Yesterday’s victim is tomorrow’s monster.
New Delhi. There was something about this city that drew her like a magnet. She didn’t particularly like the city. Its pollution, traffic and insecurity for women irked her. But it’s the city’s rush that was endearing to her. She could comfortably be a ‘nobody’ in this city. Invisible even. No one gave a damn what she did. No one judged. She did not have to sneak to do harmless things like watching a movie at the theatre, making plans with friends or roaming around just for the heck of it. All of these actions were a taboo in her island town, Andaman Islands; where, everybody knew everybody. Where, she was not Lilian first. She was first the priest’s daughter. She had to be the perfect role model for the congregation of her parish. Hence, in her native town Port Blair, she was the organ playing, soprano singing, aptly dressed, academically over-achieving, extra spiritual, geeky, ultra silent kid sitting in the first row with a big, fat Bible and fatter glasses. But she loved her island. She loved its silver sand beaches, the unannounced rain showers, the vast stretches of lush greenery that looked like stolen treasure from the Amazons, the air quality and the peace that is more often than not taken for granted. She often wondered how amazing it would be if she could combine her island’s serenity with Delhi’s freedom. She sadly reminisced her lost independence. Six months ago, she was a landscape Architect in the capital city. She wished to explore the field before pursuing masters in it. She vividly remembered that doomed day, when she said yes to an arranged marriage.
‘He’s the son of a priest. He will be perfect for you.’ Her father’s stubborn voice resonated from inside the cellphone.
‘Not now, Appa. Give me just two more years. I wish to establish my own firm before getting married.’
‘You have been saying two years since the last four years, Lily!’
‘Just two more, Appa. I will only be twenty six by then.’
‘Is there someone in your life? Just tell us, please! Instead of turning down every good alliance. If there’s someone, tell us, we will get you married to him, even if he’s not a Christian. Just that the marriage will take place in the Church only.’
‘Appa, there’s no one in my life. I promised you before leaving for Delhi that I will marry the person you choose for me. Just give me two more years. That’s all I ask. For my career, Appa.’
‘You already earn well, what more do you want? If you keep chasing your career, your marriageable age will be long gone. You can always pursue it after marriage. Just meet him tomorrow, Lily.’
‘But Appa’
‘That’s not a request.’
‘Okay, Appa. As you wish.’ She said, resignedly disconnecting the call.
Her ‘as you wish’ now weighed hard on her, like a Pandora box hanging by a clinking chain around her neck, threatening to drown her anytime now.
‘Are you drunk?’ she asked, as Joshua brushed past her, staggering, while she locked the gates behind him.
‘Absolutely not!’ he slurred. His bloodshot eyes gave him away without a doubt.
‘Shhh...Keep calm or Athai and Mama will know that you’re drunk!’
‘Okay…I am calm.’ He says dramatically, walking with his arm resting on her shoulder, leaning heavily on her, towards their room.
‘Why do you drink so much? You know you can’t take more than a few pegs! Drink up to your limits!’
‘Wifey!’
‘Shh…don’t shout!’
‘I am not a good husband to you, right?’ He asks, seating himself on the floor, his head resting on her lap.
She was silent. She did not want to touch him. She placed her hands on her sides on the bed instead. She realized she never fell in love with the person she married. She rather pitied him tonight. What a sad life he must lead, she wondered. Nobody really loved him in this world, she thought. If his mother loved him, she would have taught him good morals instead of seeking happiness at the cost of his miserable marital life. His dad. She didn’t know what kind of a father he has been to him. She realized how little she knows about him. She wondered why he was a monster.
‘Why are you so silent, wifey?’
‘Were you close to your dad as a child?’ She knew she can’t ask these questions when he is sober.
‘I hated daddy. I hated everything about him. My elder sister and I had even planned to kill him once, when we were kids.’ He chuckled sadly. ‘He hit us both so badly over such petty issues which were not even worth counting as issues.’
‘Like what?’ she probed.
‘Like, there was this time, during summer vacation, my elder sister and I plucked mangoes from the neighbour’s tree. I know it was our mistake. He could have reprimanded us orally or asked us not to repeat it again. Instead…instead…he hung us upside down, hit us black and blue with his belt and made us inhale red chili flakes while hanging upside down, wifey. He hit us until the neighbours came running to stop him! I was just ten years old and Aqqa was thirteen!’
She could feel his tears moisten her thighs through her cotton pants, as he wept softly digging his face into her lap.
The problem with being empathetic is that you feel sorry for monsters too.
She shut her eyes tightly feeling the pain of a ten year old boy being beaten up brutally. She realized that the child was scarred for life. Candidly, she ran her fingers through his hair, trying to console that hurt child inside the monster that he has become.
‘Your mom never stopped your dad when he hit you both?’ She asked, trying to comprehend the behaviour of a twisted family.
‘No. For my mom, my dad is god. She will not move a finger against his wishes or say a word against him. Whatever he does is correct in her eyes.’ He said proudly.
