I dangle like a fiery, dazzling diamond amidst the stars in the sky.   My presence infuses the horizon with festive glows as I nestle in this endless river of green, pink and purple tourmaline light.  Here where I am, the vibrant hues quietly reflect the far more lively Diwali celebrations happening below.  The evening is painted with memories.  How could I possibly forget those days and especially my last fiercely flashing Diwali in this very neighbourhood?    Every year before that final night, my mother would dress me in the most colourful of silks. “Come on, let's light the diyas and then, fire crackers.” “Yes, it's Diwali!” I'd say, twirling around excitedly.     When it grew dark we'd be outside, lighting rockets, chakras and hand-held sparklers.   The fire would leap lavishly everywhere like outbursts of rubies, sapphires and fire opal.   With the fragrance of sandalwood emanating from the puja room, the flavour of luscious jilebis and laddoos and the echoes of laughter everywhere, this was one of our most treasured celebrations.  As one also blessed with a musical voice, I'd sing a lot of devotional bhajans during our puja, enjoyed by the guests.    Then over the years, right after my college days, my marriage was arranged with one Dr Ajit Kumar, a surgeon.   It was a very swift arrangement, much like a blinding hurricane rushing wildly through my life.  Yet, it seemed as if the stars had aligned well, lighting the path to my destined married life.  My mother bestowed me generously with an opulent trousseau.  In awe I beheld these treasures.       How lush and glamorous that necklace was with matching earrings, bangles and maang tikka, the entire set in endless clusters of diamonds embedded in the purest gold settings.  All this must have cost my mum a fortune, a lifetime of hard work, sacrifice and savings.  I felt immensely thankful.      Along with these ornaments was that fiery vermillion and gold wedding sari she gifted me,  Enfolded in its regal softness, I felt like a queen.   Somehow, I also sensed uneasily that I was expected to play that benevolent role in my marriage.   My future in-laws complimented me profusely days before the wedding. “Aruna will look regal in her glamorous wedding attire.” commented Ajit's mum beaming. “She'll be our blessing,” joined in his father.   “I'm considering also gifting her a car,” added my mother impulsively. “Are you sure, mummy?” I asked in concern.  “Isn't this huge wedding expenditure and all the lavish gifts you're giving us not already a stretch?” “Come on Aruna, don't hinder my dear second mother's gestures of love!” exclaimed Ajit.  “I cherish her for her big heart.” “Very kind of you, Ajit,” said mummy, basking in the glow of these praises.  “I'll do my best.”   “That second car would be most helpful!” added Ajit's dad. “Yes,  No matter what I wish you both many blessings,” continued my mum.     Our wedding was a spectacle of grandeur in a plush pandal glowing with an elaborate fire sacrifice, a fine band of professional musicians, unending arrays of colourful dishes and heaps of gifts from animated, expensively-dressed guests.  The wedding reception that followed at a stylish hotel was a grand finale no less of this impressive show.  It was our final theatrical bow before the reality of my actual marriage path with Ajit and his family. “What a well-matched couple!” exclaimed friends and acquaintances. “You're a lucky man to have such a beautiful wife,” commented some of Ajit's colleagues.  “Where're you going on your honeymoon?” “To Orissa,” said Ajit, adjusting his glasses. “Those intimate stone sculptures on the temple walls will surely foretell your fruitful marriage,” joked Mira Rao, a fellow surgeon. “Don't be silly Mira, I'm a practical man.  Those historic sights are wonderful, but I'll be carrying my reading material as well to work on articles for our journal.” “The Ajit we know so well, business-like even on his honeymoon,”  she said laughing wildly.  “I hope your charming presence changes him, Aruna.” “I'll try,” I said, “but I'm really also looking forward to Orissa.  You see I've recently sung devotional pieces in accompaniment to Odissi dancers.  So, I'm excited to be amidst these sculpted performers.  They'll inspire me to sing again right in that temple.” “Wow, you're a singer too!  Ajit, we must have a party.  I want to hear your wife sing!” continued Mira. “I didn't know about your singing, Aruna,” replied Ajit, rolling his eyes upwards.  “I guess we might arrange something to please my colleagues.” “That'd be lovely!”  I exclaimed. “Aruna's very gifted with a beautiful voice.  She's even sung over All India Radio in the young artists' show,” announced mummy.   “I didn't know all that,” answered Ajit yawning.       We took a train after that to Shardapur.   From my window seat, I gazed at the scenes of verdant fields roll by, displaying charming vignettes of daily life.   