"Come out, come out, whoever's home!" someone shouted at the top of their lungs.
Junak pulled the blanket closer to his body and tilted his head to peer out of the window. He was expecting... well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Puhor pulling in a crowd of angry villagers.
Junak's blood ran cold at the sight of over a dozen men and women standing on the front lawn, their faces twisted in scorn. Among them, Junak spotted two of the guys – Long-Hair and Round-Face – and all the fear returned, cold and searing at the same time. He wanted to curl up in bed, plug his ears, close his eyes and pretend none of this was happening –
But then, Niribili, Dikhou and Grandma boldly stepped in front of the crowd and Junak nearly fell off the bed.
He hastily pulled on his cardigan, grabbed his phone and ran down the stairs. Priti and Banhi joined him on the way, their faces mirroring his fears.
"They are the ones who started it," Puhor was shouting as Junak reached the porch. He had freed himself from the two men who had dragged him there and stood beside Niribili, facing the mob.
"He beat up our son," a woman spit the words at Grandma. "Look. Look, how he ruined his face." It was Round-Face, his face bruised and bloody. He was grimacing in pain, but all Junak could see was the grin as he tried to push him off the rock...
Junak took a step back.
"Because he assaulted my brother," Puhor snapped.
His accusation resulted in an uproar in the crowd. A few people spotted Junak standing on the porch and a man with an almost bald head pointed a finger at him, "Where? He looks fine to me."
All eyes turned to Junak, making him flinch. He felt Banhi's fingers curl around his, acting like an anchor that kept him sane.
"Just because he looks okay does not mean they did not hurt him," Niribili said, her voice calmer than anyone else's.
"She's lying!" Long-Face cried. One of his eyes was swollen and he was bleeding from his nose. "They're all lying! We did nothing–"
"What is going on here?" came a new, yet familiar voice, cutting through the clamour like a knife on butter. Everyone grew silent as Dikhou's mother marched in, her tight-set expression oozing power and control. She came to stand beside Junak's grandmother, gently holding the old woman's elbow.
Three other people followed her – Lohor, Kopili and another woman Junak did not recognise. She had thick curly hair that fell around her shoulders and she wore a neat kurti over dark jeans. She stood beside Dikhou, crossed her arms over her chest and proceeded to scowl at the people.
"Baruah bor-ma's grandson," a man said, "barged into Madhab's house and beat our two boys black and blue. Unprovoked–"
"It wasn't unprovoked–"
"Puhor," Grandma warned, silencing Junak's brother who made a grand gesture of putting his hands on his hips and glaring at everyone standing in front of him.
"This is unacceptable," Madhab's mother said.
"What your son did to Junak is also unacceptable," Niribili replied without missing a beat.
"He said he did not do anything–"
"Why don't we ask Junak?" Dikhou's mother proposed and turned around to look at him.
Panic crawled up Junak's spine and clenched around his ribcage. His eyes stung and he shook where he stood.
"I'm here, Jun, it's okay," Banhi whispered, low enough that only he heard her. He swallowed, tightened his hold on her fingers and did not say a word.
"Junak, what the fuck?" Puhor shouted. "Tell them!"
And Junak was back on the rock, the river gushing all around him and he knew he was going to fall and drown and –
He took an involuntary step back.
"I'll tell you," Niribili said, drawing all eyes away from Junak and towards her. He sucked in a laboured gulp of air.
"Tell what?" Madhab interrupted. "We didn't touch him."
"But you did say some pretty nasty stuff. And nearly pushed him into the river."
"Lies!" he shouted, then winced as Puhor glowered at him.
Madhab's mother hid her son behind her. "You have no proof my son did anything."
"Yes, we do." It was Dikhou who spoke, for the first time. His voice tugged at Junak's heart. "Madhab and his friends have disliked Junak ever since he got here. Ask anyone you like, they'll tell you how they've been badmouthing him."
"Because he's," Madhab said a word then, a word Junak did not recognise but judging from the way he spat it out and the look of disgust on people's faces, Junak figured it meant gay. Or something along those lines.
A murmur broke out amongst the crowd.
