That One Monsoon Night

By Debayani Sengupta

Tying my frizzy hair up in a bun, I sway to the music blasting from the radio while stirring two cups of hot coffee. The heavy rain is soaking up the street outside and creating patterns on the glass as the drops trickle down the window.

The first rain of monsoon.The blissful thought of watching the drizzle outside while sipping on a cup of sweet, frothy coffee filled me with a sense of warmth I couldn't decipher.

The sudden growl of the giant, vicious hound living next door startles me, followed by it's uninterrupted loud barks that resonate through the neighbourhood for quite some time. And then I hear her screaming...

I jolt awake to the sound of the pattering raindrops against the window pane, paired with muffled sobs. My heart drops to the very bottom of my stomach.

The first rain of monsoon.

I should've seen it coming... The clouds, the dark clouds that concealed the blue evening sky... I should've known. I sit up straight and quickly engulf in my arms the crouched figure beside me on the bed, cheeks damp and fingers digging into her own skin. I hold her tight, rocking her back and forth to seize her shivering. The sobs slowly turn into heavy pants, then into tiny hiccups. Her still trembling hands squeeze me back with such force, begging me not to let her go.

"Please... make it stop. Please"

My sister Anya's bloodshot, beseeching eyes stare back at me.

"It's okay, I'm here. It's alright", I whisper sincerely, stroking her tousled hair and placing a gentle kiss on her scarred forehead.

Anya, she has always loved me and I have always been the one she could confide in. All the beautiful moments we spent as children together, all the times she tended to my needs and put up with my childish fits, prove nothing but the pure love she has for me. I too, love her with all my heart and she knows that.

She knows how much I looked upto her as she once was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes on.She knows I will always be by her side no matter what.

But... there are things she doesn't know.

She has no idea how jealous her breathtaking beauty made me feel, how crushing it was to see everyone around us, always so joyful and mesmerised by her presence alone. She was the pretty sister, and I, the plain one. Always shoved to the corner, ignored and unattended.

She has no idea that just a year ago, I, the sister she would anytime give her life up for, silently watched from the window as our neighbour's dog, who for some reason wasn't chained up that night, dragged her down the filthy, wet street and mutilated her face and body while she screamed in agony.

She has no idea that I stayed rooted on my spot even when the shock of the attack threw her maimed, bleeding frame into a fit of convulsions as the sky showered onto it and washed down the gore.

To this day, I'm clueless as to what took over me that one monsoon night. Sometimes I wonder, if it was just the icy, cruel side of me that was looking for an opportunity to surface. Will I ever know?

Anya doesn't have a face anymore as most of it had been torn away. Her torso is decorated with scars big and small. Sometimes, I walk in on her standing naked in front of the mirror, her hollow eyes studying the pits on her face and fingers ghosting over the healed wounds that adorn her chest and shoulders.

Everytime my eyes well up and everytime I look away.

On a good note, I feel seen now. People who once were enchanted by her beauty now fear to glance her way. They look and smile at me instead.

I'm not a ghost they look right through anymore. I don't go unnoticed anymore.

But... can this attention ever suppress the guilt that claws at my conscience every second of my life?

I don't know. I'm waiting to find out.

For now, the monsoon is here and I know our nights will go sleepless as I will wake up to Anya's trembling form everynight and rock her back to sleep in my arms.

By Debayani Sengupta