As I watched a woman combing her daughter's long black tresses outside a mud hut and a turbaned farmer drawing water out of a well, I couldn't help humming the tune of a familiar song. “Aruna, surely you're not going to blast the train with a full All India Radio performance!” yelled Ajit slapping his thighs. “Come on Ajit, I was only humming, and with all the chugging sounds, I'm barely audible.” “Well 'I' can hear you and you're disturbing my reading.  I've got to prepare an article for the medical journal.” “Already?  Right at the beginning of our honeymoon?” “Yes, Aruna.  A honeymoon's merely a convention invented by some silly fool to waste time.” “Well sir we're on our honeymoon and we love every bit of the romance invented by that silly fool!” interjected another newly married fellow passenger from the seat across Ajit's. “I love my honeymoon with my honey!” added his wife, giggling as she leaned on her hubby's shoulder.    I joined in their laughter while Ajit was engrossed in his journal.  As my window framed new scenes of life, I drifted back into that idyllic mood amidst the chugging train rhythm and the aroma from the food trays wheeled by a train attendant.  I hummed again.   That fellow passenger commented once more. “Ma'am you have such a beautiful bird-like voice.” “Thank you.” “Music is life!” exclaimed his wife. “It is!” I said.      When the attendant handed us our food trays, Ajit looked at mine and said,  “There're two eggs on your plate. You need only one as a woman.” “But I'm hungry,” I said. “It's not ladylike to eat two.” He reached for my plate, grabbed an egg and added it to his plate. “Don't you want your wife to eat, sir?” interrupted the other passenger again. “Mind your own bloody business!” barked Ajit.    Our honeymoon continued to be a strange sombre one, without a trace of charm or tenderness from my husband.  At the stone temples, I gazed at the sculpted dancers, awestruck at the music emanating even from the silence of this grand art.  Ajit only made a vague comment about the engineering of the temples.    On the third day of our honeymoon, he was in an animated phone conversation with his mother in the patio of the hotel.  Advancing menacingly towards me after that, he said, “Aruna, you must remind your mother to keep her commitments.” “What do you mean?” “She said she was going to gift us a car.  Now it seems she's changed her mind.” “You already have a car.  Hasn't mummy just spent so much on the wedding and all the expensive gifts she's given us for our home, Ajit?” “All that's not as valuable and important as that car she promised.  We do need a second one.” “Mummy's not a money machine, Ajit.” “She didn't seem to have any problem giving you all those jewels worth the cost of a house, did she?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “That was my trousseau, a mother's parting gesture of love.” “And you get to keep that costly 'gesture of love' entirely for your pleasure and entitlement, don't you, while we merely watch you?  You forget that you're lucky to  enter the home of doctor in my position.” “What are you trying to say?  Isn't marriage for a new happy companionship for both of us?” “All that's romantic nonsense.  Remember that I'm providing you a home.  Shouldn't you be contributing your part?” “I assure you I'll do my part running the household as soon as we get home.” “Running the house is a meagre piece of your contribution, while you keep those diamonds to yourself.” “Ajit, I already told you they're my trousseau, something personal for me from mummy. How many times must I repeat that?” “All very conveniently explained.  What do I get in return for taking care of you?  A dream of a car?” “Dowries are illegal.   There was no agreement on such a thing.” “Call it what you will.  It's not as if marriage is a free gift!” “Isn't it a union that cultivates love and family warmth?” I asked.  “Isn't that bond itself a gift from heaven?” “Stop lecturing me on bonds.  You know you're ridiculously naive!” he hissed.  “Instead of arguing brainlessly,  just talk to your mother and urge her to honour her promise.  Amma and papa have been upset and with good reason.”    So, to keep the peace and not worsen even the little idyllic beauty I hoped for in this honeymoon, I telephoned my mother. “What's going on with the car, mummy?” “Darling, I thought I could make that happen, but I found out that I've run into debts after all the huge marriage expenses.   My suggestion was after all, a bad idea as you yourself noted.” “He and his parents are furious.” “I know.  They even came to my office and had a huge showdown about the car.  I explained that I had not promised it.  They seemed very dismissive of the expenses I went through and the valuable gifts I gave you both for your home.  Their needs are endless.  Car, car, for heaven's sake, are rich gifts all that they want?” “I know how impulsive you were when you even suggested that, mummy.  You've already spent so much.   How much more can a widowed mother do?” “Thanks for understanding, darling.  I wish they could see it.  Anyway, do your best to comply as a wife and keep the peace.”   “Marriages are made in heaven!” I mumbled silently, chanting it like a vain prayer of hope. “So, is that mother of yours going to follow through?” asked Ajit later over lunch, his eyes hovering over mine like a threatening dagger. “Ajit, hers was a foolish suggestion, a bad idea to start with.   She found out later that she couldn't.   Isn't it admirable that she's done so much even as a single mother coping with so many struggles?” “Yes, yes.  Impressive excuses.  You're very privileged and lucky that inspite of your not coming from a proper home with two parents, you were accepted by a normal family like ours.” “Ajit, my father died in a car accident.  Mummy's been a good survivor, raising me through all these difficulties.  Is that our fault?” “All sob stories to avoid responsibilities.   I was generous to even marry one with your background.   Yet, all you and your mother do now is shirk your duties and take advantage of my family.” “Ajit, 'you' are the one taking advantage by demanding a second car.  As if you're entitled to it!” “Don't you dare retaliate to me!” he bellowed, pointing his finger at my face.  “ A wife's place is behind her husband, not on his face, defying him like a monster.   You know I had many chances to select a life partner from women far more beautiful and submissive than you, with much more to offer.  Be grateful that I married you instead.”       Even after those condescending and demeaning comments, I did my best to keep the peace,  He was sullen, his resentment continuing for the rest of the honeymoon.  When we visited more stone temples and I was taking pictures of the dancers, he said, “Stop staring at those intimate sculptures.  Such attention is so unbecoming in a woman.” “I've already told you I've sung to temple dancers in places like this.  What's wrong with celebrating the passion of humans in this art?” “Don't stupidly lecture a surgeon like me on common biological instincts!”   I didn't tell him that his response was unnecessarily defensive and ridiculous because I knew his tirades would continue.   For the rest of our honeymoon, he was either preoccupied with his medical journal or staring into his phone.  I didn't realise what he was doing with that phone until I noticed him by chance peering at lewd images of women inviting racy attentions.   “What're you doing looking at obscene videos and photos on your phone?” I dared to ask. “Oh shut up and don't be a bore.  It's only a phone.” “I'm your wife and with you on our honeymoon!  I've a right to ask you why you're looking at racy images of other women,” I said, although my voice felt hollow as if emerging from a shadow rather than from one barely even acknowledged as his wife. “You've a right you say?” he hissed.  “You know you're in no position to be demanding rights.  Concentrate on your duties instead!” “Why are you so persistently mean, Ajit?  I've done no harm to you.” “Oh shut your mouth.  Focus on being obedient instead of screeching like an argumentative fish wife.” “Thank you for being a caring husband,” I wanted to say, but held my tongue.     He continued to attack me from every possible angle, berating me for any excuse.  Showing virtually no warmth to me as a wife, he treated me as a punching bag for his grudges.   No conversation with him was pleasant during our time at Shardapur.      When he was not confiscating my food and telling me how unwomanly it was to even eat what was on my plate, he was ridiculing me for looking dull and boring or not wearing the sari he thought I should have on.  I tried to grit my teeth and say as little as possible and accept my lot in life.      When we reached my married home, I set out to do my best to focus on the duties expected of a traditional wife, cooking, keeping the house clean, fresh and elegant, taking care of the garden.  “Good morning amma and papa,” I said in a bright voice, greeting my in-laws in the house with a breezy smile as I served them their morning tea.       However, both of them only sneered at me, whispering to each other under their breath.   I could tell they were resentful about the lack of that car.  Later when I brought out the dinner to the table, Ajit pulled a face after putting a roti in his mouth and promptly spitting it out.  “Your food is  horrible,” he said. “Not even a starving pig would touch this rubbish.”  He criticised every dish I had painstakingly prepared and told me he couldn't stand my culinary skills. “Tell me what you like and I'll do my best to improve,” I said quietly, trying to blink my tears away.  Ajit only grunted sulkily.    Despite the grim situation I was in, I continued to strive for the household in the vain hope that I could bring some love to this marriage.  Nonetheless, there was always a complaint from him or his parents that I was an incompetent wife.  I was at a loss about what I could possibly do to fix things.        