Winner of Wattpad India Awards 2020 (Judge's Choice) in the New Adult category.
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"The lights are cheeky, you can't live without them, and yet if you get too close, they'll blind you. Darkness? Well it doesn't cheat. It's cool and soothing. It's r...
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Blue dots were flashing again, against a background of black. Or maybe the dots were black and the background blue. Either way, she hated them. She hated that they made her head pound. She hated that even when her eyes were shut, the dots continued to blink beneath her lids.
Her neck hurt too, but it was becoming easier to breathe again. All Madhu had to do now was to wait for the dots to disappear.
They faded eventually, and once she focused on the ceiling, the lone bulb stopped swinging like a pendulum. A muted whimper reminded Madhu of Champa, and in spite of her current predicament, she felt the knots in her chest loosen and a chuckle escape her.
All I wanted was some time off from work.
Spots on the sides of her throat stung when she tried to move her head, stretching the crescent cuts Vishal's nails had left on her skin. Her smile dropped at the sight of Champa's injury.
Madhu half crawled, half dragged herself to clasp her bony hand. The two women sat next to each other, holding on to each other, trying to recover from what had happened.
"It's not just about that goat is it?"
"It was never about that goat," Champa said, her voice cracking. "It was always about the carelessness and selfishness of Kamal's father."
"Did he get himself on the wrong side of the Brigesh babu?"
Tears rolled down her face, the moisture getting lost in the dried blood of her gash. Madhu felt Champa squeeze her fingers, yet another silent gesture of her misery. Now that she thought about it, Madhu had never seen her being expressive about her woes, not in a way she would consider normal. It was always a quiet step back, or a meek avoidance of her gaze.
Back in Delhi she was surrounded by people trying to get the best possible treatment for themselves. From hiring expensive lawyers to filing indignant complaints against her staff of housekeepers, they knew their rights. Here in Bhabra, justice was simply too expensive.
"He just needed thirty thousand. That was enough to go to the city, to find a job and pay them back. But he stopped sending money after six months," replied Champa after a while, sounding less shaky. "It's been seven years since I've seen him, don't even remember what he looks like. And since then the only thing I've been married to is his debt."
Thirty thousand? Madhu had spent ten times that amount on the chandelier in the lobby of Jasm Inn, she had spent even more on a pretty-faced actor to come and entertain her guests at its opening gala. The duty of giving back to the society was fulfilled by signing large cheques to random charities every month. And yet this woman next to her had been tormented over such an insignificant amount for over half a decade, tortured to pay for the sins of her husband who didn't think twice before abandoning her.
Madhulika had been raised equal to the men in her life. But today, temporarily stripped off the immediate security of her deep pockets, she had experienced a taste of the horrors that came tied to her fragile gender. What then, would Champa go through every day? Knowing that her freedom depended on the men in her life allowing her to be equal? Which they didn't, and thus she wasn't free. The laws were as meaningless as her marriage.
