Contest entry #1477words #prompt

word prompts: gate, window, umbrella

The Catalyst

(my contest entry for the theme Fantasmo)

326 BC

The temple bells rang in unison, the dark clouds competing in their race across the night sky, the heavy masses crashing into each other. The Chenab had swelled to dangerous levels threatening to drown the entire province of Moong. The people hadn’t witnessed such a deluge in the past. Was it a celestial sign? Suddenly lightning tore through the firmament, its infernal wrath turning tall treetops to ash. Locals ran helter-skelter to the mountains to save themselves from the wrath of the Rain God.

However, the head of the province, Ghatananda placidly resting in his cosmic mansion was least bothered. His king Porus was busy in the battle of Hydaspes against Alexander and he held control over the entire province. The Macedonians had given him precious stones he had never seen in this part of Bharat, just to betray his King and he had readily agreed. A womanizer to the core he sat on the self-made singhasan that he called it as the two daasis served him food and drinks. Soon he would have his palace.

Today he was to have his wish fulfilled… Vishakha was to visit him. She was the famous concubine of the royal court in Magadha, everyone raved about. Her flawless beauty lay unmatched for miles and he had put a lid on his concupiscence for days in anticipation of unleashing it all when the treasured beauty would serve him. He had finally gotten his chance through a sepoy who got it done after giving away 50 gold coins. He held up the bejeweled necklace he had specially commissioned for her slender neck he yearned to lay his hands on… the very imagery sending him into the throes of carnal pleasure. He chuckled all blood draining into his loins watching the sand clock pour out in desperation…it was almost due.

He gestured everyone to leave the place and blow away the torches outside… only the two in his chamber remained. He then picked up a special potion he had ordered for Vishakha… He couldn’t let a mere paramour have the upper hand here, could he?. He would relish her to his heart’s content and then at dawn he would let her relics flow merging in with the Chenab.

Suddenly a violent fulguration made its way again brightening up the small arched footbridge leading to his chambers. The not so still pond papered with water lilies and bordered by green thickets of reeds provided adequate contexture as Vishakha announced her ingress. Ghatananda stared spellbound by the nymphic allurement before him.

The damsel with trinkets shimmering to glory, sashayed to the tune of the lashing torrent, her eyes shining blue embers. Her supple skin shone with the staccato brightening… her kukri attached to the graceful hip screamed danger. Her smile as she grew closer showing the perfect pearls surrounded by the maquillage… her fragrance the perfect aphrodisiac as she placed a perfect finger on his chest.

“Oh, my lord…” She purred in a tone enough to canoodle a stone as Ghatananda held up the shimmering Carcanet. “…to what do I owe this… largesse…?”

The only remaining torches withered away in the stormy draft as a flabbergasted Ghatananda lay mesmerized anticipating the coital union…

Right then she planted a kiss on his unsuspecting lips and moved away. Ghatananda didn’t know what hit him as seizures engulfed him. His throat constricted as he turned blue, froth pouring out of his orifice… He barely lasted a minute.

Vishakha stood up as she picked up the jewelry tucking it into her belly beads that hid the congenital snake imprint. She was promised a bijoux by Chanakya, the great man who envisioned a unified Bharata and she was one of his chief warriors.

As she walked out of the chamber slaying the two guards effortlessly, she felt victorious. An exotic humanoid… a Vishkanya nurtured by Chanakya since her childhood Vishakha walked unperturbed towards the waiting palkhi…ready to take on the next assignment for her mentor…

454 BCE

The trumpets bellowed, the percussions, the Mahahi and Saptatantri veena., the jhallari and the ghanta all played together, their cacophony ringing in the victory of the new king of Bharata.

Skandagupta strode majestically in his war armor having defeated the Central Asian Hunas… his greatest victory ever. He was all set to govern a true monarchical imperial state just like his forefather Chandragupta. It didn’t matter that he had forced himself on the throne or that he had butchered his cousins and their supporters.

Skandagupta too had his secret sect of the imperial army away from the prying eyes of the neighborhood kingdoms or enemies. The army of lethally trained women warriors… The women were selected at birth based on the celestial signs believed to be the indicating premise.

Visalakshi the leader of the sect was the blue-eyed beauty who could single-handily fight ten male warriors and could yield a sword as a Kshatriya epitomized. She had immortalized the special fire arrows which were also laced with her poison that could kill with a mere touch.

She seemed a harmless enchantress who swayed her full hips laden with jewels to hide the ophidian mark she was born with. The enemy never knew what hit them.

