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
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.....
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.....
