Ahalya, Day 18

So this was how the first day of the village festival had ended, although I would wager there's a parallel universe, where I pushed a knife into Indira's heart and never looked back; in this one I just walked out, sobbing.

After a morning of deducing theories out of the sketches we weren't sure I had drawn, Vishwa decided to leave. He said he needed a break and we let him, not that we cared because if he leaves we could discuss what in the hell was happening. I wished for more productive explanations about the couple in the sketches, but alas, we got none. Vasu pitched in a few ideas on how to deal with this and I pooled in a few absurd fears and overall, it was a good day.

The wind killed us softly, teasing us with a drizzle and then, stole the clouds away. Who would do that? Yamuna came in the afternoon, annoyed and hungry, but didn't yell at us and even composed herself and waited until Vasu completed the cooking. I wondered if she had seen our broken faces and let us be us for the day. I would be lying if I said I wasn't impressed. Meanwhile, I ate only curd rice and excused myself to a secluded afternoon with every chocolate I found in our fridge. And there was a lot. My regret was why I hadn't paid more attention to that damn fridge.

When Yamuna came to remind us to visit the temple before nightfall, I was sleeping lopsided on the bed, licking my hands dry off the chocolate. "Good, god, don't forget to take a shower too," she had said, watching me, and I giggled. I ate a lot of chocolate. Vishwa didn't stop me, though he didn't need to since he knew I always find something addictive to de-stress. Today, chocolates just happened to be my red wine. I brushed my teeth again, took another hot shower—thinking to myself if I also was addicted to hot showers in Dwaraka—and picked out the saree I had worn when I first met Yamuna, which was a seal grey cotton silk saree. Not my favourite and again, no saree was my favourite because of the time I had to spend wearing them. Vishwa outdid me, astonished me, wearing a white silk dhoti and a plain maroon shirt, which I honestly thought made him better-looking. Few men preferred not to flaunt what they wear and my fiancé was one of them, or it was just all the chocolate in me talking.

In the temple, Jagadeesh didn't approach me until the priest completed the last mantra and asked the couples who had attended to leave lamps fitted on tiny, concave palm branches in the River Godavari. "We need to talk after this," he said and joined his wife. The thought of the sketches came back and I brushed it off for the time being. Indira and I walked first, holding the lamps, our sarees brushing against the floor and one hand guarding them against the wind. She seemed natural, while I made a good-looking duplicate. Vishwa and Jagadeesh followed us, who were again tailed by all the couples in the village. Yamuna's face competed with the light of the lamps.

As much as I felt like part of an expensive movie song, the urgency in Jagadeesh's words arrested my concentration. Once we left the lamps to float, glowing in the yellowness of the night, I turned to Indira, complimenting her saree and searched for the tattoo. The thickening crowd and her embroidered window-style blouse made it difficult to locate it and also, I temporarily had a smile for checking out another woman in the dark. Not that it was important, but I craved another chocolate.

"What's tomorrow?" I asked when we were sitting near one of the pillars.

Later, Jagadeesh and I settled on some of the temple stairs, eating the roasted and salted peas. And Vishwa explained how the committee would host a lunch for the entire village, where the menu would contain meat of the animal that they would sacrifice to the Goddess. Partly shocked, I pondered over why these things were still practised and how I could argue against them and be an outcast for the rest of the festival, facing the wrath of a humiliated mother-in-law. It felt like a terrible idea and drawing attention to myself was the last thing I needed.

I searched for Vasu, who promised to stay in my sight but nefariously vanished, perhaps to take another look at the sketches and deduce more clues. Once the chocolates took control of my system, weirdly, I began doubting my decision to ask Vasu for help. Did I, in any manner, feed him false hope? Did I, in my needy way, use him to solve my problem? It was true my problem hadn't been solved yet and I still could wake up tomorrow with sketches. My head ached when I stopped thinking and noticed Vishwa had left to fill our leaf bowl with more peas. For me, one thing the village excelled in was in the way they cook and serve their food. Perhaps, that's what I should do, I thought: maintain a low profile throughout my stay and eat as much food as possible. Instead, I responded to Jagadeesh when he hissed at me from the dark shadows of the same corridor we were sitting in.

"We need to talk," he said, his face totally in the dark.

I checked my surroundings and the crowd far away that gathered for the musical performance of a bunch of old people.

"Where is your wife?" I asked him in a drunken voice.

"She's commemorating the performance. We don't have much time," he said.

I followed him to the darker corners, his body unfamiliarly close to me and his breath jagged. A statue had been carved inside the pillar behind but illuminated by nothing.

"What's the rush?" I asked.

Jagadeesh held my hand, spared a look outside and pulled me sidewards. "I can't keep this any longer. Indira has been very different ever since you and Vishwa came here. She's lively, participating in events and always talking about Vishwa."

"I understood that a while ago. That's not new."

"I also know she has an undying crush on Vishwa. But this time, she's been very upbeat and aggressive. She doesn't care about me and Ayaan much. And she'd lose it if I brought up your name at all."

"She hates me. I know that too. What else?"

"She doesn't just hate you," he said. "She's doing something. It's hard to understand what it is. She had mixed something in the buttermilk Kalyani brought us."

Sweat dripped down my forehead. "What?"

"Yes. Kalyani told me later. That little extra bottle you drank had something to tip you off. Kalyani had seen another maid deliver Jimson-weed leaves to Indira that morning."

