Broken Images

By Sunil Jha

Abhinav Sharma comes to a big city from a small nondescript town with his newly married wife in search of a living. After initial struggles he achieves a degree of success in the city. Just when he thought that he has achieved a commendable position in society, his world comes crashing down by a quirk of fate. Not only it is his financial standing that crashes but his family too begins to disintegrate. He weathers the crisis with a great deal of effort but in the process something breaks down inside him. He is disillusioned with the city life and with his family too. He wants to return to his roots to find some solace in life but he cant abandon his wife and his son. It is not his love for them but his sense of responsibility that compels him to stay back and set things right for them.
He regains his financial position but he cannot redeem his family which falls apart. He unsuccessfully tries to fill the void within himself by going to another woman. After he has settled his wife and his son comfortably in life, he leaves for his native place where he finally settles down and finds some contentment in life in his vocation and in Lutia with whom he forms a symbiotic relationship. This is a story of his karma and its retributive justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Jan 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482857429

Sunil Jha

Born in 1964. He has done his masters in English and has taught English at various levels including Engineering and Management colleges. Presently he spends his time writing and reading.

Book preview

1

For the umpteenth time they were at it again – engaged in a war of words. Their teenage son, Sri, stood cowering in a corner. Only eleven years old and diminutive in appearance, he could do no more than be a silent spectator to the episode that was unfolding before his eyes.

‘I’ve had enough of your sermonising, and I am not going to take any more of it!’ Abhi yelled at Jaya. His face contorted with rage, and his nostrils pulsated as he breathed heavily. With clenched teeth, he looked at Jaya and continued menacingly, ‘Do not ever try to mess with my way of life. I’ll do as I please, and no one can stop me.’

‘I’ve no interest in messing with your life, but I’ll not allow you to turn my house into a bar!’ Jaya shouted with equal vehemence.

‘Your house?’ Abhi mocked at her. ‘Who says? Is it a gift from your old man?’

‘Hold your tongue! You’ve no right to insult my father!’ Jaya stung back furiously.

Her words incensed Abhi so much that he stepped towards her and, holding her tresses in his fist, yanked her face close to his and hissed, ‘Bitch! This is my house, and I’ll do as I please. Let me see how you are going to stop me!’

‘You bastard!’ she screamed and began clawing at him wildly. ‘This is my house too. I’ve equal rights over it, and you can’t usurp my rights.’

Abhi gripped her wrists tightly to avoid her claws and, in a spiteful voice, reeking with hatred, said, ‘Rights? You shameless woman, you’ve the guts to talk about your rights? What have you done to deserve any rights? It’s been thirteen years to our marriage, and in all these years, you have walked out of this house more than thirteen times. Don’t you know that rights never come alone? It is preceded by duty. You have never done your duty. Right from the beginning to this day, your loyalty has been towards your parents and siblings, in spite of suffering humiliation at their hands. You talk about your rights! Where was your sense of righteousness when your folks insulted and humiliated us whenever they got a chance?’

At this moment, his grip on Jaya’s wrists relaxed. Taking advantage of it, she pulled her hands free and gripping his vest with both her hands, yanked it violently, tearing it down the middle. The vest hung loosely on his body, dangling at his armpits. Abhi caught her by the scruff of her neck and pushed her away with full force. The brutality of the force lifted her off her feet and hit her against the wall. She landed on the floor with a thud. She was stunned by the impact momentarily, but in the next instant, forgetting her pain, she sprang at him in a blinding fury. Her face ablaze and arms flailing, she grabbed his hand and sank her teeth into his arm. In a sudden swift motion, Abhi jerked his arm free and pushed her back. Without waiting for her to recover, he swung his arm and landed a resounding slap on her face, sending her reeling across the floor. He did not stop at this. Walking up to where she lay, he slapped her a few more times.

‘You deserved it since long…’ he shouted as he let go of her. In a fit of desperation, anger, and pain, Jaya lay there and began to howl.

