Ladies Coupe (29 page)
Authors: Anita Nair
And then, like it had in my childhood nightmares, a hand grabbed me from behind a tree. Did I scream? I must have. How could I not have? But the whole village was echoing with the cries of Bogi! Bogi!
A hand clamped around my mouth and another hand gathered me into a clinch. Fleshy meaty hands that robbed me of my voice and tore at my body.
‘Please, please,’ I cried when I saw that it was Murugesan. ‘Please let me go.’
‘Oh, I can’t let you go.’ His eyes glittered. ‘You should have thought of that when you set out to tease me with your body.’ I smelt alcohol on his breath.
I wriggled and pleaded, but he clamped his palm across my mouth to silence me and then he dragged me deeper into the orchard and there in the shadows, he ripped at my clothes. ‘Why are you pretending to be a guileless virgin? I know all about women like you. If the Chettiar sons can feast on this body of yours … remember I’m a relative, even if only a poor one, and I’m entitled to their pickings before anyone else …’ he snarled.
I held onto his shoulders and began to beg, ‘Let me go … don’t ruin my life.’
He stared at me and slapped my face. ‘Shut up. Who do you think you are? A little princess?’
Then his eye caught the glint of metal on my wrist and he sneered. ‘They have spoilt you in that house … do you hear that? What is a servant like you doing wearing a watch? Do you know that my sister was sent back home for many months because on her wedding night, in all innocence, she asked her husband if he would teach her to read the time? They said she was ignorant and unfit to be a daughter-in-law of the house. But look at you. You have more rights in that house than my sister. It’s time someone reminded you of who you are.’
He snapped the watch bracelet and flung it into the darkness.
I didn’t understand what he was talking about or why he was so angry with me but I knew that if I didn’t try and escape, it would be too late. I scratched at his face and hands. And then spurred by rage I kicked at his shins and shrieked, ‘Do you think you can get away with this? I’ll tell the Chettiar. I’ll tell the village elders. I’ll tell everyone that you raped me.’
His fingers dug into the flesh of my upper arms. ‘No one will believe you. You might think you are our equal, but you are not. I’m the Chettiar’s nephew, his daughter-in-law’s brother, and you are only the cook’s daughter. No one will dare question me.’
For a moment I paused, struck by the truth of his words. What was I going to do? Murugesan seized his opportunity in the stillness of that moment. He threw me on the ground and flung himself upon me, grinding his hips against mine. His hands reached beneath my skirt and ripped my drawers off. ‘Just like a town girl, are you? With drawers and a bra? You like this, don’t you, you little whore?’
I felt him weigh me down with his hot breath, his lust and the complete disregard of what he was doing to me …
this is not happening to me, I told myself … as his mouth feasted on my breasts, his hands squeezed my buttocks, and he savagely kneed my legs apart, I closed my eyes and thought – this is a bad dream, I will wake up soon and none of it will have happened … and then I felt him tear into me, filling me with a great anguish, and the tears began to rain. Thick viscous tears that slid into me. Pale transparent tears that squeezed themselves out from my tightly scrunched up eyes.
this is not happening to me, I told myself … as his mouth feasted on my breasts, his hands squeezed my buttocks, and he savagely kneed my legs apart, I closed my eyes and thought – this is a bad dream, I will wake up soon and none of it will have happened … and then I felt him tear into me, filling me with a great anguish, and the tears began to rain. Thick viscous tears that slid into me. Pale transparent tears that squeezed themselves out from my tightly scrunched up eyes.
In the distance, I heard the calls. Bogi! Bogi! The sparks would fly as the bonfire was set alight and the night would crackle with the sound of dried logs and twigs waking up. With my past, my future too had been torched alive.
… What should I have done? What would you have done? Now I know … I should have rushed to the Chettiar’s courtyard the way I was, with torn clothes, mussed up hair, his fluids and mine trickling down my legs, and terror in my eyes. I should have threatened suicide and demanded justice. I should have wept and stormed and let the world and the Chettiar see me as a victim …
I went home. All I could think of was what Amma would say if she found out: I told you so … you never listen to me and now your life is ruined forever … who will marry you … I pleaded with you to take care, not to wander through the village alone, but you wouldn’t listen …
I bathed. A whole bar of soap and a handful of coconut fibre that turned into a soggy mess … I scrubbed myself relentlessy, trying to erase what had happened to me, trying to muffle the drumming in my head … If I pretended nothing had happened, nothing had changed, I presumed everything would remain the way it was …
In the Chettiar Kottai, the bonfire was ebbing. The villagers still clung to the courtyard, unwilling to relinquish the excitement of being there. I spotted my brothers and a
mouthful of bile curdled my insides. If only they had been with me. If only Amma had insisted they go with me.
mouthful of bile curdled my insides. If only they had been with me. If only Amma had insisted they go with me.
