opportunity.”

  She shook her head, still looking troubled. “You can’t do this. What about your parents?”

  “In time we’ll let them know—when things settle down—when your divorce is under way.”

  “No, Kiran. The idea of a runaway wife, their nephew’s wife, seeking shelter in your home will destroy them. Divorce in itself is enough to upset them.”

  Kiran snorted with typical male indifference to convention. “This is the twenty-first century, Megha. Look around you. Divorce is not all that rare these days.”

  A wry smile touched the edge of Megha’s mouth. “That may be true, but the injured party’s cousin sheltering the offending party is unheard of. You and I still live in Palgaum. We were born in an orthodox Brahmin caste and culture mired in a swamp that goes back a thousand years. The world goes around, but our traditions remain static. Don’t you see that? Besides, it’s not my divorce I’m worried about. It’s your reputation that concerns me more.”

  “You have a way with words, you know that?” Kiran said, trying to help ease her anguish. “I’ve noticed it—the way you express yourself is so colorful, interesting. And you can quote poetry learned in high school as if you read it only hours ago.”

  “That’s what my English professor often told me.” Her answering smile was wistful. “I’ve always loved writing and reading.”

  “I’m not surprised. Some day you’ll have to show me what you write. But right now you need to get some rest. You’ve had a traumatic night.”

  He noticed the doubts cloud her face once again and realized all this was too much for her to absorb at present. She was still in shock. After some rest she would be able to think rationally. Tomorrow he’d explain his plans to her in detail and then she’d see some sense, recognize the logic in his thinking.

  But first she needed to get cleaned up. She was clearly embarrassed about her appearance. He noticed how she was trying to hide the dirt on her sari and tuck her hands and feet out of sight. And those scratches on her arms and face combined with her heartbreaking tears were tempting him to rush over to Amma’s house and strangle the fat old bitch with his bare hands. He had never been particularly fond of his aunt, but now he detested her. He wasn’t a violent man by nature, nor was he vindictive, but if Amma and Suresh had succeeded in their evil plans for Megha, he would have made sure those two paid the price for the rest of their lives.

  Thank God it hadn’t come to that!

  Megha was suffering and there was not much he could do for her right now other than to offer her a safe place for the night, a chance to have a hot bath and rest for a while. After that she was likely to feel better, maybe even fit enough to start thinking of a viable plan for her immediate future.

  He rose and motioned her to follow him. She stood up without any arguments. He showed her to the bathroom. Before she went in he stopped her. “Wait, I’ll be back in a minute.” After rummaging through his bedroom he came back with a T-shirt and
a pair of shorts along with a fresh towel and a new toothbrush still in its cellophane wrap. “Not much, but it’s the best I can do. At least they’re clean and the shorts have a drawstring, so they won’t slide down.”

  She took the clothes but glanced at them with a mild frown. “But how can I…?” She seemed to change her mind about whatever she was about to say and nodded instead.

  “There’s running hot water twenty-four hours. Take your time—have a nice hot shower if you want.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered with a grateful half-smile and stepped into the bathroom.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Chapter 6

  Shaking with terror all over again, Megha huddled in the bathroom. Someone was at the front door. Oh God, oh God! They had found her. How had they located her so quickly?

  Holding the door partly open, she strained her ears to listen to the two male voices in the foyer. Kiran’s was a bit clearer than that of the other man. It was neither Suresh’s nor Appaji’s voice. The police? Kiran’s father or uncle? By this time the entire family would have rallied to Amma’s side and started their own search.

  She closed her eyes in defeat. Her time had run out after all.

  The sound of the front door shutting with a slight squeak reached her. Kiran must have let the person in! She listened to the approaching footsteps. Her life was about to end. All that running was for nothing. She should not have come here. Stupid, stupid decision!

  She shut the bathroom door quickly and turned the lock. Unfortunately, there was no window in this bathroom to even contemplate an escape. Despite the thud-thud of her heartbeat in her ears, Megha clearly heard a set of steps approaching—but only one set. Was the policeman or whoever the man was, waiting in the drawing room then?

  A knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Megha.”

  She didn’t answer. Think, think…. Looking around for something heavy to wedge against the door, she realized there was nothing, so she pitched all her weight against it. Maybe she could plead for her life with Kiran one more time. But if a policeman was here, what could Kiran do? Promise the man a bribe…perhaps? Weren’t the police always looking for rewards?

  None of those options seemed viable, so she pressed harder against the door.

  “Megha, are you okay?” When she remained silent, Kiran rapped harder. “Megha, answer me!”

  The silence on Megha’s part continued.

  “I know you heard the doorbell, and I know you’re scared. I want you to know it was only my downstairs neighbor.”

  Neighbor? Likely story! As if she was going to fall for that. “What did the…uh, neighbor want?” she managed, her voice barely coming out as a murmur.

  “He heard our footsteps and voices on the landing earlier.”

  “Is that so unusual?” Her heartbeat continued its frantic beat.

  She heard Kiran hesitate on the other side of the door. “Yes, it is. Because it’s so late at night and my lights are still on, he wondered if there was some emergency and whether I needed help.”

  “What did you tell him?” Even now Megha wasn’t sure Kiran was being entirely honest. If this was his way of getting her to open the door and come out so the police could cart her away, she was wise to him. If he thought she was that naïve, he was not as bright as she’d imagined.

  “I told him it was an office problem and someone on my staff delivered an emergency report.”

