Scarred

Chapter 1 - The Refrain


1
"Thond dhoney, Parsa karney, aangool"*...
The musical notes wafted through, every other morning from the bathroom. Like Beethoven's Concerto...the tempo changed over the next ten minutes reaching a crescendo with the litany of accusations and filthy words directed at her, her extended family, his friends and colleagues. 
 Despite her best efforts, she didn't always succeed in blocking out the stream of words. 'Words' which riled her temper make her scream back her own versions, which was one of the reasons he kept at it...rather enjoyed would be a better word, she had realised a while back . His face that grew ugly and dark while uttering them, his eyes that moved deeper into the sockets leaving most of the whites visible were the cues.
Sometimes, she felt nothing, just a numbed existence...as though an out of body experience or seen through someone else's vision. Often felt like a dead soul trapped in a living body that didn't quite feel alive.
At times, she just to sleep and never wake up to see the morning sun. it hadn't always been like this, not during the one month of official courtship and the first two months of marriage...'window dressing' he had told her later on, blasely at that.


*'Brush teeth, take a leak, bathe'


 Chapter 4


1

Shadows crept across the wall. Lights from the opposite buliding streaming in through the thin  curtains. The night lamp, not to be outdone added to the effects…so quiet, she could hear the heart palpitate against her chest walls.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the thin brush, mixed the colours on the palette and carefully painted the petals.

‘Bitchy Prostitute’ the voice echoed, stronger than it had all week. She barely manged to pull away the shaking brush. The leaf was now shaded orange.

‘Damn!  Get a grip.’ It kinda looked nice’,  she noted with concentrated effort…autumn leaves on the blouse would stand out indeed. She glanced at the clock on the wall to her right, 12.45 a.m…half an hour more before she tried to sweet talk  the mistress of dreams.

Lost in the swirling colours that came alive in her hands, she barely heard him till he stepped close to her. Laughed at her efforts,”Well, Picasso, get back to bed.”

“ A few minutes more” the timid voice pleaded.

“You know who is up at this time of the night?”

Emboldened “Not that word, I will really leave this time.”

“Really? Poor Mrs Virgin, pity your  face didn’t find any takers in college. We both know, your parents will send you right back.” walking away.

Ignoring the rolling tears, blurred eyes sought the brush… clutching it tightly, in its strength everything faded.

2000 words in paper to be copied...sigh

Epilogue


She paused at the doorstep...looking back at the room  once more. Everything was as she had left it  two months ago....the curtains, the dining table she begged and begged for months and finally got, her favourite couch rich blue with silver trimmings, a favourite with the only three neighbours who passed his test (well most of the time at least).

          The light blue sofa still stood, a mute majestic witness to the torment sessions, mental and emotional, countless endured to the point of a breakdown, the humiliations, the constant put downs that still sent cold shivers down her spine.

         His high pitched voice with a maniac quality echoed in her brain, cold swept all over her, the heart pounding at an inhuman rate...the well recognised  signs of a panic attack. She took deep breathes the way her doctor has taught her, clutched a chair for support and moved to gather her few precious belongings, a culmination of six wasted years.

          Every piece of cloth, a book here, a C.D there, remainders of the few happy moments she had managed to gather and salvage from the wreck that was her marriage. Her bags packed, she glanced at the house for one last time ....

        The house she had tried in vain to make a home but dimly realised now was never hers to begin with. The house now stood for only loss : loss of innocence, loss of her unborn child, loss of hope, loss of dignity, loss of self worth and the greatest loss, one that would haunt her for years to come, loss of the will to live.

       The lift stopped , her and bags deposited to the ground floor, the safety zone...as she turned to hug and wave at her few friends, the only ones that would miss her...never him, never him..

       She saw at last in the afternoon sun....behind her stood the skyscraper tall, looming and lonely ....before her stood her mother and the cab, her ticket to freedom bought at a bitter price.


         She walked with a spring in her step, a tiny smile, a smile none the less that threatened to break out of the gloom, knowing that though the road ahead was not easy, too many battles still to be fought.... He could never hurt her again.....

