Captive- Veiled Desires (2 page)

She scrunched her mouth and decided that an expensive fare would break the deal.

“Yi kotāh chu ?
” she asked, her brow raised and expecting some exorbitant sum.

“Same, same. Bus fare. Only three hundred rupee more,” he said, bobbling his head.

That was equivalent to only five dollars. A luxury she could afford. It seemed it even had air-conditioning, and three slim women at the back wouldn’t exactly be a tight fit.

“
Ên
. Ok, you got a deal,” she said, picking up her bags.

The man reached for them, offering to store it away in the trunk and she gratefully let him have it. She walked over to the car and peered inside. One of the women sat by the window and the other waited for her to slide in first. Looks as if she was ticketed the middle-seat. Not quite what she was hoping for. She gave one last look at the bus stop. The woman with the corn-cob was staring back at her with interest. And the bus… well, it still hadn’t arrived.

She wished she had got the window seat. But the woman standing by the door had been so adamant on sliding in last.

She shifted uncomfortably on her seat. The driver also kept staring at her through the rear view mirror. Such a perv! She avoided an eye roll, trying to focus on the road ahead. It was growing steadily in traffic and noise.

Someone turned up the air conditioning and the little whirring sound drummed in her ear. Regardless, it was more comforting than traveling in the stifling heat with a hundred more crammed individuals.

The younger woman on her left touched her arm slightly. She turned and smiled.

The woman made a gesture towards her face.

“I have something on my cheek?” she asked.

The woman shook her head. “
Mkh, aechh.”

“My face and eyes?”

“Yes, yes… pretty.” The woman smiled. “Like Aishwarya.”

“Aishwarya?”

“Aishwarya Rai,” the woman explained.

She chuckled, recalling the beautiful Bollywood actress. “Me? No. Aishwarya-too beautiful.”

The woman opened her bag and pulled out a little bottle of perfume. “Special made,” she said, offering it to her. “You smell. Very nice.”

“Ummm… thanks.” Nora looked at it hesitantly. “It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Please, please. Very good,” the woman insisted, almost shoving the bottle into her nose.

“Uh… okay,” Nora complied. Perhaps, if she obliged, the woman would get off her back and leave her in peace. “Just a little bit.”

She took a sniff at it. It was strong and almost antiseptic. She held back from scrunching her mouth and handed it back to the woman. “Thank you, very nice.” She smiled politely at her.

The woman stared oddly at her. The man who had invited her into the car said something to the woman. The woman pulled up her scarf, covering her face. The other older woman on her right scolded her younger companion before doing the same.

The antiseptic smell lingered on under Nora’s nose. Somewhere between her little conversation with the young woman, the latter had spilt a little of her perfume onto Nora’s shirt collar.

Nora looked down depressingly at the stain. Hopefully, it would evaporate without leaving a mark. The way in which the younger woman cringed away from her made her feel guilty. But she wasn’t the one who spilt the so-called precious scent on her shirt! Besides, the perfume didn’t seem as popular as the younger woman had thought.  Everyone in the car had their scarves pulled up to their noses.

She sat back. It wasn’t so strong. It was pretty relaxing when she thought of it. She laid her head back against the back rest. Her body grew limp and tired. She really hadn’t had much rest last night. Her eyes fluttered with sleep induced heaviness. She gave into her weariness and closed her eyes, listening to the whirr of the air conditioner. She felt as if a drug had shot through her nerves, shutting down every cell in her body, one by one, as it traveled up her body and to her brain.

The whirring stopped and then, there was just darkness. And sleep.

Her eyes opened slowly, still trying to fight off the sleep that gripped her body in its tight vice. The first thing she felt was the hard cold floor beneath her. Her body ached as if it had been put through a washer. How long had she been sleeping? Where was she?

She groaned as she palmed her forehead. She needed to get up and catch that bus to Kupwara or she’d miss it. But how did she end up on the floor?

She coughed from the dust caught in her throat. She couldn’t remember the boathouse being so dirty. She had to turn on the light. It was dark and she barely could see anything.

She heard the older woman’s voice from that cab she had hitched a ride in. She was scolding someone again. The cab? She had taken a cab to Kupwara. Reality began seeping in, bringing along with it a surge of anxiety.

Where was she? What was happening to her? She scrambled about in the dark. This wasn’t real. She had to wake up. She had to get to Kupwara. Someone wake her up!