When one evening I had even a moment of joy among the flowers, humming as I watered the plants, Ajit walked upto me and said between his teeth,   “Looks like you've made yourself really comfortable in this house.” “Am I supposed to be uncomfortable here?” “No no,   Dress up to the nines in those rich jewels of yours!” he spat sarcastically. “You seem to have a constant problem with even that parting gift of love from my mother, Ajit.” “I'm sick of your sentimental sob stories!  Do you even see how lucky you're that my family is so tolerant?  Look at those people who burn brides.” “Those are criminals, Ajit!” “Not at all!  They're heroes to be commended for their actions.  What're they supposed to do when the bride's family dishonours their commitment?”    I felt a chill run down my back as I sensed the ugly facets and terrifying implications of his remark.  Luckily, I was able to change the subject.     With a heavy shroud hiding my deepest premonitions,  I continued with my duties as a wife, attending to the family's every demand in the house and also running errands to the pharmacy and stores for my in-laws.   I took the bus or an auto rickshaw to run these errands. “See, that's why your mother should've given you that car.” said my mother-in-law finally deigning to speak to me.  “She couldn't afford it, amma.  So, maybe he and I should save money for that second car,” I replied. “Maybe 'you' should come up with that automobile instead of demanding everything from him,” she screeched.       What she missed understanding was that mine was more than an unpaid full-time job here, catering to every non-stop whim in this household.  Ajit obviously couldn't stand anything I did, or even let me have a moment when I could hum or sing even softly within earshot. “Stop boring me with those geets and ghazals of yours.  I'm into modern western music.” “I do everything to run this house efficiently.  Can't I have even a minute to sing?” I replied, feeling again the absurdity of my plea in this hopeless wilderness. “It's not as if you're doing us a huge favour. You live like a rani,”   he barked.     Such allegations echoed endlessly here.  I walked through the halls of this hostile house feeling isolated and alienated.  Yet, I endeavoured to accept in some dark stoical way what I believed was my fate, no matter what.  Hanging on to the last straw, I tried hard to fathom another path to making things better.  But then again there was a new shift for the worse.  Ajit started coming home very late, staggering into the room drunk. “You reek of alcohol,” I couldn't help screeching one night.  “I'd no idea you'd be so out of control.” “Shut up woman.  You've no idea about a lot of things.”     I picked up the jacket and shirt he threw on the floor.   That's when I noticed the unmistakable smell of an ultra-feminine French perfume.  It was not the cologne Ajit used.   There were also some lipstick stains on his shirt.    “You've been coming home really late even when you're not on duty. Who're you spending your time with?” I couldn't restrain my natural fury. “Why should you care?  I do need a life too, don't I?” “Wasn't that the purpose of your marriage to me?” I asked even as I foresaw the obvious reply coming. “Marriage to you?  And purpose?  Looks like the purpose is only in illusions of cars that will never materialise.  And what about those lovely royal jewels you have, fit for a maharani?  Where do you hide them?” “That all over again, oh no!  I don't hide them.” “Then where're they?” “In a safe place locked up.” “So you say you don't hide them, but still keep them locked up for yourself, hmm?  Do you think I can't find out where they are?”  Grabbing my plait and pulling it tightly behind my head,  he said, “You and your mother are disgusting!” “I've done no wrong.   Don't insult my mother, Ajit!” “Shut up, you pig!” he said and pushed me to the ground and kicked me several times.     Trembling with my head spinning, I knew I couldn't withstand another moment here. I had endured far more than enough. This shell of a marriage had cracked to shards.        The next day I reached for my locked suitcase, knowing beyond the slightest doubt that those jewels had to leave this house instantly before anything horrible happened.  I had to take them immediately to mummy.   Grabbing them and struggling to ignore the throbbing pain of my injuries, I rushed to her office. “Good heavens, you look like a ghost, your eyes sunken and haunted!” she exclaimed as I staggered in. “He's very abusive, mummy!   It started with that car and now it's the jewels he's persistently after.   I had to bring them here before anything even more unbearable happened.” “Aruna. the jewels were not merely your trousseau, but your nest egg in times of need.  They're safe here.”    That's when I showed her the indented ugly purple bruises on my leg and explained everything to her.   She gasped.  “Those bruises look terrible! That man's insane with greed.   It's a miracle you put up with this so long.  That marriage was a huge mistake.  Oh God, I wish I'd foreseen it.” “Me too.  I tried my best, but failed.  There's nothing to save here, mummy,” I said, biting my trembling lip.   “Pack up and get away without delay!”       Ajit didn't know of my visit to mummy when he returned late again that evening. “So how's the queen been?  Reigning supreme as always?” he asked with a crooked smile.  I didn't want another word with the brute and shrugged.   He watched me adjusting my hairpins and arranging my plait in my effort to look calm.  “Okay.   Trying to be smart are you by not answering?   You think I cannot outsmart you in a second and find out where your jewels are?” He snapped his fingers. “Ajit, I'm tired.” “Oh you poor thing, your lazy life must be exhausting.  Since I'm tired too, l'll let it rest for tonight, but remember tomorrow's another day.   An auspicious one too,  It's Diwali.”  His laugh exploded through the air.    Diwali the following day should have been an occasion to light diyas, adorn the house and fill it with laughter and sweets.  However, my cloud of sorrow, dense with unshed tears, obscured any possible delight in these festivities.  This house felt grey and desolate like a graveyard.  I was still reeling from all that physical and emotional violence.  My only shuddering thought was to escape from all this dreaded toxicity.       When Ajit had gone to the hospital, I hurried with packing in the two suitcases I had.   My in-laws ate the lunch I prepared, but only whispered to each other under their breath, ignoring me as usual.    By the evening, I had packed up most of my clothes, shoes and other things, ready to leave the following day.  I was combing my hair in front of the oval mirror that night, when I saw him enter the room.   Even from the mirror, I could see his eyes blazing like a scorching furnace.   He advanced slowly towards me and asked, “Now, 'where' are the jewels?”  “They're in the house,” I answered vaguely.     Bending over me, he grabbed me by the shoulder and twisted me around so that I was facing him.  “I asked 'where' in the house?” “You're hurting me again,” I said, trying to push him away. “I haven't hurt you enough,” he said, throwing a vase at me.  I ducked, and the beautiful porcelain vase crashed to the floor.   “You're insane!” I screamed.      He threw an electronic object in my direction.   As I ducked again and watched it fall on the ground, he continued, “Since you won't reveal where the jewels are, I've no choice but to get rid of you.”  He watched my stunned face and said, “I'm not stupid like those idiots who burn brides and leave evidence.  I'm a surgeon, who can use anesthesia and my knife brilliantly.   Once I cut you up in the shower, I'll throw your dismembered parts to the crocodiles in that river outside.  They'll eat your disgusting carcass. Nobody will even know I did it or see me amidst all that noise covering and dhoom dham outside.  That's why I planned it for today!” “No, don't kill me!” I screamed.  “Please!”      However, it happened before I could get in another word,  as the fire from Ajit's gun flashed ferociously on my face before he pulled out his knife.   That night after the sun had finished spreading its elaborate feast of Diwali colours across the waiting horizon, the moon took her turn.  She painted the sky soulfully in otherworldly purple topaz and yellow diamond, limpid like a sea of tears.  The scarlet outpourings of my blood added their passionate outcry to all the lights and firecrackers of the Diwali celebrations and outbursts of laughter around that morbid house.     Now, I as look below as the dismembered spirit I still am sparkling in the sky, I give a savage laugh at the irony of events that took place after that criminal killed me.   That electronic object that Ajit threw on the carpet was indeed my music recorder.  Its record button was pushed in the impact of his aggressive gesture towards me.  It captured every word that the brute spat out before murdering me!       The police found this incriminating evidence after mummy reported my absence to them.  I hear that they've also recently found many glass bangles in the bodies of crocodiles.  The bangles once belonged to impoverished women, who were washing clothes on the river banks.  They were attacked and eaten by these reptiles.       So, it's only a matter of time that the police apprehend likewise, the red bangles I had on that night to further affirm the details of my murder.   No matter what, I'm delighted that my palatial diamonds are joining in tonight's festivities, gleaming in their luxurious Diwali fire lighting mummy's house.      From my vantage point above, I can now even see that pathetic murderer at the window behind the bars of his jail cell awaiting a deadly sentence. “Your savvy killing methods only led you here, right?” I cackle wildly.  Ajit doesn't respond.    “What? Can't you hear me screech?  Now don't you dare to even dream of those jewels that you wanted to fire up your Diwali!  They're mine,” I add hoarsely.  NOTES:  My story is set during Diwali, Festival Of Lights from India.     Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!