And Kalyani killed herself sometime after that. It didn't feel like a random thing at this point.

I knew what jimson weed was and my anger gushed out as my hands reached his shirt collar. "What else is she doing? Did she put someone to follow me? Is she the one planting sketches on me?"

Jaagdesh pushed my hands away and said, "I don't know any of that. On the day you guys had met at the nursery, she came home with the brightest smile I ever saw on her in the times of our marriage. Then, she called Vishwa to tell him what you had done. And she didn't leave any detail behind."

I stepped back until my back hit the pillar, my hands shaking. Indira had been the mastermind all this time. I found it difficult to pinpoint how she was pulling her tricks off, but it wasn't too late.

Then an overwhelming thought occurred to me: Why is she doing it? If she had an undying crush on my fiancé, as her husband said . . . I cancelled everything and rushed out to realize Vishwa hadn't come back. Holding the folds of my saree, I climbed down, checked around and reached the crowd. Yamuna passed me a 'What's-wrong' look and I ignored her, storming to the back of the temple. Indira, that no good, lying, malicious—

***

Some lamps still lingered, fluttering to the wind spreading their dim light nowhere by the time I stepped near the water. I was feeling a déjà vu being close to the river as the day of the accident came back. My feet wavered. At first, I didn't see them and almost hysterically glanced past the two close silhouettes in the dark. I could tell it was Indira standing with my fiancé in the dark, as I did with her husband a few minutes ago. But we were the innocents, the bystanders and the prey. Taken over by fury, I wanted to crash their little discussion and punch her in the face. Their voices were muffled, but I heard them. But something held me—an intuition and I stayed put, making myself a silhouette and listening.

"Don't you understand," Vishwa was saying, his hands stopping her. "This is not right."

"Why? What did I say wrong? We deserve each other."

"I am engaged, goddamnit."

"To whom? Ahalya? She's more unstable than the lamps in that river. Don't you see it, Vishwa? She is aloof, depressed all the time, doesn't appreciate your presence and you still care for her."

I was swallowing it, all of it. My eyes blurred but I took back the tears. It wasn't the time or the place. The end of the saree suffocated in my grip and I leaned my shoulder to the wall beside.

"She's troubled, but—"

"Didn't you bring her here for a change? What is she doing? Roaming with that little worker in your house, walking into the river and running in the rain. Something is seriously wrong with her. You deserve your happiness. Your peace."

Vishwa said nothing. It was too dark to see his face, but his silence scared me. Is he considering it? His happiness without me? I stood helpless watching that woman showcase me as a mental person. My heartbreak had begun, slowly, evidently and terribly.

"What about you?" Vishwa spoke. And I bent, paying my ear. "What about your marriage? What about your son?"

Indira moved near him, closing the halos of their silhouettes and making them one. She said, "I don't know. I-I am . . . I don't know how to say this. I am getting scared of Jagadeesh."

"Why? You are the village head here?"

"But I am a wife at the end of the day." Her voice broke or she could be a damned actress that faked it. "As a wife and a mother, I am worried about staying in that house with him."

"What's wrong?"

"You know about Bhanu's pregnancy?"

I steadied my hand on the wall.

"What?" Vishwa said. "What? No. It's not possible. Jagadeesh and Bhanu? No way. I know Bhanu, she's a good girl."

"You don't know Vishwa," she said. "You don't know how charming my husband can be."

"How are you so sure?"

"He told me. He went fanatical after Bhanu had gone missing. One night, he came weeping to me, begging me to forgive him and promising on our son he wouldn't repeat it."

She must be lying, I said to myself. She must be. An act. Jagadeesh wouldn't do such a thing. Again, how sure I could be about him? It was a good thing that Vasu left. He would've gone rampage on Jagadeesh by now.

"Did he have anything to do with her disappearance?"

"That's what he said. He asked her to get an abortion, for which she had refused. And that he had requested her, even offered money."

"She refused him and he did what?" Vishwa sounded angry now.

"He would do nothing. He doesn't have the guts for it."

"You can't be sure of it," Vishwa said. "Let's go to the police."

"Against my husband? What about my pride in the village?"

"We're talking about a girl's life here."

"What about my life? My son's life?"

"Indira," he said. And I could see even the single silhouette vanishing. "I'll be there for you. My mother and I, we'll stand for you. Let's go to the police."

Both of them stepped back in concert, the moon illuminating Indira's back.

"I know you," she said. Then she caught his cheek in her hand and lifted her face. "I love you. Always did. Always will." And she drove her lips onto his.

A breath escaped me. I swooned backwards, walking until the wall ended. They were kissing. My Vishwa and Indira. My Vishwa. The information about Bhanu ran parallelly, raising my heartbeat to unbearable levels. It was happening. Everything.

As I stepped into the light, an amalgam of colours blinded me. I put my hand across, covering the tears that were seeping from the depths of my soul, ascending and spilling into this world.

A sharp cracking chop echoed and before I could spot what it was, a trickle of hot liquid sprinkled over my cheeks, sending a tremble down my body. I looked down and saw a Goat's head rolling in a pool of blood. The sacrifice was done. My stomach churned as the villagers standing around gasped with hands against their mouths. And before Yamuna or anyone else could approach me, I stormed away, brushing the blood off my face like it were my own tears.

I just needed to go home. To Dwaraka.