A door creaked open and the silhouette of the younger woman who had spilt her perfume on her shirt appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, thank God,” she croaked. “Had I fallen asleep? Where am I?”

But the woman said nothing and approached her with sudden brutality. Nora’s natural defenses alerted. There was something wrong.

The woman growled at her and pulled her head up roughly. Nora fought back, flailing her arms to hit her.

The woman called for help and the older woman stormed in, heading straight for Nora. She slapped her in the face and then held her chin steady.

“You bitch!” Nora screamed. “Let me go! Let me go! What’s going on?!”

But her mouth and her nose were muffled again by a damp cloth.

That smell again! That antiseptic smell! It wasn’t perfume. It was chloroform! She pushed back against the women but they held her arms still. One stepped on it and pain shot through her nerves and to her brain almost blacking her out. She gritted her teeth, her scream muffled in her throat.

And then just as slowly, the pain subsided. Her eyes grew heavy and darkness overpowered her limp body.

When she woke up next, she would be in Kupwara, she thought. This was all just a nightmare. It would be all gone soon.

HAPTER 2

Her eyes fluttered sleepily, trying to come awake. The door creaked open and the sudden light pouring through it blinded her, hurting her eyes. A silhouette appeared in the door-way and feet shuffled towards her. Something pressed hard against her nose. She couldn’t cry. She tried, but not a sound escaped her lips. Her body was limp and too weary to fight. She managed a small groan. And then sleep subdued her mind yet again. Then there was darkness. Utter darkness. She was too afraid she’d never wake again. She must have died, ‘cause this surely had to be hell.

The first thing she heard was the muffled voices in the distance. The sounds were foreign and strange. She didn’t understand a word they were saying. Perhaps, she was still too fatigued to decipher them.

She tried scrambling onto her feet, but the ropes burned into her wrists, cutting into her flesh. She cried out in pain. Her back cramped, her body was stiff and aching from lying on that cold hard, dirt floor for who knew how long. Her knees clamped together and she realized her legs were bound at the ankles as well.

Her eyes widened with shock as her brain registered her circumstances. Her chest walls constricted. Her breathing was short and rapid. What was going on? No, this wasn’t happening. This shouldn’t happen to her. She had heard of girls being kidnapped into sex slavery. But she was too old for this shit. She was twenty-eight. What would they want with her?

She sobbed quietly, trying to release the rope on her wrists with her teeth. They wouldn’t come off. Unable to move, she felt something was blocking her air-way. She gasped for air, pulling at the ropes desperately.  She slithered on the dirt floor, trying to release the knot in her ropes, but her rash movements only worsened it, tightening them even more and cutting into the arteries in her wrists.

She finally gave up on it, releasing a sharp cry. “Help, someone,” she pleaded. “Someone, please, help me!”

She heard the people outside her room let out a sound of alert. Feet scrambled and a few painful minutes later, the door opened. A man dressed in loose pants and an equally long loose shirt stepped inside. He wore an old grayish waist-coat over his shirt and a checkered scarf around his neck. A wooly hat with a rounded trim sat on the top of his head.

Where had she seen pictures of his attire? Kashmiri men didn’t wear the hat he wore. Where then? Her mind rapidly flashed through her memories, trying to decode her location through the clothes he wore. Pakistan? Afghanistan?

Her blood ran cold, her body freezing from the terror of her realization. Afghanistan… she was in Afghanistan. How the fuck did she get to Afghanistan from Kashmir?

The man stared directly into her eyes and she crouched back in fear. His eyes were dark and almost soul-less. Short scruffy beard graced his square jaw-line. He would have been handsome, she thought, if he didn’t look so cruel and heartless.

He knelt down to her and she cringed. What would he do to her?

His eyes roved down the length of her and she was thankful she had taken lengths on adhering to the Kashmiri dress code. But how long would she be protected in her jeans and long cotton shirt?

He looked down at her wrists and the blood stained rope. His hand moved towards her and she gasped, crawling further back into the wall. He pulled her by the hand and began untying the ropes at her ankles and then her wrists.

“Are you Nora Jennings?” he asked. His voice was heavy and husky.

“Yes.” She trembled.

“Nora.” He breathed out her name slowly, as if tasting the sound of it on his lips. “Are you Muslim?”

