Sacrifice

By Nitesh Shelar

“Auto Auto!”

Panting, she kept shouting for an Auto. People were much more interested in looking at her than to come help her reach, one guy came. A total rowdy.

Being 11 in the morning Mira Bhayandar was quite in rush to go for an auto, but she had no choice. Train stations in Mumbai are not less than a battlefield, everyday someone dies but life goes on.

“Yes Memsaab where do you want to go?”

“Golden nest complex Balaji hospital, please hurry!”

The Auto guy being utter rowdy had no sense to talk to a woman. In Mumbai where minds already have assumed the notion of gender equality but the mediocre illiterates fail to understand , for them it still is a male dominated world. The Auto driver looked at her and she couldn’t take it more.

“Bhaiya pls hurry.”

“OK Memsaab!”

He hurled through the traffic like the Basanti and Dhanno. Dancing on the streets, hitting bulls eye on every small pot hole.

What a schumk he must be having pervert eyes just to see a woman's assets shake.

Lata couldn't take it more but neither she could fight out of it. Reaching her destination was more important than those pervy eyes that raped her body.

He bounced through every possible pot hole and bumped on every speed breaker.

Lata couldn't save any shame..

The time kept ticking, bloody watch nothing but a time bomb. She got her cell out to call Aishwarya, her youngest daughter.

“Beta where are you?”

“Mama why are you in such a hurry, where are you going? Is everything ok?”

“Yes Aishu beta everything is fine!

Where are you?”

“Mama I’m in the train, will reach in another fifteen minutes.”

“Listen beta , I have forgotten to collect chicken from the market, please get some on your way back. Okay?”

“Okay mama!”

She knew she made that up.

“Memsaab your stop.”

She just ran her hands through the bag and gave a hundred to him. As she started hurrying to the apartment, he said – “Memsaab this is more.”

“Never mind keep the change she shouted without even looking back at him.”

Oh my God! Please help me, Lata prayed as she walked through the staircase as the lifts were out of order. Another example of life being harsh when there's a tornado already in our meadows. Her foot slapped the stairs every time, the chappals were uncomfortable now. She crossed two floors and only one floor was remaining and her asthma triggered! Things were going really fast in the moment and she lost her poise, landed on the ground but there was no one to see that. She quickly drew the inhaler and took a quick shot, she got her breathe back. Looking here and there whether Mrs. D’souza, her neighbour were out as she usually is at this time. But thank god she wasn't. Just as she reached the door and before she could ring the bell, the door opened.

Time froze and nothing could remain unseen.

She was shattered, her voice disappearing, tears had to come out and there was no stopping them.

In utter spite Lata shouted -

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”

Lata’s hand flew past her cheek putting her down to the ground.

Her cheek red and sore but the anger kept burning in her eyes as she saw a young woman making her way out of her home without her knowledge.

She knew what was all this.

Chetan quickly pulled her hand and got her inside the flat.

“Listen Lata don't overreact”

Chetan’s voice was far from being guilty. In fact it marked his male chauvenism.

She looked at Chetan furiously-

“ You lying son of a bitch.”

She ran to him and gave him slap much deserved. Blood drip as the slap broke his lip corner, savouring his own taste of blood and the rage of a timid house wife. He let all the hell break lose on her.

Chetan was 6.2ft and heavily built,while Lata was fragile and 5.6ft. He held Lata by her throat, choking her –

“You bitch, you are out of the house all the time.”

Lata’s voice squeaked as he kept choking her, her eyes rolled up.

Chetan continued – “What am I supposed to do then? Every man has his needs and a good house wife should satisfy them. But you don’t. So what's wrong if I do it myself?”

Lata pressed her nails on his foreman as he still had not let lose of her. The nails were sharp and quickly drew blood out putting the pain inside, this pain drove the monster more mad.

“You should be taught a lesson too.”

Choking her neck still his left hand picked her up, he took her to the kitchen and tied her mouth with a vessel cleaning cloth.

He put her on the table and could see her eyes begging mercy cause they both knew what was about to happen.

He smiled devilishly like a vulture waiting for the corpse and pulled her Saree up. Lata tried pushing him and getting out but all her efforts were in vain. He hit her so hard on her head that she almost passed out, then he went inside her and the pain wouldn't let her be unconscious. Her eyes didn't beg for mercy then it begged death. Yes, she just wanted to die.

“This is what you get for the slap, disrespecting your own husband, take this bitch! Yes Right . Aahhh.”

There were no words that could do justice to her. With every stroke she suffered a humiliating death. He then slammed her privates to the wall, squeezed her, it was all horrifying, It was utter insult of humanity. There was nothing but pain. Lastly he then lifted her up and threw her across the room saying- “ you better be lying in a corner, or else I shall rape you again.”

Chetan had no shame that he had raped his own wife. Because this wasn't the first time. She was nothing but a sex toy to him, and now the toy was broken.