‘But isn’t it the wife’s duty to let her husband know when he is wrong and the husband’s to do likewise for his wife? Aren’t they supposed to be a team?’
There was silence in the room for a few seconds. She realized she has been holding her breath, awaiting his reply.
He slowly looked up from her lap, maintaining eye contact, a clever smile appeared on his lips, curving them in the corners.
‘I might be drunk like a camel, Lily; but I am not stupid. You think you can manipulate me, you evil woman?’ He says, gritting his teeth, his fingers tightening at her thigh. ‘Mother was right. You are just a little, manipulative, bitch. For an instant I thought I could love you. But the truth is, no one can love you.’
She shrieks as his nails dig deeper into her skin.
‘Let me go. I was just trying to understand you, Josh’ she pants.
She wriggled to get out his hold. But soon realized it was futile to even try. He was too strong for her petite frame.
‘My sisters were right too. You are just here to create rifts in the family.’ His bloodshot eyes now dilating with anger.
‘Nooo. You got me all wrong. I was just – I was just saying - that marriage is a partnership; wherein both partners are equal - and have equal say in all matters.’ Shutting her eyes tight, she almost screamed, ‘Would you just let me go so we can have a decent conversation for once?’
‘To answer your question, it is the wife’s duty to shut up and let the husband decide for himself and for the family. Hey, you are a priest’s daughter, you should know this verse from the Bible.’ He says, his fingers now finding their usual place between her legs. ‘Just like Christ is the head of the Church, a husband is the head of his wife and family.’ He continued, his fingers obtruding immense pain, causing her legs to shiver because of the insufferable degree of infliction.
Battered, naked, curled up in fetal posture, hugging her knees tightly, praying for the pain to stop, she wept softly into her thick wad of hair now sticking to her wet face.
From where she lay, at the far corner of the queen size bed, she could see the satisfied smile on Joshua’s face as he dressed himself in front of the wardrobe mirror. Pulling his track pants up, he turned around to examine the shoulder wing muscles that he has been working on lately. Carefully inspecting the angles of his chest next, he pulled over a tee-shirt absently, his attention now settling on his gelled hair.
‘I have to hit the gym. It’s five already, why are you still on the bed? Go wash yourself, get dressed and get into the kitchen.’ He says, stuffing his resistance bands into his gym bag.
‘NOW!’ He shouts, alarming her.
She slowly unwinds, her body burning and aching at multiple places. She could hear the jingle of his bike keys stop abruptly as the sound of his Yamaha RX 100 being kick started pierced the tacit early morning air.
As she stood in front of her wardrobe mirror, the woman in the mirror stared back at her with an expressionless face. Lilian looked at herself from head to toe, her eyes halting shortly at the bruises.
“These scars will remain for life, Lily. Just a gentle reminder that you will always be mine. Whenever you see them, you will remember the lessons you have learnt.”
Anger egressed in the pit of her stomach like fire.
‘You have such flawless skin. It glows naturally. Why don’t you try modelling?’ Her senior in college, Priya had once told her, encouraging her to walk the ramp that year.
Look at me now. How flawless I am. Her once enticing curves were long gone. What remained of her was a bag of bones.
A rush of rage blinded her as she screamed and punched the metal almirah. She did not even wince at the instant pain in her knuckles.
She inspected the carefully placed bruises that would not peek outside her clothing. She touched her hair, lost in thought. She twisted it in her fingers, disgusted at how the soft waves fell below her waistline.
‘Don’t cut your hair. A woman’s beauty is in the length of her hair.’ The well-repeated words of her father echoed in her head.
She parted the hair behind her right ear to inspect the wound from where he pulled a bunch of her hair last night. Trying hard to take a look at it, tilting her head sideways, she yelled in frustration.
Annoyed, she searched for scissors in the drawers like a mad woman searching for sanity. Grabbing the scissors, she walked back to the mirror with anger ablaze in her eyes.
Beauty, huh? Appa?
The tinkerbell in her head sat up in her pod.
'Woah! Lil! You really gonna chop them off?’
‘Hell yes, I am gonna chop them off!’
‘Really? What will your doting husband Joshua say?’
‘Do I look like I care?’
‘Okayy...what will Appa say?’
She just didn’t care anymore. She raised her scissor to the bottom of the mane, timidly grazing it an inch. It felt great. A tiny smile appeared on her lips.
You both men! You who decide my fate! You want hair on my head, don't you?! CUT! It defines me as a woman? CUT! So, I am not feminine if I don't grow my hair? CUT!
The hair now just above her shoulder, she raised the scissors to cut it further. A sense of strange joy filled her heart.
Still wearing a smile on her face, she entered the shower.
Dear Diary,
The feeling you get when the chopped bair hits the tiled floor with soft thud thuds! The peaceful sound that metal makes as it cuts! With each strand, I sliced away my problems, my fear, my depression and all my worries. I feel light as a feather now.
I will not be the good girl to Appa anymore.
If Joshua touched me, I will kill him in his sleep tonight.
Xoxo,
Superwoman.
