Trigger warning: mention of many sensitive topics.
→read this with an open mind, we already got many close minded people in our country
→everyone deserves happiness
Unedited.
The Beginning of the End
HIS THROAT WAS PARCHED.
If someone were to rub a sandpaper against the inside of his throat, he wouldn't feel a thing. He shuffled a bit, his sore ass and the empty feeling on his left clearly indicating that indeed, he slept on his couch.
A soft snore and a heavy exhale on his neck broke him away from his thoughts. He blinked once. Twice.
The woman lying next to him is still in a deep slumber; she doesn't move when he traces her cheeks, her jaw and her bare shoulder that tells the story of the burden too heavy she bears at a young age. His fingers found their way to her lower stomach and he cracked a smile through his sleepy haze.
He is going to be a dad.
Paarth Kansal, 26, an HR manager, is finally going to have a small life to hold in his too big, callused hands and he couldn't be happier.
Geetika snored again and he almost cooed at her cuteness when the bell rung, echoing through the silence of the house.
So, that's what woke him up.
He rolls onto his side, without disturbing his wife and stood up. Maybe it was because they slept on the couch, tired after celebrating their precious time or because of his still elated self but Paarth felt like floating. He can't do anything else but try to get his heart rate to slow down and for everything to stop moving.
"Who's there?" He asked in a groggy tone and cleared his throat.
"Delivery!"
His face scrunched up in confusion and instinctively he looked at the clock as he swore at himself for forgetting his glasses.
He was pretty sure, him and Geetika went to sleep at around 7:30 p.m. and guessing from his still drooping eyes, he wouldn't have slept for more than three hours.
Deliveries aren't supposed to come at this late hour.
He opened the door and surprisingly enough, the sun was still beating down on them with its full enthusiasm and the delivery man wiped the sweat dripping down his forehead with his sleeve before thrusting a small packet in his hands as he fumbled with the small device in his hands, clicking through it quickly.
"Brother, next time open the door a little bit quicker, will ya?" He said as a Paarth signed the gizmo with the stick.
"I am sorry. I- I was sleeping," Paarth said with a sheepish smile before holding up a finger. "Wait for a second."
He quickly ran inside to the kitchen not before throwing the package onto the coffee table and picked up the box from the counter and poured a glass of water.
After picking up his glasses and making sure that, yes, it is still two in the afternoon, he made his way to the door and handed the glass of water to the delivery man earning a genuine smile in return. "We need more people like you in this world, brother."
Paarth answered him with a smile and opened the box exposing the delicious orange treat Geetika and him bought right after they left the hospital.
The man hesitated before picking up one and biting through it unsurely. "What's the occasion?"
Paarth knew his eyes held stars as he replied. "I am having a baby."
The man touched his forehead and his chest in a silent prayer. "I wish you a beautiful son."
Paarth closed his eyes and shook his head. "We don't discriminate. Just wish for the newborn to be healthy."
He got a sad smile in return. "Everyone does. In their own way."
__________________
THE SILENCE WAS DEAFENING.
Paarth resorted from sitting on his laptop, to watching the television on a low volume, to folding the washed clothes and putting them into his cupboard. Geetika was still asleep on the bed where he put her to save her from the lightheadedness he was suffering from after sleeping on the couch.
He plopped down on the sofa again to watch a cricket highlight when his attention was stolen by the voice recorder. Again.
That's what the package had. A small, high-tech looking voice recorder and Paarth again contemplated over the possible reasons why his wife would order such a thing since he wasn't the one to do it. Maybe she ordered it for the baby? To record the fluff ball's cute little giggles and gurgles.
He dismissed the idea as soon as it came. There was no way a delivery would come that fast. Geetika and Paarth got the news just yesterday.
Or maybe someone else gifted it to them.
He turned the recorder on and sure enough, there was a recording saved. The name was a blended mess of letters and symbols. Paarth's thumb hovered over the play button but he stopped short.
Grabbing himself a bottle of Sprite, he walked upstairs to the balcony pulling a chair with himself as he made himself comfortable in the evening's cool breeze.
He pressed the play button.
Static greeted him and he rolled his eyes. The cold Sprite bottle was now pressed against his lips and he almost moaned in pleasure when the coolness slid down his aching throat.
