by Farahad Zama
She heard a noise at the entrance to the hut and twisted her head up to see a silhouette against the grey of the night sky.
The man looked oddly furtive as his head swivelled from side to side like a pedestrian waiting to cross a busy road. When he stepped inside, Aruna was horrified to see a long knife in his hand. As he came closer, Aruna realised it was Adi. She started squirming, trying to get away from him. When he held the point of the knife against her windpipe, she froze.
He put his hand, quite gently on her right shoulder and ran it softly down her arm. It felt worse than if he had been rough. She shuddered at the intimacy. He transferred his touch to her bare midriff, between her blouse and the knot of sari at her waist. The end of his index finger scraped her smooth skin and she wondered whether the callus was due to the constant fingering of the trigger of a gun. How many men had this rakshasa killed with the hand that was roaming over her body?
His hand changed direction, moving up to cup her breast. There was no change in his expression or in the steady pressure of the knife against her throat. She finally closed her eyes and whimpered behind her gag. She had always been taught that if a man other than her husband even touched her, she would bring shame on the family and its honour. Her mother used to say, “Whether a thorn falls on a banana leaf, or a banana leaf falls on a thorn, it is the leaf that gets torn.” And so she had lived – dressing modestly, behaving demurely, never ostentatious, doing her best not to attract the attention of the opposite sex. If news of what was happening to her ever came out, she would be a spoiled woman and the slur would remain on her for ever.
At that moment, rage washed over her. How dare this man act as if her body was a mere object for his pleasure? Prudery, culture and religion might make her feel horrified and ashamed of what he was doing or trying to do to her. But that was not what Aruna now felt. Her body belonged to her alone. She would decide whom to share it with – who could touch her and who should keep away. This hooligan had no right to take this choice from her any more than a thief had a right to take money that did not belong to him. She opened her eyes fully and glared at him, in an effort to show the scorn she felt. She coiled her body like a spring, drawing her legs close to her chest and trying to move away from him, staring at him all the while. Adi finally looked away, unable to face her. Aruna felt triumphant, but the knife lay steady against her throat and Adi’s left hand was now undoing the knot of the sari at her waist.
And then she kicked him, straightening out her legs with as much strength as she could muster. He had been squatting next to her on the balls of his feet, with his weight on his toes. Her feet caught hit him on his right knee and he went spinning, landing heavily on his bottom. The sharp knife dragged against her skin and left a line across her throat that swelled crimson. It stung like fire.
Adi swore and started getting to his feet. When he was halfway up, his legs still not fully straight, the other girl in the room, Gita, hit him behind the knees with her two bound legs. Adi fell forward and the knife flew from his hand. Aruna’s eyes met Gita’s. She was blinking and pointing with her chin. Aruna twisted around. Seeing that the knife was close to her, she started rolling towards it. Gita tried to kick Adi again but couldn’t move her legs enough; he turned and gave her a backhanded slap. Gita fell back with a muffled groan, but in the meantime Aruna had managed to cover the knife with her body.
“Aargh!” snarled Adi and jumped on Aruna. He fastened his hand on her neck, making the cut smart even worse than before and bringing tears to Aruna’s eyes. Like a wild animal now, Adi roared and pulled down the top of Aruna’s sari.
Aruna’s hands touched the knife’s hilt and she frantically gripped it, but because her hands were tied, it wasn’t much use. Adi straddled her waist and sat up with a triumphant look on his face as he prepared for her final humiliation. Aruna attempted to shake him off but his thighs on either side of her were too strong.
Suddenly, there was a loud crunch. Adi’s eyes glazed over and he fell on top of her, chest to chest, his lips on hers. Aruna made a disgusted sound and tried to roll out from under him, but his dead weight made it difficult. Unconscious, Adi was finally pulled off her and dumped in a heap on the floor. Aruna was appalled to make out in the darkness a man leaning over her with a heavy branch for a cudgel.
