The Scarface I Hated Pt. 02

But the fever persisted. On the second night, I sat with him. Sumitra had dozed off, out of sheer exhaustion. He opened his eyes and looked at me with red glazed eyes. He held my hand and said, "I know you don't love me but I have started loving you." He closed his eyes and let my hands go. I realised, he was in delirium. He kept calling my name and clutched my hands. Early in the morning, the fever came down and Imran slept peacefully. Sumitra came and I asked her to go and sleep. I sat with him, dilemma raging within me.

Over the next three days, he recouped. He was probably ashamed of his behaviour although I thought that he had only spoken those words in a delirious state. He probably remembered nothing, I guessed. On the fourth day, he insisted on going to the workshop. Our life again started its normal routine.

It was just a stopover.

In seven days, Imran improved but the scars of illness showed through his frail body. I too had joined the School. I had nothing to do at Imran's house but couldn't wait for the closing time and my feet took me back to the house that I refused to recognize as my home.

It was a Friday and School was closed for the long weekend. Before I returned, I went to meet the headmistress. She was sitting thoughtfully. I entered and she gestured me to sit down. She had an odd expression. She said, "Strangely, I am not able to dissociate myself from you and Imran. Since the time you spoke about him, I have been trying to connect many disjointed facts. Meanwhile, you did not come for a few days on account of Imran's illness. I am told that he is fine now!"

She paused and continued, "I have been hearing things about Imran and I am not sure as how to assess him. On one hand, he is intelligent and hard working. On the other hand, it appears that he has had a difficult past. And that past is closely associated with his scar. You are like my daughter and a strong one. I want you not to react but find out for yourself and decide. Don't allow emotions to overtake your finer judgement, either way."

I tried to decipher the puzzle that Shubhra Mukherjee was throwing at me.

She said with a chuckle, "You also need to know why Kiana stays away from him. Don't be surprised. Kiana is his mother."

My head started spinning.

I don't remember how I came back. I found Suresh and Sumitra. I had three hours with me. And I had decided to know the truth.

I directly confronted Suresh and asked him what he knew about the scar. He was completely tongue tied and miserable. But I pressed hard and told him that today was the test of his courage and faith. If he faltered today then I would never be able to know what was right and what was acceptable. That broke Suresh. And he started to speak. I soon realised that he was an awful narrator. His story went through roads, lanes, by-lanes, bridges and came back to the same crossing. It was a nightmare. After 20 minutes of monologue, I could decipher the gist.

Suresh said, "About five years back, Imran had just finished his engineering degree but was jobless. He stayed with his widowed mother who worked in a hospital. Going was tough. I was his friend and he looked after me like his brother. Wherever he applied for jobs, people were impressed by his brilliance but the job went to someone else because he had no influence. He was getting frustrated. Slowly both of us got into bad company. Imran was very good at heart but poverty made him desperate. We started doing odd jobs for Bhavani. He was very fond of Imran and was hugely influential. We thought that he would help Imran get a decent job but Bhavani started using him more and more for his own purposes.

One day, we were asked to pick up a girl and bring to Bhavani. We had no idea why we were being asked to do this. Imran managed to persuade the girl and brought her to Bhavani's place. We later realised that it was an act of kidnapping and for ransom. For two days Bhavani tried but the girl's parents refused to pay. At the end, Bhavani called all of us and declared that the girl needs to be eliminated. The girl was also present there and she was scared to death. We were all very upset. Suddenly Imran walked to Bhavani and asked him not to do anything to the girl. Bhavani was awestruck by Imran's defiance. He slapped him hard and said that did he not know the rules? Imran remained adamant. We were all very scared and surprised by Imran's attitude. Slowly, Bhavani got up and walked up to Imran and took out a knife. He said, "Imran, what you are doing deserves death. Do you want that?" Imran continued to look at Bhavani fearlessly and nodded his head in assent. Bhavani suddenly slashed Imran's face. Imran did not even flinch and continued to stand. There was blood all over. The girl meanwhile had fainted. But immediately after the slash Bhavani broke down and embraced Imran again and again, saying sorry. He really loved Imran.