But she had eaten the forbidden fruit…she had fallen in love with… Skandagupta. He had reciprocated as well and they had their clandestine interludes often away from the prying eyes of the soldiers and the karmakers (servants). As they had once reached the pinnacle of passion in the corner of the royal garden, beneath the bright blue sky he had kissed the mark on her hip marking her as his. He promised to be betrothed to her elevating her status to queen…

That evening she had awaited his presence in her chamber anticipating the royal proposal. But Skandagupta didn’t come… ever again. He settled into connubial bliss the same week with a blue-blooded bride Lakshmi.

He visited a grief-stricken Visalakshi later. “…My dear Visu… no one can pleasure this body the way you do… I hereby elevate your status as my Lorette…” he declared boisterously.

Visalakshi was not the one to take the insult lying down both figuratively and literally. A warrior woman scorned, she joined hands with Purugupta, Skandagupta’s only living half-brother whom he had unceremoniously ousted to claim his right to the throne.

Putting her stellar swordsmanship to best use she enthralled the audience to a demonstration playoff and accidentally beheaded Skandagupta… ending the rein of a dynamic but ruthless leader.

1540 CE

Vishudhi gyrated to the mridangam beats in total sync with every infinitesimal change of the singer’s tone and vibratos. The raaga ‘Hameer Kalyani’ echoed through the assembled audience. The royal guests of the new monarch of Vijaynagara empire Sher Shah of the Deccan sultanate were enthralled by the expressive dance-drama by the royal courtesans.

Visudhi the lead dancer stretched the varnam as she studied the king, the lecherous gaze in his eyes burning into her soul. He had invaded the kingdom and captured the court of Raja Harihara ending Krishnadevaraya’s lineage. Visudhi smiled crinkling her blue orbs full of recrimination.

As envisioned Visudhi was called the same night to the Shah’s special zenana and he was blown over by her wanton salacious skills. “You…. my jaan are the perfect Jannat…” He had exclaimed amidst the torrents of passion.

What the intoxicated ruler failed to notice was beneath the precarious veneer rested an incubus waiting to be emancipated. Visudhi was inducted into his harem.

A staunch devotee of Lord Vishnu Visudhi drove in energy secretly worshiping the Lord. She had to wait for the right time to avenge the massacre of her innumerable countrymen.

The occasion arrived on a full moon night… a year after her first meet with Sher Shah. She had a sudden surge of energy and Sher Shah was without his coterie and soldiers as he strolled the royal gardens with his favorite mistress.

Suddenly a canopy of dark clouds caused them to rush for shelter in anticipation of a heavy downpour.

“My jaan, looks like the baarish is going to hit us soon…”

“Shehenshai alam… let us move to that velarium… it will save us from the rain onslaught and you can rest amidst the beauty of nature…” She battled her eyelids knowing the action would catch him in her net.

A besotted Sher Shah followed her blindly to the cove and as he lay on the bed of bougainvillea, they undressed each other. Just when he touched the raised calloused viper on her hip, she struck her venomous fangs her long toxic nails she was naturally endowed with.

“Here is your Jannat, you swine…” She screamed as his grotesque body contorted.

Sher Shah went lifeless in less than a minute and Visudhi jumped into the flowing Tungabhadra… her mission completed.

1657 CE

Nazma ran across the royal chambers… the queen, Mumtaz Mahal had just delivered her 20^th son. The boy had mean cobalt eyes exactly in coordination with Nazma’s gaze. The Mughal emperor Shahjahan gifted Nazma a priced pearl necklace.

Later that night Nazma who was born Vikasini, stared into the mirror in her modest quarter as she stripped for her nightly ritual. She had to freshen and rush to the queen’s chamber for taking on the night duty of caring for her newborn. The queen had weakened and had been sick and Nazma wondered if she could endure any more childbirths. Nazma’s facsimile at her had sunken eyes but today the blues glowed brightly. She turned around touching the raised portion of her delicate hips. The viper smiled back at her… She was born with it.

Her mother, a measly maid in the royal household had told her. “…Vikasini, my child this is a precious gift… we worship Lord Shiva and this is his blessing to you… He is always with you. You are born with special powers to use them only when the time is ripe…from today you shall be Nazma and serve the royalty directly…. Be discrete and strike when the iron is hot… remember you have been born for a purpose…”

Today her plan started to take root. This was no ordinary child and she would see to it that he was raised the way she wanted. And from that moment she was the foster mother for young Aurangzeb…

Throughout his childhood and adolescence, she not only got him adept in warfare under her watchful eyes but also rancorously empoisoned the boy against his brethren. As a result, Aurangazeb was barely twenty-five when he slew his brothers and imprisoned his father before taking over the throne. The moron didn’t even realize he had ended his clan. Attacks always didn’t have to be direct!

