REFLECTION - PART II

‘Hey! Relax dude! Slow down.’

I immediately eased my grip on the accelerator. Suddenly my senses were alert; my muscles tense. I tried to tell myself to calm down but couldn’t. You can’t just say ‘relax’ and relax with a gun in your face.

‘Ok ok; I’ll put it back,’ she said and leaned a little towards me. She stretched her hand and reached out for her bag kept on the back seat. I shrank back and away from her.

‘Why are you acting so scared? Look, I have put it away, ok? Now I’m about as harmless as you are.’

I still didn’t look at her. She continued.

‘Potentially you’re about twice as big as I am,’ she said, looking at my six-feet-three-inch frame, ‘and twice as strong as well.’

‘I’m not carrying a gun!’ I blurted.

She started laughing again. Suddenly her voice wasn’t sweet anymore.

‘Just about anyone can have a gun ok? And I have a proper licensed gun, ok? I bought it about a month ago.’

‘What for? To kill your husband?’ I asked, shuddering at her coolness.

‘Precisely.’ She looked at me. ‘I bought it to kill Karan,’ she said to confirm.

I didn’t say anything.

‘You know, I had planned it all out. I had even decided to surrender to the police…’

I still didn’t say anything.

‘Please stop on the side of the road. I need some fresh air.’

I pulled onto the side. As soon as I turned the ignition off she asked me for the keys.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘I don’t want you to leave me here and run away.’

‘And what guarantee you won’t run away with my car?’ I counter-questioned.

‘Ummm… Ok. Let’s just leave the keys in the car then and lets both get out together.’

I agreed and we both stepped out. She closed the door, went to the rear of the car and stood there, resting against it. The moon was right on top of us now. I saw her full-self in the moonlight, and for the first time I noticed; she was badly scratched and injured. Her entire left arm was bruised and so was a little of her waist. Her foot was bleeding and the blood had already caked at places. Her sari was soiled too. I didn’t know how much of her wounds were concealed under her sari, but the sight of blood on such a perfect and flawless skin alarmed me.

‘Jesus Christ! You’re hurt!’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes. But it’s not much.’

‘Shut up and sit down on that rock.’

I opened the rear-door and removed the first-aid box. I shut the door and came and sat down on my knees next to her. I first took a look at her arm. She adjusted her sari over her shoulder to help me get a better view. I started by cleaning up her wounds.

‘Aren’t you scared now?’ she asked. I didn’t answer. ‘Really, it’s nothing; trust me.’

‘How did you get hurt?’ I asked, ignoring her comment.

‘While jumping out of the car.’

‘What! How? Why?’

She sat quiet for a while. I waited for her to go on.

‘Good for nothing… that is what Karan called me. Lately he couldn’t help but find faults in me… My habits, my dressing style, my cooking… I guess I wasn’t good enough in bed either. That’s probably what made him lay Charu.’

She paused and took a deep breath.

‘I was a very different girl back then___ totally crazy, fashion-freak, and a smoker. I can’t remember the first time I tried it; but by the time I was in the final year of B.A. I loved nothing more than bunking lectures and sitting on the terrace of our college with my gang, listening to Linkin Park and smoking Marlboro. I wouldn’t have dared to do it back home, but then… I was a hostelite…

One day we were on our way to the terrace. We were all running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I was holding a cigarette in one hand, clutching my bag with the other. Just as we reached the last flight of stairs, two guys brushed past me.

“Ouch!” one of them exclaimed. I had burnt him with my cigarette I guess. “Saale teri toh___” he started and caught my hand. He turned around and looked at me and immediately shut up.

“Sorry,” I muttered and tried to break free from his iron-grip.

“Subhan-allah!” he said. I looked at him. He was staring at me.

“Let go of me,” I said.

“And what if I don’t?” he asked, smiling. I looked at him for a moment, and then stabbed my cigarette onto his hand again. He instantly released me hand and squealed in pain again. I bounded up the stairs. Mid-way, I stopped and turned around to look at him.

‘Don’t make me do it again,’ I said; ‘please. I hate wasting my cigarettes.’

That was how we met. It seems like another lifetime altogether. Karan had changed so much post-marriage, I would have laughed back then, if someone had told me he was going to turn into a womanizing monster. We loved each other so much! I quit smoking and turned into a typical good Indian girl. I didn’t want to, but Karan’s parents belonged to the old times and wouldn’t have approved of my way of living. I switched from jeans and skirts to saris___ and in the process I ended up switching names to become Mrs. Isha Karan Arora.’

