Monsoon Memories (33 page)

And now, she had Deepak’s engagement to look forward to. A celebration. Going home. It would be such fun. Anita would be there, full of stories about college life and Uttam, her love. They would tease Deepak about Preeti and watch him blush. They would threaten to tell Preeti about all his many infatuations and crushes.

Lost in thought, she was barely aware of the front door slamming shut. She glanced at the clock. 5:15 p.m. Her mother-in-law had left at 4:30. Surely she couldn’t be back so soon? Vinod was not due home till 7:00 p.m. at least. Something must have happened.

She walked to the living room quickly. When she saw that it was her brother-in-law staggering in the doorway, panic gripped her heart. She had not considered this possibility. Since that day at the market, she’d hardly seen Prem. He arrived home late at night after she and Vinod were in bed, left early in the morning. He’d stayed out of her way and she had relaxed, become complacent.
Stop it, Shirin. He’s nice, he brought you sweets. It’s all in your head.
But he was leering at her, definitely leering. This was the other Prem, the one who made her uneasy, scared her.

‘So, Voniye,’ Prem sneered, taking a step towards her, swaying on his feet, ‘aren’t you going to offer to make me some tea? And perhaps something more. Something you give my dear brother every night.’ His words slurred. He licked his lips loudly.

She could smell the alcohol from where she was standing, at the opposite end of the living room. She started taking small steps backward toward the dining room, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Did it have a door leading outside? She couldn’t remember. Did any of the rooms?
Vinod, please come home now.

‘Are you running away from me, Voniye?’ A smirk. Prem looked directly at her and Shirin reeled back. His eyes. Expressionless, empty, yet somehow menacing. The Eyes from the market. She had not imagined them.

As she watched, Prem locked the front door, very deliberately. Fear gripped her heart, rooting her legs to the ground, even as every instinct warned her to flee. She was trapped. Why had she not confided in Vinod her worries regarding Prem? Why had she not gone with her mother-in-law to the hospital? Why had she been so pleased at the thought of having some time alone?
Vinod, please come home.

‘Why are you doing that?’ she managed to whisper.

‘You belong to me really. I am the older one.’

‘No.’

‘He’s my brother. I’m sure he won’t mind if I share you just this once.’ Prem was smiling.

‘No. No, Prem. This is wrong.’

He advanced towards her, laughing. ‘Vinod won’t mind. My
younger
brother, always so perfect, always so good... He’ll share. He has to. After all, he gets to have you every day. And I, the older one, have nobody. Is that fair? I ask you,
is that fair
?’

And then she was running, running for her life, running through all the rooms as fast as her legs could carry her. It was no use. He was rapidly gaining on her, no matter how hard she ran. She could hear him right behind her. His breaths harsh. His chappal-clad feet, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, gaining relentlessly. This house was too small and too unfamiliar. There was no place to hide.

Please, God
, she prayed, her breath coming in gasps,
please help
.
Vinod, COME HOME! Please. Now.

He caught up with her in the kitchen. She couldn’t run any further. There was nowhere to run. The kitchen had no exit, and he was blocking the only entrance. He advanced towards her, swaying on his feet. Her lips moved in prayer, to a God she had unquestioningly believed in all her life. Surely He would protect her now? Her breath came in loud sobs. Tears ran down her face without her even realising. She was trapped. There was no reasoning with this man. His intent was written all over his face: in his sneer; his maniacal laughter. He was almost upon her when she realised that God would not intervene, that it was up to her to save herself. Her hands, which were behind her back, scrabbled around in the drawers she was backed up against for a weapon, and, almost by chance, landed on the handle of a knife...

He was upon her before she could do anything with the knife, pinning her down, trapping her. His breath made her gag, her sobs escaping in huge gasps. He was laughing as he tore at her clothes, at the Salwar Kameez in the latest style her mother had bought her as part of her wedding trousseau from the new shop in Dommur. His eyes widened as he took in her lingerie, a gift from Anita. And as he started pawing at her breasts, Shirin shut her eyes tight and did what she had done a million times when she was growing up. She escaped into an imaginary world inside her head where all was well...

Afterwards, he rolled off her, grunting with pleasure. Slowly, Shirin willed herself back into the nightmare. Every part of her body hurt; the pain unimaginable, and yet nothing compared to the anguish in her heart. She was ruined. Vinod would not want her now.

And as if thinking of him had brought him to her, Shirin heard his voice.