Sri had been watching all this with bated breath. It was not the first time that he was witnessing the quarrel between his parents. Since the time he could remember, verbal fights between his parents took place quite frequently. Such brawls occurred at the slightest provocation and often for the flimsiest reasons. Initially, on such occasions, he would often curse them under his breath, standing silently in a corner. As he grew older, he would slip away from the house and wait outside for their fight to abate. Jaya and Abhi fought until they were exhausted, and when their voices stopped coming from within the house, the little boy would sneak back in and go to his room. Corrupting effects of such encounters did not leave him untouched, and after some time, he became apathetic to their quarrels. It was not that Jaya and Abhi did not understand the harmful effects of their quarrels on the child. In their saner moments, they did discuss it between themselves, each laying the blame on the other, which often led to another round of altercation.

At times, when Sri saw that his mother was in a good mood, he would try to counsel her by asking why she quarrelled so often with his father.

‘I don’t quarrel with him,’ she would explain. ‘It’s him. He starts shouting whenever I say anything.’

‘But why do you start arguing with him? Why don’t you ignore him if he says something you don’t like?’ Sri would ask innocently. His young mind was pained by the frequent clashes between his parents.

‘What! You think it’s I who argue?’ Jaya would feel irritated at the accusation. ‘I just try to tell him what is right and appropriate and he starts shouting at me and now a puny creature like you is trying to lecture me.’ She could not stand anyone pointing out her shortcomings.

Such replies usually shut him up, but at times, he would burst out reproachfully at his mother, telling her that it was she who always picked up the fight. This would lead to an altercation between the mother and son. She would run after him, saying, ‘Wait! I’ll teach you a lesson! You rogue, learning to argue like your rogue dad?’ But Sri would outrun her, leaving her fuming.

On that day, Sri felt that things had gone too far. He was alarmed and hoped desperately for the fight to end. Jaya lay on the floor, crying.

Casting a detestable look at her, Abhi poured himself a large measure of whisky from the bottle he had bought that day and walked out to the balcony. Taking a couple of deep swigs of the fiery liquid, he sat on a chair, resting his feet on the railing of the balcony.

His mind was fervid. ‘Sali haramzadi,’ he cursed under his breath. ‘This is what it has all come down to,’ he thought. ‘All my desires had to end in this. What a slut! Compromise, compromise, compromise! How much more can a man compromise? And is it only for the man to compromise? Don’t women too need to compromise? Does marriage means that a man has to lose all his independence, all his rights, all his aspirations? Is it only a man’s responsibility to make marriage work? And what have I got out of this marriage? Bloody bitch! What deceptive coyness and what affectation! That’s enough for a lifetime! Can’t take it any more! What has she not done to hurt and humiliate me? What hopes and desires had I cherished out of marriage!’ His thoughts swam back in time, recalling with vivid clarity her thoughts and deeds of the last thirteen years, which had dashed his hopes and wishes one by one to bits and pieces. His life had become a mess, and he felt powerless to do anything about it. He was suffering the consequences of his own doings. He had no one to turn to and nowhere to look for solace. He sat there thinking and drinking.

In the meantime, Jaya had stopped crying and looked around. Seeing him sitting and drinking incensed her further, and in a voice just audible enough for him, she mumbled, ‘After what you have done to me you’re sitting here and enjoying your drink! You can’t have your way with me. You think I’m a weakling, incapable of doing anything? What you’ve done is against the law, and I’ll show you what I can do. I’ll call the police.’ And she walked towards the phone.

Through the large window Abhi saw her pick up the receiver. He finished his drink and got up to fix another one. As he walked past her with his drink in hand, he said, ‘Go ahead. I want to see what you can do. You think I am afraid because the damn law is unfairly on the side of women? I’d rather they put me in jail. It’ll be better there than staying here with you.’ Jaya was on the phone. Without waiting to hear what she said, he walked out to the balcony and sat on the chair, frustrated and dejected.

