Note: I'm not sure if I want to continue this or not. I might. Maybe. It's a different take on what could have happened after Rudra takes Paro to the BSD, right after he kills her husband.
The room was dark, with a single, incandescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling underneath a sharp, metallic cover. The light was glaring against the steely walls, painted an ugly gray, the imposing color of a prison. After all, it was a prison- it just had a different name.
She turned towards the mirror, watching as the light reflected off of it. There was only a barred window, a tiny rectangle placed high up on the walls, allowing a strand of sunlight to stream in.
She felt like she was being suffocated inside this box, thrown in here in her dirty, hot bridal gown. The jewelry slipped against her forehead, slicked in sweat from the heat of the sun beating down outside. Her ears hurt with the heavy earrings, pulling on her lobes as they swayed back and forth uneasily whenever she moved her head.
Her hair was a mess, strands coming loose from the once elaborate braid it had been in. The makeup was melting, creating a murky mess on her face as her meticulously applied kajal smudged, making her eyes look even more devastated. She stared down at the mehendi on her hands, too lightly colored for a bride, the single circle in the middle almost gone.
The click of the door caused her to swing around in shock, the harsh sound resonating darkly against the weighed silence. Standing in the doorway, in full uniform, was the man who had killed her husband.
She recognized him, of course. He had saved her life at one point, saved her from sure humiliation at the hands of a few, vile men who were intent on taking her. She had felt a pull towards him then too. Even for a village girl like her, it was not hard to see that he was attractive.
His eyes were piercing, fixing her in her spot. They were not a dark brown like most Indian men, but had a lighter shade. If they weren't bubbling over with hate, she would have been mesmerized. His mouth was twisted into a cruel smirk, contorting the well-trimmed mustache. His dark green uniform clung to him like a second skin, the silver of the large rectangle on his belt reflecting out at her, forcing her to squint.
The sharp sounds of his army boots echoed in the room as he walked towards her, backing her up against the wall and placing his hands on either side of her. She swallowed thickly, her blood pumping through her veins as fear invaded her system. She was uncomfortable under his angry eyes, the fear replacing the deep sorrow she was feeling at the loss of her life partner.
She closed her eyes, attempting to recall his face. What did he even look like? She barely knew, only recalled his sweet words and promises of a large house. He would have taken care of her, wouldn't he? She could hear his mellow voice in her head, caressing her and flowing over her. Her necklaces felt heavy, too heavy. Her throat clogged up.
This man had taken away her life before it had started. The hate for him overpowered the deep pull in her stomach, and she reached out with her hands and gave him a sharp shove, pushing him away with as much force as she could muster.
He stumbled back, clearly not anticipating an attack from the seemingly defenseless girl standing in the middle of the room, underneath the harsh spotlight.
"You killed him." Her voice trembled as she spoke, her entire, fragile frame shivering in disgust as she threw the words at him.
"You killed him. You killed my husband. You ended my life before it started. And you have the audacity to show up here? Get out! I don't want to see you!" Her voice was shrill, bouncing off the cold walls and piercing the air unpleasantly.
He reached out and swung her around, pressing her up against the mirror as he twisted her wrists tightly. She struggled in his grasp, refusing to look at him as she kicked and fought, the sounds of her tinkling jewelry mingling with their heavy breathing.
He grasped her wrists in a single, large palm, pressing tightly so as to leave a bruise for her impudence. With his other hand, he cupped her chin harshly, turning her face up towards his and forcing her to look at him.
"I killed your husband. I killed your husband, and you're mad at me for that? You lost one man. I- I lost my entire team. Mothers lost their sons, and they may not even get credit for it because there's no proof. Your husband was in with Thakur, wasn't he? He was helping smuggling. The man that you married is a liar, a traitor- and so are you."
Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he almost believed the shock and horror in them. It was as if she didn't know. But she had to. She was married to the man, wasn't she?
"What? No! You're wrong! Raja is a good man. He's helped so many girls, helped arrange their weddings, made our village prosperous again. It's you who is a traitor!"
Her words had a powerful impact, and his eyes hardened in fury as he thrust her against the wall sharply. She wailed at the impact, her face contorting in pain as the cold concrete dug into her tender skin, his fingers bruising and angry.
"I am not a traitor."
The statement was said in a whisper, but to her, it sounded like a roar. His breath fanned over her face as he pressed himself closer. She could practically count the hairs in his mustache, feel it brush against her skin. She could feel him heaving against her, his breathing labored with the pain she had inflicted on him by accusing him of treason.
The click of the door interrupted the two people in the interrogation room, and a man stepped in, beckoning to the jallad in front of her. He stepped back, away from her, and she shivered as a cold draft hit her.
Her head pounded as the jallad stepped out of the room with the younger man, the one with the kind face and gentle eyes, allowing the door to swing shut. Why hadn't the nice one interrogated her instead? She would have been more comfortable, more accepting. He hadn't killed her husband, made her into a widow.
The reopening of the door startled her, and she turned to see the two men standing in the doorway once more. His eyes were still hard and piercing, forcing her to look away.
"You can go."
She whipped back, shocked. She hadn't expected him to let her go so easily.
"We have enough reason to believe you're not involved. We'll arrange for you to get home."
He left with that statement, allowing her to sink into her thoughts. Her heart felt lighter, a little less upset. She was going home, going home to her family. They would understand.
As she was leaving, she could feel his eyes on her back, assuaging her as she walked away with the kind man. He strode up to them, walking quickly and talking to the kind man with a commanding tone. She tuned them out, taking pleasure in the small joy of getting to go back to her home, to the people she loved.
"You may not see it now, but someday you'll understand. The life you're living is a lie, a carefully crafted mirage. Once it shatters, you will come to me."
His voice was grating, an air of repressed confidence in his tone as he looked at her. She shuddered, discomfort tainting the happiness she had felt just moments before.
He was wrong. He had to be.
Book Talk
Anupamaa
Vasudha
