One by one, the women emerged from their small cottages, greeting each other with beaming smiles. The aroma of daisies, lilies, and hydrangeas wafted across the village. A gentle breeze blew, and the leaves of the trees swayed in tandem with the humming rhythm of the wind that came from the south. The sound of knives as it came into contact with the cutting boards, the thud when the pestle hit the mortar, and the swishing of sticks as young girls practiced an ancient form of martial arts - the symphony of the feminine between nature and woman was a pleasant sight to behold.
Suddenly, the dwellers froze in their tracks. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the village. Their eyebrows furrowed, as they watched the tangerine sun disappear behind the dark clouds, enveloping the verdant landscape in an ominous shade of grey.
The woman with wrinkles on her face flung her headscarf on the ground. Leaving the onions aside, she mumbled something and dashed towards the barn. The woman with the bindi patted her flat stomach, shook her head melancholically as she realised the futility of her actions, and rushed towards the smallest hut in the cluster. Relief mixed with tears appeared on her face, as she saw the little girl with the cropped hair sitting on the cot, staring into nothingness.
The women's whispers in the barn grew louder, interrupting the girl's train of thought. She stood up and asked the woman, “What's the commotion, aunty?”
“No Man's Land is under siege! I think …”
Kashaf Aapa
I was rolling out round rotis when Miyan walked in with his new bride. Anger rose within me, but I controlled myself and resisted the urge to strangle the witch. Let him have his way with her, until he tires of her. If she doesn’t bear him a son, he will get a third one. And the cycle will continue. I will have the fortune of seeing her begging for dear life.
If the new bride was taken aback by my indifference, she didn’t show it. Miyan glared at me, and taking his wife’s hand, he took her to his bedroom. Soon, the bed began to creak under the weight of two individuals.
I thought of my twins, buried somewhere under the banyan tree in our yard. The infuriated Miyan had rained slaps and kicks on me, and then proceeded to strangle my daughters. And then, as though it were a stroll in the park, he dug tiny graves for them. How thoughtful!
A year elapsed. The third grave was on its way to welcome another unwanted member. The young woman cried and begged for mercy, but Miyan was relentless. Numb to all this now, I continued to chop the vegetables for lunch. Strangely, I felt no joy seeing her beg for mercy. Hadn’t I wanted that?
The second wife ran away with the milkman. A part of me was infuriated at her audacity. But I silently admired her. She had the gumption to leave Miyan. Somehow, my husband blamed me for his loss of face, and he rained blows on me with his lathi.
When did the epiphany come? Was it that fateful evening?
I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out.
Something in me snapped, as Miyan had his way with the girl who used to call me khala. It all happened in a blur, as I hit the back of his head with a brick. I saw the blood oozing out, his life ebbing out, and the girl running away, while I stood like a statue.
I am Kashaf, and I have blood on my hands. The past clings to me like a shadow. But in No Man’s Land, I am a hero to my girls.
Ambika Roychowdhury
The preparations for Durga Puja were in full swing, and the aroma of kans flowers filled the village with joie de vivre. My mother-in-law was barking out instructions to her scaredy servants in her hoarse voice. The much-respected zamindar of our village, and my husband (so to speak) sat in front of the artist, watching the wrinkled, yet experienced hands create the Goddess from mounds of clay. Oblivious to all this, I lay supine on our four-poster bed, caressing my stomach and simultaneously wiping away the tears that rolled down my cheeks.
“It was an accident, my son!” My mother-in-law invoked Maa Durga, implying that she spoke the truth, and nothing but the truth.
Maybe it was indeed an accident. But I had my doubts. The cook was dead certain that the baby taking its initial breaths in my womb was a girl. The woman who could cook a delicious macher jhol could also cook up a fabulous story, and my mother-in-law would believe it as an oracle from the pantheon of Gods and Goddesses.
Durga Puja indeed!
When did the epiphany come? Was it that fateful morning?