After some time, he got up and began to pace around. From the window he could see that Jaya had left the room. ‘In a few minutes, the police would be coming,’ he thought. ‘What will the neighbours think? People would be asking all sorts of questions.’ He could not believe that it was happening to him. Such things usually happened in books and films. In real life, there was no place for it. But it was really happening with him! He resigned himself to fate and waited for the police to come.

In less than half an hour, they came – an officer with two constables. From the balcony, he saw them alight from a jeep. The officer walked to the gate and talked to the guard who, overcome with awe and apprehension at seeing the men in uniform, meekly opened the gate and directed them upstairs. Abhi heard the footsteps on the staircase coming closer and braced himself for the encounter.

‘Abhinav Sharma?’ the officer asked, quizzically pointing a finger at him. Seeing Abhi standing on the balcony, he had walked straight to him. From the corner of his eyes, Abhi saw one of the constables standing behind the officer tap his baton lightly on the floor. He felt as if the gesture of the constable was to intimidate him. He looked directly at the constable. There was a gleeful look on his face.

Ignoring him, Abhi looked at the officer and replied coolly, ‘Yes, I am Abhinav Sharma,’ chewing each word.

‘There was a phone call from your wife,’ the officer said, looking at the glass in Abhi’s hand. ‘Where is she? Call her. We have to talk,’ he continued.

Abhi gulped down the remaining whisky in his glass, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he led them into the drawing room. Asking the constables to wait downstairs, the officer followed him inside the house.

Abhi sat on a sofa and pointed the officer to another one opposite him. Putting his empty glass on the centre table, Abhi reclined on the sofa and asked, ‘Yes then… what do you want to talk about?’ There was a harsh look on his face.

The officer was struck by Abhi’s defiance, but in a controlled voice, he said, ‘Your wife has complained against you. You have been subjecting her to verbal and physical abuse. This is against the law. If she goes ahead and pressed charges against you, you will be in trouble,’ he said disdainfully.

At that moment, Jaya appeared there with Sri by her side. She was waiting for the police. As soon as she heard voices coming from the drawing room, she came there and stood near the doorway. The officer looked up at her and asked, ‘What’s the matter?’ He noticed that her hair was dishevelled and her upper lip was slightly puffed up. ‘A sure sign of physical violence,’ he thought.

‘Look what he has done to me. He’s been doing it all the time,’ Jaya burst out.

‘Ah, why don’t you sit comfortably?’ the police officer interrupted, pointing her to a chair. ‘Yes, now tell me what has happened,’ he asked her after she had sat down.

Abhi picked up his glass and got up to leave the room. ‘Where are you going now? I’m here to talk to you,’ the officer said, looking at him.

‘I’m going inside. I didn’t call you, and I’ve nothing to say. Take down her complaint and do what you please,’ Abhi said, flicking a glance in Jaya’s direction and left the room. The officer directed his attention at Jaya and began to listen as she let out a tirade against her husband.

Going in, Abhi filled his glass once more with the liquor. Switching on the TV, he sat on the bed and fixed his gaze on the screen. A female newsreader was reading out the news of the day. His mind was so agitated that he could not connect the sentences she read out. His attention was fixed on her face. She had a demure look about her. ‘Another bitch,’ he thought. ‘What deceptive expressions they have on their faces!’ He changed the channel, but again he was unable to concentrate. He kept flicking through the channels until Sri came to him and said, ‘Papa, the policeman wants to talk to you. He is calling you.’

He emptied his glass in one large gulp and poured a fresh shot. Taking a light sip from the glass, he lit a cigarette and walked leisurely to the officer and sat facing him. As Abhi puffed out a lungful of smoke, the policeman asked, ‘Do you have anything to say, Mr Abhinav?’

‘No,’ he replied curtly.