  “I don’t believe you, Kiran. I know there’s a policeman in your drawing room.” She might as well be direct in her accusations. Even if she was helpless, at least he wouldn’t mistake her for a fool. She’d never tolerate being labeled dimwitted.

  “Damn it, Megha! There is no policeman.”

  “Then prove it!”

  “Quit acting like a brat, will you?” He sounded thoroughly annoyed. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  Standing there in the bathroom, Megha speculated. If he wasn’t telling the truth, he’d have been nice and persuasive instead of angry, now wouldn’t he, at least in the interests of gaining her trust? She gingerly unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Kiran, if you’re lying to me, I swear I’ll get even with you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I won’t forgive you for pretending to be my friend and then turning me in.”

  Kiran nodded gravely. “I understand. Now come out and see for yourself.”

  Very slowly, she opened the door all the way and stepped out. “I’ll tolerate open hostility any day, but I will not put up with back-stabbing, Kiran.” She pointed a finger in his face and glared at him for a moment. “I detest two-timers.”

  Kiran stood aside and motioned her to go out and look for herself. After making sure the flat was empty save for the two of them, Megha returned to the alcove outside the bathroom where Kiran still stood, with his arms folded across his chest. “Satisfied?” he asked. He didn’t seem so irritated anymore.

  She nodded grudgingly. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.” He hadn’t been lying after all. She felt foolish and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry from relief. She couldn’t blame him for being cross with her. She had behaved like an ungrateful little brat.

  To her surprise, Kiran chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Suspicious young lady, aren’t you?” When she shot him a quelling look, his chuckle turned to a hearty laugh. “Can’t blame you, I suppose. If I were in your place, I wouldn’t trust anyone either.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  He gestured toward the bathroom, looking even more amused. “Now that you’re somewhat convinced that I’m not a two-timing back-stabber, you may want to go ahead and wash up.”

  With her head held high despite feeling embarrassed about acting so churlish, she swept into the bathroom and shut the door with a decisive click. Well, he could laugh all he wanted! She wasn’t ready to trust him completely yet.

  A nice long shower was exactly what Megha indulged in. Accustomed to a more austere lifestyle, she had never used a shower before and it took her a couple of minutes to figure out how it worked. Once she got it started, the spray of warm water felt like heaven. Hot water without having to heat it on a wood fire in a big brass cauldron? How wonderful was that! And then not to have to scoop it out of a bucket with a mug and pour it over one’s head? That was pure luxury.

  Putting every other thought aside for now, she lifted her face, closed her eyes and delighted in the water raining over her and flowing down her body.

  The soap was deliciously fragrant. The sheer lavishness of the modern tile-and-marble bathroom made Megha feel weepy again. So foolish—to cry over a simple bathing routine—but her nerves were frayed and the tears came easily. After a while she washed the cut on her foot, which stung from the soapsuds and continued to bleed a little. Her scratches and bruises burned under the hot water.

  But otherwise the shower was marvelously soothing. Even better was getting that awful grime and stench off herself. She used large quantities of Kiran’s shampoo to wash her hair and spent a long time in the bathroom trying to speculate and strategize. But for the life of her she couldn’t think of a plan of action. Right now, all she wanted to do was lie down somewhere and sleep. It was as if her mind had shut down completely. Having made it this far, to a state of relative safety, a strange kind of numbness seemed to have set in.

  While Megha was in the bathroom, Kiran heated a mug of milk in the microwave oven and stirred some Ovaltine into it. After hunting around in the kitchen cabinets he found a packet of chocolate cream biscuits and put a few of those on a plate.

  He then made a cup of instant coffee for himself, pulled out a chair at the dining table, and sat down to think.

  What was he going to do with Megha? This late at night there was nowhere she could go. He could probably afford to keep her with him for one night, maybe two, but after that? His mind drew a complete blank. She might have a few uncles and aunts and cousins somewhere, but relatives and friends could not be told of her whereabouts. H
otels were not particularly safe for a lone young woman, and anyway the police would be sure to look for her in every hotel within a twenty-mile radius.

  His own Mumbai flat was large enough and completely furnished in anticipation of his impending move. But though he had mentioned the idea to her, he now realized Megha was too young and inexperienced to live alone in a big city. Her petrified reaction earlier to the imaginary policeman in his living room had shown him that.

  All Kiran knew for sure was that she was in danger and had to be protected. But if she remained so close to him, under his roof, the threat to his sanity was equally troubling. He was a man infatuated, with all the needs and instincts of a healthy male. At the moment, with her in the next room, naked and bathing, his nerves were already tied in knots.

  However, where else but in his home could she remain safe? He was the only one who really cared about her, and he was also the least likely to be suspected of harboring her. The police and his family would target all of Megha’s family and friends, but nobody would think of asking him regarding her whereabouts. That more or less clinched the matter. She would have to stay with him indefinitely. He’d have to keep his baser needs and his emotions under strict control. Perhaps in a day or two they could review her situation and come up with some practical answers. There had to be some way to resolve this.

  When Megha came out of the bathroom he noticed the edge of the T-shirt fell all the way down to mid-thigh level on her, but despite its looseness it didn’t hide her feminine shape. The absence of a brassiere was obvious from the way her breasts strained against the soft cotton of the shirt. It took all of Kiran’s self-control to tear his eyes away from that particular spot. A wave of longing to feel her crushed against his own hard chest washed over him for a second before he ordered himself to stop behaving like a hormone-crazed juvenile.