The Man I Hardly Knew.

chapter four

The next day when i woke up, a queer weakness in the legs could be sensed. But, this is a careless naivety of mine. Because I secretly know it isn't just legs' pain but rather something else. Something bigger than what the physique reveals. Something deeper. Something profound: My conscience is tainted. My honor has been washed out. My bosom is bursting. My brain veins are fattening. I feel like a slut. I feel i have been raped...

All the bite marks on my skin.. they do not look like evidences of love. They look like scars. Nasty big scars. Like the scars that a rapist leaves on his victim.

I notice a crushed paper in the corner of the room. It's embedded with creases like an aged skin, like a victim's scars. How egoistic human nature is- to use, reuse and misuse what they see as theirs and throw that same thing away when all its capacity of providing pleasure gets exhausted!

I struggle to get out of bed. I hold onto the mattress and try to stand up on my feet. I shriek in silence. I screamed but i block the voice inside. I lurch forward, heading to my baggage which is still unpacked. I am walking naked to the baggage watching my feet battling to move forward properly in the wardrobe's mirror. My feet tremble as though they have been sucked out of their complete energy; as though they have been weakened; as though they have been beaten the sh*t out of them. My lips shiver incessantly and i feel an unbearable cold inside, leaving dirty little hairs standing on their ends on the hands as though they have been commanded to stand up in unity like tamed soldiers.

I hear Sheraad rolling on bed. Reflecting in the mirror, i can see him combating to keep up with his sleep. How at peace he seems to be. While i? Looks like my peace has been violated away.

I open my bag's zip which is accompanied by unavoidable noises. I startle as a voice scolds: "Hey! What the hell are you doing there? Can't you see the window is open and you're bloody naked? DON'T ACT LIKE A SLUT! This isn't England. Get yourself some clothes on and go make me some tea!"

Yes it is Sheraad. He got woken up at the sound of the zip. His thick voice scares my thin-layered heart bouncing rapidly in my bosom. I press my temples in an act of pressing pause on the unstoppable voices confronting each other in the mind. They stop.

I pull out a long fushia dress with nothing else but classy beads around the neck made of lycra. I put it on while Sheraad rolls back to his left. Not looking at me with his back facing me, he yelled again with closed-set eyes: "Hurry up!"

I head to the door, trying to ignore the voices which start mounting again. They yell at me. They scream. They beg to be let out of my mind. I suppress them.

As i pass through the corridor, on my way to the kitchen, i remember about the puke. I look back to see that it was wiped away, cleared out but the smell was still as strong as it was yesterday; as though it is meant to stay here for a long time. From a distance, i can hear some cacophonies, like some voices trying to be lowered but nothing can be heard except distorted whispers. As i approach the kitchen, the voice keeps heightening. And all i hear is: "i heard the bride puked yesterday? That's bad omen!"

Bride. Puke. I know instantly that it's about me that they are talking about. As i reach and stroll my eyes to see who are those persons, i realise it's my mother in law and sheraad's grandma conversing. They stop short on seeing me. One can already know on stepping here that someone has just done the 'artee' and the morning prayers are already done.

Mum in law stares at me as though i committed one of the most unpunishable sins. I try to ignore her gaze and walk to the kitchen stove. I take out the box filled with sugar from the upper cupboard and take out two tea spoons of sugar from that, putting it in the tea pot. I take out three table spoons of milk and repeated the action; look for the coffee sachet and replicated the action again. And lastly, finish it off by adding water and stirring the mixture and put on heat to let it boil.

Mum in law has watched from behind, i haven't notice her. She comes to me, gives an irritated look and says: "This isn't how we prepare coffee at our place. You did the total contrary of what we do here. Hasn't your mum told you about how to prepare coffee in a proper way?"

I gape at her. I silence the voice inside. I ask it to keep quiet. And i.. i keep quiet too.

She takes the lead and begins with the steps about preparing coffee, like a cassette gone uncontrolled on a music player. I look at her, notice her thick lips forming these words quiveringly and hurriedly. There is just something strange about her; something disturbing; irritating. There is surely something which isn't proper about her. What is that? I don't know yet.

As soon as she ends the list, her voice surfaces again and i come out of the trance, back to reality.

"Understood?" She asks.
"Yes" i nod though i haven't listened nor followed her properly but i just do not want to take the risk of asking her to explain again to go through this trance again.

"Women at our place wake up at six o'clock not nine." She says and asks me to put the alarm for tomorrow. She even says to me that women at their place should wake up this early to do the artee and already start doing the household chores. She even says to me that our husbands do not have to tell us, we should know on our own that before the husband opens his eyes in the morning, coffee should be ready, his office suit should already be ironed, his scandals should already be put just next to the bed so he doesn't have to look for it and spoils his mood even before his day has even started.

I nod in silence. "Good girl." She pats my shoulder.

Pouring the coffee in a mug, which is now ready, i move to our bedroom. With the tray in hand, i enter cautiously about. He looks at me with those lion-like eyes.

"So, finally coffee is ready. Put it on the table. Have you already put my towel and gown in the bathroom?" He asks with his tone rising.

"Oh. Umm. No.. i..i'll just do it..." i stammer.

"Haven't you been taught that you're supposed to do all these for the man of the house? What are you even waiting for? Hurry up! I'm getting late for office." He slams his words as though whipping my skin with his words.

I turn around, take out his towel and gown from the wardrobe and move to the door.

"Just a second!" He interrupts.
"Your things, your clothes and all.." he says.
"Won't you unpack them?" He questions.

"Well i will.. i..."
"You put them here." He interrupts again, not letting me finish my sentence, showing the wardrobe.

"You leave my clothes alone. You put yours in the space remaining. And for those you're not getting enough space, just see where you can put them but just bloody unpack your things." He says.

I move to the bathroom, hang his towel and gown and hurry back to the room. I open the wardrobe to analyse how i shall put my things in there. All the sections of the wardrobe are occupied with sheraad's clothes, his tie, his t-shirts, his suits, even his watches are carefully set inside. Even the wardrobe read "Sheraad's wardrobe" on the outside. The only section available is like a small box in which merely ten clothes of mine may be seated.

I turn around and ask: "here?"
While sipping his coffee, he says: "yes and hurry up! And if you can't find any place for your stuffs, then put them all on the wardrobe in your bags but just do not fucking let them there just like that. You're dirtying my room with your mess."

He commands and i obey...