‘Look, Mr Abhinav, understand the gravity of the situation,’ the officer began sternly. ‘Your wife has made a complaint against you. I’m talking to you not as a police officer but as a fellow friend. I am trying to make you understand. Legally, this is a serious offence, and if she pressed charges, you’d be in trouble,’ the officer spoke in a firm voice. Then turning a bit softer, he continued, ‘Dissents and clashes are a part of marital life. In fact, it is the spice of marital life, but that does not mean that the husband has the right to physically assault his wife.’ Trying to draw him into conversation, he said, ‘It would be better if, instead of sitting there and drinking, you answered my questions.’

‘But you haven’t asked any,’ Abhi shot back mirthfully. There was not the slightest hint of apprehension on his face. He appeared unconcerned. ‘Officer,’ he continued, ‘is it a crime to drink in one’s own house? I’m drinking here sitting in my house. As for all those enlightening words you’ve just spoken, there is nothing new in it. Everyone knows it, but still these incidents take place. Can you tell me why? You’re talking about law and legalities. So tell me, can any law in this world make a man excited enough to bed his wife? Can the law nurture back to life the plant of love that has withered dead?’

‘Mind what you are saying!’ the officer remarked sternly. He was stung by Abhi’s sexist language.

Abhi momentarily looked at Jaya and then turned his gaze back to the officer and continued remorselessly, ‘You have just said that dissents and clashes are a part of marital life. I would like to ask you, where one should draw the line? Is it only physical violence that hurts? What about the emotional and psychological abuses that a husband suffers at the hands of his wife? You are talking about law! I don’t blame you for that because you’re a part of it. But is the law really fair? Tell me honestly. Does it not discriminate against men? The law in this matter is weighed heavily against men, and I do not have any respect for a law that is unfair and discriminatory. Tell me what can the law do to me in this case? At the worst, it can put me behind bars for some time. More than that it can do nothing. It can make two individuals suffer in marriage. It can in no way make two individuals live in love.’

He stopped for a moment and looked at the officer in his eyes. His mouth felt parched. Taking another sip from his glass to get over the feeling of dryness in his mouth, he continued, ‘The truth is often unpleasant. No one, not even the law, has any right to come between a husband and wife. It is a sacred relationship. If either of the partners lets any external agency enter between them, there is bound to be trouble and disgrace for both of them. This law is best left outside the four walls of a home. If either the husband or the wife commits the folly of inviting law into their home, the evil consequences has to be suffered by the entire family. Such laws can only force the husband and wife to stay under the same roof, but no law can make a happy home for them. Law has no place in the sanctified environs of home.’ Pointing his finger in the direction of Jaya, he said, ‘She has sacrificed the sanctity of my home by calling you here, and she’ll have to bear the consequences. There will be no redemption for her. The law can give her all her legal rights, but do you think it can compel me to give her full social and marital rights? Can it force me to take her around as my wife? Can it compel me sleep with her? The law can stop me from showing disrespect to her, but can it force me to respect her? No way!’

The officer was nonplussed. For a moment, he sat there, brooding silently. Then raising his head, he said, ‘I’ve not come here to debate with you. Upholding the rule of law is my duty, and the law doesn’t allow a man to drink and beat his wife. This is the first time, and you are educated and respectable people. So I’m trying to reason with you. If you don’t heed to it, the consequences will be for you to bear.’ He had a stern look on his face.

Unmoved by the look on the officer’s face, Abhi sighed, ‘Who’s afraid of the consequences? You are wasting your time trying to intimidate me.’ There was a clear hint of agony in his voice. ‘What more worse can happen to me?’ He gulped down a mouthful of the fiery liquid from his glass and grimaced. Lighting up another cigarette, he looked at the officer and said, ‘You think I’m a drunkard and beat her often under the influence of liquor? And she, an innocent poor creature, taking my beatings lying down? A woman like her does all that’s within her might to antagonise and torture their husbands. They seek legal refuge because they cannot win a physical duel. But why am I telling all this to you? You are the custodian of law. Why don’t you go ahead and arrest me?’ Abhi said, looking at the officer.

‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to arrest you until I am forced to do so. I want to sort things out for both of you,’ the officer said, in an effort to egg him on.

‘She must have told you everything. What more can I tell you? Besides, I am doubtful that you would give credence to what I say. Even the law thinks women are more truthful than men.’

‘It is not like that. The law is there to see that no one is wronged,’ the officer said, trying to convince him. ‘I have already talked to your wife. Now I want to hear from you.’

Abhi inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. ‘I don’t know where to start.’ He looked as if he was fumbling for words.

The officer looked at him in anticipation. The silence in the room was such that everyone present there could hear their own breathing.

With a sad smile playing on his face, Abhi began, ‘Ours is a love marriage, and right from the first day of our marriage, we started quarrelling. Tonight’s incident cannot be seen in isolation. On my part, it was the cumulative effect of thirteen long years of suffering in marriage. I have become fed up of her jibes and taunts. In all these years, I have lived through hell. I cannot tell you all that I have suffered right now. It will take more than one night for me to tell you, and at the moment, neither I am in a condition to tell you nor, I think, you are in a position to spare so much time for me. What happened today has to be seen in the light of all these thirteen years of suffering.’

Here he paused for some time. Suddenly, he got up and fetched from inside a small bottle containing a small amount of whisky. ‘Look,’ he said, showing the bottle, ‘this is the bottle that I had brought home today. The moment I entered home with the bottle in my hand, she started shouting and cursing me. I had not even opened the bottle! But she shouted at me as if I had come home drunk – telling me that I was a drunkard and all sort of things. I tried hard to explain, but she simply refused to listen. Whenever I bring some liquor home, she creates a scene. Do I not have the right to drink in my home? Ask her if I have ever misbehaved with her or with anyone, or have I ever done any wrong under the influence of liquor! It’s not that I am a drunkard, that I can’t live without drinking. I take it occasionally, once in a while, and I like it. Today she tried to throw the bottle out, but I snatched it back from her. In the process, I pushed her away. She became so infuriated at this that she pulled my shirt and tore it. She pulled and scratched so wildly that she left her claw marks on my arms. I could take it no longer and slapped her hard a few times. I would do it again if she repeats this. I have stopped caring about the consequences. If you have to take action against me, you may do so.’ And Abhi got up and left the room.

The officer was an elderly man, and he sincerely wanted to help. He tried to comfort Jaya, explaining to her that after all, Abhi was not such a bad husband. The responsibility of making their marriage work lay on both of them. Before leaving, he said, ‘You are like a younger sister to me, and I will advise you to sort out your differences between the two of you. Seeking legal help in matters of marital discord should always be the last resort, because any legal victory in such matters always proves to be a pyrrhic victory. Even if one wins in the courts of law, the loss is huge compared to what one gains. It’s best to strive to make marriage work. You also should not forget that you have a son who has the right to have a happy homely atmosphere. Here take my card. You can call me any time if the need arises.’ He handed her the card and left.

Jaya sat there looking blankly at the card, tossing it in her hand. After some time, she got up and went to the bedroom. Abhi was lying on one side of the bed. Ignoring him, she lay down on the other side of the bed, turning her back to him.

Seeing that his parents were in an agitated frame of mind, Sri quietly sneaked to his room and lay down on his bed. Neither of the three had eaten their dinner.

For quite some time, Abhi had been trying to sleep, but the more he tried, the more restless he became. His mind was troubled by the events of the evening and the intervention of the police in his household matters, and he tossed and turned in his bed. His thoughts became fervid as Jaya came and lay on the other side. At that moment, Jaya stirred, making her presence more conspicuous. Abhi’s heart overflowed with hatred. He felt as if he was lying beside a heap of dirt. He had been trying hard to fall asleep to escape from the fire that raged in his mind. It was stoked by Jaya’s stirring. When it became unbearable, he got up and left the room.