"Hey Dad."
He spitted out his Sprite watching as the tiny droplets zoomed out of his view.
"I know this is crazy."
Crazy, yeah sure, Paarth thought as he picked up the voice recorder and went for the off button.
"Paarth Kansal, born on 19 August, 1991. Nineteen is your lucky number. Wife's name Geetika Kansal. Born on the first of January 1993. She doesn't believe nineteen is your lucky number."
A chuckle followed and Paarth almost peed himself remembering about the times Geetika chastised him for always having at least nineteen pair of pants in his cupboard.
But anyone can know that.
Maybe Geetika gossiped and giggled over it with her friends.
"Your father died a heroic death on the border. You still like to tell the stories about his awesome abs and perfect aim. You still do, Dad."
Stop calling me Dad! I am not your Dad, Paarth's mind screamed.
"You worked in your childhood to feed yourself and your mother. You earned money yourself to pay for your education. You worked as a servant but you didn't mind how they treated you until your mother had a beautiful smile on her face. You practically raised yourself, Dad and I am really proud of you."
She chuckled again and Paarth's heart was about to give up on beating.
"But this- this voice recording. This isn't to recount that, Dad. I just want to say something."
There was a long pause and Paarth checked to see if the recording ended. It didn't.
"I just want to thank you for looking after me even though I am not born yet."
"I know you're trying the hardest you can. Superman got nothing on you, Dad. He can go eat dust for all he wants because my Daddy is a far better superhero."
Somehow, the voice which was initially deep and mature; now turned high pitched and childlike. It was like a five year old now took a seat.
"You don't let mommy overwork herself. On Sundays, you make the lunch. You don't let mommy eat unhealthy food because you know she has a weak immune system. And I couldn't be prouder."
"B-but I have a favor to ask."
"You see I was born a girl."
The voice now went deeper.
"You were the most amazing Dad. You played Barbie with me. You always did my hair. You always fed me new things. You always kept a stock of litchi juice in our fridge because you knew I always asked for it when I came back home from school. You never let mommy be mean to me. You told me stories about princesses and their kings who drove white Porsche. Kings who went around the world on vacations. You were my best friend, Dad."
Paarth didn't miss the past tense.
"You even gifted me with a beautiful brother when I was four. I cried that night because he was the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid my eyes on and I was worried that you'll find him prettier than me."
"You found me crying and I told you about my fears. I can still feel the kiss lingering that you left on my forehead, as you assured me that no, his prince can never take his princess' place."
"Time passed, I grew. You still treated me like your little princess. A bratty, little princess. Until-"
She sucked in a breathe.
"Until I hit puberty. It may sound silly when I tell you this but this was the time I finally realized why the girls in my school were closer to their Mom rather than their Dad."
"I had my first period."
Paarth flinched when the girl in the recording clicked her tongue. It seemed taunting and even though he didn't know what his future self did, he was ashamed of himself.
Future self. He was fucking nuts.
"Sorry, sorry, Daddy doesn't like to talk about periods. Bad Niyata, bad, bad. You are bad."
A chill ran down Paarth's spine and the thunder crackled against his ribs. The voice was again to it's childish emphasis. His bottle of Sprite was now lying on the floor with its content seeping through the spaces between the tiles.
"Let's call it Red!"
She giggled at her own joke.
"So the day when Red hit me." A mocking laugh. "I was really scared. I thought something was wrong with me. I- I was sick. I was hurt. There was something wrong with me. So I did what my instinct told me to do, Dad."
"I approached you."
She stopped.
"Sometimes I regret being so close to you. Maybe if I wasn't, I wouldn't have been hurt."
"As soon as I told you that yes Dad I was peeing blood, you snapped. That- that was the first time I was truly afraid of you Dad."
"My Superman was suddenly my personal Supervillain and I hated that. You told me to always talk to my mum about these type of stuff and you asked me to leave him alone- you asked your little princess to leave you alone because you were too lily-livered to talk to your daughter about something which is inevitable. Your fragile biology reproductive tolerance was more important than your fucking daughter!"
She stopped to take a deep breath.
