Khushi held the pallo of her sari and glared at the closed windows. Thin stark like sun rays pierced through the tinniest of cracks in it, and the rest was all dark. Her form shook with unshed tears as she sat exasperated on the big four poster bed, the soft silken material underneath crumpling as she took a fistful of it and pressed her knuckles in. A car stopped to a halt outside, just across the wild garden surrounding the house, the engine cutting off in a abrupt halt. The tears fell.
She was captivated. And there was no way out now.
She got up angrily, and wiping the tears with the back of her hand roughly, and smoothed the creases of her sari as perfectly as she could. Sauntering over to the porcine dressing table, she stripped off the band holding her hair and they fell onto her back. Khushi combed her hair, biting her lips to keep her tears for falling, and then made her plaits. She took the brightest red chiffon ribbon straying on the table, her lips curling in disgust and tied her hair. She could hear footsteps echoing outside from the big corridor, and she hastily applied kohl around her eyes, deepening the shade and applied sindoor in her parting. She looked at the red parting, the inside off her stomach churning as memories of last night crowded her eyes. She bit the insides of her cheek to stop herself from crying, and lined her lips with the lipstick.
He knocked at the door. Sparing a last look at herself and feeling nothing more than disgust, she blinked her eyes repeatedly and walked over the door. Shyam stood outside the door, his eyes perked up at the sight in front of him, and his lips curled up, pleased. Khushi forced a smile.
"I came here tell you I am throwing a party tonight, and we have some important guests coming over. Be ready by 7." He watched as her blank eyes took in what he said, feeling nothing but unresponsive to his words, and he chuckled. He raised his hands slyly, and touched her bare arms, and traced his fingertip back and worth along her milky white skin. She shivered under his touch, her stomach churning uncomfortably, and she arched away from him.
"Or, we can continue from where I left last night." He pushed her softly inside the room, himself giving the door and slight push so that it closed, and neared her. His hands stopped at her waist, the soft skin peeping out there and he held her by her waist and closed the distance between them, pulling her against him. Khushi raised her hands instinctively to rest between them, trying to keep as much of distance she could, constantly aware of the fingers still there on her waist, the part concentrating more and more and she wanted the ground to gobble her up.
"I don't understand," Shyam mouthed distastefully, as his hands slid under her pallu caressing the skin, and stopped. Khushi tried to push him away, still not to make it evident to him, only to be pulled back closer. His breath washed over her skin near the nape of her neck, Khushi clenched her jaw. She wasn't aware for how long she was holding her breath.
Shyam looked at her, scrutinizing her every detail, as the red sari draped around her frame, hugging her curves at the right places, her her tied up loosely in a plait, his sindoor adorning her parting, the dark kohl-ed eyes now shut, her swollen lips a perfect shade of red, quivering. He arched his face towards her, his hands tracing unknown patterns on her waist, when a voice shouted outside.
"Sahab, Sharib is waiting downstairs."
Shyam felt her sign heavily, her breath tumbling out hotly fanning his chest that was exposed by the shirt, and he pushed her away. "There's no escape tonight, Mrs. Shyam Jha."
He pulled the chiffon roughly so that the hair came out loosely, his hands burying into them and tugging at the fistful he pulled her dangerously close to him, his breath washing over her, "Tonight." Pushing her away again, he walked out and shut the door with a bang. Khushi heard him lock the door from outside, and then the footsteps disappeared.
Yes. Tonight was the night.
...
Khushi sat in front of the dressing table, monotonously watching herself in the reflection. She thought about the door which had opened twice since after yesterday's night, the last time when Manohar came with her food. She hadn't had nothing since yesterday, again she felt nothing. She grew self conscious every minute, tired of memorizing her pores as for the past month it was the only thing she did.
She looked towards the bed, the costly saris neatly laid out for her by her maid, each of them costlier than the other. The jewellery boxes stood piled beside, and she felt her eyes tearing up again. Only tonight, she chided herself and she would be free if everything went as planned. Feeling discouraged, she stood up, and picked up the burnt orange coloured piece, tracing the beads strewn along the hem, and bit her lip.
Khushi walked over to the bathroom, sparing a look at the clock which stuck 4.30.
...
When she walked out, completely soaked and drenched up in water, the bathrobe wrapped protectively around her, she pondered. She had tried to rub off every single touch of his consciously, spending a good time of one hour in the bathroom. Still, she felt as if she could feel his touch lingering on her skin, and she slumped on the bed, soaking the silk, defeated. She wrapped up the towel framing her wet hair up, and sat in front of the dressing table, again.
Khushi opened the Maybelline box, the array of cosmetics underneath sucking out nothing but blankness out of her. She had seen the box everyday for the past month, used it everyday just before she went to the bed, with him, as he always wanted her decked up like the first night. She had used it again before she was needed to be decked up for two times, each for two different occasions, the only two times she went outside the room. She traced it, and picked up the brush.
Tonight would be different, she thought. Tonight would be her last night as Khushi Kumari Jha.
...
Khushi stood in front of the French windows, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched Ramdin kaka work in the garden, the beads of sweat forming near his forehead and washing down him. She wanted to give the old man a glass of water, maybe with some salt, but her husband had strictly told her not to step outside the room until he came. She watched as the car stopped outside big heavy metal gates, her husband stepping outside with his manager, a young man in his twenties. He looked up at her, Khushi bit her lip and gave a small smile out of courtesy. The man smiled back too, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Suddenly Shyam snapped up, and following his gaze watched his wife stand there.
He thrust the file to the man and told something to him, and entered the gates. Khushi smoothed her sari and combed her fingers through her long hair, when she looked up to see him standing in front of her. She smiled upto him, she had hardly seen him in the ten days since their marriage, and held her roughly and dragged her to the room.
"Is that what you were taught? To smile at strangers in front of your husband? Don't you have any manners?" he growled, his fingers holding her so tightly that she almost teared up. "I was just.."
"Trying to impress him. Huh?" he pulled her close, binding her within his arms , "What do you think he was doing? Smiling at you? " he squeezed her shoulders and pushed her roughly. "From today," he stopped, combing his fingers through his hairs, "you are not going to step outside the room, am I clear?"
...
Khushi looked at herself, and smiled despite the situation. Tonight, then.
CID
Music Corner
270