The Dowry Bride

by Shobhan Bantwal

  “But why do I get stuck with the psychopaths of the world?” Megha groaned. “Am I some kind of magnet for such people?”

  “What do you mean?” Kiran was frowning at her. “Who else?”

  “The drunkard in the street the other night.”

  “Oh, that one. You never really told me much about him.”

  “I wasn’t in any shape to talk about him that night, Kiran. I was sitting on the footpath, crying and feeling sorry for myself when I noticed him observing me. He had this predatory look on his face. I ran as fast as I could and then jumped over somebody’s compound wall and hid there. He came looking for me. I heard him…and then…”

  She remembered it well—the ice-cold terror of being pursued by a man in the dead of night.

  Kiran, clearly disturbed by her experience, tightened his hold on her hand. “Did he hurt you?” When silence followed, his jaw tightened, a reflex indicative of rising internal distress, as Megha had begun to discover. Nevertheless, his voice was gentle when he said, “Tell me, Megha. I won’t hold it against you. Remember what Ajji said? If an innocent woman is attacked, it’s not her fault.”

  The memories of that night still seemed fresh to Megha, perhaps because her recent trauma had stirred up those images. Or was it because she’d been sleeping and dreaming so much and so vividly in recent days? “He probably would have attacked me, but I managed to escape.”

  “He didn’t touch you then?” She shook her head. Kiran let out a deep breath. “Good. Let’s hope you’ll never have to go through anything like that, ever. Three terrifying experiences within a few weeks! You must have set some kind of record.”

  “This third time I thought I was definitely going to die. God, it was dreadful…” She began to cry softly.

  Kiran slipped his arms around her. “Shhh. It’s over, Megha. You fought back. You did something to make the taxi driver feel guilty and call the police. He was promised a thousand rupees. I guess he didn’t think the money was worth having murder on his conscience.” Kiran tucked her head under his chin and held her close. “You and I will be leaving Palgaum soon. We can put all these nightmares behind us.”

  Megha buried her face in his chest. “Maybe. If the nightmares don’t follow me forever, that is.”

  “If they do then we’ll find a good psychiatrist to treat you in Mumbai. We’ll make sure they leave you alone.”

  “I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t come for me, Kiran. I don’t know how you found me, but you did.”

  “When you didn’t show up at the usual place on time, I called Harini. When she told me you had left several minutes earlier, I knew something was wrong. Then I noticed a taxi fishtailing down the street, honking away, scattering frightened pedestrians. I called my friend, the district superintendent of police, right away. And then I started to follow the direction the taxi had taken, but I lost it in the heavy traffic somewhere. Some twenty minutes or so later, my friend rang me to say the cab driver had called in for help.”

  “Took him forever to make that call,” she grumbled. “I had to literally sob and beg him to help.”

  “I’ll tell you something, Megha—it was the longest and scariest twenty minutes of my life, waiting and not knowing what might have happened to you. After I heard from my friend, I drove like a maniac towards the cremation ground, but the police got there before I did. In any case, the taxi driver had enough sense to try and rescue you before Amma’s hired killer could get you.”

  She pulled back to blow her nose. “Was the cab driver arrested?”

  “Yes, but they let him go when he told them the whole story and I talked my friend into going easy on him. The fellow has a wife and children, and although he was slow to react, he did rescue you, didn’t he?”

  “Whatever happened to the evil fat man?”

  “They picked him up in the cemetery, injured and bleeding. He’s in the hospital with a broken leg and several other injuries. He confessed to being hired by Amma for a fee of three thousand rupees. After he recovers, he goes back to prison.”

  “The greedy old bat, Amma, never gives up, does she?”

  “I think she’s tired now.”

  “So how are your plans with the move to Mumbai coming along?” Megha felt guilty about forcing Kiran to move to Mumbai sooner than necessary. If it weren’t for her, he would have been happy doing things at his own pace. She had turned his world upside down.

  “They’re going very well,” Kiran replied.