Her mission had been effectuated. She was barely into her forties when she knew she wouldn’t last long. She made Aurangazeb promise to cremate her after she passed, it was her last wish to him.

1770 CE

Afreen Mirza was burning in rage threatening to turn her surrounding into ashes. They had to escape the manor lock stock and barrel disrupting her little world of toys and friends. All she had known and wanted was a simple make-believe cosmos where eventually her knight in shining armor would come along making her the queen of his kingdom and heart.

Everything had gone kaput. Her father Mirza Najaf Khan the commander of the right flank of the Mughal Imperial army was taken prisoner by the British. Her brothers and an older sister who and had joined the cavalry stealthily to fight alongside were also felled.

Afreen along with her other siblings and mother accompanied by the trusted entourage negotiated their way through the dense forest close to Hampi. While the troupe hoped they wouldn’t end as meals for the wild, Afreen could only think of regaining the lost glory to her family and also her motherland.

They reached the Hampi ruins in the stark darkness after a peripatetic month filled with travails. They had lost about 20 members to complex health afflictions so far. The pouring rain fanned the flames of peril with her mother, her sole anchor, falling to deadly yellow fever.

A frustrated Afreen ran towards the Hampi ruin center that night and wailed her heart out. Her blue eyes blazed in anger with the British. Suddenly an electrifying firebolt struck lighting up the terra firma and she felt her body transforming. She was no longer the docile 14-year-old weakling. Her skin tightened and the faint mark on her hip got pronounced while she transformed into a damsel, superlative in hoyden

Power gushed within her matching the debouch of the Tungabhadra and she resolved to fight the goras to reclaim her motherland’s lost glory. She was no longer Afreen… she was Varisha… the lightning.

Premonition shoved her to dig around, and she recovered a coveted sword already knowing how to wield it. A strong stallion approached her tenaciously howling his way, his abundant mane ferociously untamed and their tips glistening with unshed rivulets. Mounting it on autopilot, she flew across the river towards the eastern ghats. After days of traveling, she reached Burma where her father remained incarcerated. The East India Company also had their booty stashed in a secret office in Burma…

The guards were caught sitting ducks and before they could recover from the bewilderment of watching a nymph warrior they were slain. She not only rescued her astounded father and his contemporaries but set a fire using her palms to create the sparks. Invaluable documents of land ownership of the British Raj in United Bharat were turned to ash.

As the prisoners escaped, they saw the gigantic green ball of fire levitate towards the sky that also struck the foundations of the British empire for years to come.

1854 CE

Young Manikarnika Tambe was practicing horsemanship and fencing under the able guidance of her guru Tatya Tope. None of the boys in the pathshala could match her skills and prowess.

“Is there anyone who can beat Mannu in the next bout…?” Tatya announced. “…I promise a special gift of these pearl kundalas…”

He scanned around with an air of pride over his favorite protégé’s unmatched aptitude across arenas… when, there was a commotion. A little girl around the same age as Mannu dressed in a warrior suit emerged from the gathering and bowed to the revered teacher.

“Please accept my humble pranam, guruji…I accept the challenge but I do not want the Kundalas if I win…” she squared her chin

“What is it, child? What do you want then…?” An amused Tatya looked at the little girl with a firm set jaw and blazing blue eyes that could drown anyone in their depths.

“I want to live with Mannu tai, train with her and serve her for the rest of my life…” the young girl spoke, determination personified.

Tatya nodded and signaled the start of a match. Within five minutes, the decision was made as the bout ended in favor of the new girl. As promised, she started to live with Manu and her father as the latter’s foster daughter. She was Veerya who even accompanied Manu to the royal palace when she married Gangadhar Rao and became Lakshmibai, the queen of Jhansi.

The British Raj had spread its tentacles deep into the provinces with archaic and disputable rules. Gangadhar Rao died and many other small kings were defeated in different battles. 

One day Veerya took up a mission. She covered herself with a superior armor that Lakshmibai had gifted her… It showed off her suave gracefulness but hid her lethal personality and the crawling reptile mark on her hip.

Veerya made her way stealthily to the camp where many European officers lingered with their subordinates, on an invitation by Rani Lakshmibai as a political peace offering.

Veerya looked upward towards the sky as twilight approached bringing with it the gloomy clouds and sudden unseasonal rains. In the mayhem that ensued, Veerya twirled like a hurricane destroying everyone and everything that came her way.

