Superman…
“ Mummaaaaaaaaaa !”
Ravi’s shrill voice rang through the house.” Mumma, see what I found! Mummaaaaa !” Anjali could no longer ignore the
insistence in his voice. Abandoning her tepid cup of tea, she trudged her way
to the room where her toddler lay playing on the ground. “ Mumma, Look at this,
just look !” Ravi held up a bright red silk scarf which he had found. “ And, what is so special about this scarf ?”
Anjali pursed her lips to control the giggle which was bubbling. She was not
able to match this scarf with the enthusiasm which shone out of her son’s eyes.
“ It’s the thing Superman ties around his neck !” Ravi stated this so matter of
factly, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. The giggles finally
burst out of Anjali.
“ Wear it mumma, tie
it around your neck!” The insistence full enthusiasm was slowly reaching a
fever pitch. “ Let me tie it around your
neck, sweetie pie” Anjali tried diverting.
“ Noooooo ! YOU wear
it. YOU are my superman !”
Mukul watched the mother and son enraptured in each other’s
company. His perfect little world , his perfect family. Having known Anjali
since their graduation days in DU, they had indeed come a long way. The furtive
glances exchanged in the lecture halls, had blossomed into holding hands and walking
the picturesque South Campus alleys. A quick stint in the US post his
graduation had ensured a fat paycheck and Anjali’s Parents’ consent to marriage
when he returned back to India. Anjali , having had no support for her airhostess
dreams, had settled as a manager for a leading jewellery chain in Delhi. Mukul
was like the wind beneath her wings, an escape route from the shackles of tradition
which her parents had bound her in.
Watching Anjali and Ravi play, had put Mukul in a good
mood. Maybe tonight Anjali……..
“It’s hurting !”
Anjali half squealed half cried. The incessant tickling had left her
breathless and a bundle of nerves. Mukul’s grip on her arms was too tight to
escape. A steady stream of tears had started flowing down her eyes. “ That’s
the fun baby !” Mukul’s reply filled her with a scary thrill. It was just the
second day of their honeymoon. She
didn’t know the limits to which her body could take this assault.
Did she like it? Yes. But the pain was tough to take. Mukul
had zoned out, lost in his world of passion. The raw energy flowing out of him
startled her. A long life of such carnal pleasure stretched out in front of
her. Did she like it ? Yes.
Each night the passion left Anjali breathless. Those
saccharine days of hand holding and whispering sweet nothings had given way to
hard raw sex. Mukul was both demanding and generous in bed. It was as if his
life revolved around thinking of newer ways in which to find pleasure. Anjali’s
mind was cottonwool . Her happiness was overshadowing the pricks of pain which
she felt.
With the passage of time , Mukul’s touch left the bed room
walls. It was now an all encompassing entity around Anjali. The sudden hug as
she worked in the kitchen left her breathless. The pulling back of her hair for
that fevered kiss, made her scalp prickle. The pinches were becoming hurtful.
As she sat sewing a button on Ravi’s new school uniform,
Mukul came and held her hand. “ You don’t have time for me at all. It’s either
your wretched work or Ravi. Where do I figure in your life?” Anjali was
surprised. “Why do you say so? Have I ever ignored or neglected you in any
way?” Mukul’s grip on her wrist was becoming harder and harder. “You are
hurting me , Mukul……” Anjali repeated what was now becoming a regular refrain.
“ You don’t care for me “ Mukul pouted as the wrist turned red with pressure.....
The hitting started when Ravi turned seven. In his mind
Mukul had built up a world where Anjali and Ravi were always conspiring against
him. He sat nursing his whiskey in silence. Anjali was putting Ravi to sleep.
The animated tones of the superhero tales, were wafting out of the
bedroom. He needed Anjali. It had been
days since her skin had turned vermilion under his hands. He wanted to see her
scream out in pain. The relief which followed later was unparalleled. Her
screams were his turn on. Wasn’t she his anyway? Hadn’t she promised to obey
him forever in this lifetime ? Then why
the reluctance ? He would talk to her.
He sauntered in with this glass, the dim light of the table
lamp reflected in the cuts on the crystal. The reflected light danced on
Anjali’s face. She looked beautiful, ethereal. The full moon bore a testimony
to her beauty that night. Mukul sat down at the base of the bed, gently picking
up the delicate ankle. Her toes adorned with tiny silver rings the bichhiyas. Ravi’s even breathing was a
blessing. She was his completely. The Mr Hyde was awake in him full swing. One
tug at those ankles and she was beneath him. A few seconds was all it took for
the fist to strike.