He left her bleeding on the floor. He took his bag and went out, just as his promised schedule. Something that Chetan was particular about every time. ‘Time’ that was the reason he was caught. Hadn't Lata come early than she wouldn't have seen the true face of Chetan. And now that she had, she just wished she was dead.

She laid devastated on the floor in the kitchen, in the same corner where it was littered. Pain had to question her body so as to from where it should arise, she was awfully bruised and beaten. But more than that she had died one more time, she couldn't reckon the numerous deaths she had. Lata held her hands to her face and broke the clouds of tears, there was no stopping them. She cried not because she was raped but she could do nothing about it, she kept crying in utter dismay.

“No, this has to stop today and it will!”

Lata stood up, a total mess. She went for a shower and noticed herself bruised, her breasts had turned red and blue. Her waist had a skin deep cut and was bleeding when she got thrown to the other side of kitchen.

But now she didn't cry, her eyes were revengeful and the agony had turned her into a monster.

She got ready and left, then she came back again as she forgot something.

She went into the kitchen, her eyes fixed on it, she picked the biggest and sharpest one. A knife. Holding it in her hand she said it has to end today.

She then went out, got an auto and said-

“Bhaiya starbucks Kandivali.”

The auto guy looked at her in sheer amazement because he knew it would be a long road.

Lata sternly said, common start moving, her voice was more of dominating now. She was furious and all that could calm her were the thoughts of her daughters Rama and Aishwarya. But this time it was way above her head. What impressions would it make on the minds of her little angels. She feared the same fate for them and so now is the only time she could do something about it. Memories paved their roads to Lata’s mind, from being such a happy family to one that didn't even existed anymore. The raping scenes were not known to the girls. Tears again started flowing, but now she didn't cry much. Almost half and hour rushing through the empty road, she finally had reached to the destination. She handed him a five hundred and told him to keep the change. It was 2.15 pm, she knew Chetan would be there till 2.45 as his everyday schedule was the same. She went in, dressed in full salvar kameez with big round goggles to hide her bruised eye and a scraf covering her head fully. She saw Chetan sitting at the corner table at the right side of the counter near the window as he always sat there, coffee newspaper and open sky was all he needed.

Lata just palpated over her hand bag again to check if the knife was still there, she felt the sharp rim of it and was confident.

She approached to the table, Chetan was busy reading and he didn't see her coming. She reached near the table and as soon as she pulled the chair Chetan slid down his paper for moment. When he saw her, he was amazed, but he smiled. Dominance sparkled on his face, feeling proud of what he did to her just a few hours ago and he didn't hesitate to talk to her.

“Lata coffee?”

Lata just nodded.

“Excuse me, a cappuccino and an espresso.” He ordered.

Chetan again began reading his paper, then the order was served.

He then looked at Lata, she removed her purple scraf and put it on the table. As Chetan again got busy reading his paper, Lata knew that this was the perfect timing because there were hardly any people in there that time. The way silence piled up, bet it was uncanny. She took out the knife and slowly slid it under her scarf and started sipping her coffee, looking at Chetan lost in reading she decided to make the move. Within a flash, memories struck her hard. She took the knife beneath the table and held the brown handle as tight as she could, the knife was sharp enough to easily cut through flesh. Holding the knife with her right hand, she sipped the coffee. She could see her reflection in it, perhaps the last one. At that very moment she saw her daughter’s faces in that reflection of her, she sipped on one and closed her eyes. Her right hand as if guided by some unknown forces swiftly made it’s way to her own belly. She took a huge gasp, big enough to divert Chetan to look at her. She then just smiled as if nothing happened and he smiled in return. She could feel the blood gushin out, the inch blade had fully made its way into her intestine. Slowly she drew out the knife and kept the coffee mug down. Barely keeping her composure she cleansed her fingerprints from the knife with the scraf.

She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf.

Lata knew it just a couple of minutes away from her last breathes. The blood kept gushing out but no one could see it because there was no one around.

“The perfect time!”- she whispered.

It was time and the police rushed in through the doors. Seeing this Lata fell from her chair, Chetan put down his paper to look at Lata and he found her bleeding on the floor, he froze. Being oblivious his hand fell on the knife full of blood stains. He didn't know how to react. Lata looked at him and smiled because she knew it was over. She knew HE WAS OVER! The police ran to the table. And Lata took her last breath. Now chetan knew what was all this, a perfect plot. Every dice was played against him, he was handcuffed and was forced out. Chetan looked at Lata’s face one last time and her face still had that smile. A smile that portrayed freedom as well as justice, a smile that ensured that her daughters will not face the same day again. Lata could have killed him to show she was powerful but she chose to die because she had enough of it and she knew that killing someone would haunt her for the rest of her life so instead she let herself down. She was not a coward because cowards don't have the gut to push a blade to their stomach and still keep their composure. Her sacrifice was for her daughters.

“You have to sacrifice for what you love otherwise what you love becomes the sacrifice.”

By Nitesh Shelar