True Love

It all began with the shriek of the train. It probably masked out the shrieks of warning that I’m sure the Gods above were crying out to me. As the train left the lonely outback siding and headed out into the sinister night ahead, I felt an icy feeling slowly spreading over my body. The lightning revealed the landscape outside in slideshow-fashion. It was as though the deafening thunder was cracking open the night-sky above; the bright light that streamed in through these cracks afforded glimpses of trees and mighty mountains cowering in terror before the fury of the heavens. The sky was painted a hue of red – I did not know it then, but I was probably watching a preview of the gory drama about to be enacted on that train a few hours from then.    

          The train was to take me to Tipalli, a small, orthodox town in Southern India. At Tipalli, I would meet the love of my life, the at-once sweet and at-once strong Nita. Our life after I alighted from the train at Tipalli was already planned out by Nita. Tipalli was to be the launch-pad to a life all of our own, so personal, so private. I had some apprehensions about our life ahead, but Nita, with the typical trust that a love bug-bitten-girl puts in her man and his macho abilities, was oblivious to any insecurity. She had already planned on various aspects of our life in the US, to where we planned to fly, or rather flee, immediately after a hurried marriage service. Months of learning to speak my mother tongue, months of meditating on photos of my immediate and extended family, months of observing and mentally noting my likes and dislikes would have led her to discount any warnings that her intuition was trying to give her. But me, I lived constantly in fear – a fear of the unknown.

          To me, rain has always heralded good luck, but on this journey, I knew clearly that the blood-red rain pouring down from the skies was not just another of nature’s vagaries. It was telling me something, something I couldn’t yet comprehend fully. The train struggled up the steep mountain slopes, hauled by three enormous locomotives. I was startled out of my sleep by an abrupt jerk and a simultaneous peal of thunder. I saw that we were deep inside the forests of the Western Ghats. The terrain fell away abruptly a few feet from the tracks. Far below to my right, I could barely make out the jagged peaks of the Western Ghats. As if in reply to the question that crossed my mind, the train guard, walking through the compartment, told me that there was a landslide onto the tracks, and that we could well be stuck here for a day or two. Sighing, I turned back to the window. Inwardly, I was relieved that a delay of 2-3 days here would not upset our schedule – I had planned to reach Tipalli a week ahead of the wedding.

          I must have dozed off, because I was startled by the touch of a warm hand on my knee. I looked around; the door to my coupe was closed and in all probability, bolted securely too. I was alone with whoever it was.

“Wh… Who is it?”

A pregnant pause. “Chandrashekhar.”

The name rang a bell, but not enough bells to clear my foggy mind. I must have been wearing a mask of amazement, for the voice continued, “Nita is my daughter.”

A thousand butterflies awoke inside my stomach, threatening to carry me away with their nervous fluttering. The fact that it was midnight, in the midst of a raging storm, in the middle of a jungle, did nothing to make me discount etiquette. “So?”

“So nothing, Sreejith.”

I wanted to wonder some more, but my mind simply refused to make the effort. I was in a unique consciousness of silence and violence at the same time. I was acutely aware of the ominous silence that hung like a heavy blanket inside the coupe; the wind shrieked outside, in deadly fury.

“Sreejith, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Sreejith, I know all about you and Nita.”

“How?”

“Why should I tell you?” Now I knew where Nita had got that question from.

“So that I may not kick you out of my coupe this very minute.”

A mirthless laughter issued forth from the faceless intruder. The laughter sounded familiar – had I known this man earlier? “You will do no such thing, but I might as well tell you. I came across the letters you wrote to my daughter, as well as your photographs.”

“Does Nita know?”

“No”

“So what do you want now?”

“I want you to forget my daughter.”

The mirthless laughter came from me this time, but was liberally flavored with nervousness. “Impossible.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think Nita would be prepared to forget me. And I would do nothing to hurt her. Why could you not just bless our marriage and let us live happily?”

“Because you are not of our caste. I would rather kill her than give her in marriage outside our caste. On second thoughts, I would rather kill you.”

“You know your daughter. Even if I were to disappear from her life, she would never agree to live with another man.”

“Well then, you could make her forget yourself.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Fight with her. Make her hate you. How you do it is your headache.”

This amateurish suggestion amused me. Fight Nita’s love? “And what if I refuse?”

          At this point, the train suddenly leapt forward and I caught a glint of a metal from the man who sat opposite me. I had my answer. Now I knew what the shrieking winds were telling me. Now I knew what the red color of the sky meant. But all the winds and storms of the planet could never shake my love for Nita.

“I refuse.”

          I do not remember anything after. When I came to, I was bound by a nylon rope to the window bars of the restroom. The train had long left the mountains behind. The shrieking winds had dropped. Disappointed by my inability to take hints, nature had put on her best gloomy expression, resigned to play the witness. Through the pervading gloom, I could make out the faint outline of the intruder’s body.

“Do you still refuse?”

“Unh huh…”And then I felt a searing pain in my chest, as if somebody were sawing me open. The pain was so intense that it didn’t register anymore. I saw and experienced everything as would a dispassionate bystander. I felt the rasp of the cold metal against Sreejith’s skin. I was beginning to feel warm all over – warm from Sreejith’s blood that was pouring out of his body and soaking his clothes. The smell of death choked me. Flashes of Sreejith’s life sped past my clouded eyes. In this moment of clarity, I saw an orgasmic bliss cross the attacker’s face. But wait! I recognize those eyes – it was not Nita’s father, but someone poor Sreejith had trusted too well. Sreejith’s dearest friend Mahesh, who was to be the best man at his wedding, in whom he had confided his deepest secrets, the only one among his friends who knew of his affair with Nita. I almost laughed at Sreejith for never even questioning how Nita’s father found his coupe on the train, and why Nita’s father sounded so young and familiar. Of course, moments of clarity that come in deep distress usually last only a few thousandths of a second. The dispassionate bystander vanished. I came to my limited senses again when some water splashed against my unshaven cheek. Mahesh was washing himself and his weapon of my blood.

“Mahesh, why?” I doubted he would hear me croak, over the clatter of the train, but he turned to me with a sad smile.”Because, Sree, I love her much more than you do…”         

          My ears caught the shriek of the locomotive as it pulled into Tipalli. I heard the shrieks of passengers as they embraced their loved ones. Over all that din, I heard Nita’s shriek of excitement as she pointed out my compartment to her cousin. And as for me, thankfully, it all ended with that shriek of excitement.