merely stared at his mother, too much of a coward to stand up to her.
“Don’t you understand that she is worthless?” Amma rolled her eyes, seemingly frustrated with her son’s lack of intelligence. “Her father is never going to come up with the dowry. His actions are what I call illegal.”
“But nothing was in writing…” Suresh’s voice trailed off.
“Humph,” Amma fumed, “a spoken agreement is still a contract. When he doesn’t pay up, he is breaking that contract, no? It has been almost one year and she is not even pregnant yet. She must be barren also. We can easily get double or triple the dowry from some other girl’s father. Do you want to give that up?”
Dowry? Barren? As the truth began to sink in, Megha’s stomach plunged. They were talking about her! What she’d stumbled upon wasn’t some mildly dishonest mother-son project. They were plotting against her. The ominous words coming out of Amma’s mouth meant only one thing: Death!
Suresh shook his head and poured more kerosene on the wood as his mother demanded, spreading more noxious fumes into the surrounding air. His lips quivered. “But Amma, can’t…can’t we just send her back to her father’s house? Divorce is legal now, you see.”
“No! In our family there is no dye-vorrce,” Amma hissed. “Do you know how long it takes? Two years? Three? Besides, divorced men are treated like donkey dung, but a widowed man is looked at with sympathy, especially one whose wife dies a tragic death. Divorce brings dishonor upon the family, Suresh. This is a much better way; nobody will know. They will think it was an accident.”
“How t-to explain…” Suresh stuttered, the perspiration on his forehead beginning to run.
“How? She was here to pick up firewood with a lantern in hand; she knocked down the kerosene tin and the lantern set her sari on fire.”
“But, Amma—”
“Just do as I say and leave the rest to me, Suresh. I know all about these things. Two months from now, girls will be lining up to marry you. You are our only son and an officer in a big bank. You will be in much demand, no?”
Megha sucked in a horrified breath. They were planning to burn her alive! They were going to tie her to a bed of kerosene-soaked wood, and set fire to her. She had read about such atrocities. But those had been merely sensational stories in newspapers and magazines—they always happened to someone else—mostly in the rural northern sections of India, not here in the southwest, where the culture was different, more liberal, more enlightened. Bride-burnings occurred among uneducated folks, rarely affecting the modern middle class.
How could something so vile and contemptible as dowry death come to touch her life? This had to be a nightmare. Nothing like this could happen to ordinary people. And yet, here she was, at the center of a plot to do away with her.
So, this was what the three evil women, Amma and her two sisters-in-law, Kamala and Devayani, had been planning behind closed doors earlier that night: kill Megha off in the most brutal manner and find another wife for Suresh. Suresh’s uncles and their respective wives and children had been invited to dinner, and Amma had been behaving more strangely than usual in the presence of their guests. Amma had conveniently gotten rid of the men in the family by sending them off for a walk, dispatched the young women to the kitchen, and then huddled with Kamala and Devayani for a long, secret meeting.
Amma had probably been plotting this for days, perhaps months. No wonder she’d looked smug during the past week. The old witch was planning a major event: Murder.
As Megha faced the fact that she was literally at death’s door, a feeble hand went to her mouth to stifle the sob that rose in her throat. She was about to die!
And along with the dismay came pain—like a hot poker thrust into her belly. Suresh, her husband, was going along with the scheme, even though he sounded reluctant. Was this the extent of his love for her? If not love, at least some sense of loyalty? How could she have trusted him? How could she have rushed out here to save him from danger, and perhaps give up her own life in the process?
A wave of nausea made her gag. She swallowed hard to block the surge of bile and looked again at her husband’s gaunt face. This was the man who had tied the mangalsutra, the black and gold beaded necklace symbolizing holy marriage, around her neck only a year ago. He had given her his name; he had made love to her, or rather used her body for his pleasure; he had accepted her as his wife and life-partner. Megha had tried hard to be a loving and considerate wife to him despite his unattractive appearance, his selfish and ill-mannered ways, and his total lack of emotion.
Now she realized Suresh was much more perverse than she had imagined. He was disgusting, worse than a primitive animal. In fact, most animals treated their mates with a certain amount of care and respect. How could she have felt anything in her heart for such a loathsome creature? The warm feelings of fondness she had worked hard to cultivate over the past months turned to bitter revulsion. How could she not have recognized that side of him?
Her husband was a potential murderer!
Get out of here, Megha, her inner voice commanded. Don’t let them take your life. But her legs refused to move. They seemed to be frozen. It felt as if her feet were rooted to the spot, mired in solid concrete.
The feeling of impending doom intensified. Run! Now! In desperation Megha looked around in the misty shadows. What was she to do? Where could she go? She could not remain there any longer.
As she heard Suresh and Amma stirring from the shed she knew without a doubt they were headed back to the house to drag her out of bed and to her death. She didn’t want to die. She was too young to die. And too scared to perish in such a horrific way.
She had to escape. Somewhere! Anywhere!
Chapter 3
Galvanized by terror, Megha finally managed to uproot herself and move. She made a mad dash through the backyard—away from the woodshed, away from the house.
They were killers—and they were coming after her.
At first her steps faltered; she wondered if she’d been foolish, perhaps misunderstood Amma and Suresh’s intent. Having woken up slightly disoriented from a deep sleep, had she somehow overreacted to something that had nothing to do with her? Why would anyone want to kill a young and innocent member of the family? It didn’t make sense.
But there was no mistake. She had heard every word clearly—Amma’s remarks to Suresh couldn’t have been any plainer. Their objective was nothing short of execution.
As Megha began to comprehend the grave peril she was in, she gained momentum. She forged ahead blindly in the cloud of fog, with no particular direction in mind, stark fear giving wings to her feet. Every instinct prompted her to keep running, put distance between herself and the Ramnaths and their evil house.
Move! Keep running. Don’t let them find you. Run, woman, her adrenaline-crazed brain repeated furiously. She knew she was trespassing on people’s private properties but she didn’t care. Wet grass, sharp stones, root clumps, fractured cement and thorns grated on her feet. Twice she ran into prickly bushes and trees, tripped and fell, and got her arms and face scratched. But she managed to get up and find her way around them.
Dogs growled at her from the shadows here and there, but fortunately none had pursued her so far. That was all she needed to make this wretched night