Her body sagged in relief when she recognised Ramanujam. He quickly cut her hands and feet free with a small knife that Aruna was surprised to see. Her hands flew to the itch on her chin that she was finally able to reach and she scratched luxuriously.
“What took you so long?” she asked her husband, trying to act calm, despite her loudly beating heart and shaking legs.
“Your throat, it’s been cut,” he said. His chest was heaving as if he had run a marathon.
“You are the doctor. Can’t you see that it’s just a scratch?” she said, staring into her husband’s shining eyes.
They heard the muffled sound of a voice behind them and Aruna moved away from Ramanujam.
“Oh, sorry! We forgot Gita.”
They quickly untied her and the two girls hugged each other, laughing and crying.
“Thank you for helping me,” said Aruna.
Ramanujam used the ropes that had bound the girls to tie up Adi.
“Listen, we can’t spend any more time here. When you leave the hut, don’t stand up or someone might see you. Remain close to the ground, turn right and crawl over to the first hut that you see. The other men are there.”
Before any of them could reach the door of the hut, however, a man carrying an AK-47 burst in and the three of them froze. He gestured with his gun and Ramanujam raised his hands, while Aruna and Gita tried to hide behind him. Noticing Adi on the floor, he rushed forward.
“Comrade, come quickly,” he called out.
His cry brought Leninkumar, who appeared tired. Dust coated his clothes as if he had been on the road for a long time. He glanced at Adi’s body and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Ramanujam.
“The…the son of a widow was molesting my wife,” said Ramanujam in answer.
Leninkumar sighed and looked even wearier than before.
“What do we do, comrade?” asked Leninkumar’s man.
“Let me think…” said Leninkumar.
Silence fell. Ramanujam could hardly breathe. To come so close to escape and then be thwarted at the last minute was extremely frustrating.
His arms started aching and he lowered them a little. The junior Naxalite thrust his gun at him and Ramanujam held his arms up again. He tried to tell himself that it was just lactic acid building up in the muscles but the fire in them did not abate.
Finally, Leninkumar stirred. Looking straight at them, he said, “First, I apologise for Adi’s behaviour. We are fighters for a cause, not men out to get whatever we want by force. I want the three of you to leave now, before Adi regains consciousness.”
“What about the others?” said Ramanujam. “We can’t just go off by ourselves.”
Leninkumar shook his head. “I can’t let all of you go. My comrade here will listen to what I say, but most of the men in the group follow only Adi. If all of you go, you will be missed within the hour and it will just be worse for you.”
“Then I’ll stay too,” said Gita. “I am not going anywhere without Srinu.”
Leninkumar said, “The matter is not open for negotiation. I should actually keep all of you here, and I am taking a considerable risk by releasing any of you. But while I am fairly certain that I can keep the others safe, I cannot say the same about Aruna. It is best that she leaves the camp as soon as possible.”
Aruna clutched her husband’s waist and moved even closer to him.
Leninkumar said to Ramanujam, “You and your wife will leave now. Gita will go to the other hut and stay with her husband.”
Ramanujam still hesitated, not willing to leave his friends in the clutches of the kidnappers, but seeing too, the opportunity that had come his way. The gun jabbed his stomach and Leninkum
ar’s man growled, “You heard the comrade. Now move. Don’t be seen by anybody else.”
Ramanujam started towards the door of the hut, Aruna following behind him. Gita caught her hand and said, “Akka…”
Aruna turned and hugged the younger woman, whispering into her ear, “Don’t despair. I am sure we’ll see each other again very soon.”
Gita nodded and her miserable expression reminded Aruna of her younger sister, Vani.
“We are in trouble, aren’t we, dora?” came the voice of the younger insurgent. Leninkumar had been promoted from comrade to chief.
“Yes,” said Leninkumar. “Ahead of us is a deep trench and behind us a well.”
Ramanujam and Aruna slipped out of the camp and heard no more of the conversation.