I watched the fire die. An acrid smell of burning hung over the courtyard. Nothing has changed, I told myself fiercely … nothing has changed. Once I went back to Vellore, I would be able to dismiss the mango orchard and its meaty-pawed ghoul from my thoughts. One week was all that was left. I would never set foot in this village again, I swore.
But a week later, I was still at the Chettiar Kottai. Sujata Akka had begun to throw up; she refused to eat and said that the smell of food made her want to retch. Her eyes took on a turmeric hue and finally when she scattered a few grains of boiled rice in her urine, they turned yellow. Sujata Akka had jaundice. And someone had to look after Prabhu-papa.
A message was despatched to Vellore and the boys came back saying that Missy K was annoyed about the further delay. The stand-in maid was not satisfactory and Missy K had said that I should return as quickly as I could.
I sighed in relief At least they still wanted me back. I had worried that they wouldn’t keep my job for me.
‘How is Periaswamy? Did you see him?’
‘How should we know?’
‘But didn’t you see him? He’s the gardener. An old man with glasses and sunken cheeks,’ I said, anxious at the thought that something must have happened to Periaswamy.
‘We know who he is. He wasn’t there. Maybe he’s ill. Maybe he’s gone to visit someone,’ the boys said. ‘Maybe he’s dead,’ their faces suggested.
I stared at them. I didn’t like the thought of Periaswamy not being there. I didn’t like the thought of the stand-in maid. I didn’t want anything to change. When I went back to Vellore, I wanted everything to be the way it had been. That way my life would remain untouched too.
A few weeks later, as Sujata Akka began to recover, I
began to feel ill. A queer malaise that clung to me all day. The sight of food made me nauseous. I felt listless and tired. ‘I think I’ve got jaundice too,’ I told Amma.
began to feel ill. A queer malaise that clung to me all day. The sight of food made me nauseous. I felt listless and tired. ‘I think I’ve got jaundice too,’ I told Amma.
‘I told you to be careful. But you wouldn’t listen,’ Amma said pulling my face closer to hers. ‘Is your urine yellow? Your eyeballs are still white. If it’s jaundice, I think it must be in its very early stages. I’ll ask the boys to go look for some kizharnelli leaves and make you a brew. Drink it for a few days and you’ll begin to feel better.’
Two mornings later, I woke with churning insides and watery bile in my mouth. When my mother saw me pounding ginger with salt, she paused on her way to work. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I feel nauseous,’ I said, sucking on the ball of crushed ginger.
Amma gave me a strange look and went on her way.
I didn’t get any better. My face grew wan and pale. My hair lost its shine and the smell of Amma sautéeing mustard made me want to throw up. Amma confronted me one morning. ‘Tell me the truth,’ she demanded. ‘When did you have your last period?’
I thought for a moment and said, ‘About seven weeks ago.’
Amma sat down on the floor and covered her face with her hands. ‘What have you done, you wicked girl?’
‘I didn’t do anything, Amma,’ I said, frightened by the look on her face.
‘What do you mean by saying you haven’t done anything? Don’t you realize that you are pregnant? Who is he? Tell me, who was it?’
‘Amma, I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Stop pretending. How could you be so shameless? Tell me, who is he?’
I sat down on the floor. I knew that I could no longer pretend that nothing had happened. I was no longer who I once was. The night in the mango orchard had returned to haunt me.
‘Amma,’ I said, willing my tongue to form the words. ‘Amma, it’s not what you think.’
So I told her my story. Of every scream and shriek. Of a little stone that had pressed against my spine when he fell upon me. Of the wetness of the dew beneath my feet and his wetness that had flooded me. Of my fervent pleas and the mad fervour with which his hands and mouth had roamed my body. Of how he left me lying in a dishevelled heap and stumbled away into the darkness. When I finished, I saw only suspicion in her eyes. And disbelief He was right, I knew with a bitterness that made me want to walk away from that room, from her gaze. No one would believe me, he had said, and he was right.
‘Amma, everything I have told you is the truth,’ I tried again.
‘You were raped and you kept quiet about it. A man steals your virginity and you think nothing is going to change … You expect me to believe that?’
