CHAPTER 1
The earth was in turmoil. She was
restless and her cry came from the
well of her heart. She thrashed
furiously, sending lightening whips on
anything she could lay her hands on.
She bellowed a loud cry that sent
shivers of trepidation propelling
humans to scurry for safety. Her
tears streamed down like a fountain,
leaving the humans beneath
thoroughly drenched. Even babies
were not spared, but she did not care.
She was drunk with rage and agony.
Underneath her furious all-knowing gaze, people ran here and there, because they felt the heat of her fury. This was one of the days they were so unfortunate to experience one of those terrible mood swings of hers. Yes, there were days when she was so happy that their skin and feet felt burnt by the intensity of her smile, and there were days when she was so sad because of the inhumane activities she saw happening right beneath her watchful gaze, but today she was so agonized and enraged that the people feared for their lives. The few that dared to be brave, were whipped aside by a zigzag of her furious tears.
Right in Southern Asia, in the rural parts of India, this particular mansion was one of the few that dared to stand up to her fury. It did not lose its roof or windows like the other smaller houses, nor did it fall apart like many houses were doing, but despite its bravery which could have been due to its gigantic size, its windows and doors were in a hurry to flee to safety to no avail. They banged to and fro creating a disturbing rhythm that could have even roused the dead, whilst giving the women all covered in Saree from head to toe; doing their best to bring them to order, a difficult time.
The interior part of the mansion was an antithesis of its exterior. It was calm and bore no signs of perturbation, which would account for the reason everything was in order and the people in it calm. The women, affected by the storm raging outside, were lined up in the impeccably organized, spacious kitchen preparing supper and communicating in low tunes to one another.
The men on the other hand, were seated on the floor in the living room. Not that there were no chairs, for the living room itself was a space of artistic magic. It had six blue couches which complemented the white walls and blue tiles, and on one of them sat a huge mean-looking man who held a newspaper between his hands that had all of his attention.
He was wearing a plain white shirt with a brown Dhoti and a brown Ghamucha on his head. He was the reason the men in similar native attires, sat on the floor, discussing and playing games, out of respect for he, the patriarch of the family.
The tempest outside gave the living room a cozy feeling, leaving the men and male-children in their midst relaxed and focused on the games they were playing. While many of the men were in 3 different circles, avidly interested in the chess game they were playing, whilst exclaiming or cheering up the winning party, others were either chatting or sleeping.
Arjun Karoma was the only one not snared up by the cozy feeling in the room. Instead, judging by the scowl on his would-have-been handsome face, it seemed that he was the only one affected by the tempest outside. But it was difficult to tell if the scowl he wore was as a result of the weather or because he was just being himself. It was also a wonder if the Earth's state of mind at the moment could have been as a result of feeling angered at the existence of the likes of him.
"Ayana! Ayana! Get me a drink woman!" One of the men; a bald dark-skinned man who would not have the chance at being handsome even if he had his enormous nose restructured, bellowed.
Adjacent to the gaze of the fading moon by the window, walked in a young woman in her early twenties, clothed in a yellow Saree and looking like a grumbling child. She halted in her movement by the window, and glaring daggers at the wall, she grumbled, " Ayana! Ayana! Ayana! Every time it is Ayana this, Ayana that! When would anyone stop calling Ayana?" She resumed stomping, only to come to a sudden halt and continue grumbling "That ugly Duck won't leave me alone. It's Ayana this, Ayana that! All the time!"
She raised her hands up in an act of prayer and muttered, " Oh Lord Krishna! Why did you give me such a husband like that man? I had always wanted a prince charming, but got an ugly duck. Why didn't you give me a good husband? Now that ugly duck will draw out my brains because of his..."
"Ayana! Ayana!" The sudden screech of her name startled her and hastening her steps, she returned, "I'm coming!" Suddenly, she came to a halt.
Setting her hands on both sides of her waist, in a stance of someone whose patience had suddenly come to a stop, she muttered to herself, " I've been in this boring evil family for seven years. Seven good years, yet nothing I do or have ever done is good. Why didn't Lord Krishna look well before sending me to this cursed family? "
She adjusted her Dupatta (a shawl-like scarf used by the women) and resumed walking. "Women in this family are nothing, absolutely nothing. They're treated like filt." she muttered to herself, making emphasis with her hands. "All that Ugly Duck knows how to do is to pump me like a tyre. I am only useful in his bed and even on that bed, he treats me like an animal. He does nothing! Nothing! He.. Ouch!" She yelped.
Rubbing the hurting spot on her forehead, she looked up and realized that she had walked into a wall while ranting to herself. Propelled by the sudden sting of the hit to her head and the frustration from having had to endure so much, she let out a series of hilarious curses at the wall. The curses would have sounded effective, had it not been for the kind of woman she was and the manner in which she delivered them.
Realizing that the wall was not a worthy opponent for her frustration, she huffed out a dramatic sigh and resumed walking. "There is Sharawati, Biza, Anushka, Latomi, Lakshmi, Parina, Suna, Rana, all of them," she huffed, "They are all treated like animals. Every woman in this family is treated like dogs and everything is so boring. Maybe I should just poison them." Her eyes glittered with childlike enthusiasm as she paused to considered that option. No sooner had some seconds passed did the hope die down. "If I poison them, I would be sent to jail. No, no no. I can manage this hunted house, but I cannot stay in a cell. Those big rats would chop of my hair." a shudder passed through her at the thought. Suddenly, she saw herself in a cell.
"Let me out! Somebody let me out!" She yelled at the police men and women, walking past her as though they couldn't hear her. "Let me out!! Officer! Officer let me out! I won't kill again, I promise. This is my first murder, but it was for a just cause. You just don't know those men like I did. I only poisoned them, but they deserved a harsher death," she said, gritting her teeth.
An officer suddenly came forward to her. He snapped, "Mad woman! You will make us all go deaf with your insistent shouting. You have the voice of a shrew. Do us a favor and keep quiet or I'll make you." he huffed and went back to interrogating the people he had been interrogating.
Ayana huffed, "Mad woman, voice of a shrew. You men are all the same". Suddenly, she couldn't see any person there, including the officer who had spoken to her. "Where are they? Officer! Hello!" A sudden scuffling sound behind her startled her, and she whirled around; a hand to her chest, gasping in horror at how darker the cell had suddenly become.
(Continued in the next chapter)