The Prick

It had been a good 30 minutes since they had exited. Not an easy pick, this one. The indecisive ones were the worst. Wouldn't have spared her a second thought any other time. But afternoon's were the dullest part of the day. And Tuesday’'s meant that the other three in the lane were closed to business. The fierce competition motivated him, though he wished his parents hadn't been dirt poor.

He watched as she entered with trepidation, tugging at her companion's arm. He looked on bemused, as she hesitated at the door before being pulled in rather forcibly ....

Nervously she muttered "I have decided." and asked cautiously "will it hurt?"

His eyes seemed to twinkle in the harsh lights as he replied "hardly, trust me..you are in capable hands."

"But they say its painful..."

"This isn't your first time, I presume..."

She shook her head, barely remembering the event.....It was so long ago and she had been too young to comprehend. She looked at her friend for moral support.

Her friend encouraged her with "We have discussed this enough times already....just go ahead and get it over with."

"I don't have all day" he said, clearly put off. 

She stood frozen, uncertain....

Her friend spoke again, with a hint of impatience "He knows what he is doing...you are worrying without cause..."

He added, sensing a thaw in her "One shot and it will be over .... you won't even register the prick....and you will not be disappointed with the result..."

Sighing, she got on the couch.....sure enough, it was over before she could collect her thoughts.

She was feeling better already....when he interrupted her musings "My reward, Madam...."

She flushed, apologised and handed him a few notes.....

As she stepped out, she couldn't help but catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror at the entrance.

There it nestled, glistening in the sunlight, tiny silver loops, her second ear piercing.....

 cwc 321

Compromises

'She wears my ring', the lingering smile on his face announced to all the attendees at the wedding reception.

His fidgety movements betrayed his impatience over her delayed appearance.

"Relax. These ladies always turn up late, must be busy with her makeover," said his cousin shrugging his shoulders casually.

His movements eased, but barely so. His relatives had echoed similar sentiments using different words at various stages of the wedding.

"Stop asking these silly questions. Brides are nervous on their wedding day."

His nosy aunt had stated, overhearing the words exchanged by him and the best mate.

"We, girls, are expected to be shy and modest, at least on such days." The sister had butted in with her wise tuppence patting his arm for added effect.

Maybe they were right, they were experienced after all. Her quiet, solemn look, her rare glancing his way could be explained thus, couldn't it?

His heartache lessened, and he went back to standing at the entrance to the lobby.

***

Through the final touches of makeup, she twirled the diamond engagement ring on her hand. As she glanced at the mirror in front of her, the black and gold beads among other jewellery on her neck glinted back, signalling her married status.

She touched them gingerly with her finger tips eliciting a gentle admonishing from the beautician.

"Madam, please keep your hands down, the nail paint will get blotchy."

Inspecting her fingernails, the young girl sighed, “See, I have to redo it.", looking around for a bottle of remover.

She apologised with a smile, and stared at the ring instead. Little joy rather the feel of it on her finger felt like a heavy weight on her soul. Her heart still beating for another. For the charming boy with the impish grin, who had wound his way around, only to break it into countless pieces years later.

Her husband was a good man, deserving more than she could offer. They were family friends, her parents adored him as his loved her. He had always encouraged her, made her laugh.

*** 

Her transfer would take time. This year of separation would turn out to be a blessing. Looking into his adoring eyes as he took her hand in his, she promised herself, he would never know that their marriage had begun as a compromise for her.

cwc 391 need 109 more

Future perfect

The memory of that day, so many years ago was crystal clear. Her friends were seated at her home, nervously facing an irate middle aged man, whose traditional world they sought to upset. He was clutching a bunch of papers as though it was his arrest warrant, her college admission papers precisely. He was lecturing them on the role of women, which in those days meant stay at home mother and wives. The basic schooling was given simply because most grooms demanded it. He lectured on how, too much knowledge and independence in a woman was asking for trouble.