♦
Hours later, Aruna was past caring. The jungle was endless. The trees were monsters whose evil fingers stretched out to scratch her from all sides. She had no shoes and the ground, with its rocks and nettles, was rough on her feet. There was also the ever-present danger of stepping on an unseen snake or scorpion. When they broke cover she could occasionally see stars, but most of the time, the canopy of the forest made her feel as if she was in a tunnel.
After the fourth time she had stumbled in as many minutes, Ramanujam stopped and looked at her anxiously. “I think we’ve come far enough. Let’s stop here until day breaks.”
He moved them deeper into the trees and cut several long-leafed branches with his small knife. He arranged them like a bed and Aruna sank on to them gratefully.
They sat side by side, resting against the trunk of a tree. Aruna asked, “How were you able to come to our hut at the right time?”
“When they threw us all into the one room, Dilawar was very distressed. He kept banging his head and feet on the floor. Finally, Rehman crawled over until he was behind Dilawar and managed to undo his gag with his fingers. As soon as he could talk, Dilawar told us that you were in danger and needed to be rescued. I became frantic when I heard this, of course, so we set about ungagging each other. Dilawar said that he was afraid because he had overheard Adi making a comment about how it was time for capitalist parasites to serve Marxist soldiers while looking at you. I started trying to free myself but nothing happened beyond chafing my wrists. Rehman tried to help me but the knots were too tight and we couldn’t get enough purchase.”
Aruna lifted his hands and peered at them in the gloom. She couldn’t make out much, but she kissed them lightly.
Ramanujam continued, “Then, Srinu started making sounds behind his gag, so Dilawar untied the cloth round his mouth. Srinu told us that he had managed to get hold of a knife but he hadn’t had the courage to make use of it yet. He said that if the girls were in danger, we should take it. The knife was tied loosely to the calf on his right leg and, with its help, I managed to get free. I was about to come out of the hut, but we heard a man coming towards us. I quickly gagged everybody, tied myself loosely and lay down behind Rehman and Dilawar. Mr Reddy, the landlord, started moaning behind his gag and trying to say something to the guerrilla. I was really afraid that he might spill the beans and ruin everything, but the insurgent just kicked Mr Reddy on his behind and told him to remain silent. As soon as the man went away, I untied myself and started freeing Rehman, but the moment his mouth was free, he said it was too dangerous for all of us to leave the hut, in case the men came up, and told me to hurry to you.”
“Oh!” said Aruna. “I owe every one of you a debt.”
The mattress of leaves felt softer than the comfortable bed she normally slept in. Ramanujam settled down beside her and they stretched out, holding each other.
“I promised to look after you,” said Ramanujam. “And I failed. I let you be kidnapped and face that monster on your own.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Aruna. “And you did save me in the end.”
Ramanujam’s hand moved softly down her back and settled on the bare skin of her waist. For a brief moment, Aruna remembered Adi doing the same thing and she stiffened.
“Are you all right?” asked Ramanujam, withdrawing his hand immediately.
“Of course,” she whispered.
She moved even closer to him, flattening her body tightly against his. Taking his hand in hers, she replaced it on her waist. Suddenly all the weariness ebbed out of her body and she felt a new strength singing and surging through her. It was not the same thing at all, she thought. I want my husband to touch me.
She raised her hand to his cheek and its two-day-old stubble. “I love you,” she said. Before Ramanujam could reply, she covered his lips with hers.
Minutes later, she was under him and he started undoing her blouse.
“No, wait!” she panted. “I want to make love to you.”
She rolled over and now their positions were reversed, with his back on the leaves and her straddling him. She raised his hands above his head and pinned them with one of her own. “Kiss me,” she commanded fiercely, bending her face to his.
Twenty
Aruna woke up to a chorus of what sounded like a hundred tiny bells. The sharp, sweet sounds warbled all around her. She opened her eyes and came face to face with a large bullfrog the size of a side plate, which made her squeak. Ramanujam stirred beside her, sat up quickly and looked at her with concern.
