A morning zephyr caressed my sweaty skin where pearls of moisture glistened. With my head resting on a pillow I tried to open my eyes, it was hard and they were stuck into stubborn slits. My lashes fluttered and an insignificant yawn escaped. I tried to move; a piercing pain coursed through the limbs invading each corner, seized control of my stiff arms and legs. I peeked through the haze still clouding my vision. A second passed, another one..two and three more…the mist cleared to give a glimpse of the tatters that awaited. I gasped in disbelief.

The room, rather a littered dustbin lay in disarray, with the bed sheet heaped in a corner forming a clutter, stains from dry blood dyed the pale cream fabric light brown. My green Benarasi languished on the floor, the lacy bra the groom's family gifted especially for the wedding night giving it company. Its floral pattern mocked from behind a soft lacy fabric; the bright crimson hue as dark as my red, bloodshot eyes. A turquoise curtain hanging above the khadi one warmed the space giving off a soothing glow. But, my inside was null and void. I couldn’t articulate the feeling—neither sad nor happy. It wasn’t anguish or sorrow, I was caught right in between—an area where emotions cease to exist.

A knock, then a loud voice..I blinked out of the reverie.

“Are you up? It’s already eight-thirty!”

I took a swift glance at the surroundings, there wasn’t a sight of my husband anywhere. If not for the haggard remains of my smothered body and the yellowed patches of dry semen, I would assume there’s wasn’t an existence of any Siddhartha or his mighty masculinity.

I shifted my legs, soreness radiated through every fold. Gritting my teeth, I staggered out of the bed.

“Co-coming..coming..within ten minutes I’ll be there.” My voice rose from a mere whisper to a screech an octave higher. I dragged my body, wobbling towards the toilet.

There couldn't have been a more charming washroom, it was a total discord to the one I was accustomed to back home—a collapsing brick structure with an asbestos roof, no continuous water supply. A huge mirror positioned just right of the entrance caught my reflection, I stilled in horror. Its black borders synced with the gloom in my heart. And even though the alternate arrangement of colour-blocked tiles was aesthetically pleasing, only the coldness from the bare blocks stood out—they were as cold as the frigid hearts of the owners of this house.

I sat on a stool in front of the dressing table, disillusioned and cast down. Small bulbs fitted to the sides gave it an impression of vanity—it was supposed to be beautiful. But, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. At that time, every frame was reminiscent of the nightmare brought alive.

I applied concealer to the reddened parts, the brush layered with a mighty amount stroked over the ‘love bites’, it stung with a sharp prick. The reflection revealed a drained image of a woman in her early twenties—her sallow skin pitted with red imprints, the black smudged mascara clouding the socket cast a veil of shadow on her oval face. I closed my eyes, the throbbing pulse spoke of my live self. I switched the vanity bulbs on, it illuminated the table, showered light on my pale green orbs—they were shining, as artificial as a single pound diamond could be. Ready with the makeover, I put on a shocking pink saree, its ghastly hue a stark mismatch to the olive of my skin. I knew how appalling it was, but it’s how I wished to remain, I felt that way—disgraced, degraded, sullied.

                               *********

“She is like water, no matter the container, she will take the shape.”

You bet I am.

A beaming mother-in-law's affectionate hands caressed my head, stroking my hair tied in a loose bun. I could barely stand the audience, as much as my insides clenched at the level of grandiosity. The guests watched in awe, or should I say faked it, nodding in unison like pre-school students.

“I chose with great intuition..the best for my son.” The look of gratification on her taut face was received by others with…did I spot a sign of jealousy?

“Oh! She sure is beautiful, a just addition to your family. Hope she will carry on the legacy as you’re doing.” Siddhartha's maternal aunt flashed a wide grin; it was as fake as my pure, unadulterated image.

I am right!

It's envy, it ought to be.

Women are complicated creatures, far more complex than men. We smile when we want to snap, we compliment when we intend to criticise, we remain silent not to offer submission but to plot revenge and we are too concerned about maintaining our goody two shoe image because deep down we know we are bitches.

As someone said, “Do not try to understand women, that’s the first understanding.”

Morning turned to noon but Siddhartha was yet to make an appearance. I didn’t search for him either, in fact, it was relieving.

Was it because of what transpired last night?

Or was it something else?

There was a complete dearth of answer and I wasn't left with wondering why.

The opportunity arrived during family lunch.

“Oh, please do forgive me! You understand, right..urgent office work.” He gave a nervous smile and rushed into the living area pleading mercy.

Simple and safest lie.

“Ah, we know..you’ve always been busy.”

A complete dickhead!
Who else will believe that rumpled shirt is office wear?
He looks thoroughly fucked!

Neither of us made eye contact; in a way we both were trying to hide from each other. As sure as I was of mine, I kept on contemplating about his reason of doing the same. And the more I thought, the more one question weighted my brain down..