In the next hour, the entire contingent comprising decision-making officers was killed but a stray bullet caught Veerya right in the chest.

“Jai Shankar…” She muttered as she fell. “…forgive me Manu… I will take your leave…”

The brave woman didn’t live to see her dear friend Lakshmibai fight and hold on to Jhansi for years till her last breath.

1938 CE

Vaashini Mukherji stared at her mentor Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, her wide blue orbs filled with annoyance. She didn’t respect Gandhiji or the other satyagrahis. Non-violence was not for the brave, she argued toeing in line with her master.

The Indian National Congress had stood divided into the methods of fighting the British. Her rage against the invaders had blinded every rational thought. She believed India was in dire need of socialist authoritarianism… only then would the public be aroused from their perennial slumber.

The same week Netaji was jailed for protesting against the Black Hole and destroying the Holwell Monument.

“Sudipto…” Vaashini called out to her friend as they continued scooping the earth to make a transit tunnel to help Netaji escape. “…Be careful as you approach the brass wall… it’s a trap door and we have to get it opened… any wrong move and we may either get caught or fall to our death…”

“…Don’t you worry Vaashi… you are here so we will be safe…” He chuckled. She had excavated the major volume so far and went on as if a new soul had taken over her lithe body.

She rubbed the sweat from her brows as they took a little break and stretched revealing her birthmark… it was a strange green snake-like image that Sudipto had always teased her about. He was the only one privy to her occult features.

He went to get something for dinner when he was caught by the guards and beheaded…

Vaashini went on like a maniac and finally, after about a week a raised tunnel lay hidden ready for Netaji to escape.

On the day, however, rain pelted the makeshift passageway and the muddy tunnel wall had softened. The entire raised structure could take the weight of only two individuals. She helped Subhash Chandra Bose and his nephew escape to Germany, while she stayed back in their place.

Fearless Vaashini faced over a dozen British soldiers slaughtering half of them and grievously injuring many others before she succumbed.

2021 CE

Vallari rubbed away the sweat from her brows. Her face had been covered with black paint except for her cerulean eyes now concealed using cosmetic contact lenses. An apotheosis of physical strength and concentration, she lugged swiftly and noiselessly along the forest covering.

The Nilgiri forests were covered with dense fog with pockets of the miasma shriveling the olfactory bulbs to oblivion. The extremists were known to be taking refuge in the camouflaged terrain.

Special RAW agent Vallari along with her comrades had been assigned to pulverize the gang hidden deep into the forest.

“Tango… position Agent V…” her earpiece crackled to life. “…target closing in…”

Vallari’s vigilance piqued up as she took position. The clothes specially designed for her were like a second skin and now began to itch especially in the area around her hip which had a bright green congenital snake tattoo. Vallari had chuckled at the surprised reaction of the RAW doctor during the mandatory examination.

From a distance, she saw the soft smoke indicative of a settlement and stilled. She knew what she had to do.

She smirked inhaling the inundating vitality. The raging covering of dark clouds hovered above her making its departure towards the settlement.

Within moments, the lightning struck…

©priyagole

******************************************************************************************************

 Vishkanya: The Poison Damsel (Sanskrit Viṣakanyā) is a literary figure that appears in Sanskrit literature as a type of assassin used by kings to destroy enemies. The story goes that young girls were raised on a carefully crafted diet of poison and antidote from a very young age, a practice referred to as mithridatism. Although many would not survive, those that did were immune to other poisons and their body fluids would be poisonous to others; sexual contact would thus be lethal to other humans. There also exists a myth that says a Vishakanya can cause instant death with just a touch.

Kshatriya: Kshatriya is one of the four varna of Hindu society, associated with warrior aristocracy.

Kundala: Kuṇḍala (कुण्डल) refers to “ear-rings”, according to the Śivapurāṇa

Holwell monument:  Black Hole of Calcutta, scene of an incident on June 20, 1756, in which a number of Europeans were imprisoned in Calcutta (now Kolkata) and many died. John Holwell one of the employees of the British East India Company had erected a tablet on the site of the ‘Black Hole’ to commemorate the victims but, at some point (the precise date is uncertain), it disappeared. Some books state it was all a myth!

(flash fiction entry for a 524-word contest, on a picture prompt by Penmancy.com)

Bygones

#flashfiction

story entry for a 500-word contest.

Topic “Alter: you seem different…”

Her chest heaved heavily as her rage surpassed all boundaries, the skies filled with her shrieking laughter, her furious gaze fell on the demon armies. ‘Raktabeeja’ was at his ravaging best marauding the celestial world. 