  “Is that what you want, Kiran? Or are you doing it for me? I want to know the truth.” She searched his eyes and saw nothing but warmth and honesty.

  “It’s exactly what I want, Megha. In any case, the plan was for me to join Papa’s business and try to expand it, and now is a good time to do it.” Perhaps because he saw anxiety in her eyes, he added, “Don’t worry, no one knows you’re with me. I told them you left town right after you were rescued by the police.”

  “And they believed you?”

  “They had no reason not to. They thought you wanted to get out of Palgaum and away from Amma as quickly as possible. Even before that, they thought you were hiding out somewhere on your own and that I was the only one in the family you had contacted.”

  Looking at her incredulous expression, Kiran laughed. “I swear they never once guessed you were staying here. They’re still scratching their heads, wondering where you were for the last few weeks. They keep asking me, but I tell them I promised you I’d never reveal your address. Only Appaji probably knew about it, and even he was guessing, I believe. He doesn’t seem sure.”

  Letting go of Megha, Kiran headed for the door. “I’ll heat up some food. You must be hungry. You’ve eaten practically nothing in the last few days.”

  “Been sleeping too much to eat or bathe,” she said, sniffing at the sleeve of her nightgown then wrinkling up her nose. “I badly need a bath.”

  “Then go take a hot shower and I’ll get lunch on the table.” He hesitated. “You, uh…need any help with the shower?”

  She flushed at his offer. “No, no, I can manage.”

  “After you eat we’ll start packing some of your things. You have a flight to catch early next week, remember?”

  “Yes,” she said, watching him leave the room and close the door behind him. Soon she’d no longer be living in this flat, or sleeping in this room. She slowly got out of bed, holding on to the headboard and giving herself a minute to get over the brief wave of dizziness. She walked over to the dresser, or more like, shuffled. Every muscle in her body ached. She gasped at the image she saw in the mirror. One side of her face was entirely swollen and purple. The area around one bloodshot eye was a darker shade of purple. No wonder Kiran had looked worried.

  Letting her fingers run over Kiran’s hairbrush, his bottle of aftershave, and his shirt hanging over the bedpost, she absorbed them, the colors, the textures and the scent of them. Despite all the bad memories of outside the flat, the inside, especially this room, held the most precious ones.

  In a few days she’d be leaving for Mumbai. A week after that, Kiran would empty out the flat and move out, too. Their lives would alter once again. Within a short span of time their individual lives had clashed, intertwined and changed completely.

  She picked up a clean set of clothes and made her way to the bathroom.

  Chapter 30

  Megha’s heartbeat did the little flip-flip—that familiar beat that spelled excitement. The late morning sun looked particularly brilliant outside her small window, its long golden fingers reaching into the trees and the thorny shrubs that skirted the property. Music played on someone’s radio. It was a beautiful Sunday.

  She checked herself out in the mirror. Satisfied that she looked her best, she smiled at her image. Yes, she had on lipstick; yes, she was wearing fashionable high-heeled sandals; yes, her nails were painted; and oh yes, she had sprayed herself with perfume. She closed her eyes and sniffed her wrist in delight. It smelled delightful—naughty, even a bit wicke
d perhaps.

  She was wearing her lavender crepe sari with the vertical, white swirling design that draped attractively, enhanced her tall and slender physique. She had on a matching sleeveless blouse. Until a year ago she had shunned sleeveless blouses. She had always been taught that baring one’s arms all the way to the shoulder was wanton. But now she wore sleeveless blouses proudly since they showed off her long, smooth arms—all the scars were gone, except for the burn on her wrist. She knew she looked beautiful because…well, because she felt beautiful.

  Kiran had convinced her that she was young and pretty and vibrant, and deserved to dress up and take pride in herself. And so she did. Every moment of her transformation was delicious. He made her feel sexy and desirable.

  She looked at her slim, gold-tone watch—another luxury she’d never had in the past. A plain watch with a thick, black vinyl strap was all she’d ever had.