She paused. I had finished cleaning the wounds on her arm. She looked at the bandages and smiled at me. I smiled back awkwardly. She then lifted her sari up to her knees. Her leg was badly bruised too. I shook my head and muttered a soft ‘Oh God’. All that blood on such perfect skin looked like a curse. I opened the bottle of Dettol again and soaked yet another cotton-ball in it. I dabbed it on the wound and she clutched at my shoulder. I removed the cotton and waited for her grip to ease a bit. I applied the cotton again, she clutched again, little less strong this time. Her body eased slowly as she got used to the burning sensation.

‘I thought… Heck. I couldn’t think straight actually. I couldn’t figure out what had happened; why he had started having affairs. Then I thought maybe that’s the true him. I accepted it. Funny it didn’t affect me or my parents severely… almost as if we were prepared for it; although how come, I don’t know. The gravity of the whole thing began weighing on me a few days after I first came to know about him and Charu. I filed for a divorce. “It’s not the end of the world,” I kept telling myself. “Marriages happen and marriages break… so many… everyday…” I kept saying. But the real trouble started when Karan refused to give me divorce and started physically abusing me.’

This time I clutched my fist.

‘It went on and on for a couple of weeks. I fled to my parent’s house. He brought me back; and the situation went from bad to worse. Finally one night, I snapped. He tried to hit me, and I hit him back with a pair of tongs. I fled to my room before he had time to recover and closed the door from inside.’

For the first time since we met about an hour ago, I saw her shiver and look scared… alarmed rather.

‘That night, I decided something had to be done about the whole situation. I had only just recovered from his recent beating. Something happened that night… I don’t know what. But as the day dawned I had made up my mind to kill him.’

I looked at her. There was mad determination in her eyes.

‘I didn’t come out of my room till he had left for his office in the morning. I contacted a friend of mine and with her help I acquired this pistol the very next day. Today I decided to kill him after he got back from work. I served him dinner. He went to the bar right after dinner. I encouraged him to just an extra drink and then suggested we go for a drive. He agreed and took the keys. I took my pistol.

We reached the dhaba off the highway. We went a little further. The car swerved from left to right as the drinks took over Karan. At one point we nearly missed running head on into a truck. And that’s where I saw my opportunity. I could get rid off him without his blood on my hands. And that’s what I decided to do. I slipped my bag onto my shoulder and sat ready waiting for the next curb. I saw it coming and distracted him by kissing him hard on his lips. He pushed me away and looked taken aback. My eyes welled up. And just as he was about to drive off the road I said “Bye Karan” and jumped out of the car.’

In the silence that followed her monologue, I tried to absorb what she had told me. Things like these happened in novels, in movies… in pathetic and third-rate daily soaps; not in real life. But this was real life. She resumed talking.

‘When I got up, the car was nowhere in sight. I don’t know what had happened to it, or to Karan; but both had disappeared into thin air somehow. I got up and tried to gather my things. Most importantly I tried to locate the pistol and found it was right there, safe in my bag.

I started walking. i walked and walked… half there, half not there. Strangely, I wasn’t feeling a wee bit sad. In fact, I was feeling relieved… and happy. Actually happy. By the time I reached the highway, I was as happy as I could be. And then you drove along.’

She stopped. I looked at her. She looked back at me.

‘You can drive me to the police station if you want to. I don’t really care,’ she said. I closed my eyes for a moment. I opened them and started putting the bandage, the Dettol bottle and other stuff back into the first-aid kit. I helped her get up and get into the car. I went and sat in the driver’s seat. Soon we were driving back home.







We reached the post office at twelve-thirty. I helped her get out of the car again.

‘Thanks,’ she said, and held out a card. I took it. ‘Isha’s Creations’ it said. ‘Drop in sometime if you want to buy a dress for your girl-friend,’ she said, smiling.

‘What will you do now?’

‘Go up and sleep,’ she replied simply, like nothing had happened. I figured she didn’t want to talk about it… at least not then. I picked up the hint and didn’t press the topic. I got back in the car as she turned around and started crossing the street. I turned the ignition on and looked in the mirror.

She was gone.

I put my head out of the window. I couldn’t see her. I turned the engine off and got out of the car.

She was nowhere to be seen.

‘What the hell!’

I ran across the street and reached the apartment. She couldn’t have possibly crossed the street so quickly… with her leg sprained and with so many wounds all over her. I ran up the stairs of the building and reached her flat. The flat was locked.

Cold sweat broke on my forehead a second time in that night. I started walking down the stairs… How could this be? One second she was there, the other she was gone! I started imagining crazy things… Ghost? Spirit? Poltergeist? What?

Suddenly I remembered her card. I ran back to my car and picked the card up from the dashboard. It felt real enough. I removed my cell from my pocket, and stood just like that. Something was holding me back. I just couldn’t bring myself to dial the number on the card, fearing what I might find out

I finally mustered up all my courage, and dialed the number on the card. The hair on my body stood on their ends as I heard a pre-recorded message;

“This number does not exist…”