"Fuck these assholes," Megha cursed from where she stood beside Junak. He hadn't even noticed when she got there. She turned to him and said, "You should go inside."
"What exactly is going on?" Banhi asked.
Before Megha could translate for her, Niribili said, "So what? Does that give you the right to assault my friend?"
"I did not assault him! I just asked him to get out of the village."
A few people nodded like that made sense.
"Get out of the village?" Dikhou's mother echoed Madhab's words back at him. "And where do you get that authority from?"
A woman scoffed. "Even after everything, you still take their side, Nibha?"
"Of course, she would," Madhab said. "Her son is also the same."
It was like Junak's worst nightmare took form in front of him, towering over him, turning the world into a dark mass. He stood petrified as he watched everyone's disgust find a new target. Dikhou stood frozen with his hands fisted at his sides; Junak could tell he wasn't breathing.
The woman at Dikhou's side stepped in front of him. "What nonsense are you speaking?"
Madhab laughed. "You wouldn't know because you haven't been around here, Jiri-ba. But we've seen how cosy Dikhou is with Junak. God knows what those two get up to behind closed doors."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Junak's voice surprised himself as well as everyone else. He ignored the dozen eyes on him and glanced at Dikhou – he stood deadly still, his face devoid of blood.
Junak tore away from Banhi's protective hold and stepped down the porch. "I have a boyfriend in America," he said. "And even otherwise, do you really think I'd pick someone like him?" He gestured at Dikhou without looking at him. Junak's eyes were at the angry crowd of people but his vision was blurred into unseeing because goddamnit, he needed strength to do this. "First, because he's straight and second, because–" he forced a chuckle, "– have you seen how ugly he is? I don't want his hands on me. I only keep him around because I need him to make a song for me. For free. Musicians charge a lot nowadays and it is so much easier to string him along with promises of the city life."
"Junak." It was his grandmother, the sharpness of her voice cutting through his heart. He wondered if he would see blood pouring out of his chest if he looked down.
"Sorry, aita. I'm my father's son, after all."
Dikhou's mother was the first to react. She inhaled sharply and stormed away without a word. Jiri scowled at Junak and said, "Dikhou, Kopili, we're leaving." Dikhou hesitated for a moment but he followed his sisters out of the gate with his head downcast. Lohor ran after them.
"See what we mean?" Madhab's mother asked Junak's grandmother.
"We've had doubts since the day they got here," a man added. "We just didn't have the heart to tell you."
"They clearly took advantage of our hospitality."
"What more can you expect from Niyor's sons?"
"This is completely unacceptable. We don't want people like them here."
Junak focused on drawing his breaths as people clamoured all around him – they need to leave, we want them gone, leave our village.
"Enough," Niribili shouted, raising her voice for the first time. "You want us gone? We'll leave. But don't talk to aita like that–"
"What are you insinuating, girl?" a woman sneered.
"I'd watch that tone of yours if I were you," another woman added. "Don't you know how to speak to your elders?"
"Of course, they don't. It's clear they've lost all their values."
"And then they come here to corrupt our children."
"Corrupt your children?" Niribili repeated.
"Don't play coy. We know what you've been telling our girls."
"You mean a thing or two about menstrual hygiene? About how sexist and outdated your practices around periods are?" Niribili faked a gasp and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh no, I said the word periods out loud. What's going to happen now? Are we all going to explode?"
The people were momentarily stunned to silence, then the men shook their heads and the women complained about how uncultured and vulgar she was.
"You think you're smarter than us?" a woman took a step towards Niribili, threateningly.
Niribili held her ground. "When you choose to shun a person when they get their periods – the very reason why you and I are here, by the way – then yes, I do think I'm smarter."
"Fuck," Puhor cheered, grinning.
The woman's face was an odd mixture of shock, humiliation and anger. She turned to Junak's grandmother. "Do you see this? Do you see how she's talking to us?"
Grandma's face was paper-white.
