Who is she?


 Appearances can be deceptive. My image in the mirror was telling me that. "Who is this woman staring back at me?" My numb self knocked on my mental faculties.


"Clueless." Jumped the answer to my pursed lips. The mirror image portrays a woman with strewn hair and bruised nose. Her dry eyes, hollow like a parched well give a distant glance. To no one in particular they are propelling fire. A sole earing dangles from an overladen lobe. It is symbolic of the weight of guilt bearing her down.

*****

"You are the best thing that has happened to me in my entire lifetime." Paritosh kissed Charvi's forehead. She closed her eyes in absolute bliss. In her ears, she could hear the shenai and happy giggles of her younger sisters. Paritosh had sneaked into her room just before the pheras and the two enjoyed a private moment to themselves before the week long celebrations began. 

Charvi could not have asked for anything more. A degree in landscape architecture, a marital home that encouraged progressive thoughts and Paritosh who the love of her life was getting married to her. She pinched herself hard to make herself believe in the truth of this moment. Not one but her entire girl gang was mad at this college heartthrob and she was the one marrying him. She, too, was no less a damsel and the two, flaunted the image of a celebrity couple. 

"Oye, you better don't act smart!" Paritosh's throaty voice breached her reverie. Why was he angry? And on whom was he mad at?

Charvi, in her engagement lehenga rushed to the mandap erected in the garden.

"Relax beta. They are servants. They keep doing such things to get more money out of us. I will handle this. You leave. Go, get ready."

Paritosh's mother was seen pacifying him. Charvi relaxed on seeing the commotion settle down. She went back to her makeup and hairstyle.

*****

A trail of dry, rusted blood marks her tight jawline. The swollen lip quivers. I'm not alien to the image in the mirror that stood here an hour ago. But this now staring back at me is someone I don't seem to identify.  The insane hurricane has struck minutes ago that wiped her docile image of an obedient wife.


He was the one to hit and kick. He was the one to punch and panic. He was the only one to inflict and injure. I have absolutely no inkling who this woman in the mirror is. This time she is the one who has hit, kicked, punched and pushed him.

******

" Charvi, this tastes pathetic. The rotten aloos would taste better than these dum ones. Heck! You spoiled my mood for the evening!"

With that, Paritosh overturned the entire dining table. The dinner set that was gifted to Charvi by her dear Mama came crushing to the floor. Her mother's dum aloo recipe made mosaic pattern on the white marble flooring. How could she have gone this wrong?

"Relax, beta. He is just tired. Leave him alone for sometime. I will help you clear this."

Paritosh's mother was always supportive- son or daughter inlaw, she tired to be the fulcrum. 

****

"Eureka!! She is a killer!" My dampened brain answered in exuberance. What was it celebrating? Me killing my husband of twenty years? Or the woman ending her trial of twenty years? Whatever it was rejoicing like an opportunistic Archimedes, I could only soak in the expression of deceiving self.

A woman who had torn nothing except her vagina to birth had today slashed her partner's throat. She had sliced it till the knife met the bone, like chopping her brinjal on the board. Years of pent angst wouldn't let the grip on the dagger loosen. Time was thirsty of blood. The glimmer of the bloody knife met the glint of her misty eyes. She laughed at the irony till she could cry no more.

****
Paritosh had become unreasonably angry over the past few months. Little tiffs would be blown into a disaster for Charvi. She tried everything from counseling to counter argument but after few days things always turned ugly. Her patience to deal with him was exhausting yet her belief in their love pulled her through. Domestic violence was the last thing she wanted to name her situation as.
How else she could help herself?

****

The mirror embodies a loser as a winner. Am I that woman in the mirror? I'm not that woman who killed her husband. Im not that Charvi who has slaughtered Paritosh. How can I? I loved him over every mortal thing. How could I fiddle with his mortality?
Appearances are deceptive.

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