   She and her younger sister, whose own dreams hinged on his current reaction watched sadly...they had hoped for, but expected nothing different in their father's behaviour. Their elder sister had, had a similar battle in her time before losing it. Her older sisters had accepted their roles in a traditional society and household and gone on to marry. They spent their days doing what many other unlucky friends did...waiting on their husbands, in-laws and kids hand and foot.

   The young teenagers looked at the sad duo, as though silently saying ‘We are doing this for you two, why don't you speak up for yourselves?’  If only they knew how much his six children feared him? The grim remainder of sharp hits of the cane on tender hands and legs for every perceived act of disobedience and stinging pain effectively sealed their lips at crucial junctures. He was a loving, caring man but not to be bested...

  His lecture over, the papers tossed carelessly into the dustbin, he walked away for his evening prayers. The friends slunk off, not before giving them 'Sorry, we tried' embraces. She retrieved the forms when no one was looking and put them among her books as a keepsake till it was time to fulfil her fate.

  She tried again, a couple of years later to change the life path set up for her. This time with a job application in a telephone company and the alibi, a maternal uncle who cared for them. It was an opening specifically for high school graduates. But as before, her efforts come to naught. Her uncle was given permission, in a very rude and scathing manner,

"Go ahead, your sister's daughter after all. Recommend her for the job by all means."

 Every one was shocked to react, as he continued

"I wash my hands of her henceforth. Arrange for her marriage too, if you are so inclined. Just remember, no daughter of mine works and stays here."   

 The uncle hesitated, his sister shrinking in the corner, close to tears. With three daughters of his own, a measly salary the government job provided, a small house with far too many people to fit in, there was no way he could support her even if she was gainfully employed. Besides who was he to break up a family especially his sister's? He was gone too, the encounter humiliating enough in his opinion to not warrant future visits and with passing time, grew distant.

  Years later, when she held her daughter's hands as she took her first baby steps, she vowed that her child's life would be very different. She would be a friend, guide, and a supporter of all her children's dreams. As the front door opened and her daughter enveloped her in a huge hug, she knew she had kept her promise. A newer, positive chapter in her family history was being created....

cwc 582 need 131 words more

A memory

The quaint cafe had become my second home for a while now. Nothing much happens in this small town with people numbering few hundreds. And what does happen must pass this way. Sometimes a good thing, at other times not so nice for the individuals concerned. Everyone knows everyone else, the news travelling faster than those tweets I am now addicted to. At least when the ancient piece left behind by my cousin, whimpers to life.

"Hi, Sofia, how are you feeling today?" Dona never tires of asking me the same question.

"As good as ever."

My standard response never fails to elicit a warm smile from her and her friends, regulars who haunt the cozy corner just as often. Most ladies in the group lives by this side of the stream that divides this place into two...both parts of the town bearing distinct, diverse characters.

No longer look around for the owner's son Marco or the red haired girl to take my order. The food arrives at the table within ten minutes of my arrival, Cecelia's pastry for the day and milky tea. He personally serves my order every time, returning my smile with a sad grin of his. Savoring the food, wonder why an attractive guy like him is never seen with a girl.

I voiced my piqued interest to Aunt who doubles up as the land lady at my insistence, left me with unsatisfactory answers.

A cryptic reply, “He is waiting." leaves me irritated and a bit frustrated of late.

'This wait, for whom or what?' I ask the mirror which stares back.

 A glance at the worn watch tells me of the extended tea break. Need to buy a new one soon.

'Back to the shop then lest she explodes in her anxiety.'

 Temporarily, going through a slump in sale is our shop down the street, where we create bridal wear. The orders from the nearby towns have been steadily declining, blame the recession or in reality, the girls wanted designer ones. She is worried, this aunt of mine but pretends all is well and I do likewise. I been trying to get to her to explore other markets, maybe create our own online portfolio but she is strangely rigid and adamant. Not giving up yet, it’s time to pull in Roberto, her son who makes a decent living in Venice selling his photographs.

