She entered the house like a draught of cool breeze, pleasant and placating.
The night of revelry in the name of celebration was over, while the telltale signs were all over… the room. The humongous efforts she had made, from helping with preparing lip smacking choley, aromatic pulao, melt-in-the-mouth-dahivada, creamy kheer for an entire army; to the intricate rangoli, decorating the Puja altar, to lining up the diyas, just so that her Madam would not be hassled, seemed to have been successfully achieved,if the chaos was could be considered any measure.
The house was in a posh locality of south Delhi. From the tall marble foyer to the luxurious, sink-in sofas, from the glossy green money plants to the huge tastefully painted canvasses in gilded frames, bespoke – wealth. Lakshmiji did not visit them just on Diwali, but She was always popping in.
She tucked in her saree pallu and began clearing the mess.
Humming to herself, she went to the kitchen to get the breakfast going. Everyone was at home that morning, so she would make their favourite, stuffed parathas– Aloo and gobi for the adults, Cheese ones for the kids. A hot breakfast on a cool morning did wonders for one’s health and mood.
She went to check in on ‘Bitiya’ and was surprised to see her Madam, Riya curled up alongside.
Quietly she exited, not wanting to feel like an intruder. That’s when she heard noises from the master bedroom. What was the master of the house saying? And the tinkling laughter? Was someone else,in there?
Reminding herself to mind her own business, she went on to make the breakfast. But her mind on its own drifted off to her own home, the previous night. When she had rushed through all the Diwali preparation, she had called out to her husband for the Puja. On getting no reply she went to call him, if required drag him too. But, as usual he was lying on the floor, in a drunken stupor. Rage rose in her like a coiled serpent unleashed, when it hears the snake charmer, ready to attack. She shook him harshly,
“Get up! What are you doing on Diwali night?” rage oozing through her every pore. The scoundrel had not earned a rupee in the last god-knows how many years but did not shy away from stealing her hard earned money and wagered it on gambling and country liquor.
Roused from his inebriated state, he started beating her. Though he could not stand steady, he landed blows and kicks wherever he could.
“Look at you,on Diwali night, is this the time to come home? Will Devi Lakshmi wait for you?” he slurred, as she stifled her sobs and did her best to back away.
He fell back. And hit his head on the bed as he landed on the ground, with a loud thud. Knocked out! When will anyone be able to knock some sense in him?
Wiping her tears, she sat in the Puja corner and beseeched the Goddess, “When will you put an end to all this Devi? You are watching everything and yet remain silent.” She sat there for a long time, looking at the goddess, looking for answers.
The silence was heavy as it shrouded the kitchen, bereft of the humming. Riya came in to the kitchen looking for a cup of hot coffee, to begin the day and chase away her blues.
“Lakshmi, how are you this morning? Did you get enough time to celebrate with your family?” she asked as she knotted her hair piled up high.
She looked at Riya and said, “I managed Madam. And you? Hope the Puja and the party went off well.”
“Yes, everybody loved the mind blowing choley you made,” smiled Riya.
Lakshmi, looked at her mistress, pretty at thirty or forty,or whatever her age was. Only thing was that her beautiful, alabaster white skin being delicate, was a tattler. If pressed too hard or caught between hurting fingers, it would turn blue and purple before one could call out loud. Her large,almond shaped eyes were mesmerizing. The deep pools, many an admirer would like to get lost in.
But in her sleeveless nightie, one could see purple weals on her fair arms, and a gentle bump near her temple.
No one ever heard her cry, cause all she would do was throw her head back and laugh, drowning her sorrow, throttling it as if physically murdering it. A beautiful tinkling laughter, that would drive her narcissistic husband mad, desperate to hurt her and let her know who the master was.
Lakshmi quickly made a hot cup of the brew that calmed Riya, that she consumed through the day. She sat her down at the table in the opulent room, filled with crystal and gold curios, vases, fittings and large gilded mirrors.
As she placed the cup, Riya held her hand. Both had identical marks on their forearm, as if someone strong had gripped it hard and caused a lot of pain. Such pain, that it seared through the arm, the torso and through the mind. A pain a woman desperately tried to hide, for that is how she was brought up and conditioned. ‘Don’t cry! Everything will become all right!”
Riya’s beautiful eyes peered into Lakshmi’s swollen ones, that had cried themselves to sleep.
“No Devi is coming for us, we have to take care of everything ourselves. Let’s go”, she said.
“Where?”
“To the police station, to lodge FIRs for you and me.”
Lakshmi’s eyes slowly filled with emotions that were hard to contain as they brimmed up and ultimately overflowed. The dam which had been finally breached, would not stop.
Riya, hugged her gently and rocked her, to comfort her.
One was just named Lakshmi, but the other became Durga!
–Anamika Kundu