On his way out, he peeped into Sri’s room and saw him sleeping on the bed, all curled up. Knowing that Sri too had not had anything for dinner, he felt sorry for him. He walked to Sri’s bed and looked at his frail form. He sat down on the side of the bed and, with one hand, gently caressed Sri’s head. The boy straightened his body at the touch and, taking a long deep breath, continued to sleep. Abhi knew that it was not easy to wake Sri up and make him have his dinner. No amount of persuasion and cajoling could make Sri have his dinner once he had gone to sleep. Pulling up an angry face and feigning annoyance, he shook him gently and called out in a stern voice, ‘Sri, get up.’

Sri had just fallen asleep. In response to Abhi’s action, he turned on his other side and curled up once more. Abhi shook him more vigorously this time and called out louder, ‘Sri, get up, Sri.’

The boy opened his eyes and looked dazedly at his father.

‘Why did you sleep without having your dinner?’

‘There was no dinner,’ the boy replied meekly. His eyelids were heavy with sleep, and it required his best efforts to keep himself from going back to sleep.

‘Get down from the bed and come to the table,’ Abhi said, feigning anger, and walked to the kitchen.

With a great effort Sri left his bed and followed him. He was not hungry and hated to be awakened from his sleep, but he showed no sign of protest. He silently walked to the dining table and, pulling a chair, sat down, waiting.

Abhi peeped from the kitchen and asked, ‘Will you have paratha with fried eggs?’

Sri nodded without speaking a word.

‘It will be ready soon,’ Abhi said, looking at him. ‘You are sleepy. Go and wash your face, or you’ll fall asleep on the table.’

Sri walked somnolently to the bathroom. He felt the urge to urinate. After relieving himself, he walked to the washbasin and splashed some water on his face. He felt fresh. As he walked to the dining table, the smell of smoking paratha and ghee filled his nostrils. Minutes later, his father placed a plate of hot parathas and fried eggs before him.

‘Here, finish it soon. It’s late, and you’ve school tomorrow.’

Sri cast one glance towards his father and gingerly ate his food. Pouring him a glass of water, Abhi left him, saying, ‘Put the plate in the sink after you have finished,’ and walked out to the balcony and sat on the chair.

The night was oppressively hot. The air blowing across seemed to be coming from a furnace. Unmindful of the heat, Abhi sat there and looked at the hazy sky above. The moon and the stars shone dimly in the sky. Thoughts of the events of the evening began to cloud his mind. He was still finding it difficult to believe that Jaya had called the police home to interfere in matters relating exclusively to the two of them. ‘How could she do such a thing?’ he wondered.

That evening, like most Saturdays, he had come home with a bottle of whisky. He enjoyed his drinks on Saturdays because the next day was a holiday, and he could enjoy his drinks late into the night, talking and jesting. He would become quite talkative and jolly after a couple of drinks. Jaya always resented his drinking, but he never paid much heed to her protests, though, at times, he did feel irritated, but he seldom showed it. That evening, as he entered home with the bottle in his hand, Jaya began to nag him as usual, and as usual, he pleaded with her. But today Jaya appeared unrelenting; she had made up her mind not to let him have his way. Snatching the bottle from Abhi, she rushed to the balcony in an attempt to throw it away in the gutter that flowed beside the road. ‘I’ll throw the bottle away. Like a drunkard you have started drinking regularly,’ she fumed.

Before she could fling the bottle away, Abhi grabbed her and snatched the bottle back. He tried to reason with her, but she refused to understand. Ignoring her, Abhi put the bottle in the cupboard and began to change his clothes while Jaya grumbled petulantly. He switched on the TV to distract himself from her tantrums. He was not a heavy drinker but drank only to tranquilise himself, that too only occasionally. Since long, he was being driven with a sense of loneliness despite being married and having a family. His relationship with his wife had reached its nadir so that whenever they entered into a conversation, they always ended up arguing with each other. His tender feelings for Jaya had dried up. Her grouchiness had been getting on his nerves, and he avoided as much as possible talking to her. Mostly, he would talk to his son and play with him, but in the evenings, when he returned from work, Sri would be busy studying and he was left alone to while away his time. It became increasingly difficult for him to spend time alone. To kill time and drive away the boredom, he would sometimes go visiting friends, but these visits too did not last long. After every such visit, Jaya would be gnashing her teeth and accuse him of selfishness and carelessness.

