Breakfast comprised of aloo paranthas. My son is an ardent fan of aloo paranthas cooked by me. He likes them rolled out thin, a little crispy and with loads of butter. He ate one with milk and I packed some into his tiffin box. He always carries extra on the pretext that his friends love to gorge on his lunch.
The bell rang and I assumed it was my bestie (my family refers to my maid as my bestie as we get along pretty well. We indulge in long chats in the kitchen and delve on every topic under the sun.) Every day she arrives later than what is expected of her and it is normal for both of us. Surprisingly she has an excuse for every late-coming and each time it is a novel and convincing one.
I was preparing for a bath, so dressed in an old faded gown and hair loosely tied up in a bun, rushed to the main door to let her in. Instead, I bumped into a fairly handsome though a somewhat thin well dressed young man. With a most infectious smile, he asked me for a glass of water. He introduced himself with the utmost courtesy and I learned that a family had moved into a long time vacant 1 BHK opposite ours. I offered him to come in but he emptied the glass standing outside and further requested for a can of drinking water for his wife and kids. As I handed over the bottles I noticed his stylish leather strapped wristwatch, but what caught my attention was a nasty one-inch scar in-between his thumb and forefinger. It was too early to be curious, so I left my questions for later. Our conversation was interrupted by a hasty entry of my bestie and theman thanked me profusely and left.
The same evening I had my in-laws come over, so I got busy with them for 2 days. It was only after they left that I got a chance to know more about my neighbors. The lady Durga was fairly well built but a shade darker than her husband. What began as small encounters over the maid, laundry, lifts, society maintenance and classes soon turned into lengthy talks and gossips. However, she spoke less and was more of a listener.
The couple had 2 small adorable kids who after school mostly remained confined to their home. Durga appeared to be a very docile and pious girl. I got to know from her that Girish, her husband worked at odd hours. Whenever he was at home, she was not to be seen. We met only in his absence.
Everything was fine and I was happy with some company until one night I heard cries coming from her house. Since we were the only two occupants on that floor, the slightest sound bothered us. I could not figure out the cries and thinking it may be the kids, left it at that. Two nights later I heard a shriek and almost rang their doorbell but stopped when there was no further sound. The next day I knocked on their door to collect keys but Durga seemed normal, although quieter than usual.
The same evening I heard a big thud, that of the dropping of a vessel followed by the banging of the door. I couldn't restrain myself. Although scared I rang their bell but received no response. Next, I heard were loud noises and screaming and I feared something untoward. I also realized Durga was avoiding me.
I was away for some days but the incidents kept playing in my mind.I had doubts and the evening after my return when I rang her bell to collect a courier and more so to have a talk with her, she seemed weird and looked nervous. Her hair was unbraided and face looked ashen. I sensed something wrong. The kids were glued to the blaring television and she reluctantly offered me a cup of tea. Over tea, I mentioned last week's incidents and she spoke. While speaking she was constantly looking at the door should her husband walk in. My doubts were confirmed. It was not a happy marriage. The husband was a molester. He doubted her character and never let her out. She barely left home without him. She had to seek permissions for the pettiest purchases and decisions. As she was narrating she broke down. She went on sobbing and talking. Just then Girish walked in. He stood in the doorway staring at her. She quickly ran inside. I found myself in the most awkward position. Not knowing how to react I brushed past him to my house. I anticipated an outburst but the following day passed in complete silence. I peeped through the keyhole several times but did not get any glimpse of the couple or the kids.
I understood everything all right. Durga needed help and I was determined to help her. The cries and bangs began again one day. The following week I found my chance, a few minutes to speak to her when her husband went to drop the kids at the bus stop.
Initially, she tried closing the door on my face but I put my foot in between and forced her to open. She looked completely crestfallen. I only managed to communicate that I was with her, I support her. She need not tolerate this abuse anymoreand show courage. I asked her to meet me in person and promised her to find a way out. I volunteered to lodge a complaint with the cops and be a witness but that very moment we heard footsteps and she shut the door.
I sensed she had become a nervous wreck. She was petrified and her eyes pleaded me to stay away from all this. I refused to be a mere spectator. The whole night I spent contemplating on ways to resolve the issue. I even made a few calls to my lawyer. By the morning I was somewhat sorted and firm on my stand.
I quickly prepared myself to go to the police station and register an FIR. At that moment my bestie barged in through the door shivering and screaming. ‘Somebody has been burnt alive and the ambulance has just left the society premises’ she shouted. I missed a heartbeat. My mind went blank. Whatever I dreaded had actually happened. I was late. I was too late. I grabbed my scooter keys and rushed to the hospital. As I was driving tears were rolling down my eyes. My throat had gone dry. If only... I was cursing myself. I enquired at the reception for a Mrs. Durga Dixit. The young receptionist reported that the victim had suffered severe third-degree burns and is in the ICU. I was in a state of shock. She added that it is not Mrs. Dixit but a Mr. Dixit. I went numb. My head started spinning and I fainted.