“ I love your blouse Anju dear ! Though, how you manage to
wear such full sleeved stuff all though the year I fail to understand !” Gayatri , her bosse’s wife commented. “
Everyone loves you for your sense of style though. Fully covered from head to
toe, yet looking so pretty, so stylish “ Anjali blushed pink. She had always
been uneasy around compliments. She knew she looked good. The long sleeved
golden blouse matched with a white silk saree
was one of her favourites. She knew she looked good….and the scars were
hidden.
What is the helplessness? Why couldn’t she stop the
hitting? She sat with her her head in her hands, unable to answer the questions
which had plagued her for the last twelve years. Maybe at some base level she
liked it ? Did she? Not anymore. The hits were harder. The pain was sharper.
The bruises stayed for days. Mukul was so happy, so enchanted those times. The “
I love you” became so poignant, so real, in those moments. The dichotomy of her
life was killing her slowly. She didn’t want to rock the boat. The bruises were
not visible yet , not yet…..
Mukul was fast realising the pain Anjali was going through.
It was a thrill like no other. The monotony and predictability of life was
broken by this thrill coursing through his blood. Was her arm a bit sore as she
ladled the dal into his bowl ? Her
smile made him underestimate her agony. Didn’t she wince when Ravi came and
hugged her from behind? Mukul was a
bundle of hidden passion. How perfect his life was. A beautiful woman as his
wife. His supremacy over her body absolute. He was the lord and master of his
universe.
Anjali wanted to talk to someone about the mess her mind
was in . The potential damage she was causing herself loomed over her at all
times. She wanted to break free. She wanted to remain tethered. She loved him . She hated him. The pain was unbearable. The pain made Mukul happy. Her life was
a dilemma swinging her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, till her
mind screamed for release.
But whom could she talk to ? This was so private and
personal and she had always been a shy and reticent person. Maybe Ravi would
understand one day. He was thirteen. Growing up to be a sensitive and sharp
young man. The thought of opening up to her son filled her with dread and
mortification. After all she was still his Superman……
Mukul woke up ten minutes late today. He was dreaming. He
had not dreamt for a long time. It put him in a good mood. He wanted Anjali.. “Anju ! Come here sweetheart” his voice rang
out to the kitchen where Anjali was busy preparing Ravi’s school tiffin. The
voice filled her with dread. She knew this tenor, her body shrunk reflexively.
Not now. Not in the morning. Just before school, just before work. “Anju !!!”
Mukul was becoming insistent.
Anjali walked with heavy steps to her bedroom. Her temple
of pain. Her mausoleum of dichotomy. Mukul sat on the bed, his grin devilish,
his hair trussed. The years had been kind to him. He was still the sexy youth
from past. Just that glint in the eyes
was disturbing as he pulled Anjali into his arms. The kissing was rough, his
nails digging into her arms, his thighs pinning her down till the pain was a
raging fire . Anjali screamed. “ Let go! Let me go Mukul ! You are hurting me !
Mukul please !” Mukul’s laugh masked her screams. He was in a zone beyond
understanding.
Suddenly , the fire ebbed, laughing face
contorted, Mukul’s eyes bulged, Anjali’s screams, Mukul’s laughter were
overpowered by Ravi’s shouting . “ She said ‘ Let go’ you MONSTER !…let go, let
go, let go, let go, let go….……Ravi’s voice was staccato as each ‘let go’ was a
knife being stabbed into Mukul’s back. Blood oozed and splattered the walls.
Anjali was stunned into speechlessness. A calm had descended onto the house with the
only sound being the drip drip of Mukul’s blood falling on the ground.
Anjali pulled Ravi away, calmly closing the door which she
should have latched earlier . Packing their tiffins , and readying themselves
in silence, they both left the house.
After dropping Ravi to his school.. she sat in the
starbucks café, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood
stained knife lay next to her handbag covered with her blue silk scarf, slowly
turning it red
She didn’t know what would happen next , but she knew Ravi
would be safe. After all she was his Superman. As He was her Superman..
-
Piyu Mukerji