What the hell happened last night?

Is it what I thought it was?

Mother-in-law kept on showering love,  making me the centre of attention; I cringed at the curiosity it generated.

“I have asked her to call me Mamoni, she's like my daughter! Isn’t it sweet?”

Why does this woman have such a pompous ass?

Refusing to remain limited to that, she patted my back and welcomed me into a tight, warm hug.

This is too pretentious to be true—I intended to say but to perfect the sheepishness of a timid, newly-wed damsel, I lowered my head and uttered in a honey laced tone, “Mamoni, I'm lucky to have a mother-in-law like you.”

And now I’ll have to see what you’re up to.

“Keep silent..silence is an empty space, it helps you to observe and think”, Ma used to advise. She had persisted in drilling it into my dumb head with slight help from round the clock nagging. And at times like these, I thanked God I chose to listen.

Hence, when Mamoni went on a repeat mode of heaping praises, I refused to accept the generosity. This wasn’t the person who boasted of their family name and status a thousand times over!

“We are descendants of Raja Radhkanta Deb, you must have heard of him!” was her go-to sentence. For a woman who carried the identity as a stamp on her forehead and whose austere mannerisms with pure, puritanical outlook seemed unsettling, this amiability was sudden and to an extent, felt rehearsed.

The lunch comprised of typical rich Bengali food, with mutton liver curry emerging as the winner.

“This cooking and the menu is pure gold”, people sucked on marrows with gusto, I didn’t attempt the same.

Food was the least desirable thing on the list, if given a chance I would fast; but it wasn’t how things anymore worked.

When you are in Rome, do as the Romans do—this would apply to all walks of my life, the question was how I interpreted it.

If accepted, I could sustain. If I whined, I would be smothered.

And never in my life, had I been comfortable being stifled; it wasn’t the way I functioned.

There were two options left, loud and clear—stay in the marriage, work it out or return to the hole I crawled out of. The former had questionable odds at play. The second was next to impossible. I couldn’t let my two years of meticulously placed cards fall for nothing!

My husband was a queer guy, he avoided any talk and sat straightaway on the dinner table, rolling up his sleeves ready to dig in.

Mamoni manifested an ingenuous smile. “Babin is quite shy..my son is very shy.”

I rolled my eyes..wait, no!

I backtracked at the last minute.

Good girls and their mannerisms are spot on!

A toothy grin faked to the very G sat on mother-in-law's oval face. Her plucked eyebrows rose a degree further accentuating the effect, it was a daring attempt to make me believe.

Did I believe?

Huh!

“Babin really doesn’t talk much now-a-days, this wasn’t how he was before, right?” a woman with greying hair in her late seventies commented.

She was either introduced as the maternal grandma or a paternal one—a distant relative whom I had forgotten.

As if I listened to in the first place!

She could be God and I wouldn’t even care!

I nibbled on the rice, my choice of pace deliberate and intentional. For one, it allowed me to come to terms with the myriad happenings at the house, which was a daunting affair. Second, it left ample scope to gauge others' reactions and gestures.

A slight fire in Mamoni’s eyes disappeared as fast as it was ignited, she changed the topic soon after, but not before dumping the responsibility on her son’s long years of stay outside of the country.

“Isn't it natural?” she shrugged. “He's been away for so long, the last he saw you people was almost a decade back! He’s ought to be embarrassed!”         

The others agreed with the fakest of enthusiasm, some put on a showy smile while a select slot maintained dignified silence. An exceptional few whispered.

People and their shitty nonsense!         

                             *********

The receding wind kissed my face and fondled my tendrils as the car sped along at full speed. Automobiles whizzed by, rice fields and small huts became instant memories. The highway, clear and basking in warm streetlights stretched for miles laying a smooth grey carpet for cars to glide on. Inside a young woman clad in a garish kurta salwar and a man in athleisure sat silent with determined reticence, their newly married status as new as it could be.

“Whe-when shall we reach?” It was the first full sentence spoken after..almost a full day, something I ruminated upon an entire dozen of hours.

“Around ninety minutes more..” came the stoic reply. “If you’re hungry, Ma packed us some stuff”, he pointed to the back of the car, firm eyes on the path ahead.

I swallowed a lump. We were going on our honeymoon, a sea side hotel had been booked, or so I heard. I wasn’t sure whether to call it a honeymoon though. Provided any chance, I would abstain from being anywhere within a meter from him, I didn’t know why the repelling force was so strong in action. I kept thinking about the incident.

“You're beautiful…I'm enamoured by you..you're..”

Agh! These are just messing with my head!

I jerked out of the reverie, but the negative thoughts came rushing in waves, my anxiety rocketed.

Did two and two add up to four?