  It was nearly time for Kiran to arrive. He was always punctual, unless the traffic was unusually heavy. She had not seen him in nearly five weeks—a distressing length of time. She couldn’t wait to see him. That was another sensation that had been alien to her until recently. It felt marvelous to experience the heady feeling of anticipation without the accompanying guilt.

  She slipped on a simple silver chain around her neck and put on her silver hoop earrings. Everything that had been taboo to her was not so anymore. The prison wall erected around her had been demolished, one suffocating brick at a time.

  But she had still not dispelled her nightmares completely. They came back to disturb her sleep now and then. Thankfully, their intensity seemed to be diminishing. She even experienced a pleasant dream or two once in a while.

  The thought of Amma didn’t frighten her as much either. In fact, Amma in some ways had gone from being a menace to a pitiable soul. All her life Amma had been shunned, ridiculed and alienated because of her looks. Her hostile demeanor had added to her lack of appeal. The resulting bitterness had channeled itself into the most destructive acts—self-destructive for the most part, if only Amma would take the time to stop and think. That’s probably what Ajji had meant when she’d said she worried about Amma destroying herself one day.

  Getting arrested and thrown in jail had hopefully put some sense into that demented head of hers. Loss of face in her social circle must have been a more bitter lesson in humility, than getting arrested.

  For now, just the fact that she was away from Palgaum made Megha feel as if she had shed a particularly confining mantle. She had come a long way, learned a few valuable lessons, grown in so many ways since her escape from the Ramnaths. There were occasions when the deep resentment and need for revenge still rose to the surface, but those times were becoming less frequent. Besides, making her life an outstanding success was a fine way of avenging herself.

  She was no longer the cowering, sniveling young girl the Ramnaths had taken to their home as a private slave. There would be no better revenge than standing before Amma and Suresh as a thriving career woman, and perhaps as the well-loved and indulged wife of a good-looking and wealthy man—especially the man who was their nephew and cousin. Wouldn’t that be a fabulous feeling? A beautiful baby in her arms—a product of Kiran’s and her love would be the ultimate triumph, if she could pull it off.

  She had to remind herself that if it weren’t for that horrific night, she wouldn’t be here today. She would have been in the Ramnaths’ kitchen even now, giving up the best years of her life, slaving away, perhaps playing mother to one or two skinny, unhealthy babies that looked just like Suresh. So in retrospect, she had plenty to be grateful for. Besides, it was easier to forgive when one was happy.

  Kiran had made all that possible. He had helped her to heal by teaching her the meaning of deep and selfless caring. He was the one good, shining thing that had come out of all that misery.

  Sitting at her plain desk in the small room, Megha reread the printout of the e-mail message Kiran had sent her. The women’s hostel in which she now lived did not allow telephones in the individual rooms and it wasn’t easy to use the single public phone in the lobby. But such was life on a busy college campus. She had refused to allow Kiran to buy her a mobile phone, but she had purchased a used computer at a good price and set up an e-mail address for herself. Besides, receiving a letter was more fun. She could read it whenever she wanted to.

  The most recent one was brief but sweet. My dearest Megha: I’m sorry I can’t make it this Sunday. I have to meet some out-of-town clients. I’ll miss seeing you, but I know you have to study for your final exams. Only a few weeks left before you get your degree! Imagine that, the master’s degree you always wanted. Looking forward to seeing you next Sunday. I have a small surprise for you. All my love, Kiran.

  Another surprise? She chuckled. Each time he drove down from Mumbai to see her, he insisted on bringing her gifts. No amount of scolding stopped him from buying more. It was a nice feeling to be remembered and missed and spoiled by someone special. Maybe someday soon she could start giving him something in return.

  After re-reading the letter one more time, she folded it with care and put it in the large envelope in which she kept all his letters. She missed him so much: his sense of humor, his sage advice, his warmth. She missed his teasing, too.

  Until Megha had fallen in love with Kiran, she had never imagined herself to be a passionate woman. Now she felt differently. She yearned for him. But she still couldn’t bring herself to touch him intimately. Not yet. She couldn’t trust herself with him. Once she touched him in that way, she’d want more. Much, much more.