I remember the precise moment, crouching behind the ornate door of the Roychowdhury Mahal bedchamber, peeping through the keyhole. That was not a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past, however recent or distant, claws its way out.
Something in me snapped, as my mother-in-law and the cook made elaborate plans to poison my fish curry, so that the zamindar could marry the beautiful girl from the city. The witch was certain that the girl would beget a son and the rightful heir to the Roychowdhury family. A part of me wanted to confront them, but I had been raised to obey my elders. So I did the next best thing. I ran.
It was Bijoyadashami. The atmosphere was melancholic, as the menfolk had bid adieu to Maa. My husband went out with his coterie to have fun with the women they had abducted. The cook was in a stupor, having inhaled an extra dose of opium. My mother-in-law retired to her room, complaining of a bad knee.
There was no way anybody could spot me slithering out of the mansion like a seasoned thief.
I am Ambika, and I feel like a coward. But in No Man’s Land, I am a hero to my girls.
The Girl
Dear Diary,
I have a confession to make. The Father is dead. I have killed him. Mommy will throw a fit if she finds out. She respects him a lot.
Mommy says I should pray to God and seek His blessings. But I don’t like going to church to attend mass. I mean, the boys look at me instead of the cross. They whisper words like bomb and item. I feel as if thousands of cockroaches are crawling over me. And Father? He is a bad man. He always comes home when mommy is not there. I tell him - Hey, Father! Mom’s gone out. But he just smiles. Asks me to sit on his lap. What can I do? I obey him and don’t object when he pecks me on the cheek. Mommy always says - Father is blessed by God Himself.
It’s my secret. My hush-hush secret. Mommy will say I am the bad girl. After all, good girls go to church and pray and confess their sins.
Sometimes I feel like I should confess too. But he will be there, sitting inside the chamber, in his finest robe. What if...?
Why did I feel like I should push him away from me? And was it my fault that he hit his head on the mosaic floor and blood oozed out? I swear, I didn’t want him to die.
I remember the precise moment, as his hands slid under my skirt. I whimpered a no, and tears welled up in my eyes, but he didn’t stop. When his finger came into contact with my panties, I screamed. It was then that the accident happened. That was not a long time ago, but momma is wrong - when she says we can bury the past. It’s easy for her to say that. She left my dad and came to settle in Goa. That's it. As simple as that! Not in my case. The past haunts me like a ghost. Like the roving hands of that evil man. It gives me nightmares. I wake up in the middle of the sweat, sweating, often wetting my bed.
It’s a terrible feeling. But at that moment, it was liberating to run without a care in the world.
I am the girl… and the baby of the group. Everybody knows my background, but nobody judges me. In their eyes, I’m not a murderer. On the contrary, they care for me. In No Man’s Land, I am treated as a mini celebrity.
No Man’s Land
Kashaf ran and ran. Miyan’s death at her hands didn’t bother her one bit. Rather, it was a sublime feeling, not to live in constant anticipation of his unpredictable blows and kicks. For the first time, she dared to smile in a carefree manner. She lost count of the number of days she had travelled, taking care to remain as innocuous as ever. A lonely woman is always treated with suspicion in a misogyny-ridden world.
It was then the soft light emitting from a sleepy hamlet that lured her. As she entered the village, she was astounded to see womenfolk carrying out chores that men normally undertook. They chopped wood, cooked in the open, practiced sword fights, and danced with gay abandon. Suddenly, it struck her. There was no man here to ogle at them and make them uncomfortable.
It was a village for the women, by the women, for the women.
Kashaf found her haven in No Man’s Land.
***
Ambika ran and ran. She didn’t know if her husband’s cronies were after her. Time was ticking by, and she couldn’t afford to stop. She had changed into a coarse cotton saree stolen from the cook’s trunk. Her aristocratic face and silk baluchari sarees could have attracted unwarranted suspicion, so she covered her head with the pallu. She had wiped out all signs of her marital status, and anybody would have assumed that she was a widow.