Every time Siddhartha kissed, I wished it could stop. Every time his fingers fumbled over my breasts, I called it groping and each time he bit, I prayed it wouldn’t leave a mark. The more gratification he yearned with every passing thrust, the louder I shouted in silence—it was rape, it was definitely rape!

 And I denied him the pleasure. I denied him the satisfaction and fulfilment of a climax.

An hour and a couple of minutes later, a sleek stretch of the sea loomed in the distance. Peeking like a blushing bride from behind tiny huts and tall trees, it twinkled like thousand shattering pearls, the merry moonbeams dancing with joy as they nuzzled the water top with the love and gentleness of impassioned lovers.

“We’re almost there”, Siddhartha yawned and blinked twice in succession, he had been driving over four hours. I checked my wrist-watch—21:15 it read.

My sore muscles pined for a good stretch and a sleepy veil settled on those tired lids. Through my peripheral vision, I saw him shrugging off the distress, rotating his neck clockwise and counter clockwise. I wanted to offer coffee from the thermos, but decided to give it a pass.

Our luggages fell with a thud on the cold, marble floor. A lampshade by the bed radiated a muted glow. Pristine white sheets and a plush mattress welcomed two weary bodies with open arms. The sea stretched in all its splendour and provided a sight worth of a lifetime from the hanging balcony.

Paradise, the hotel was named. I had no idea whether a sinner like me would ever receive an invite, but right there, at that very moment, it felt Paradise was indeed in my reach.

Rejuvenated with a quick shower, I saw Siddhartha sitting on the loveseat by the window—the serenity on his face matched the tranquility of the full moon.

How can a man like this change into a beast in the fraction of a second?

What induces the change?

Did I act as a catalyst?

Was my repugnant self responsible?

I unpacked a night dress, saw a matching lingerie was embedded within. It didn’t take the mind of a genius to guess who. My mother-in-law functioned on weird statistics, she was a mystery in itself.

“I presumed you would be hungry, it’s already ten..so I have ordered.” His voice came distant and disconnected. I nodded to show affirmation.

The dinner of chicken curry and chapati was as chilly as a coleslaw sandwich. He attacked the food with usual fervour, I didn’t bother to keep up. The room in spite of having a gorgeous gypsum ceiling and all the comforts a couple could ask for, lacked in warmth. The loveseat sat crying in a corner and my bag full of sexy night wears were meant to remain unused.

“I'm going near the sea, you go to sleep.” Without sparing a second glance, he rushed out; the keys jingled in the process.

Did he just abandon me?

I tiptoed to the door, locked and leaned against it, closed my eyes to induce some ease. The hard wood pricked against my spine, the white barren walls were ready to devour, I sighed with discontent.

Did karma mean to bite this hard?

Or am I plain unlucky?

I can’t believe he left me alone! How dare he?

“What do you mean you cannot? How did we even come to this place!”

“It's not what you think it is!” I burst into hysterical cries. “It’s entirely different..”

“How? H-how is it? Tell me, goddamit!”

A loud thud erupted in the empty room. Startled, I looked at his bruised knuckles, blood dripped in a steady sleek stream.

I gasped with horror. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re going to be the death of—” my mouth was caught in his, the rest of the sentence died in fervent kisses, burning with anger and passion, resentment and possession.

Unaware of what was going in my head, I laid naked as an open puzzle and he grappled with the lost bits, trying hard to piece them together. His touch was curious, as if searching for answers from the darkest trenches, etching it into each minute cell of my body..I returned the favour, invading his senses, swallowed his..

“Are you awake?”

I sat with a start, looked on either side, my mind in a daze. The fog cleared and Siddhartha's sharp jaws became prominent, followed by his bright eyes.

Blinking for more clarity, I panted to ward off the heat that had raided my insides, coughed to feign astonishment and wiped a few pearls of sweat coating my forehead.

Unease settled in heavy dose. I gulped the anxiety, it slid down and stirred my gut.

His hands restedon my bare legs, the texture was coarse but the heat penetrated my skin; it rendered me feverish. I was still floating on a cloud of strange thoughts and the transition was too sudden to snap out of.

Somewhere my subconscious peeped—what you’re doing is wrong, it said. I shrugged it off.

Alarmed, he retracted to the wall.

What is he so afraid of?

A hint of apprehension marred the refulgence in his orbs, I sensed thousand questions forming a storm in them.

“What do you want?” the question popped out without any intention; I bit my tongue uttering a wordless curse.

He withdrew into the corner, bit his fingernails and cocooned his large frame into a compressed ball.

What is he thinking?

I puffed to keep my rising nervousness at bay, not a word was spoken. The air-conditioner rumbled dispensing the silence, a clock ticked counting perilous seconds. Neither of us knew how much time passed.