  She was a graduate student now at a college in the big city of Puné. Her name was Megha Shastry—her maiden name. She never ever wanted to be associated with the name Ramnath again. Being young, she looked like one of the regular students. And yet, she was far from being one of them. She kept to herself and didn’t have any close friends. She was polite in her demeanor, but kept her distance from the other girls. They were all carefree and single and had parents who supported them. They looked forward to careers and marriages. A runaway wife like herself, with a shameful secret past, would never fit in with them. She was afraid they would ask her awkward personal questions, so it was best to remain aloof.

  Aside from all that, she had to study harder than the others because she had been away from the college scene for some two years before joining the program. It was simpler to stay in her room and study or read or listen to her radio.

  How had she ended up here? First of all, there had been the timely psychiatric counseling. Once they had arrived in Mumbai, Kiran had insisted that she see a doctor about her nightmares and her lack of appetite. After the kidnapping she had lost a lot of weight and become depressed.

  She had gone to see Dr. Rege reluctantly, but in the end the gentle doctor’s nudging and prodding had been of immense help. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a wealth of common sense, she had made Megha realize that what had occurred was a part of her life she could separate and set aside—a past that need not affect her future. She had also helped Megha recognize that blaming her parents for everything that had gone wrong was not healthy for her—holding a grudge was detrimental to personal growth. Very slowly she had begun to eat better, gain a little weight, take an interest in her surroundings, read more books and do some writing.

  After the therapy had ended, Megha had done much soul-searching and come to the decision that she had to put some distance between herself and Kiran. Being within touching distance of the man she had come to love and desire, but couldn’t have, had become pure torment. She would never be able to plan any kind of a future by living under his roof.

  While staying in Kiran’s Mumbai flat for several weeks, she had done some research on colleges and come to the conclusion that she wanted to go back to studying. She had longed to get that journalism degree for a long time. Maybe there was hope yet.

  Getting a master’s in journalism and then working for a magazine or newspaper was her goal. M
ainly she wanted to become independent and never be at someone’s mercy ever again. Not even Kiran’s. She would never put herself in a vulnerable position. All her life, men had made decisions for her—first her father, then Suresh (at Amma’s direction), and most recently, Kiran. She’d be the one in charge of her life henceforth. She would use Appaji’s gift to pay for her education and living expenses. It would be a worthwhile investment in her future.

  After reaching a decision, the thrill of adventure had bubbled up inside her. She could do some of the things she had dreamt about all her life. For that she was immensely grateful to Appaji and his rare generosity. Yes, it was rare—he was a frugal man as far as her knowledge went.

  When she had mentioned her plans to Kiran he had given her a dubious look. “College, Megha? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m absolutely certain. I want a master’s degree, Kiran. I want to be able to take care of myself. I can’t depend on you forever.”

  “But you won’t depend on me. You can work for me,” he had protested. “I’ll pay you a salary. You’ll earn your money.”

  “I don’t know anything about working in an office. I need to get a degree and then maybe I can still work for you after that,” she had countered, hoping that concession would sound more convincing.

  “How and where are you going to attend college?” he’d asked, still reluctant to accept her idea.

  She realized that his concern sprang from the fact that she was naïve and inexperienced and that the threat of Amma, although diminished, was still there. Kiran was being his usual protective self, but Megha couldn’t lean on him any longer, at least not in this fashion. “Appaji said I could do whatever I wanted with the money he gave me. I’ve calculated everything, Kiran. It will be more than enough to support me in Puné.”

  “Why Puné? Mumbai has some of the best colleges in the country. You can pick any one you want.”

  “I need to be on my own for a while, Kiran.” She didn’t know how to explain to him that she couldn’t stay with him without the right to love him or touch him. “If I live on a small budget, I may even have a little bit left at the end. I’ll stay at the women’s hostel and get my degree,” she had said, with an air of certainty.