 Have learned not to leave a tip as I leave, it finds a way back into my pockets with a matching reprimand from Ceci. Wave my goodbyes to the other patrons, shuffle to the exit, when my attention is drawn to the two sets of red diner tables lying unoccupied. They remain empty even on those few evenings we come back here for dinner. Another puzzle that begs unraveling.

Walking down the cobbled square, think back to the conversation the other day. From the snatches overheard and persistently pestering Rob, gathered that the occupants of the tables were a group of teenagers from the village. A freak accident took away four of the lives while two girls survived. So badly traumatized by the incident, one has been in an institution ever since, the other having no memory of it. Agonize over the anguished families, being an orphan myself when the pain in the head starts. Funny it always occurs when I wonder about the girls.

Wc 565

time to change

She sat there sweating profusely, her temper matching the heat outside. Would this too turn out to be a failed attempt? The pressure from the officials had been mounting. New mouths to feed arrived at a steady pace every month, eating into her share of the allocated funds. Being the head of the orphanage was not a lucrative business any more. She was tired of pandering to the egos of higher ups and soliciting new clients for her husband's floundering real estate business at the same time. The dingy room saw less and less of her as days passed by.


 Rama Shankar* pushed his way through the wooden saloon doors, he didn't bother to knock. 
 If she hadn't been preoccupied, would have noticed the smug look that permeated his features these days. "The Pandeys called, Madamji."
"Again? Bringing her...Munni back?" Desperation reducing her voice to a hoarse croak.
"Who tells this poor man anything?" His voice always reminded her of grease scrapped from a steel plate.
 Must want to wash their hands off her. These religious, middle class ones are all the same, just empty talk. "What did you tell them?"
 "The usual, busy with inspection work." He seemed pleased with his lies. His eyes had a hazy quality to them. Had he been...? "How many times have I told you to stay off bhang during working hours?
"Do you want to lose this job too?"
With watering eyes, he quickly prostrated before her, "Have mercy on me, family man, my kids will starve to death." adding, "These kids are like my children, they need me."


He managed to convince her every time; she needed him to cover up her absence. She was about to give him another last warning when the noise outside distracted her. There was a flurry of running feet followed by steadier ones. Snippets of conversation in loud and soft voices could be heard. The rushing feet stopped at her door. Utter silence. The door swung wildly as burly policemen swooped into her space. 
 Two scared looking attendants along with a dozen children of different ages waited just outside the threshold. The Pandeys and a few other parents stood next to an important looking official. The collector and here? 
Munni? Why does she have a glum face?  Looking at the cowering ten year old who stood between her adoptive parents, a familiar sense of something amiss hit her. Something had happened, she was the one scared now. Putting on a brave face, hiding the tremor in her tone and turning to Baldev Singh, the inspector she recognised, "What is the meaning of this, Baldevji?"


Baldev turned to the collector who gave him an impatient nod.  He looked at her sadly. She was a decent woman and yet it had to be done. "Arrest warrants for you and this man here." pointing to the peon who was staring at Munni with a dazed look. 
"Arrest Warrant?" she repeated, bewildered.
"For the rape of Munni and four other minor girls adopted from the orphanage. There are also charges by some of the attendants," looking towards the door, "of being molested." 
"There must some mistake, surely, I would be aware of such happenings." 


"If you had been around and had bothered to notice the obvious signs." Pandeyji spoke for the first time. "We found blood stains on our daughter's clothes. She would't eat properly, woke up screaming every night, woudn't even let my brother hug her.
"One of my neighbours who is a child specialist felt that she had undergone recent trauma. A physical examination by an expert left us with no doubt. My daughter found the courage to tell us everything that happened to her here. So did the other girls." affectionately patting his daughter on her head. "Can we go home, daddy?" Munni asked softly.
"Come on, Baldev, take them into custody. We have to move the remaining children to a safer place, we haven't all day." The collector shook hands with the team and the parents before walking towards the other children.