“I..I..do—” his words were left stranded in the middle of nowhere when I felt muscular arms circling my waist.

The touch, despite being gentle spelt discomfort; it wasn’t alarming though. One moment he was against the wall, the next his sturdy six-foot physique was hunching in front of me. I moved an inch back, scrambling on two legs while he remained fixed—studying me, gazing at me, inspecting me, observing me, undressing me, making love with me?

“I-I'm so-sore..I'm still so sore”, I stammered.

“Please!”

Bloody hell! Is he begging?

Bells rang within my ears, a tempest mystified his vision. There was a look of need, a want, a longing. He desired, he craved; I wasn’t sure whether it was me or just anybody.

Tip…Tip..Tip..droplets dripped in steady beats from the sky, I peered through the twitching curtains. The air had gained momentum, from a soothing zephyr to a beastly circulation, its ravenous hunger swayed the gigantic casuarina trees— they echoed a damsel's plea of help.

“Do not touch me!” I pushed his hand away, tears ready to take control. My clenched teeth dumped them into the trash with immediate effect.

“Please…just once..” the earnestness in his voice was something I could never anticipate.

I wished he wasn’t human, that would at least help me sympathize.

A slight smell of burnt nicotine wafted to my nose; it was vile, as vile as his wanton demands. My body's urge to covet his touch was as scarce as water during the summer drought. The sea protested with thousand whips, lashing against the shore and crumbling the pebbles to fine grains of dust; the wind heightened its esurient appetite.

I wanted to welcome him once for a change but the conflicts within raged a war with my conscience, it battled with passion and I was on the loosing side. Body has its own memory and even though I had succeeded in conditioning my brain to perform in a certain way, it was the body that posed as an obstacle.

I gave up.

His hungry gaze morphed into coarse kisses; it wasn’t like the one from last night. This had warmth to it, an ounce of fondness, a drop of passion perhaps? I kept my lips tight but they parted in their own volition, giving him access. My eyes closed to get settled into his rhythm but it was impossible!

Cry out loud!

Cry, Sonu, cry!

This is marital rape!

You haven’t consented!

But, I'm loving this too.

I belonged to someone else and in my wild subconscious I was only his. I intended to stomp on my surging feelings, they were a warring mess and had rendered me impotent, cast away in the middle of nowhere. My body was shredded into two—one which endeavored to be gratified by the person in front, the other was stuck in a realm of past memories where I  resided with him in a peaceful abode—an abode not impaired by dysfunctional family or selfish interests.

My straps were pulled down and in no time the skin ruptured into tiny red clots, Siddhartha's love got engraved into my neck and collar bones, it sunk deeper and lower. Down he went into the area between my breasts, then just above my navel..I took control and straddled him.

Women on top..always.

His moans were melody to my ears, I tugged on his hair and bit his lips. His hands navigated every mound, plane and valley in my body, appreciating it, worshipping it.

“She will never be able to live up to you…I want you and only you.” His voice came out husky in the throes of overwhelming desire. “Never doubt me..”

“I won’t..I won’t, Si—”

“Don’t ever call me Sir, not anymore..” he pinched my nipples, a guttural sound escaped..

“Enough!” I withdrew with a yank. “I can’t take it anymore!”

Siddharrha lay baffled; stupefied would fall short to convey the amount of bewilderment.

Then his face distorted, a slow but stubborn change—from disbelief to deep anguish. The wrath evident through his clenched teeth, his shaking.

“What the hell do you take me for?”

His roar resonated through the blind room, mingled with the deep groan emanating from a seething sky; raindrops scourged the window panes in agony, the storm had unleashed its ferocity.

"Bloody hell!" He punched the bedside table, a glass fell and fragmented into thousand shards, and with it my hopes.

“Shit! Shit! Dammit!” he kicked the bed posts, hard. The pain contoured his sharp, angular face. His jaws set into firm lines.

What did I get myself into?

I burst into frantic sobs. Shaking with a mixture of restrained fury and extreme terror, I retreated on all fours, curling into a ball at the corner. With every breath, I counted seconds, holding the bed sheet as if it was my only savior, praying things would go back to normal soon.

He was panting and cursing, blowing out hot puffs of air, stomping his foot like an obstinate child.

“Fuck!” he screamed.

“Fuck! I got married for this!”

I scurried away, backing into the  opposite end. Moisture dripped down my neck and forehead. The pain was hurling assaults on his system; it was too tangible to be false.

This isn’t natural, something isn’t just adding up.

The whole event unfolded as a traumatic thriller when he pulled at his hair and convulsed in violent seizures. Minutes passed in wild consternation until he stormed out of the room and the door closed with a resounding thud.

I was so shocked and horrified that I stood there still with the night dress bared open against my disrobed nude skin, my naked self succumbing at the altar of an uncertain future.

What the hell happened?