He asked me to take him to a doctor. But Imran won't go anywhere till Bhavani released the girl unconditionally. Bhavani finally agreed to Imran's demands. We got a doctor who stitched up Imran's face but the scar remained. Subsequently, Bhavani pleaded with Imran a number of times to accept a plastic surgery but Imran always refused. Imran told me that the scar was a reminder for him, to the path that he had taken and he never wished to forget his indiscretion. After this incident, Imran's mother left him. She was a strong lady and had tremendous faith in her son. She could not accept Imran's folly. He desperately appealed for her to reconsider but she just left. I too left Bhavani with Imran. He opened this workshop and with his extreme efforts brought it up. We all are owners there, except him. He distributes all the profit among us and keeps almost nothing for himself. Till date, Bhavani loves Imran dearly but has never dared to offer help."

I was mesmerised by this extraordinary story. But I decided to check further, "What happened to the girl?" I enquired.

Suresh had great difficulty in answering. He fidgeted but could not make himself speak.

Suddenly Sumitra came in and said, "Bhaavi. I am that girl. My parents refused to take me back. Had Imran not let me stay with him, I would have been dead by now."

I looked at her critically and then to Suresh and I said, "So that's it. Your great Imran is actually a mafia. And, our lives are governed by people whom others fear. Fine?"

I let it sink in and continued, "Suresh, Sumitra. There are things that I need to sort out with this man and I cannot do that with you two around. I need both of you to leave, now. Suresh, will your mother allow Sumitra to stay with her for two days?"

Suresh was dumbfounded but Sumitra was smarter. Like me, she too could feel the Rubicon that was emerging on the horizon needed to be breached. She said, "Bhaavi. Don't worry about me. What you want will be done. It is required. For each of us."

I had one more question for her. But my voice dried up, "Sumitra, you have been alone with him for five years. Did he ever not.......?" I could not complete. Sumitra looked at me serenely and replied, "Bhaavi, had he demanded, I would have done it with happiness." And after a pause she said looking pointedly at me, "He will never force you for anything if you say no."

I kissed Sumitra on her forehead. This girl was a messiah for me. Compared to her I had suffered nothing.

They left and I had one hour to me. One hour.

"I prefer to believe the opposite - that there is always an indestructible beauty at the heart of darkness." ― Mary Balogh, A Secret Affair

Chapter-9: The Scarface I Hated

One hour I had. The golden hour for me. I, Meherunissa needed to experiment with life. The decision had been made but implementation was terrifying. My life would change henceforth. That was sure.

I took a bath and adorned myself (for the first time) in the grand dress that Amaya had left in that box. It entwined my body as if it was waiting for me to embellish it. The sheer fabric of light green muslin showed nothing and hid nothing. I did my hair, my face, my lips and lastly my eyes. I wasn't good at it but today things fell into place and after 30 minutes when I looked myself in the mirror, Meherunissa stood in all her glory. Now, she could only wait. Filled with apprehension and trepidation.

The man appeared at the appointed time. He was seldom late and was surprised when the door was opened by someone other than Sumitra. In front of him stood a woman who hated him but he loved her. And in front of the woman stood a man with a hideous scar; a man with a miserable past; a man shunned by his own mother. He looked at me stunned and then mesmerized. He was simultaneously fascinated and awestruck and I looked at a man in overalls, ghastly in his scar.

I stepped aside for him to enter. He looked around trying to confirm that this was the rightful place he had entered. Confused, he sat and I took over. I went near him and said, "I need to talk." He nodded his head dumbly. "Not here, in our room." I went in and he followed. I kept the door open, unlike last time. I held him by his hand made him sit on the bed. He looked up to me, muddled.

I said, "We are Imran and Meherunissa, husband and wife and partners for life. In the eyes of all except us. Isn't it? Why? Because, I don't love you. Because you look horrible, atrocious. And look at me. More beautiful than many. Is there any reason that I could love you?"

Imran tried to say something but I stopped him, "And you think you can make me love you by being emotional and melodramatic? Taking advantage of fever? Sorry, no!"