The rope came loose and she thankfully withdrew her hand to massage the pain away in her wrists, clasping it against her breasts.

“Are you Muslim?” he repeated again a little more sternly than before, catching her attention.

Muslim? If she said yes, he might probably spare her, seeing her as a fellow comrade. But if he discovered she was lying, there was more likelihood she would be dead.

“No,” she said hesitantly.

“Your name is Nora, right?”

“Yes,” she said confusedly, wondering what the deal was with her name. “It’s short for Eleanor. But my parents preferred the shorter version.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I was hoping you were Muslim. Nora means light in Arabic.” He squinted at her, thinking briefly. “Are you hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled at the mere word. “I’m thirsty,” she said, preferring a drink. Her throat and lips were parched and she didn’t know how long she had been without water because every part of her felt shriveled and dehydrated.

He nodded and then called out to someone. Feet scrambled at the simple command of his voice. If anything, she knew he had power. She was talking to the big man, whoever he was.

Not long after, a woman clad in Arabic gear, walked in with a plate of food and water. She handed it over to him and he in turn, slid it over to her.

Nora looked eagerly onto the glass of water, wondering if she should take it. The man nodded again and she grabbed at it instantly. She relished the coolness washing away the cotton taste in her mouth, the water running down her throat soaking up the dryness inside her. Droplets trickled down her neck, dampening her shirt. But she didn’t care until she looked back at the man who seemed to have noticed it. Nervousness bound her again.

“Here,” he said, pushing forward the tray of food. “Eat.”

She hesitated and he sighed. He rose up to his feet and turned away, walking out as quietly as he had come in.

She reached out desperately for the food, gulping down the bread and roasted vegetable. She looked at the door. The man had shut it behind him again. She didn’t know if she would survive her kidnapping. But for now she was alive. And in such a game, one didn’t count the weeks or the hours to its end. There was no future in that. The present was all that mattered.

She licked the last crumbs of her bread from her plate. She wiped it clean, leaving not a trace of her food. She couldn’t waste it. She didn’t know when her next meal was going to be. She had seen those survivor shows, read those ordeals.

She tossed her plate aside and then crept quietly towards the door. She heard voices outside it and she knew she would never escape through it with those men outside standing guard. There was only one window in her prison and it was too far up to even look through. The purpose for it was solely for air and light. She was yet to find out how chilly it would get in the night.

The walls were made of solid dirt. She could probably claw through it but it would take her several months. And not if they discovered it first.

She slid down wearily against the wall, sobbing. How did she get herself into this shit? After all the pre-cautions she had taken, she trusted a couple of women in an unlicensed cab and got herself kidnapped.
Good call, Nora. Good fucking call.

The night was cold and her teeth chattered from the severe drop in the temperature. She huddled in a corner of the room, away from the draft drifting from the window above her.

Finally, when she couldn’t tolerate it anymore, she banged feebly onto the door. She would rather they kill her because if they didn’t, she’d die from the hypothermia anyway.

“I need a blanket,” she cried. “Someone, please, I need a blanket.”

The door swung open and the woman who had brought her food had returned with a dusty covering. She laid it gently at her feet.

Nora glanced at her hesitantly. Did the woman feel pity for her? But she shouldn’t trust her. She was deceived by two just like her earlier.

She pulled the blanket towards her, keeping an eye on her as she did. The woman said nothing, walking out back quietly.

The woman returned once more in the morning with an empty pail. She put it down beside her and waited.

“What?” Nora said, looking at it with shocking disbelief. “You don’t expect me to go in that?”

The woman walked to the opposite end of the room and squatted, waiting for her to be done with her business.

“Oh for Christ’s sakes,” Nora exclaimed. “Don’t you have a toilet? I won’t run, I promise.”

The woman didn’t budge, watching her with an expressionless face.

Nora clutched her head in frustration. What was she to do? She stared at the bucket for a while, raging inside. There was no use fighting with the woman. She’d only probably get hit again.

Wiping back her tears, she asked slowly, “At least, give me some privacy.”

The woman folded her arms about her knees,

“Listen,” Nora tried again. “I won’t be able to shit in that with you watching over me. You’d only have to come back again to clean up the mess that I will do to this place later once you’ve gone. So do us both a favor, and leave.”

The woman stared at her blankly as if she was contemplating the idea, and then stood up. She handed her a bunch of wet paper towels and then left the room to let Nora finish with her business.