She had some money given to her by her father when she had visited him a few days ago. Going back to her baba was not an option, though. He was terribly orthodox and would advise him to return to her husband.
Using public transport, she travelled the length and breadth of the country. On the lookout for a place where she wouldn’t be recognised, she discovered No Man’s Land. She took an instant liking to the village, including the feisty Kashaf aapa.
***
The girl ran and ran. It would only be a matter of time before the news leaked out, and furious fanatics would start to bay for her blood. In a world where religion triumphed over science and logic, she would be an easy target, and there would be none to support her. Thanks to the tourist season, she mingled easily with the crowd and found her way to the station. She boarded the unreserved compartment of a train and got down after a few stops. Repeating the ordeal, she paused only until she decided to walk towards a village. It was evening, however, strangely, she didn’t face any fear. It was as if the place looked safe and inviting.
No Man’s Land welcomed her with hugs and kisses, and for the first time, she didn’t feel squeamish about the touches.
The Siege
Kashaf looked at her sisters. If she was worried about the impending siege, her face didn’t show it.
“How did the men come to know about this place?” asked Ambika.
Kashaf shrugged her shoulders. “It was bound to happen one day. Nobody likes it when women are happy. It’s as if … they fear when we are independent. It threatens them.”
“Are we armed enough?” asked the girl in a soft voice.
Ambika looked at her with a wistful smile. “You go and hide inside the hut, dear girl.”
Kashaf interrupted her. “We need everyone's support, Ambika.”
“But, aapa, she is so small.”
“She must fight if she has to survive, Ambika!” Kashaf hollered.
Meanwhile, the other women had gathered all the weapons, which were concealed beneath the haystack. Rifles, bayonets, spears, daggers, and pistols saw the light of day after decades of unuse.
Kashaf picked up a bayonet. “Pick up your instruments, ladies.”
The women obeyed her. The girl picked up a small gun and took her place as instructed behind the haystack. “You’ll fire as a last resort, girl. Got it?”
The girl nodded. Her hand trembled, but she controlled it with a firmness uncommon for her age. A lump formed in Ambika’s throat. She looked at Kashaf. “I never thought I would see this day.”
Kashaf patted her on the shoulder. “Brace yourself for the worst, Ambika.”
Kashaf Aapa
It was a weird feeling when I held the bayonet. For a moment, I thought of my twins buried under the tree, but I brushed aside the thoughts. It was not the time to mourn the past, but to defend the future. Our future. I looked at the girl, and a wave of admiration swept over me. I mean, she was hardly in her teens, and yet she picked up a gun with very little discomfort.
Ambika, on the other hand, looked shocked. I always thought that she was the delicate darling of our group. But with No Man’s Land under attack, I was sure she would pick up the arms. And she did, much to my delight and relief.
The sky looked inky now. They would be here anytime.
It’s been so long since I killed Miyan.
But he was alone. And helpless. Here, I had no idea how many men would be there. I was sure they would be armed. We would be no match for them. But there was no way I would be going down without putting up a fight.
The first man came into sight. I must admit I was taken aback. After all, it had been years since I saw a man. Disgust rose in me like bile. The vile creature had a sneer on his smug face. Looking at the women in a lecherous way, he patted his beard. I recognized the stare. Miyan had the look when he penetrated the girl who used to call me khala. My thoughts instinctively went to the little girl in our group, and something in me snapped for the second time. I was not going to tolerate yet another child abuse. Not under my vigil!
With a raging cry, I raised my hand and lunged forward.
Ambika Roychowdhury
My hand quivered when I picked up the dagger. The irony was not lost on me. Despite being a woman, I had never even picked up a knife to cut vegetables or fruits. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I had been surrounded by cooks and servants throughout my childhood. And marriage into a zamindar family ensured I never ventured into the kitchen, unless it was to give a specific instruction to the cook. And that too was taken care of by my mother-in-law.