“What is it?” he asked, scanning the area.
“I just saw a huge frog. Is it lucky to see a frog the first thing in the morning?”
“It must be,” he said. “You wake up next to me every day, don’t you?”
Aruna hit him gently on the arm. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You are a prince, not a frog.”
“I feel more like a tigress’s prey after last night,” he said.
Aruna blushed. “I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Ramanujam tickled her under the chin. “That particular tigress can come and visit me any time,” he said. “And, yes, it is good luck to see a frog in the morning. It means there is water near by.”
They found the stream within a few minutes and quickly splashed their faces, washed out their mouths using their fingers for toothbrushes and took a refreshing drink. He pulled out the knife and made a mark on a huge banyan tree.
“What are you doing?” said Aruna. “This is not the time for graffiti.”
“Let’s follow the stream,” said Ramanujam, ignoring her question. “We are bound to come to a village soon and it will be better than blundering round in circles in the jungle.”
The stream seemed to go straight into a big mass of rock and they had some difficulty in keeping alongside it, but after that it became easier. The sun came up as they were walking, making the forest look very different in the daytime. Paradoxically, they didn’t travel much faster than they had the previous night because, now, they could watch where they put their unshod feet. Seeing a wild boar drinking from the stream ahead of them, they slowed down. The animal looked up at them and vanished into the scrub. Aruna shuddered when she realised just how much of a risk they had taken in their mad nocturnal dash.
They continued following the stream, but soon the unaccustomed exercise of the previous few days took its toll. The muscles in Aruna’s legs started complaining, then her already-blistered feet began bleeding. Sweat worked into the cut on her neck and its fiery burn vied with her feet and legs for attention.
“I can’t go any further,” she said, sinking to the forest floor.
♦
Nadira swept into the room briskly. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” she asked her friend.
Mrs Bilqis was still in the long, loose kaftan that she wore at night. Her face appeared blotchy and puffed up. Her hair was not brushed…
“And why are you looking so scruffy? You are the daughter-in-law of Sir Jehangir Talwar Beg, not some commoner from the town. I saw your maid when she let me in and she is looking a lot smarter than you. Come on now, buck up. We don’t have much time.”
“What is the point, Nadira? I k
eep thinking of my poor son in those cruel men’s hands and I don’t feel like doing anything.”
“I don’t believe it. Your ancestors led armies, for God’s sake. Did your mother lie with a merchant while your father was away on a campaign? Is your true blood coming out now?”
Mrs Bilqis’s hand shot out to slap Nadira. At the last moment, Nadira caught and held her friend’s arm. “There’s still some fire in the old woman yet. Maybe your mother slept with a returning soldier instead of a wandering pedlar.”
“If it had been anybody else, I would have thrown them out for even thinking such things,” said Mrs Bilqis, glaring at her friend.
Nadira patted Mrs Bilqis’s cheek. “Get ready, darling,” she said softly. “We are going to meet the Baba.”
“I lost all faith in holy men a long time ago,” said Mrs Bilqis. “They are all just out to fleece you.”
“Baba is different. He has helped many people and never asks for money. And he won’t carry out any elaborate rituals or anything. He simply writes out what you want in beautiful calligraphy on a small slip of paper, reads a dua, a prayer, over it and puts the paper in an amulet for you to wear. That’s it. Many, many people swear by him.”
“If he doesn’t take any money, why does he do it?”
“To help people, silly. Also, I never said that he doesn’t take money. I said that he doesn’t ask for it. If his intervention resolves your problem and you want to give him a gift, the Baba will not be so rude as to refuse you. Come on. Get ready. It will be good for you to breathe some fresh air anyway.”
Mrs Bilqis went into her bedroom to get changed. She knew from past experience that Nadira would not give up. She could be such a pain sometimes.
