Raghav
I glance at my watch and wait for the clock to strike at 7.30. I have been doing this for the past 25 days. This girl, Pallavi, is my best friend Neil's little sister. I remember her when she was young. I used to come to play with Neil when we were kids. But after my parents shifted abroad, I lost touch with my best friend. But when I came back, I only met Neil. He never talked about his sister. Nobody talked about her as if she never existed. I meant to ask him many times, but all my attempts of making the query were swept over by another part of the conversation. Soon I realized it was his conscious attempt rather than an unconscious one. The big confrontation happened at a family dinner. I still remember his blank face when he parted with the information. His voice was raspy and weak as if words were being choked out of him. His sister was abducted and possibly sold off in a sex market. The authorities could not do anything.
Sometimes I sat and imagined in vein the life she lead, and where she was. What was she doing and shivered for that was the only thing I could do.
Three years. Sometimes I wondered how long three years were. For me, three years went by in a blink. I was abroad, pursuing my degree, full of ambition. But for her? it was three decades or even longer than that. How do you measure how long a limited period feels? That's how long she was tortured as a sex slave. An innocent face from my childhood days.
I still remember the day when she came back home. She spoke nothing at all. Neil cried like a baby holding her in his arms. A few days before she arrived, he got a call from the police station. Neil called me immediately afterwards. "The police called. They think they found her, unconscious in a street of Dubai." Neil was apprehensive. These types of calls came often claiming they had found his sister, rising their hopes up. But it was always someone else. Neil told me once, we were drunk of course, that he promised he would not get too hopeful when or if the next phone call came, for that meant another heartbreak. It was losing his sister all over again.]
Apparently, the cops took her to the hospital for treatment. The other two men, who were related to that dirty business, died on the spot when their car collided with a truck. That night they were taking Pallavi to her prospective owner. Pallavi survived minor injuries because she was sitting in the middle. After a few days, he got her back in the house. She couldn't come home immediately as there were verifications to be done, lawyers with whom they had to run back and forth from police station to court.
But seeing her like this, quiet, aloof, is equivalent to seeing a dead woman. The problem wasn't her. The problem lay with us. We all expected too much from her. We expected her to be the kid we knew from our childhood, not the person she had become. And when she was quiet, we waited for her to explode, but nothing came but a whimper.
Every morning she came and sat beside the poolside and stared at the water. Her eyes remained blank. Today was no different.
And I, as usual, sat by the window to look at her. She knew it. There are times when her eyes meet mine. Her expressions were blank; she has never shown interest or spoken with me or, for that matter, anyone else.
Around her, I felt non-existent. I felt out of depth in Infront of the magnitude of her pain.
I did not understand the extent of her pain. It was immense. But I know the more she hides, the worst it will become for her. She is one of the strong women I have ever come across. She is a strong woman after what she had to endure.
I want to bring her life back. I want her to talk to me, share her pain, and share ugly moments so that I can help her heal. But I don't know whether she wants the same or not. But I vow to try. And with that determination, I slide open the door and walk towards her.
I could see that sensing me, her shoulders became stiff. I smiled a little. "So she isn't that oblivious of my presence", I mutter to myself.
As I reduced the distance between us, I became more determined.
"If you don't mind, can I join you?" I ask her standing right beside her. I can see the top of her soft and silky hair. I want to run my fingers between them and ease away all the pain her pain.
There was no reaction from her. She didn't even blink her eyes.
I cleared my throat and pulled a stool beside her lounge chair. She took her cup and sipped her morning coffee. She prefered her coffee black and strong. But every time that liquid touched her throat, she pinched her face. Probably she doesn't like that bitterness.
"Why do you have your coffee black when you don't even like bitter stuff ?"
She remained quiet and took a few more sips.
"I am Raghav, your brother's best friend."
I hope she shows some sign of recognition, but she doesn't.
"I remember you as a baby, you know. I used to come to play with your brother and, you always wanted to play with us. You used to have two piggy tails, and your brother used to pull them to irritate you. It was me who used to stop your brother from doing so. I used to follow you to your room. Seeing me there, you used to wipe away your tears, pretending to be strong when inside you were hurting like hell. Is that what you are trying to do now, Pallavi? Is this pretend, this stony facade you have built to show it to the world that you are not affected, that you are strong?" Damn it, she still didn't flinch. I desperately want her attention. "Trust me when I say that you are failing miserably. Everyone can understand the pain you are going through".
Still, there was no reaction.
"Pallavi, talk to me. What is going on in your head? Tell me? I know there are certain things you cannot share with your brother because he is your brother. But you can share it with some outsider. For God's sake, I hope someday you can heal. It is going to be tough, I know. Your brother will protect you this time. Talk to us. We will try to help you". I tried to be convincing.
"Why?"
My head snapped up as the first word fell out of her mouth.
"Why would you protect me?"
I am speechless. For the first time in my life, I am dumb folded. After 25 days, she spoke. This is the first step I know, and if I go on like this, then one day she will give in and open her heart out and then I will be there for her to take all the weight she has been carrying for the past three years.
"Do you want to get inside my pants, mister?"
Before I could formulate her blunt words, she splashed the hot coffee on my chest. It burned my skin instantly made me hiss in pain.
"Keep your hands off me, mister. I know what you are up to. I don't want sympathy...I don't want any friends...you have the gall to talk about how hurt I am? The demo that I gave you right now is nothing compared to the burn I felt when those filthy men. They burned every part of my body with their filthy hands. Don't even pretend that you know what I have gone through because you don't know what they have done to me. And I am not naive. I am aware of your intentions. Every man in this world is the same, and you are no different. You all want only one thing, and that is to satisfy your needs. So stop beating around the bush. If you want me, then tell me on my face instead of trying to sweet talk with me". She stood up, and all I could do was the hiss in pain. She narrowed her eyes and leaned towards me. She was wearing a deep neck top. I exactly knew what she intended to show me. Somewhere in her mind, she was comparing me with those men she had been with all these years. But I was hell bend on proving it otherwise.
"I don't want you like that," I told her looking straight into her eyes. "I want to make friends with you, talk to you, understand you...help you."
Then she sneered...it was an ugly laugh, a mocking one...no a painful one.
"Of course, you don't want me. Who would want to want a girl who has been with... I don't know...," she thought for a moment, counted something and shrugged, "more than 50 men,"
I immediately regretted what I said. I didn't mean to come out like that. I want her. I definitely want to make love to her. To show her that what she has gone through isn't the only way it is done. There can be lots of emotions involved when two souls meet.
"You are a sophisticated man Raghav, and you want your girl to be one man woman, not some whore like me. When you make love to her, you want to feel special and cherished, not a tunnel full of darkness and filthy scraps. So stop acting nice to me. Neither I want to share my story with you, nor do I want you."
With that, she glanced at my chest. "You wanted to have a little taste of my life? Here you are feeling the first burn of it. Get out of my face else I will burn you to death very slowly.
She turned to go when I stopped her by standing up, "Burn me as much as you want."
Beta Read by Sonatia.
I honestly cannot thank you enough for taking out time and putting so much hard work into beta reading this whole chapter. Thank you for teaching me in detail and for your honest opinion on my writing. I hope I can incorporate all those points that you have mentioned in my next chapter.
Kabhi Neem Neem Kabhi Shahad Shahad