For a moment, I thought of my unborn baby. If I had not run away, history would have been repeated again. If the cook’s prophecy came true, and if it was indeed a girl, I would have been tense about the stares she would be subject to.
My eyes darted towards the haystack. There she was, the puny girl, holding a gun, as though it were a perfectly natural thing to do. The fire in her hitherto listless eyes shocked me.
I balled my fist. It was time to let go of the tag ‘delicate darling’ aapa had bestowed on me. Whatever happened, I had to ensure that the girl would be protected at any cost. She was precious to us.
The sky looked inky now. They would be here anytime.
It’s been so long since I behaved like a coward. Now’s the time to unleash the power of Durga on these barbarians.
But how? I had no idea how many men were invading us. But I was certain of one thing. We had an arduous task in front of us.
The first man in the skull cap came into sight. Trailing him closely was a handsome middle-aged man. On beholding us, he twirled his moustache. I recognized that gesture. My husband used to do the same thing when he spotted a woman he longed for. The memories of nights filled with shrieks of women flooded my mind. I was no longer going to be a silent spectator. If this demon ever had the audacity to lay a small finger on the girl, I would finish him off.
With a raging cry, I followed Kashaf aapa.
Joy Maa Durga!
The Girl
I was surprised when I picked up the gun. The look on Ambika aunty’s face was something I would never forget. Mommy had never even allowed me to enter the kitchen. She was of the opinion I would take to cooking later in my life, when I became an adult and married.
“You go and play outside, my girl!”
Yeah, I did play. Until the nightmares started to appear. Father’s hands. The wet pecks that stuck to my face like glue. That hush sound he used to make while warning me. The Barbie and Ken dolls scared me. I always went to sleep in an agitated state of mind.
For a fleeting moment, I thought of the blood. The dead Father. Then I shoved them aside. It was not the time to revisit the past, but to protect the present.
Kashaf khala looked menacing as she held the bayonet in her wrinkled hand. Even Ambika aunty surprised me when she picked up the dagger. If I was the little girl of the village, aunty was the delicate darling. But I guess it was not the time to fear the uncertain. I took my place behind the haystack. So what if I was young? If I managed to pump at least one bullet into a man, I would pat myself on the back.
It’s been so long since I pushed the satanic man to death. Now’s the time to show them that girls aren’t to be messed with.
I had no idea how many men were there. But I was ready.
A gasp left my mouth when I saw a man in white warrior attire. The nightmares threatened to reappear. I thought of the little girls who were now the devil’s prey. How many mothers would believe them? I could envision them, slowly crawling their way towards despair and a point of no return. No, I couldn’t let them down.
With a silent prayer, I kept my finger on the trigger.
The Battle Begins
The man in the skull cap raised his right hand. The smug look hadn’t left his pock-ridden face. It was a gesture of confidence. I am enough for the women.
The men behind him paused and began to egg him on.
Down with No Man’s Land. Reclaim our land. Down with the women.
The man got down from the horse and rushed towards Kashaf. “Kya khala? Must you take up arms at this age? Shouldn’t you be praying five times a day? Now, be a good Muslim woman and go on a Haj pilgrimage.”
Kashaf spat on his face. “With predators lurking around, we must take matters into our own hands. As for God, I’ll meet Him on the Day of Judgement. I am sure the Benevolent One will understand.”
The man raised his sword. Kashaf thrust the bayonet in his chest, but he ducked at the last moment. If a fleeting admiration for the feisty woman made its way into his heart, it was pushed out by his fragile masculine ego. He swished his sword a couple of times, but Kashaf managed to evade its sharp edge.
The women stood with bated breath, waiting for their aapa’s instructions.
The fight between man and woman continued for thirty minutes. Both warriors refused to give up. The skull-capped fighter had fresh scars on his face. Kashaf was bleeding from her shoulders. Meanwhile, the onlookers wondered why the wrinkled woman didn’t fire a shot.