Dark skin hanging loose and the tiger skin barely covering her, the hag adorned with skull garland and an unruly mane arrived armed with the sword of vengeance. She began her rampage swallowing the demons into her oral abyss. The rest met their end as she opened her brilliantly flaming third eye adorning her Vermilion smeared forehead. The earth vibrated as she moved her claws destroying the demons who had dared to challenge the empyrean powers. Finally, she pierced Raktabeeja and consumed his blood till it drained off completely from his body, finally annihilating him. Her fury refused to die as she continued the upheaval and Lord Shiva lay on her path to end the mayhem…

The alarm pierced through her senses waking Ramya with a start. She had fallen asleep reading Maa Kali’s folklore in the tiny bedroom in her shanty. Her school teacher had given her the book before she was forced to drop out. Her father who had more alcohol than blood running through his veins had sold the motherless girl to the highest bidder. From then on, her life had been a tumulus roller coaster servicing the lecherous mortals who were no less than ravenous beasts. Eventually, she had settled into matrimony hoping for a happily ever after.

Her assumptions were nosedived with a husband no less than a barbarous pimp who lived off her income by soliciting men for her every night. An abiding sex slave, she had jumped from the frying pan to the fire. …

It was just last evening that she had recovered the tattered storybook and had fallen asleep that afternoon reading it. As she woke up, her chimera remained vivid. There was a surge of energy in her frail body as the resentment towards her father and husband resurfaced. Hopelessness paved way to a strange determination. 

Her husband returned late evening along with a customer. However, as he entered their bedroom to summon her, he was taken aback. Standing before the cracked mirror was Ramya adorned in a black saree, her kohl-laden bloodshot eyes filled with molten rage, her defiant mop flying all over with a mind of their own. 

“What is all this…? You seem different…” he spoke tentatively.

She turned towards him and shoved a sickle stunning him to fall on the hard floor.

“Wait… what are you doing…What is wrong with you…?” he wailed shuffling back to hit the wall.

“I am different, asshole…” Her voice reverberated through the mephitic air. “…it’s high time, you pathetic excuse for a human realize… this is MY life … I refuse to bow to your whims anymore. The Raktabeejas in my life will be destroyed, no matter how many sprouts up again…” Ramya declared with a foot on his chest. 

Maa Kali had been summoned…

________________________________
Raktabeeja: In Hinduism, Raktabeeja was an asura (loosely translated as demon) who fought with Shumbha and Nishumbha against Goddess Parvati, Goddess Kali or Goddess Chamunda. Raktabeeja had a boon that whenever a drop of his blood fell on the ground, a duplicate Raktabeeja would be born at that spot (rakta = blood, beeja = seed; “he for whom each drop of blood is a seed”)
________________________________

©priyagole

Radhika Singh traipsed through her daughter’s room. Chitra’s favorite talc lingered days after she had left for her marital home as a bedazzling young bride. Radhika only hoped they had done well by her. A teacher by profession, Chitra had opted for a career break as she settled in her new home in a new town. Her parents-in-law were family friends and were accommodating of her choices. They were open to Chitra working and that was beyond Radhika’s expectations. Rubbing a cloth over a framed picture of Chitra and herself she smiled. It was taken during their trip to Matheran a few years ago when Chitra was studying in Mumbai and they had visited her. Radhika beamed at the memories of her darling daughter the epitome of obedience and morals, expected in their conservative household. She had always worried when Chitra had insisted on doing her M.Ed from Mumbai but her husband, Manohar had trusted their daughter and had let her go. True to her word Chitra had returned home after obtaining her degree and loads of accolades and… thankfully without a boyfriend. When Manohar had told Chitra to consider marrying Rahul a dynamic MBA with a multinational, she hadn’t refused.

Radhika’s vision blurred seeing Chitra and Rahul’s smiling picture on her phone taken on the day of the wedding. They made such a beautiful couple. Clad in the sequined red Lehenga choli with the traditional jewelry adorning her pretty face, Chitra looked no less than a royal princess, and Rahul her knight in shining armor. A die-hard romantic, Chitra always believed in happily ever after. Today they were to return from their honeymoon and Rahul had to leave for the US in a week on official work. Chitra was all set to accompany her husband and Radhika couldn’t be happier. All their relatives had fawned over Rahul and had pegged Chitra ‘lucky’ to have landed such a catch despite her plain looks. Chitra wasn’t the quintessential beauty as per their social standards but she was simple and grounded. The Singhs were well off and Chitra was the prodigal daughter after an older son and she was followed by a younger brother.

