in

The revenge: A story by Sreemati Sen

Radha sat with a small mirror in her hand. She slathered on a generous portion of the new fairness cream and massaged her limbs gently. But she was yet to notice any significant change resulting out of this expensive regimen. It was almost six months of her marriage to Naresh.

~~~

A daily wage earner, it had been impossible for her father to marry her off. Everyone knew her as Kaali-Kalmoohi and not Radha. Harsh words, caustic comments, fake sympathy – she had seen it all. 

  Every proposal that came rejected her. Finally the local priest found her a groom. Their eyes met over the flickering light of a hurricane. He was completely wasted and passed out on her. A hushed conversation ensued between her father and the groom’s mother. The deal was struck. A low-key wedding was scheduled next week.

The wedding rituals were almost over when the groom’s mother kicked up a rumpus. She screamed at Radha’s father, “Ten lakhs was the deal. Where’s the rest?”

“I couldn’t manage it, Didi. I will pay it in instalments. The jewellery -my daughter is wearing belonged to her mother. Keep them.” pleaded her father. Two pairs of eyes charily skimmed over the jewellery that Radha was wearing. Appeased, the mother-in-law relented. “That will suffice for the time being. We want the money within six months. Otherwise you can take back that ugly girl of yours.”

Radha started a new chapter in her life; a chapter of routine beatings and starvation. Her father came every month, pleading with her mother-in-law to revoke the balance amount. It fell on deaf ears. They tried to take her jewellery. But she held on to them. How could she make them understand that they were precious? They were her mothers’ last remnants.

~~~

The six month deadline was up.

That night Naresh poisoned Radha and set her ablaze.  The unconscious girl never woke up. The helpless villagers stood watching the burning shack. It was too late to save her. “Kaali took her life. It’s strange that she endured it so long,” sighed the onlookers.

A week had gone by. Naresh and his mother sat counting the money. The goldsmith had given them a good deal for the jewellery. Neatly bundled, he hid the stash in a trunk under the bed. “Good times are here,” declared Naresh as he drifted off to sleep. The mother sat thinking of the rich girl her son had chosen. “Yes, good times…finally,” she mumbled as her eyes closed.

A noise woke them up. The house was reeking of kerosene. A match was struck somewhere. The shack burst into flames. Naresh grabbed the box of notes and tried to flee. But a shadow blocked his way. He saw himself looking into the badly burnt face of Radha, the wife he had burnt to death last week.

The dead woman stood guard as the duo hollered for help. The villagers stood in shock watching the flames engulf the hut a second time.