‘Open the door. Now.’ Loud thuds, banging.

‘Coming, little brother,’ said Prem, languidly zipping up his trousers.

As if from a distance, Shirin heard Prem open the door, heard Vinod say, ‘You’re drunk. Where’s Shonu? What’s happened?’ Heard him run through the rooms, Prem’s laughter following him, and stop abruptly in front of her in the kitchen. Her eyes were shut tight. She would not open them. She did not want Vinod to see her like this. Ruined. Worthless.

And then, Shirin felt Vinod’s touch on her face, her hands, her body as he gathered her in his arms. ‘What happened, Shonu?’

Prem laughed. She flinched.

‘Little brother. Perfect in every way. But cannot give it to your wife now, can you?’

‘What did you do, Prem? What did you do?’ She heard the anger in Vinod’s voice. The anguish. He laid her down on the floor, oh so gently. She heard him stand, heard someone choking. Her eyes flew open. Vinod...

Vinod had his brother up against the wall, his hands around his brother’s neck. It was Prem who was choking. Good.

‘What have you done, Prem?’ Vinod repeated, his voice a wail.

When Prem was blue in the face, Vinod dropped him abruptly and turned away. He started toward Shirin. A mistake. Prem lashed out at Vinod, hitting him in the shoulder. ‘She wanted it.’

Vinod punched him back.

Prem retaliated with a blow to Vinod’s stomach. ‘She was gagging for it.’

Vinod punched Prem again, so hard that Prem reeled back from the blow but just managed to maintain his balance.

And a thought that had been hovering since this nightmare began crystallised in Shirin’s head: True. What Prem was saying was true. She
had
desperately wanted it
.
She
had
been gagging for it. Had she brought this upon herself by wanting to lose her virginity so desperately, by wanting to consummate her marriage so much?

‘Ha! She was a virgin,’ Prem leered.

Vinod punched him so hard he fell to the floor.

‘You couldn’t even get it up enough to give it to her.’ Two more punches. Vinod was sobbing now.

Prem stood up. Staggered. ‘My perfect brother. Not perfect in bed, now, are you?’

As she listened to Vinod’s loud, broken sobs, anger, white hot and sharp rose inside Shirin. She wanted to hurt Prem, this man who had taken so much from her. She moved to sit up and realised that she was still holding the knife. Slowly, despite the protests of her body, despite the fact that she was bleeding, she stood and with all the strength left in her, she stabbed the man who had raped her. She’d been aiming for the back of his neck. She got his left shoulder. Blood spurted, soaking her hand, red as the flesh of juicy ripe tomatoes stacked in teetering rows at the market, red as the chilli powder Madhu used to pound to a paste in the hand grinder.
Don’t think of home. Not now.

Prem roared in pain and clutched his shoulder. His hand came away covered in blood. He stared at it, shocked, and with another loud roar, advanced towards her, eyes wild. As he lunged at her, he slipped and fell forward, his head hitting the stone kitchen counter with a thud. Shirin watched in horror as his heavy breathing stilled, as his expression froze, as the blood spewed from the wound in his head. Overcoming her revulsion, she shook him, willing him to wake up, shouting, ‘Prem! Prem!’ over and over again. But he just lay there, his bloodshot eyes open, staring unseeingly at her...

* * *

The phone rang shrilly, waking her. Nightmare. Thank God. The bedside clock blinked out the time, 23:15, in blood-red digits.

‘Must be those teenagers again,’ Vinod, who’d been reading
The Economist
beside her, grumbled. They had had crank calls recently from teenagers shouting swear words. He smiled down at her softly. ‘Go back to sleep.’

They did not have caller ID. There was no need as hardly anyone called them on the home phone, work-related calls being directed to their mobiles.

‘Leave it,’ said Shirin, closing her eyes and pulling the duvet close.

But she knew he wouldn’t.

Just in case...

‘Hello... Hello, Anita? Anita, it really is you!’

Anita! Her Anita! It couldn’t be. Her eyes flew open, met Vinod’s wary ones and she knew it was. Why was she calling? What time was it in India? The dark hour before dawn.
Something’s happened.

Panic held Shirin’s heart in a vice-like grip and wouldn’t let go even as Vinod talked to Anita while signalling frantically to her with his eyes, even as she heard him say those dreaded words, ‘What’s happened?’ in a tone that confirmed her worst fears.

