Prabha stood up and said, ‘One has to pay for one’s actions. Please take rest. I’ve to go now.’
Next, Mangala’s mother came into his room. She said, ‘Son, you’re a learned man and you have been to many countries. Couldn’t you find any medicine that makes one beautiful?’
‘Mother, please do not embarrass me more,’ Suresh pleaded.
‘You’ve taken the life of my daughter. Can’t I talk about it? I wanted to give you a piece of my mind, something you’ll never forget all your life. But you’re our guest. I can’t do much. Go, take rest.’
Suresh suffered silently. One moment he was filled with hope but the next moment he was caught in the grip of hopelessness. He could not sleep and lay restlessly in his bed. Suddenly he heard somebody speaking in a soft voice at the door. ‘Why don’t you go inside? He isn’t sleeping.’ Somebody answered, ‘I’m feeling shy.’
Suresh recognized the voice. The thirsty had finally got the water. The next moment Mangala stood in front of him, her head bowed. Suresh saw a sublime glow on her face—it was as if she had recovered from a long illness. The face was the same but the eyes were different.
Translated from the Hindi by M. Asaduddin
Revenge1
Standing on the terrace of her three-storey house, Maya scanned the road below with impatient, excited eyes. These were the thoughts running through her mind: Why hasn’t he arrived yet? What is delaying him? He had written to say that he’d be arriving by this very train. The train must have reached the station; these people look like they are coming from the station. There is only this train which is scheduled for arrival at this time. Maybe he is taking time getting his luggage together; his friends must have reached the station to congratulate him; only once he gets free from all this will he remember to come back home. If I were in his place, I would have come straight home. I would have excused myself from my friends saying, ‘Friend, forgive me but I need to leave now. I’ll meet you soon.’ But he only cares for his friends.
Mr Vyas was young but was one of the most respected barristers in Lucknow. He had been based in Lahore for the past three months defending a political case for the government. He had written to Maya saying that he had won the case. ‘I’ll return on the 1st by the evening mail.’ Today was that evening. Maya had spent the whole day preparing for his arrival. She’d got the whole house cleaned. Dusted all the decorative pieces in each and every room and even got the car washed. She had spent the past three months in penance. But Mr Vyas had still not arrived.
Her young daughter, Tilottama, came and clung to her legs. ‘Amma, when will Babuji get home?’
Maya picked her up, kissed her and said, ‘He must be on his way, darling. The mail must have arrived already.’
Tilottama said happily, ‘He will get nice dolls for me!’
Maya kept quiet. The wait was now turning into anger. She was thinking, The way the mister is making me suffer, I’ll pay him back in his own coin. I will not talk to him for an hour. He would rather stay put at the station than come home. He likes to make me jealous. It is his old habit. But how do I console my heart? No, I too want to behave in the same callous manner towards him as he does with me.
Suddenly, a servant came upstairs and said, ‘Bahuji, there is a telegram from Lahore.’
Maya felt like she’d been singed. It was as though a storm had just passed through. She thought, What else would he write except to say that he will not be coming by this train. It is so easy to send a telegram. Why don’t I send a telegram too saying that I am going to my mother’s home for a month? She told the servant, ‘Leave the telegram on the table inside.’
But she changed her mind and had just opened it when it fell from her hand.
It said:
MISTER VYAS WAS MURDERED TONIGHT AT 10 P.M. BY A GOON.2
Months passed. The killer had not been caught. The experienced members of the police secret service were looking for him day and night. A reward of twenty thousand rupees had been announced for anyone who could give a clue about the murderer. But to no avail.
Maya had been staying in the same hotel for about a month where Mr Vyas had stayed earlier. She had fallen in love with the room. She looked different these days, almost unrecognizable. But her face did not show the pale colour of pain or helplessness. Instead, it displayed the red flush of her anger. Her beautiful eyes dripped blood and burned with the fire of revenge. Her entire being was consumed by this fire. This now was the only motive of her life and her biggest desire. This burning desire for revenge was the prize of her love. She would rest only when she saw the man who destroyed her life begging for mercy. The police secret service was trying to find clues to the murderer by using fear and greed as strategies in their investigation. Maya had chosen a different path. Mr Vyas had been interested in the study of the supernatural. Maya had also learnt a little about it with him. It had been more of an entertainment at the time; but now this was the only preoccupation of her life. She would practise every day on Tilottama and increase the intensity day by day. She was waiting for the day when she would be able to summon the spirit of her dead husband and ask who his murderer was. She went through the ritual every day with concentration and involvement.
It was ten. Maya had switched off the lights in the room and