"I didn't tell mum. Before I went to bed that night, I prayed to God to always take care of you both because I thought I was dying. Mum found me in the morning covered in the awful stench and my sheets stained. She ran me a hot bath and took care of me. That's when Mom and me really came close."
Static interrupted the recording. Paarth blinked out of his reverie.
"But this isn't about that Dad. I am sorry for straying off the subject. I am told that I am like a gypsy when it comes to talking."
"I wanted to talk about boys. You see you were blessed with a girl who was cursed with the beauty which she never wanted. Your beautiful princess was just a cursed witch."
"She was only 15 and the girls in her class will have already deemed her as a whore. They didn't even know what a whore meant, Dad. Just because your princess talked to the boys as a friend, she was a whore. They saw her as someone who have got many hands snuck down her pants. Just because she talked to the boys with a smile on her face."
"Your princess just fit better between the princes, Dad. It's not my fault, Dad that I would rather share silly jokes with the boys than pretending that I was very much interested in the boy talk those girls had."
Paarth would have missed her next words if he wasn't too concentrated on the recording.
"It wasn't my fault, Dad that I was never attracted towards a boy. It wasn't my fault that I still daydreamed about those girls who called me a whore, Dad. It wasn't my fault. It j-just happened."
There was a sniffle.
"It wasn't their fault, Dad. Maybe they too once were close to their Superheroes. Maybe their Superhero too made it clear that a girl can never hold a emotional bond with a boy. Maybe their Dads too told them stories about the Princess and the King. I mean which good father will tell their daughters about the story of the Princess and the Queen. No good Dad. No Superhero."
"I kissed a boy when I was sixteen. To fit in. It was sloppy, disgusting. He was too rough, too rigid for my taste. My hands slid down to his hips searching for any soft curve. There was none. I hated myself for giving in too easily. I hated myself for it. But at least I could fit in now with the girls. W-we could have boy talk now. I- I didn't have to pretend now."
"I continued to pretend. Time passed. I went to college to study designing further. I continued to pretend. I continued to pretend to be thankful to my friends when they left me alone with a boy. I continued to pretend to be normal. I finished college. I opened my own small boutique. I no longer pretended. The closeness when I took their size overwhelmed my senses. I couldn't breathe. My heart used to run too fast. I felt disgusting but I liked it."
"One day, I came back home to you talking to your childhood friend in our living room. He came back from France after his business tour. Him and his son brought you some souvenirs. His son greeted me in French. He kissed my cheeks in greeting. I hated it; you loved him."
"'I want to marry my daughter off to a gentleman like you,' you said. His father jokingly said why find a gentleman like him when you can have him. His son laughed and jokingly got onto his knees and asked me to marry him. You laughed because it was a joke, right? It was funny, right? It was too funny. He was just a man telling some silly joke so you laughed. In any case it wasn't your business."
A sob broke out.
"It turned out to be my business. I turned 24. My boutique turned an year old. I threw a party. Superman, you would be so ashamed if you have ever seen me there. I was wasted. No wonder I was raped."
"Do you wanna listen to a funny joke now? I don't remember taking any kind of alcohol. I don't remember having any kind of alcoholic beverage in my party. After all, it was a family event. There were kids. No matter how far away we were from each other emotionally, you know I would never do such a thing at a family event."
"Do you want to listen to another joke? It will make you laugh out loud, I promise. The French gentleman raped me. Are you laughing, Superman? See told you, it would be funny."
"If you had known he would have done something like this, you would have told him to get a grip. But you didn't know. He was just a guy telling funny jokes. It's not your fault, Dad. Maybe you too told jokes to your Dad's friend to seem cool. You are too cool, Dad. Too cool."
"We never filed a complain. It would've brought attention to us. No, we can't do that. Who will marry me if they know that I was raped?! I was such a disgrace! The French gentleman could go around with a small punch to his nose and a threat, now more confident than ever, raping little girls whose Dads were once their Superman but my reputation and my future husband was a much more important topic and we can't put my future husband down."
"You were determined Dad. You finally found your princess her King, her Mr. Perfect. He was a cardiologist. He drove a white Porsche. He went on a vacation every month to different parts of the world. He was handsome. He had a big bank account."