Chitra had spoken to Radhika only twice since they were in a place with a very poor network but she often texted saying she was happy and having fun… Now though nothing looked amiss, worry gnawed at Radhika and she wished to hear Chitra’s voice for herself once she returned…only then she would be at peace. She was roused from her reverie by the door knock. Radhika placed the photo frame back on the table and rushed downstairs to answer the door before the noise woke up the rest of the family.

The main door creaked open with the tiny metal bells jingling, again Chitra’s choice. She loved wooden carvings and such artifacts. Radhika’s nostalgic smile soon faded when she saw the early morning visitor. A disheveled Chitra stood at the threshold. She had worn jeans and an off-shoulder t-shirt which was half tucked in. Radhika remembered Chitra had included the outfit as a part of the honeymoon shopping… Chitra held the suitcase handle, her grip a pale white as if her life depended on it. The other hand had clutched her purse close to her bosom moving rapidly along with her fast-paced breath bordering alongside dyspnea. Her unruly mane fluttered away to glory forming a wild hallow around her head. The swollen lower lip was split in the right corner and the blood had crusted… even as Radhika took in a quick breath unable to fathom the situation. Radhika’s vision blurred as she saw Chitra’s kohl smudged eyes which were red-rimmed as if she had been crying for ages. The proverbial sindoor had forged its path amidst the sweat beads smearing all over Chitra’s upper forehead. There were… marks on her shoulder… like bite marks and some tiny nail marks with dried blood. Chitra stood trembling like the leaf on the adjoining Tulsi plant and Radhika pulled her into her arms. Chitra let out a painful sob digging her head into her mother’s shoulder.

“…Chitra… what happened bitiya…? Where is Damadji…?” Radhika tried to blink away tears as she looked to check if Rahul was around. She wrapped her shawl around Chitra’s bare shoulders and helped her into the house. The mother-daughter duo made it to Chitra’s room and Radhika immediately shut the door latching it. Chitra strutted ahead and sat on the bed staring at the floor, tears still meandering their way down her cheeks.

Terrified to the core Radhika contemplated the worst possible scenarios. Did someone attack the couple…? Was Rahul OK…? She rubbed a worried hand on Chitra’s back to pacify the young woman but… she flinched. Was the girl hurt even more?

“…bitiya…you are scaring me… what is it…? You were to return from your honeymoon today… was there an accident…? Is Rahul… all right…?” Chitra plonked on the bed to her side and cocooned herself in the fetal position as she continued to whimper.

Radhika’s heart galloped faster threatening to tear out of the thoracic confines. She mustered every ounce of strength and uttered softly. “…Chitra… the rest of the household will be up any moment… we will have to answer the curious questions… everyone will be worried, darling…” Seeing no response from her daughter she continued. “…OK… fine… at least freshen up and let me tend to those… wounds… change into fresh clothes…” That seemed to affect and Chitra moved with a snail’s pace towards her attached bathroom.

Radhika rushed outside to her bedroom where Manohar continued to sleep unmindful of his dear daughter’s condition. She picked up the first-aid box and headed back to Chitra’s room. Chitra emerged from her bath in a daze and changed into fresh clothes that Radhika had laid out for her. Radhika nursed the superficial wounds and helped her settle back on the bed.  She then held Chitra’s cold hands and spoke. “…Tell me bitiya… now…”

“…Maa…” Chitra spoke her voice cracking with the emotional overlay. “…Maa… I … I … was raped…” She bent her head forward as a muffled wail tore out of her covered mouth. Radhika’s heart sank… a kaleidoscopic canopy of emotions bombarded her body and mind as dark visuals surfaced in her mind’s eye… the horrifying vignettes that could cause every girl’s heart to capsize in terror.

“…Who… who… did that… and where is Rahul…?” Radhika asked after a minute-long reprieve.

Chitra tardily rose her head, her bloodshot eyes further marred with swollen eyelids even as the tears didn’t cease to flow. Staring right into Radhika’s eyes she spoke with a constricted throat. “…it was him, Maa… Rahul… he… raped me…”

Radhika abruptly stood knocking down the first aid box in the process. She looked around and felt her life resonating with the scattered tubes, pill bottles, medicine strips, gauze, and tapes. Gathering them up with trembling hands and clogged throat she sat next to Chitra who looked expectantly at her. “…Bitiya… what are you saying… Rahul…? He is your husband…”

“…But Maa…” Chitra wailed. “…He… raped me…he hurt me bad…I … I… won’t go back ever again… I am done…” She looked away.