Amma wept. Amma stormed. Amma ranted and raved. Amma had a fainting fit. Amma threatened to kill herself. Amma did all that I should have done on the night I was raped.
‘Tell me, tell me, you slut! Who was it really? You think I’m a fool to believe Murugesan would do something like this …’
But I had nothing more to offer her. No consoling fact that the man whose imprint I bore within me was someone from the village. Someone the village elders could coerce into marrying me. Not even the village elders would dare point a finger at Murugesan and that was the truth Amma was reluctant to accept.
Distraught, Amma confided in Sujata Akka. ‘What am I to do? Will you speak to her and find out whom she is shielding? He must be someone unsuitable, perhaps some Christian or Muslim boy.’
And so for Sujata Akka’s benefit, I repeated the events of the night I was raped. She listened to me quietly, not
interrupting once, and then turned to my mother. ‘I think she’s speaking the truth. Murugesan is a sly beast; when he looks at me I see only lust in his eyes. So what is to prevent him from doing this? Besides, he knew very well that no one would believe her, and it happened just as he thought it would. Not even you believe her!’
interrupting once, and then turned to my mother. ‘I think she’s speaking the truth. Murugesan is a sly beast; when he looks at me I see only lust in his eyes. So what is to prevent him from doing this? Besides, he knew very well that no one would believe her, and it happened just as he thought it would. Not even you believe her!’
I began to cry then. Amma’s face crinkled up as well and drawing me close to her, she too began to weep. ‘What do we do now?’
‘Why did you hide it from us?’ Sujata Akka asked. ‘If only you had made a hue and cry right then, something could have been done …’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t think of the consequences. All I wanted to do was not think about it and that way I thought I could go on like nothing had happened,’ I tried to explain.
‘But don’t you see, no one will believe your story. Not now. If only you had told me on the night you were raped, I would have brought it up with the Chettiar and insisted that Murugesan marry you.’
‘Akka, I don’t want to have anything to do with that filthy animal,’ I said. ‘I’d rather die than marry him.’
Amma’s head snapped up in rage. ‘Do you hear her? Have you heard such arrogance? Her reputation, her life is in tatters and she isn’t the least bothered about it.’
Her eyes blazed, seeking to burn my wilfulness that she thought had eroded all sense of shame and self-preservation.
‘Who will marry you? Your life is over and you’ll end up in the gutter like a street dog with its litter … you have nothing left in your life.’
I knew that. I knew that my life had paused on its path. But I didn’t want him to put it back on its course. I’ll leave home, Amma,’ I said. ‘I’ll leave so that you won’t be disgraced. I’ll go away someplace where no one will recognize me and kill myself,’ the words tripped from my mouth so effortlessly. I had heard them a hundred times before, mouthed by my favourite film heroines.
‘What are you saying?’ Amma cried, horrified by the vision of a daughter bloated and washed ashore; a child pulverized beyond recognition by a train. I began to cry. I was sorry for myself, for my mother who deserved better, and sorry for the mess our lives were in.
‘Stop this,’ Sujata Akka butted in, anxious to prevent our wailing from echoing through the house. ‘Stop tormenting yourselves. We’ll find a way.’
But there was nothing that even Sujata Akka could do to remedy the situation. At first, Sujata Akka’s husband refused to believe that I wasn’t at fault. ‘The girl must have led him on and now that she is pregnant she’s making up a story about rape. All nonsense, if you ask me.’
But when she insisted, he lost his temper and said, ‘All right, I believe you. Murugesan raped her. But do you realize what you are asking of me? Do you expect me to sever relations with my brother for the sake of a servant, no matter how precious she is to you? I want you to steer clear of this … do you understand? No more involving yourself in this mess. Let them find a solution themselves.’
In the end Sujata Akka did nothing. She called my mother and explained her helplessness. ‘My husband won’t let me bring it up. He’s ordered me to keep out of this. I know the truth, but what can I do?’
Other books
Novel 1968 - Brionne (v5.0) by Louis L'Amour
Rose Hill by Grandstaff, Pamela
Silent Partner by Stephen Frey
Whisper of Scandal by Nicola Cornick
Queenmaker by India Edghill
Tangled by Emma Chase
Red Angel by C. R. Daems
Lie or Die: A Shelby Nichols Adventure by Colleen Helme
Phoenix Reborn by Carina Wilder
A Dragonlings' Haunted Halloween: Dragonlings of Valdier by S. E. Smith