The Morning After

The blare of the horn sounded repeatedly, every fresh one making his ears ache. He heard voices; the nightmare has ceased he found himself muttering. The stings of cold water all over followed a rough jostle of the arms. He opened his left eye, the glare of the sun momentarily blinding him. A frowning face stared back, and yet the tiny pair of eyes sparkled with unmistakable humour as they travelled over his body. A high pitched chatter to his left and a wave of pain coursed through his head.

His thoughts were dimly focusing on the something poking into his back, rather his skin. He sat up straight scaring the old lady who almost fell on her back. “Sorry, ma’am” the apology came naturally. What puzzled him were the hoots of laughter from the pavement. Pavement? What was he doing there? Looking down at himself, he wished he had never woken up.

The hoots grew louder until the old lady raised her palm. She was questioning him pointing to the other comatose body. Eddie! He found himself smiling. The tall, lanky boy looked downright silly in his boxers and socks. They hadn’t even spared them their shoes. Was that dried blood on his face? “No Chinese, someone around speak English?” The lady turned to a girl, pointing out to the adjacent door. In the ensuing silence, he tried to recollect the events of last night. They had had a light dinner, a few drinks when their new found friend had suggested hitting some of the moderate hotspots along Clarke Quay. The waitresses at Hooter had been a welcome sight. But man, expensive for a student like me. The food was different. Eddie was devouring it like no tomorrow, that yankee. Next stop had been some nightclub, nice spot, and those girls with that weird, coloured hair. Wigs. Come to think of it, they seemed less like girls and more like…

“Hello.” the accent hadn’t lost its British touch. He felt better despite the loss of his I.D and wallet, even his I phone.

“Nice pickle you’re in. Indian?”

“No, British-Pakistani” he bristled.

“That attitude isn’t going to help you. You guys look the same.” As an afterthought, “Maybe, I should let the local police handle this. No one here wants trouble.”

Abbas’s blood ran cold. Police meant questioning, calls to his relatives, the embassy, embarrassment even jailed for lack of papers …His elder brother would kill him if his uncle did not. How would he explain his drinking and hangouts?

“I apologise, wasn’t thinking straight. Please help us. We are good boys, international exchange students at the SMU.”

“Better get in unless you want to get toasted.”

He felt like punching the white guy’s face at his insolence but needed him for now. In what he hoped was a meek voice, he asked, “What about my friend?”

“Get him inside or leave him here, not my concern.”

 Abbas looked around. The crowd seemed to be drifting off. The old lady smiled at him kindly. He nodded, put his hands under Eddie’s shoulders, and dragged him along carefully. A couple of teens came to his aid. The three of them managed to pull his friend over the threshold of what seemed a reception area of a home office. They lay him across the nearest chair. Abbas turned to thank the boys. He had nothing to give them except words. They ran away laughing, no doubt eager to share the tale amongst their friends.

“Here, put these on.” handing over a set of clothes too long for his 5’8’’ frame. It was better than being half naked around that pretty looking girl from earlier who lingered around. Must work here, jumping in the pants in haste.

“What’s the deal? “

The deal. Going home with a believable story or tracking down the orange haired muggers. One night out and disaster struck, small mercy he had forgotten his passport in the dorm.

660 cwc   need to make it 713

My part of the tale

Silencing the beeper, Stewart stood undecided, his current state of mind not ideal for any form of surgery and he knew it.

The bodies had disappeared… Damn these visions! 

 He took a valium to calm his nerves. He needed to get his act together, retain some semblance of normalcy. Else the repercussions could prove fatal. He could not allow anyone to visit home till he had cleaned up the place. The staff from the agency was due for the maintenance visit in the weekend, which gave him just two days.

Angela…he missed her so much.

The investigation had begun, now that they had found Jake’s body; the attention had swung back to him. The detective, blast his name, had already called him twice as had the reporters. It had taken all his strength to answer the questions with composure, regret and anger in the right places.

He changed into fresh clothes while calling Malcolm, his friend from medical school. Malcolm had seen his share of emergencies, being a visiting surgeon at St.Vincent’s with a thriving practice of his own a few blocks away.

Luck on his side, Malcolm had already been contacted by the hospital staff. He was aware of the strain Stewart was under and promised to watch his back.