‘You have no concern for us,’ she would taunt him. ‘Here I remain all alone in the house taking care of your son and all the household work, and look at you! You go out and make merry with your friends! Showing off your manliness, aren’t you?’

The feeling of gaiety that he had experienced in the company of his friends would vanish on hearing such comments. Sometimes the arguments turned ugly and Abhi ended up being more troubled and upset. To let a semblance of peace prevail in the house, Abhi stopped going out to his friends. He began spending his evenings at home, contributing to the household chores, and sometimes, when he felt the need to lighten his mood, he took a drink or two. At first, Jaya seemed not to mind, but when she saw that Abhi’s drinking was becoming frequent, she began to object. Abhi ignored her concern and drank as often as he liked, though he never created a scene or did anything anomalus. In fact, he turned into a more loving, caring, and tolerant person after he had downed a couple of drinks. But to Jaya, these did not matter. For her, it was simply a vice, and under no circumstance, she would permit him this indulgence.

Having failed to make her understand, Abhi began to ignore her objections. He had tried to be as accommodative as possible, but this, he felt, was unacceptable to Jaya. The stress of day-to-day life was murderous. Having no one to talk to and share his thoughts, he found solace in drinks; he talked to himself. Several times, he had argued, saying, ‘Do you always have to make a fuss about my drinks? You see, I seldom take more than a couple of drinks at a time. It helps me relax. Why can’t you accept it?’

Jaya always had a ready-made answer for his pleadings – ‘All drunkards start with a couple of drinks and then it goes on increasing. Don’t try to teach me,’ she would curtly reply.

On this particular evening, after being nagged for months, Abhi had completely lost his cool and had shouted back at her at the top of his voice. One argument led to the other and then to another. Jaya had not thought that Abhi would react so violently, and in a fit of rage and despair, she had called the police. That day, for the first time, she had felt a mortal fear in her heart. Abhi’s rage was monstrous. Now lying on the bed, she tried to rationalise her behaviour like so many times she had done in the past.

Outside on the balcony, Abhi too sat staring at the sky. Distressed by the events of that evening, he was unable to sleep. The stillness of the night began to gnaw at his nerves, and the unpleasant recollections of the past kept coming back to him. ‘In the beginning, it was her folks – her parents and siblings – who had never let any chance go by without humiliating me, and now she has taken upon herself the responsibility of completing the ignominy that they had missed out. How much had I thought of her convenience? Huh!’

Unable to put those thoughts away, he got up and took out the bottle of whisky. Some of the liquid still remained. He emptied the bottle in a glass and mixing water into it, drank it in large gulps. The whisky went straight into his bloodstream. He walked to Sri’s room and switched on the lamp. Sri was fast asleep. He switched off the lamp and walked towards his bedroom in the dim light of the night bulb. He came and lay down on the bed and tried to sleep. The cool air from the room cooler felt slightly refreshing.

As he lay there trying to fall asleep, he was overcome with a feeling of sadness. It was the worst patch in his life so far. His business had foundered, and he had run into debts. Having no regular source of income, he was finding it difficult to make ends meet. In the midst of all this, he had lost his father recently. The face of his widowed mother who lived in the village floated in his mind. She seemed to be looking at him with watery eyes. Her face had lost its sheen and appeared wrinkled and pallid – pathetically forlorn and helpless. With a shudder, he sat upright on the bed, rubbing his eyes. He was due to spend another long, sleepless night. Getting down, he went to the fridge and gulped down a bottle of cold water. He walked to the bathroom and splashed some