"My boutique which I built with my own little hands was now being torn down in front of my own eyes. My brother took over the place. He opened his own sports plaza there. I watched as you smiled a genuine smile after a long as I took another round around the fire. You were now free from your responsibilities."
"Your Mr. Perfect was not so perfect after all, I came to know it through the hard way. It was not my fault, Dad. I was raised up to be strong and independent. I was Niyata Das nee Kansal, an M.Design, 26, princess of my Dad. I couldn't always agree to his decisions. So I said no to him for the first time."
"But it was not his fault, Dad. He was stressed because of his work and my in-laws weren't really nice. So he snapped. He hit me. Mr. Perfect was perfectly imperfect. I don't blame him, Dad. I can be a bitch sometimes. But what can I do? I am not the victim type so I gave him a silent treatment."
"He didn't really care. He just bought me an expensive gold bracelet. It was his sick way of loving me. We went back to our normal, perfect, loving couple phase."
"But that wasn't the only time he hit me, Dad. Whenever he was tired or stressed or just had a bad day at the hospital, he would hit me. H- He would ask me for a good night. I would give in. But I could still feel dirty fingers running down, gripping my wrists over my head. I can't see, Mr. Perfect, Dad. French Gentleman was all I saw when he fucked me. He mistook my screams to be that of pleasure. But I was supposed to be a submissive wife. So I still gave him what I never wanted but he did. My body and my soul. A piece of me died everytime he kissed me."
"I talked to mum about our disagreements but not about his slaps and his abuse. Why didn't I talk to you instead? I didn't tell you about it because remember? We weren't really close. Mum told me that woman were supposed to submit. She told me that I was a strong woman and can take these small disagreements. But Superman, I wasn't strong."
"One day, he almost killed me. I blacked out and woke up after a day or two. I didn't remember. My head was spinning too much and I was too dehydrated to pay attention to the calendar."
"I wasn't really a victim type, Superman. So I finally took a step I never wanted to do."
She took in a stuttering breath.
"Niyata Das nee Kansal, 27, an M.Design, wife of Ved Das, the princess of her Superman was found hanging from the ceiling a night in October by her husband who just came home from his work."
"She was sorry to be born as a girl."
"She was sorry to her Dad for not being his strong princess."
She cleared her throat.
"I have a request, Superman. Abort me."
"Maybe you murdering me before I was born would be a lot less painful than you murdering me later. You killed me, Superman."
Static.
Paarth picked up the recorder with shaking hands and a crying heart. It was already dark outside the balcony.
"I am sorry, princess."
An ear piercing scream came through the recorder. Paarth froze. The scream was pained, burning and nauseating.
"No, no, no! Princess! Niyata!"
The recorder was now dissolving into a pool of blood in his hands and his eyes widened as he watched the blood splatter against the tiles.
"Paarth?"
At Geetika's voice, Paarth turned around to see his wife holding her stomach behind him. She removed her hands and Paarth watched in horror as the blood leaked from the large hole in her stomach.
Geetika cracked a smile. "You killed her."
You killed her.
You killed me, Superman.
You killed her.
You killed me, Superman.
"Paarth!"
Paarth's chest heaved as his wide eyes met his wife's concerned ones.
"What's wrong?"
He looked around himself. He was still on the couch, his back hurting. There was no delivery. There was no package. There was no voice recorder. His baby was still fine.
He lets his head fall back onto the couch in relief.
"Bad dream?"
"My worst nightmare."
Geetika's finger threaded through his hair. The pressure of her fingers on his aching scalp calmed down his sprinting heart.
"Better?"
Paarth hummed in reply.
"Geetu?"
"Hmm?"
"I am going to be a good dad for my princess."
Geetika smiled. "You'll be the best."
"I am going to protect her from boys. I am not going to let anyone joke around when it comes to her safety. I will listen to her problems and she'll marry the person whom she wants to marry, either a boy or a girl."
Geetika giggled, her finger halting. "How do you know it's going to be a daughter?"
"I just know."
They stayed silent for a while still cramped on the couch but both too comfortable to get up.
"Geetu?"
"Hmm?"
"I will never ever let my decisions come between her dreams."
Geetika rubbed her nose against his. "You'll be the best out there, Superman. I know it."
And somewhere, in the house an airy giggle left a pair of invisible lips.
The Beginning