Foolish! The men sniggered.
Wow! The women gasped in awe and admiration.
When the man showed signs of haste and impatience, Kashaf retreated a couple of steps, catching him off guard. The shot reverberated across the No Man’s Land. A gaping hole formed on his forehead between the eyebrows, and the fighter dropped to the ground. He didn’t have a chance to recover.
“I could have shot you in the beginning, but then, you must know who you are dealing with!” Kashaf hissed.
Shell-shocked, the men urged their horses to gallop ahead. On the cue from Kashaf, the women lunged forward.
The dust rose towards the sky. Birds began to fly back to their nests, thinking it was dark. It was as if an eclipse had formed over the village. Kashaf began to attack the men with the bayonets and shooting them before they could even register what was happening to them.
A middle-aged woman fired random shots from her pistol, killing many fighters on the spot. However, the men proved to be equal fighters and killed many women, often brutally decapitating them.
The battle of the sexes grew more gruesome by the minute. If there were a God, He would have paused to witness the fight of the millennium. If there were a Goddess, She would have sent Her powers to Her daughters.
The man with the moustache advanced towards Ambika, after having got down from his horse. The Bengali woman trembled for a moment, but images of her husband clouded her mind. Fury flashed across her face, and her bloodshot eyes widened. Her chest heaved, and she looked like a Goddess in flesh and blood. If her mother-in-law had been there, she would have fallen at her feet, seeking her blessings. Ambika’s inner Chandi woke up, and she thrust the dagger in his chest, drawing blood.
“Oh Maa!” The man wailed loudly and fell at her feet.
Ambika’s body quivered in rage. The initial skepticism and hesitation vanished, and a new-found confidence overtook her. Having tasted blood, she moved like the ferocious Durga. A few men avoided her, and some retreated to target weaker women. The unfortunate ones in her way didn’t stand a chance, and their souls ascended the stairway to hell and infamy.
Kashaf continued to massacre men in succession. But she started to show signs of fatigue. Her body was getting more and more bloodied. A boy in his teens blocked her path.
“Get away, you…” Kashaf sighed.
The boy grinned. “You’re no match for me, hag!”
With a furious call, Kashaf lunged forward, but the sudden movement from the boy caught her unawares, and before she could react, he slit her throat with a smooth move. Blood began to trickle like water sputtering out from an old tap. Guttural sounds emerged from Kashaf, and soon, blood came out in torrents.
“Aapa!” Ambika screamed. The women around her didn’t have the time to pause and mourn their beloved Kashaf’s death. With tears in their eyes and renewed vigour, they continued the macabre dance of death.
The girl stayed hidden behind the haystack, but she managed to fire a couple of rounds from her gun. Surrounded by women of varying ages, the men couldn’t find out the source of the bullets. The girl saw her khala dying a painful death, and despite the tears, she held her hand steadily.
The Battle Continues
With their unofficial leader Kashaf aapa gone, the women went about their killing spree with the walk of a possessed spirit. However, not all were lucky, as a few fell prey to the marauding men. In the meantime, trained women appeared with sticks. Their rivals laughed at their apparent folly, but they were in for a shock.
With clear expertise, they swirled their sticks and made the men mount off their houses. Once the fighters found themselves on the soil, they were no match for the combats. A few got their skulls smashed, while others dislocated their shoulders and screamed for mercy. Their companions had no time for their pain, and soon the fallen got trampled to death by the horses.
Ambika was still in her Goddess Durga avatar. Enraged, she dropped her dagger and picked up a trident, finishing off the human Mahishasuras. The men dropped like ninepins, and the few that managed to escape her, evaded her, targeting instead the other women.
The girl, hidden behind the haystack, was spot on with her aims, as many seasoned fighters fell to the bullets from her gun.