“…Chitra… you can’t say all this… its… its unbelievable… they are such good people… we know them…”

“…So… Maa… am I bad then…? Do I deserve this…?” Chitra pointed at her face

“…You don’t get it bitiya… getting together…” She brought her hands together as if to indicate. “…it’s a part of getting married… it’s just there… it’s a part of… bitiya…you are educated and know that…”

“…I know Maa… I know… but… you don’t get me… do you…? He forced himself on me… from the first night… even last night… Maa… it was unbearably painful… and I did not want it…”

“…Bitiya… all that is painful initially… but we get used to it… and that brings the couple close to each other… that’s how you will have children in future…”

“…Maa…what about my wishes…? If I am not a willing participant…? Does it give him a right to… hurt me…?”

“…bitiya… you are being unreasonable… Ok… let us talk later after you calm down… all right…? Rest here while I send you breakfast…”

Radhika couldn’t wait to head outside as an overwhelming sense of foreboding washed over her. What was all that about…? They had doubly checked Rahul’s credentials. He was a caring guy and Chitra had liked him as well. What would happen now…?  She walked on autopilot towards the kitchen abuzz with aromas of fresh tea, coffee, and varied breakfast items the Singh family relished. Her co-sisters-in-law were busy making the arrangements and looked up questioningly. Radhika remained silent as she went about adding the finishing touches.

Later post breakfast, Radhika gathered the women and announced Chitra’s arrival and all that had transpired. As expected, they were flustered… everyone giving opinions on the apocalyptical appearance of the daughter back home within days after tying the knot. Like Radhika, they felt Chitra needed time to adjust to the new norms of marital life. Soon Chitra’s mother-in-law called and Radhika heaved a sigh of relief, the lady seemed clueless. Rahul had conveyed to her Chitra missed her folks and would be staying with them for a while. Radhika assured the lady Chitra was fine and would be home soon…

That evening everyone minus the children had gathered in the drawing-room. By now everyone was abreast with the accounts, and Chitra who stayed up in her room till then was summoned. Her cousins got her down. She was in her pajamas and had not bothered with vanity. She sat next to Radhika as her grandmother questioned. “…Chitra bitiya… where are the mangalsutra and sindoor…? You are married now… you should be wearing all that…”

Chitra didn’t respond but stared at the floor clasping her palms in a death grip. Radhika nodded at her husband who spoke. “…Bitiya… you shouldn’t have done this… is this what we have taught you…? Is this out sanskaar…? our morals…? You didn’t even inform your in-laws…?”

Chitra spoke softly. “…Baba… do you think I could have gone like this to ask permission from my in-laws…?” she pointed towards her face. The marks had begun to fade and the lip swelling had almost reduced to nothing.

Manohar cleared his throat. “…We… we have managed the situation for now. But bitiya… your Maa said…” He rubbed his face. “… how can you accuse Rahul of….” He looked up at the false ceiling and sighed. “…Bitiya…it’s all a part of marriage… you know that don’t you…?”

“…Baba…? Does that mean… Rahul can do what he wants…hit me and force me to…?”

“…Bitiya… you are husband-wife… you are supposed to…” Manohar looked alarmed at her argument.

Chitra stood up. She looked around at her folk and Radhika could only stare at her daughter.

“Maa… baba… dadiji and all of you…I know a husband and wife are meant to get close… but shouldn’t the act be of mutual consent… why should the husband… force himself on the wife… just because he has married her…? Baba… you couldn’t even say the word… but I have been through it. Baba… you don’t even know the hell I have been put through all these days…I… I am not going back to that monster again…” Chitra declared folding her arms close to her chest.

The Singh household was stunned to silence. Chitra’s grandmother broke the ice. “…Look bitiya… once you get married you belong to your husband and not your parents… you are Rahul’s responsibility and what you are saying is… that man’s right…”

“…What about my rights dadiji…?” Chitra countered. “…do you remember telling us to beware of the bad wolves out there… to save our virtue… what is the difference here then…? Rape is never consensual… does a marriage certificate give the… consent…?”

“…BITIYA…” her father bellowed standing up and the room fell into a pin drop silence with only the grandfather’s clock ticking away without a care in the world. “… you are talking nonsense… we never forced you to marry Rahul… he is a great guy… well educated… good career… very good family… you are fortunate… what is all this…? Can’t you adjust a little…? What do you want him to do…? Look for women outside…? Are you stupid…? Does your education scramble your head like this…? Radhika…” he looked towards his wife. “…Breathe some sense into her… she can stay here for a few days… but after that, she has to go back to Rahul’s house… Chitra, you are having a golden opportunity to visit the US…live independently… how lucky you are…” he shook his head and walked out. Each family member walked back to their rooms, leaving Chitra and Radhika behind.