I pushed him onto the bed and sat with him, "Do you think, you should ever touch me in your dirty overalls? Never. And can I? Why not? See, how beautiful I am." I brought my face near his.

Imran's eyes were glazed with confusion and desire.

I opened his overall buttons. Under it, he was a body full of sweat and grime. I leaned onto him, nuzzled my face and lips near his scar. He was sweating. My breasts touched his grimy chest. The muslin (fine fabric), remained the lone barrier. His hands were trying to go haywire. I stopped them.

I whispered into his ears, "I can never love you because you will always love me more. I cannot tolerate competition. And that is a travesty. I can never allow it."

I slowly sat up and removed my dress, very slowly. Imran continued to breathe hard. I looked into his eyes. I leaned on his chest again. The wall of muslin was gone. His heart was racing. But I was in control. I again said with my lips close to his, "Don't even dare or I will leave but not before I am sure that you have understood my point." My breast crushed on his body.

I said again, this time I put my legs over his, "Though I cannot love you, I will have children with you. Why? You will never understand." I rubbed my lips on his scar from the temple to the edge of his lips and kissed him on the lip. I said, "I want to have a son with you who will love his wife as you do. A son who will allow his wife do her bidding as Imran does."

I caressed his scar and his forehead. I whispered, "I want to have a daughter with you who can tell who Lenin's wife is and that too in a jest."

I kissed his eyes, "I want a daughter who would be a stickler of time and look after her people wherever she is."

I pushed down the overall and let it fall off. Now I was like a creeper around a tree. Imran put his arms around me and I put my legs between his and continued, "My son will keep nothing for himself and give away everything because needs of others are more important."

I let my tongue enter his mouth. I said, "My son should be able take criticism like my Imran does and consider it a joke. His looks will appear worse than his fellows because their comfort will be paramount in his eyes, always and every time."

He was hard and his embrace was taking my breath away. I caressed his back and said, "My son should be able to stand up to a woman's honour even at the face of death."

I snaked my hand between our bodies and felt his hardness. I kissed him again and said, "Let my daughter never lose control of herself even when provoked." I too was breathing hard. Our bodies were becoming one. The ecstasy was taking over.

I said with difficulty, "My son will never dishonour a woman even when she is at her most vulnerable and unable to protect herself. Whether it is Sumitra or its Meherunissa."

Imran pushed me down like a rag doll and looked at my eyes. I closed my eyes for the first time and said, "You can say something if you want!!"

Imran whispered as if under duress, "I will be gentle. It may pain."

My arms encircled him in a garrotte. I tenderly licked his scar and laughed, "You did not even wince when you got the scar. I can tolerate this pain."

I nuzzled closer and time flew. Two bodies transforming eternity to timeless void. We transgressed the barriers of two unknown body to one soul, a solitary entity. He held me tighter making me gasp for air and I let him.

Time stopped for us and much later, I found my man looking curiously at me. His hairs ruffled over his eyes.

"You scary girl!" He said

"Not as scary as you!" I replied.

"But you do not love me." He complained.

"No I don't and I am a complex woman. What do I know about love? Between us maybe you can love and I could be the capable wife." I whispered and said weakly, "If you permit me."

He looked at me with alarm and tried to say something. I smothered him in my kiss and said, "Yes, if you permit me."

Did I mistake the glint in his eyes as tears? The man who stood fearless to death for someone he barely knew. Was someone shedding tears? For me?

"Yes", I said again. "I have been always been a speck of insignificant and meaningless dust for everyone I have known. I want to have a corner all to myself in your large heart. I want to be the beautiful yet imperfect wife to this terrible face that my Imran is not ashamed of."

He stopped me from saying a word further. The bear hug crushed my face to his broad chest. It was a comfort I never knew existed.

"What are we going to do tomorrow? It a holiday." I casually asked.

Imran considered, "Let us go somewhere. I will call Suresh with his car."

I laughed, "Balls, Mr Imran. You need more practice."

Imran laughed too, "Okay then. Balls to Suresh and his car."

And we practised harder. In right earnest.