When I regained consciousness and opened my eyes I found Durga grinning at me…. the most sadistic grin ever.
The bell rang and I assumed it was my bestie (my family refers to my maid as my bestie as we get along pretty well. We indulge in long chats in the kitchen and delve on every topic under the sun.) Every day she arrives later than what is expected of her and it is normal for both of us. Surprisingly she has an excuse for every late-coming and each time it is a novel and convincing one.
I was preparing for a bath, so dressed in an old faded gown and hair loosely tied up in a bun, rushed to the main door to let her in. Instead, I bumped into a fairly handsome though a somewhat thin well dressed young man. With a most infectious smile, he asked me for a glass of water. He introduced himself with the utmost courtesy and I learned that a family had moved into a long time vacant 1 BHK opposite ours. I offered him to come in but he emptied the glass standing outside and further requested for a can of drinking water for his wife and kids. As I handed over the bottles I noticed his stylish leather strapped wristwatch, but what caught my attention was a nasty one-inch scar in-between his thumb and forefinger. It was too early to be curious, so I left my questions for later. Our conversation was interrupted by a hasty entry of my bestie and theman thanked me profusely and left.
The same evening I had my in-laws come over, so I got busy with them for 2 days. It was only after they left that I got a chance to know more about my neighbors. The lady Durga was fairly well built but a shade darker than her husband. What began as small encounters over the maid, laundry, lifts, society maintenance and classes soon turned into lengthy talks and gossips. However, she spoke less and was more of a listener.
The couple had 2 small adorable kids who after school mostly remained confined to their home. Durga appeared to be a very docile and pious girl. I got to know from her that Girish, her husband worked at odd hours. Whenever he was at home, she was not to be seen. We met only in his absence.
Everything was fine and I was happy with some company until one night I heard cries coming from her house. Since we were the only two occupants on that floor, the slightest sound bothered us. I could not figure out the cries and thinking it may be the kids, left it at that. Two nights later I heard a shriek and almost rang their doorbell but stopped when there was no further sound. The next day I knocked on their door to collect keys but Durga seemed normal, although quieter than usual.
The same evening I heard a big thud, that of the dropping of a vessel followed by the banging of the door. I couldn't restrain myself. Although scared I rang their bell but received no response. Next, I heard were loud noises and screaming and I feared something untoward. I also realized Durga was avoiding me.
I was away for some days but the incidents kept playing in my mind.I had doubts and the evening after my return when I rang her bell to collect a courier and more so to have a talk with her, she seemed weird and looked nervous. Her hair was unbraided and face looked ashen. I sensed something wrong. The kids were glued to the blaring television and she reluctantly offered me a cup of tea. Over tea, I mentioned last week's incidents and she spoke. While speaking she was constantly looking at the door should her husband walk in. My doubts were confirmed. It was not a happy marriage. The husband was a molester. He doubted her character and never let her out. She barely left home without him. She had to seek permissions for the pettiest purchases and decisions. As she was narrating she broke down. She went on sobbing and talking. Just then Girish walked in. He stood in the doorway staring at her. She quickly ran inside. I found myself in the most awkward position. Not knowing how to react I brushed past him to my house. I anticipated an outburst but the following day passed in complete silence. I peeped through the keyhole several times but did not get any glimpse of the couple or the kids.
I understood everything all right. Durga needed help and I was determined to help her. The cries and bangs began again one day. The following week I found my chance, a few minutes to speak to her when her husband went to drop the kids at the bus stop.
Initially, she tried closing the door on my face but I put my foot in between and forced her to open. She looked completely crestfallen. I only managed to communicate that I was with her, I support her. She need not tolerate this abuse anymoreand show courage. I asked her to meet me in person and promised her to find a way out. I volunteered to lodge a complaint with the cops and be a witness but that very moment we heard footsteps and she shut the door.
I sensed she had become a nervous wreck. She was petrified and her eyes pleaded me to stay away from all this. I refused to be a mere spectator. The whole night I spent contemplating on ways to resolve the issue. I even made a few calls to my lawyer. By the morning I was somewhat sorted and firm on my stand.
I quickly prepared myself to go to the police station and register an FIR. At that moment my bestie barged in through the door shivering and screaming. ‘Somebody has been burnt alive and the ambulance has just left the society premises’ she shouted. I missed a heartbeat. My mind went blank. Whatever I dreaded had actually happened. I was late. I was too late. I grabbed my scooter keys and rushed to the hospital. As I was driving tears were rolling down my eyes. My throat had gone dry. If only... I was cursing myself. I enquired at the reception for a Mrs. Durga Dixit. The young receptionist reported that the victim had suffered severe third-degree burns and is in the ICU. I was in a state of shock. She added that it is not Mrs. Dixit but a Mr. Dixit. I went numb. My head started spinning and I fainted.
When I regained consciousness and opened my eyes I found Durga grinning at me…. the most sadistic grin ever.
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