Battles Never End
The man with the white beard stood watching the battle from afar, standing atop a treehouse. A look of disgust flashed across his face. He thought it would be a cakewalk to conquer No Man’s Land.
“It’ll be over before you say woman,” he had confidently told his warriors.
His mind wandered to the day he had discovered the peculiar village. He had been on the lookout for a place to hide from the police, when his eyes fell on the hamlet. But before he could seek refuge there, he noticed something peculiar about the place.
It was a village inhabited by women.
Thoughts of ‘the weaker sex’ enjoying freedom and living without men angered him, and he began to gradually find out more details about the village. He began to engage in talks with other men, and many sided with him.
How dare they enjoy lives without us?
“How are they going to have babies without us?” A teenager smirked, rubbing his hands gleefully.
“It seems the influx of girls never stops. No idea why and how!” Another middle-aged man seemed perplexed by the thought.
Soon, a plan was charted. The men would attack the women and reclaim their rights. The women are trained in martial arts and warfare. But the leader was confident that they would win. After all, women are physically weaker than men.
As the old man stood watching the carnage, he picked up a trumpet and blew thrice. The men stopped fighting and retreated. Surprised, the women looked on. The men were equally shocked and disgusted, but if their leader said so, there must be a reason behind it.
A teenage girl let out a happy cry and began to dance in joy. Soon, she was joined by her sisters. Ambika sank into the ground. Her blouse was threatening to come apart from the slits made by swords and daggers. Blood oozed out from her forehead, but her condition didn’t seem life-threatening.
The girl emerged from behind the haystack and made a dash towards Ambika.
“Aunty, are you ok?”
Ambika managed a meek smile. “I’ll be fine. You are a brave girl.”
“You’re the best, aunty. Take a bow.”
“Aapa!” Ambika asked with a lump on her throat.
“Khala will get a proper sendoff,” the girl murmured.
Ambika got up with difficulty, supported by the girl. She called the women to assemble near her.
“Sisters! The cowards have run away. But that doesn’t mean that we can breathe easy. They will be back. Next time, it will be worse than this. Brace yourselves.”
The women screamed in unison. “We are prepared.”
A middle-aged woman spoke out. “But … our strength had diminished. The numbers have dwindled.”
Ambika shook her head. “We will get new entrants.”
“But how will they discover No Man’s Land?”
“Just like you discovered it.”
“But that would mean …..”
Ambika nodded. “As long as the men continue to oppress women, No Man’s Land will witness a continuous influx of victims. The day we are treated with respect will be the day our village will not see a single new entrant.”
The women smirked.
Ambika smiled. “You know that’ll never happen.”
Slowly, she got up to her feet. The girl put an arm around her waist and led her to the distorted body of Kashaf. Seeing the effervescent woman in such a state, Ambika broke down.
“Aapa! Why did you leave us?”
Kashaf and the other women were given a sendoff accorded to martyred soldiers. After all, they were no less than the ones who guarded the country’s borders. The survivors keened and lamented the deaths of their sisters.
Ambika, now bandaged and medicated, stood before the pyres and the tombstones. According to their religious affiliations, the dead were taken care of. But because No Man’s Land stood for unity more than anything else, places of worship and dead stood together. The message was clear. We have our differences, but dare to needle us, and we will join hands to destroy you.
The farewell done, the women went back to the barn to survey the weapons. This battle might have been won, but the war was far from over. The men would return with vengeance. After all, hell hath no fury like a man licking his wounds. They would be needing new ammunition and arms. When they were listing down the required weapons, a soft knock was heard on the door.
The women became alert. Holding the gun in her hand, the girl opened the door.
A woman in police uniform stood at the door. “Is this a safe place for women?”
The sisters nodded. Heaving a sigh of relief, the policewoman entered the woman. Before she shook hands with the others, she turned back and yelled. “Come in. You’ll feel loved here.”
A collective gasp filled the atmosphere, when No Man’s Land witnessed the entry of its youngest member.