Recaptured cattle

By Haritha T Chandran

Browbeaten and profusely skimmed cattle once in a while makes a run for it in hope of finding meadows of profound freedom. They wait in anticipation of oversight of rancher and when the moment arrives, sprint onward perplexed of which way to take. World mushrooming around her to horizons in each side, play tricks in her head, dampen her advances, and tire her till she halts in exhaustion. In this moment of weakness, the rancher recaptures her and brings her back to the shed and her brief adventure comes to an end. Her momentary cunning and her long waiting for the escapade do nothing but expedite her recapture.

Haven't it for the absence of the nose ring and the rope, Riya could easily pass for an unfortunate cattle. She was found at the dirty old bus stand in the city, her escape at an impasse due to lack of proper planning. Her lover was getting slightly irritated at their idiocy. She didn't need to guess how they found her. Walls and the very air around the city spied at the whiff of girls like her, her cheap mascara running rivulets of black streams in her cheeks, curls colored honey gold flying in the air, tee-shirt she bought from vendors carpeting the roadsides for two hundred rupees with a bit of luck and haggling clinging tight to her bosoms in the April heat. She stood up like an elephant at Pooram (a local festivity in Malabar) in this crowd. She was meant to be eyed, probed, and found by the eyes of men that incessantly followed her around. Riya should have known better, she should have known she stood no chance.

Her rescue mission consist of four men, her father, uncle, a distant relative she called Chacchan, and a middle-aged man she barely knew of. Her lover was beaten abundantly before disposing at the site of her capture. She could make out a black eye and could tell the ramification involved a Brocken rib. Riya stared at her rescue mission team in the home of clemency, and none was given. Something in the way her lover shoot a sharp eye at her when they were leaving told her she will not be seeing him again in the near future. Something told her that it could matter very little to the course of her life because more calamities were in store for her.

The rescue team and the reclaimed traveled back home in an immaculate white Innova car. Her parents do not own any vehicles. She assumed by the look of the men around her, the car probably belong to the man whose relation to her and her parents, she doesn't know.

Her father was sitting in the front seat and had refused to look her in the eye so far. His hands were reverberating as if it's itching for a thrashing. But Riya knew she was safe from all physical altercation till she reach home. The presence of the strange man was in a way a boon to her. She was also very well aware that this is not going to save her for long. Her father's body was dissipating copious amounts of heat around them. She could sense it's his anger silently dispersing into the air. But he was not the only one sweating. Everybody inside the car was sweating gallons of water from their body. The turned-on ac had very little effect in the April sun. But she could tell her father was brimming with anger. She slowly tabulated the reasons he is angry.

1) She ran away with a busboy she met on the internet ( Her father hates romantic relationships and specially eloping) and brought shame to her family

2) She was wearing make-up that her father really despise.

3) she had no shawl on her neck which was strictly prohibited even inside the house by her father.

4) She involved her little sister in her even worse expenditure, teaching her sister waywardness, and also by running away, she tainted the good name of the family which could affect her sister's future. (Who is going to marry a girl whose sister ran away?)

The list grew longer as long as she thought about it. She knew better. It's better not to think about it. Maybe back home, she would be thrashed with her father's belt, maybe she would be left starving, maybe her phone will be taken away from her. It's not like that's not been done before. But what troubled her more is the impossibility of vindication for her in the eyes of people around her. The very thought caused tremors that threatened to cause nausea in her body. She remembered the shine in the eyes of onlookers at the bus stop when she was captured. The mob grew restless with the elation of finding bait for their pecking. There is something erogenous about finding others in disgrace. She had felt that in moments she was the fortunate observer and another unfortunate had a day of bad luck. She could tell the story of she transgression would travel the society like wildfire and burn her down with it. For years now, gossiping women would mutter behind her back of her fallen virtues. There is no escape from it, she was to be burned alive, she could tell.

Chacchan, whose relation to her was a mystery to her turned around and gave a kind smile to her. But instead of mitigating her anguish, the smile had her mind burn a little more. Chacchan's words and smile always left her frail and weak in her knees. Though she acted as if she is undisturbed by his friendly advances, his sight had woken memories in her head she was trying to forget. In her juvenile years, Chacchan used to visit her home daily and gift her snacks with a coy smile. But while she devoured sweets, he would insist she sat on his laps and would fondle her in parts she was too shy to look at. She could feel fear shoot up in her collar bones. But surely Chacchan was being nice to her, how dirty her mind has to be to think bad, unruly things? But fear entrenched her every time she watched Chacchan enter the veranda of her house in the mid-noon summer heat. His body sprouting sweat every nook of his body, his eyes searching for her. By and by, she learned to avoid Chacchan. She couldn't tell why, but she knew she couldn't stand the glace that Chacchan threw at her. She winced every time she thought of the long tentacles of a hand that Chacchan processes. Surely he is being nice to her and just loves her!

Riya was woken from her thoughts when the stranger asked her if she want water. She politely declined even though she was extremely dehydrated and withering in the heat. During the one-hour journey so far, no one other than the stranger has offered had kind words. No one had bothered to look at her, except for the stranger. She could sense, her relatives were losing their composure out of their anger. She watched as they were slowly melting as if forming amorous blobs under the heat. Either that or they were heating up in anger. But the stranger carried a curious gait. He was neither angry nor disappointed. He was just amused. She remembered, there was something erogenous on watching others in their disgrace. Once the deed is done, he would go home and get to his spouse about how he caught a disgraceful girl who tried to elope with a busboy. What a fun story it would be!!

Her uncle was answering her relatives on the phone, grave disappointment visible in his tone. She and her uncle lived close by. He had a girl child who is only five years old. Devu was fun to play with. Devu loved Riya's company. But lately, the child had been refused to visit her and her daily life had turned drab. On one of the recent visits, Devu commented on her makeup and colored hair saying

"Ee! Chechi, why do you do this! My Achan says girls look pretty with long hair and shouldn't cut them like this. I think black color suited you better."

"Aye! Who told you this?"

"Achan did. Ammumma (grandmother) says so too. You should dress pretty as all other girls do. Amma told me to not learn things from you!"

The conversation had explained to her why the visits were not very frequent anymore. Maybe now that she was caught running away, she would see very little of the child.

The thought added more anguish to her body. Riya felt her body would burst with all the emotion that's been filling up in her for the last one hour. The last one hour had been torture. But it would be worse once she is home. She had to endure it. There is no escape.

As thoughts were sprinted in front of her mind's eye, the rescue mission team reached home. Riya was yanked outside and pushed into her room. She didn't resist a bit. She knew there was no point in doing so. Her phone was taken away and shattered into the floor. Within minutes, the door was shut. She sat still. More tribulations were on the way.

By Haritha T Chandran