Next was Brendan, his loyal assistant whom he acknowledged with a “You will be joining Dr.Malcolm and Dr.Bakshi. I will be there as soon as I can.”

A nervous, agitated voice responded, “It seems like a routine accident case, drunken driving…but…”

The hesitancy prompted Stewart to ask “Did you ID the patient?”

“Nothing on him, detectives are swarming the floor and a couple of government officials have turned up.”

‘Must be a local politician or high ranking official, a potential cause of embarrassment’ mused Stewart as Brendan’s voice came back on line.

“I only got a look at him; they are keeping things pretty hush hush…” “Doc, Gotta go…”

He hurriedly parked his car and took the basement elevator to the second floor. The scene that greeted him was one straight from the movies…what caught his eye however, were the two officials standing apart from the others. There was something familiar about the muscular men.

  Nurse Lee, ever competently helped him sterilise, as he tried to keep him mind alert and focused. As he pushed his body through the side door, his colleagues greeted him with somber looks. As they updated him, it was obvious that with a head injury and a puncture to his left lung, the patient’s chances of survival were rather slim. They worked in silence, in perfect tandem for the next three hours till they were relieved by a newer set of surgeons brought in.

One of the muscular men stopped them outside the sterilising room with a curt “We need him alive.”

“Who is he?” queried Malcolm.

“What we say stays here, is that understand?”

The three nodded…“He is ex CIA agent, Alex Sonneberg.”

Stewart collapsed on the floor…

mine was the 15th episode of a 22 episode story on a website

A stinker

She followed after him into the lobby, the report held firmly in her hands. The company’s fortunes were on the upswing and yet her job hadn’t been made permanent. The day couldn’t end soon enough for her to tackle him again. He would be off on a foreign trip in a week’s time. This time it would be for an entire month.

Was he trying to avoid her? Need to find out if Susie is going to accompany him. So far, no one had a clue, nothing unusual rather his style of working.

 Last night he had come to her apartment after nearly a month. An argument had ensued.

“Is there something going on between you and Susan?”

 He got up to the small drink bar she had set up just for him. Pouring himself a glass of scotch, barely able to contain his irritation in his voice, “She is my assistant, a new hand, you know that very well.”

Taking a swig, gestured wildly at her” Stop your nagging woman, what are you? My wife?”

 Wouldn’t want to open a can of worms, not would we? “That doesn’t answer my question?”

“Does no answer it?”

“Why was she all over you at the party?”

“”Just harmless flirting, like Dev does with you.” winking at her “Do I scream and interrogate?”

“He is different, he knows I am taken.”

 “Taken?” his head shooting up from the lower shelf of the fridge, banging it against the open door in the process.

“Damn you woman, won’t let a man drink in peace.” He grunted, rubbing the tender spot.

“Let me see that, does it hurt? Could be a concussion”  “Go and sit down, I‘ll get the salad.”

“Get some ice too.”

“Where did you buy these?” looking at the two corked champagne bottles.

 “The usual, Uncle gifted them to Pa, you know, he can’t drink anymore after the heart attack.”

“Mom gave it to me to throw away.”

He eyed her speculatively, “And you brought them over. Smart girl.”

“Not smart as your Susie” she pouted, his one word question from earlier rankling her.

Was he trying to deny their two year relationship? Jealous and anger reared their ugly heads again.

He has a way with women and knew from her expression, the situation had to be salvaged,

Pulling her over, murmuring the usual trite words, she so loved to hear, he managed to improve her mood. It was enough to be allowed to spend the night on her bed.

She was easy to manipulate, that’s why he kept her around.

As he dressed up the next morning, Susan curvy body flashed before his eyes.

The thrill of a new conquest was what he lived for, but this one was shrewd and self confident to fall for his silken webs. He needed to plan; the trip would be the ideal way to connect. He had carefully kept everyone out of the loop except Susan. As he looked in the kitchen where Mouly was preparing their breakfast, he knew he had to keep her satisfied, just in case…

cwc 515 unfinished