As Radhika tucked a crying Chitra into her bed, the latter asked. “…Maa… the balance has tilted…? Because I am married…? My wishes and well-being… don’t matter anymore…?”

“…Bitiya… sleep for now… we will talk tomorrow…” Radhika almost whispered and left the room.

The next few days flew in a jiffy with curious relatives and neighbors dropping in to the Singh household with greater frequency. Though the family members were tightlipped about the real reasons for Chitra’s return, such scandalous information often found its way outside snowballing into something different from the original. Radhika tried her best to keep the situation from causing a greater catastrophe… but she wasn’t herself anymore. She had to listen to ‘advice’ meted out from all directions about her daughter being ‘paraya dhan…’ Within a couple of days of Chitra’s arrival, the other women at home spoke about the bad influence on their daughters and the poor prospects for their marriage if the news leaked out. Radhika resumed her hypertension medication owing to the stress that had begun to take a toll on her health. She was torn between the love and belief in her daughter and her duties as the quintessential oldest daughter-in-law who had to uphold the family values and returning of the daughter post-marriage didn’t find a place in the archaic rulebook. Chitra refused to heed to anything or even be open to discussion and had secluded herself in her room all day long. Rahul tried calling on their landline often as Chitra had switched off her mobile but she refused to speak to him.

Finally, five days after Chitra had returned, Rahul dropped in with a bouquet and gifts for everyone. As always, he won them all over with his intellectual talk and anecdotes. Chitra made her way downstairs and sat opposite Rahul while everyone around trod on eggshells. Radhika swarmed over the place trying to maintain every ounce of normalcy but things were easier said than done. Rahul stood up and spoke to everyone present. “…I sincerely apologize to all of you from the bottom of my heart… for all that happened… but it wasn’t intentional… I got carried away… I love your daughter and I would do anything to make things right…” He looked at Chitra and continued. “… come on Chitra… let’s go home…”

Chitra shook her head. “…No Rahul…I am not in the right frame of mind… what happened can’t be erased… I need time to get over…”

“…What the hell happened Chitra… that you are so upset about…? Have I insulted you or your family or have we demanded dowry or imposed anything…?” Rahul blurted out.

Manohar then intervened. “…Chitra… bitiya… Rahul is correct… they have been nothing but wonderful… even now all these days your in-laws were courteous despite your outrageous behavior…”

“…baba… outrageous…? So objecting to someone forcing himself on me is outrageous…?”

“…Chitra cut the crap…you are crossing the lines…” Rahul spoke in a warning tone.

“…Why Rahul…? You could do it to me for days but I can’t even talk about it…?”

“…We are married for crying out aloud… isn’t it… my right to get intimate with my wife…?”

“…Oh, Rahul…it is… but if I am not up to it, I have a right to refuse as well…”

“…We were on our honeymoon… goddamn it…”

“…Rahul…”  Chitra wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. “…I was scared about everything… you knew it… you were experienced but I wasn’t….” Radhika cringed inwardly hearing her daughter but she remained a mute spectator. Chitra needed to vent out. “…Rahul… I adored you… you said you loved me… but do you abuse someone you love…?”

“…You are being ridiculous about this … making a mountain of a molehill… the suite was so beautifully decorated… I got it done just for you and you didn’t… dint even let me touch you…how am I supposed to feel after waiting for months… Papaji…?” Rahul looked at her Manohar who sat in stoic silence, his displeasure evident from the firm set of his jaw and angry stare at the center table. “…Papaji… Chachaji… you can understand my plight…can’t you…? I was married to the woman I love and I wasn’t allowed to even…” He rubbed his face. “…This is so embarrassing… Chitra… let’s just go home and discuss all this…please…”

Before Chitra could reply, Manohar stood up holding his hand up. “…No more discussion in this house… Chitra give Rahul another chance, bitiya… he has apologized to you in front of all of us…”

“…Give him a chance to rape me again…? Is that what you are saying baba…? Like marriage gave him a chance to be a ravenous beast… does my WILL have no say…?”

There was silence all over even as Rahul looked taciturnly around. Radhika looked up at her favorite painting in the living room. The varied hues depicted the dazzling Sun emerging from the clouds announcing its arrival amidst nature’s pomp and splendor. She knew what she had to do and stood next to Chitra. “…My daughter’s will matters… to me…”

Radhika had just announced the arrival of the new dawn…

©priyagole.