"Don't listen to them," Priti broke in. When she spoke, it was directed at Junak's grandmother and her alone. "Niribili is right, you know. She's taught me about it, how to... not make a mess, and what are the right products to use." Priti turned to Junak then, her eyes soft. "And Junak, he's been nothing but helpful. To me, to Jatin, and to you and bor-deuta. He's added life to this house and you know it. These people, they're just here because they think you're weak without your husband–"
"Enough, Priti," a woman hissed. "Know your place."
Grandma's eyes hardened on hearing those words. She turned to the woman and said, "No, I think you should know yours." She did not raise her voice but her authority was leaking from it. She eyed the people in front of her. "You're standing on my property. Insulting my family."
"Your family? Who? The son who abandoned you?"
Junak clenched his fists but his grandmother seemed unfazed. "Yes, my son, who earns in one month what your family probably earns in a year."
Puhor clutched his mouth but made no efforts to hide the chuckle and the absolute glee on his face.
"We didn't take you to be one who was so vain about money," a man spat.
"I'm not, but we're all putting forth our unbiased opinions out here so I decided to add some facts of my own."
Holy shit. It was Junak's grandmother – the old, frail woman who spoke in polite tones and smiled at everyone – who was throwing burn after burn. Junak stood absolutely awed.
"This is my village as much as it is yours," she said. "And they are my family and my guests. They will be staying here as long as I want them to."
"Bor-ma, we respect you but–"
"Good. If you respect me, you will leave. Now."
The finality of her softly spoken words was so stark, everyone obeyed. They all backed away and started filing out of the gate. "We will be taking this to the Panchayat," Madhab's mother threatened.
"Please, by all means," Grandma answered.
Junak, his grandmother, Niribili, Puhor, Priti, Banhi, Megha and Prapti all stood and watched as the people left, talking among themselves and throwing angry glances over their shoulders.
Grandma lifted her mekhela and turned back to her house. Priti held her by the elbow and helped her in.
Once they were all in the drawing room, the old woman collapsed on a chair with a heavy sigh.
"Aita." Niribili knelt by her feet. "I'm so sorry."
"Aiyo, my silly girl." She smiled and touched Niribili's chin.
"I'm sorry I said all that, I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
"It's no trouble; those people are all bluster and no bite. They won't do a thing."
Niribili did not look convinced but she nodded.
"And don't you lose sleep over it, okay? Over anything they said. You were so brave. If your mother were here, I'm sure she would be very proud of you."
It hit Junak too, her words, so he could only imagine how hard it must've hit Niribili, who had never known her mother. She let out a strangled sob and embraced the old woman.
Grandma stroked her hair, as if she were one of her own and not her grandson's friend, then looked up at Junak.
His heart shuddered as he caught her gaze and, just like that, tears filled his eyes. Grandma raised her free arm towards him and he practically threw himself at her. "Hush now, it's okay." She smelled of coconut oil and a childhood Junak could no longer recall and felt like a delicious cup of tea on a rainy day.
"I don't know what just happened but I need a hug too." Banhi knelt beside her girlfriend and put her arms around her, one of her palms resting on Junak's back.
"Come on, you lot," Grandma's voice cracked a little but she chuckled at the others standing around the room awkwardly. "Should I hand you a written invitation?"
Someone laughed and the next moment, Junak felt warm, muscular arms over his shoulder. "God, you stink," Puhor said, ruffling his hair.
"No, that's you and your jock cologne," Junak said weakly.
Puhor wheezed and Junak resisted the urge to shove him off when he remembered how that moron went out there to beat those guys. Junak wasn't a fan of violence but he knew it was Puhor's way of saying he cared. Junak also thought back to how Niribili faced all those people though she could've easily stayed silent, how Banhi held his hand without him needing to say anything, how Dikhou – that amazing, gorgeous idiot – spoke up despite knowing the literal danger he was in, how Priti defended him and how his grandmother took his side without any questions and expectations.
A flame of warmth burst inside Junak's ribs and he held onto it, cradled it, wondering if this was what people meant when they spoke of a hearth and a home.
~~~~
A/n
Idk if it happens in other parts of India (prolly does?) but we have such ridiculously sexist and derogatory practices around periods, I just had to include this. Ugh!