The nightmare: the memory of her crime, fresh in her mind. A premonition.

‘Yes, she’s here,’ Vinod’s voice was grave. ‘Just hold on...’

He handed the phone to her, eyes worried. As she took the receiver from him, she saw her stricken reflection staring back at her from the dressing table mirror. Why had they placed the mirror in such an awkward place? Why on earth was she thinking that now?

She listened to the static on the phone, a heartbeat before she said, ‘Hello, Anita?’ and heard her beloved sister’s voice, five thousand miles away but sounding just as if she was beside her, after eleven long and silent years.

Vinod’s hand reached hers across the tangle of bed sheets and squeezed.

‘Shirin...’ Anita’s voice caught on a sob. ‘I can’t believe I’m speaking to you!’

‘Anita, what’s happened?’

‘It’s Ma. She’s... she’s not well. And she’s been asking for you. Constantly. Can you come?’

‘Is she... Is she…?’
Dying?
She couldn’t say it.

‘When can you come?’

‘As soon as I book my ticket. Oh, Anu, why didn’t you call me earlier?’

Crackly static hummed down the line, filling the awkward pause, the unsaid words.
You fool. Why on earth did you say that?

‘You know...’ Anita whispered, finally.

‘Yes.’

‘So you
are
coming?’ Anita asked, her voice shaky.

‘I am. I was going to anyway.’

‘I know.’ Her sister’s voice soft.

She was going home!

* * *

‘Kate.’

‘Yes?’

Beloved Kate. Her best friend. Her only friend. Who knew everything about her. Her darkest secret: ‘I went to kill him, Kate. I
wanted
to kill him.’ ‘You had reason enough, Shirin. God knows, I have thrown enough plates at Dave; it’s a wonder he’s still alive.’ Her deepest shame: ‘I could not look after my daughter, Kate. I... I ran away from her.’ ‘You did the best for her in the circumstances. That’s not the same as running away.’ Kate, who loved her despite it all. Who had broken all the rules and promised her the job right after her interview. Who had been instrumental in promoting her to manager despite the hiccup with Ian. She hated letting Kate down when she had entrusted her with the responsibility of managing a team. Shirin had worked herself and her team hard and they were set to deliver to deadline. If Shirin went now, it wouldn’t be a catastrophe. The team could cope without her. She prepared to say all this, but her mouth wouldn’t work, even as Kate waited for her to speak.

‘Shirin,’ Kate’s voice was gentle. ‘Are you okay?’

And still, Shirin couldn’t speak.

Kate stood, came round the desk and put her arms around Shirin. ‘What’s the matter?’

At that, like a dam bursting, the words flowed. ‘My mother, she’s dying...’

Kate didn’t hesitate. ‘Go.’ And then, meeting her gaze, ‘How? When?’

‘Anita called late last night.’ How she had longed to say these words!

‘Oh, Shirin.’ Kate held her close.

‘She’s asking for me, Kate. Ma. She’s asking for me.’ Hardly able to believe it herself. ‘I... I hope I get a chance to make peace.’

‘You will.’

‘But if they called, she must be really...What if it’s too late?’

‘Shirin, there’s no point thinking that way. When are you planning on leaving?’

‘Tonight.’

‘And Anita called last night? Well, then...’

‘I’m sorry, Kate.’

‘Huh?’

‘About work...’

‘Shirin, work is the last thing you should worry about. I’m not saying we won’t miss you. But we’ll manage. Take as long as you like. Just go.’

‘Thanks, Kate.’

‘But come back, you hear?’

Shirin grinned shakily. ‘I will.’

Kate’s eyes sparkled with tears. ‘Good luck. With Reena and everything. Take care... I’ll keep my fingers crossed for your mum.’

‘Thank you. Vinod will keep you posted.’

‘He’s not going?’

‘No. His boss is not as understanding as mine. I’ll miss you, Kate.’

Gently, Kate released her from her embrace. ‘Me too. Call me,’ she whispered, ‘And now go.’

* * *

‘Damn that effing son of a bitch. I could kill him.’

Shirin stopped packing, looked up. Vinod’s hands were bunched into fists, eyes bloodshot.

‘You were right, Shonu, as always. When I asked him for leave and he said that I could go, but that he could not guarantee the job would be waiting when I got back… I was tempted to say, “Fuck you asshole, I quit.” But I realised I didn’t want to lose it. The job. It’s my identity, who I am now…’