A Pair of Jhumkas
Photo: Karan Madhok
Short Story: ‘She couldn’t believe this was happening to her—these conspiracies, these trending hashtags, all playing out in real life. There was no need to engage. By now, Vaani and Aaqib were walking as briskly as the woods would allow.’
The encyclopaedia was a hand-me-down from Vaani’s rich maasi. Twenty years ago, she had come over—her kohl-lined eyes bulging from the weight of lugging the thick book—and pulled it out of a white plastic bag. She had told Vaani about the wonders it contained. Vaani, seven-years-old at the time, had marvelled at the colourful drawings. It was the thickest book she had ever seen in her life. She stored it carefully in the bottom drawer of her mother’s dresser.
As she grew older and claimed part of the dresser for herself, the drawer also filled up with more items: lotions, hair clips, a book of sudoku puzzles, and at least fifteen nail polish bottles cluttered all around.
As a child, Vaani would bring out the book often, flipping through the pages, reading random words, and trying to copy the drawings in her notebook. Over time, however, she pulled out the book lesser and lesser. It had become an unmovable rock. Removing it would disturb all the items piled on and around it, disrupting the studied chaos that hid inside that drawer.
But today, while her mother was busy in the kitchen and her father hadn’t returned home from work, Vaani impatiently brushed everything off the book and pulled it out. She opened the book close to the middle, placed a banana peel on the page, and pressed it close with all her weight onto the book. The sweet smell of the fruit wafted into her nose. She placed the book back in the drawer, pushing aside the things that had occupied its space, and filled a fistful of items back on top.
As she got into bed that night, staring up at the fan that noisily threw air around, she felt a tinge of nervousness. The dresser was in her parents’ room and she slept on a mattress in the hall. What if her mother smelled the peel and opened her drawer? She took a few steadying breaths to calm herself down, focusing on relaxing her body one part at a time. While engaged in this exercise, she noticed her parents’ room light go off. She was in the clear. She could relax and replay the events of the day in her mind.
*
That morning, like every morning, had begun with a start. Vaani had slept through her alarm again and only woke up once her mother started doing aarti of the Krishna idol they had at home. The incessant clanging of metal against metal pierced her mind, slowly pulling her to consciousness. She would be late to work if she didn’t rush. She showered quickly, skipped the sunscreen and face cream she had purchased, grabbed a biscuit, and ran to the bus stop.
When she got off the bus and started the short walk to her office, she passed two fruit stands. The first one sold a variety of fruits and the one further ahead only sold bananas. She always stopped at the first one and, depending on the season, carefully scanned her options, picking a fruit to serve as breakfast. Her favourite was when there were guavas in season. The old cart holder lovingly cut the guava into four, without detaching the slices from the base. He rubbed his special masala on each slice. The juiciness of the fruit and the spicy kick of the masala created a divine combination. In the past, she had jokingly asked the old man for the masala recipe, and he’d always laughed in response, showing off the two gaps in his teeth.
Today, Vaani was in the mood for banana, but the old man didn’t have any. She walked over to another cart a few steps ahead, and aiming her voice at the head bent below, asked for two elaichi bananas. The head that surfaced wasn’t of the man who usually manned the cart; instead, piercing brown eyes glanced into hers, and a smile played on the young man’s face. From the way he smiled, she could tell that he found her attractive. As he stood up straight, she noticed his height and broad shoulders. The brown kurta he wore hung loosely on his slender body.
The young man grabbed a plastic bag and pulled out two small bananas.
Vaani felt deeply conscious because the smile on his face had only become more prominent. His thin face was set with a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and deep, sunken eyes. His thick eyebrows framed his face, presenting a dramatic contrast to the white skullcap sitting on his head.
She brought the wallet out of her bag and handed him the money. He handed her the bag with a small laugh.
“Is something funny?” she asked, speaking in English.
To her surprise, he responded with an assured comfort of the language, too. “It’s your diamond earring. It’s shining in the sun and reflecting light on your cheek. I’ve never seen a dimple without a smile before.”
Vaani stared at him for a few seconds, no longer annoyed, but confused about what to feel. She picked up the bag, thanked him and started walking away.
“I’m Aaqib, by the way,” he said, his voice forcing her to turn back to him.
“Vaani.”
“Take another banana, Vaani,” he said, pulling out another piece. “On the house.”
As she got into bed that night, staring up at the fan that noisily threw air around, she felt a tinge of nervousness. The dresser was in her parents’ room and she slept on a mattress in the hall. What if her mother smelled the peel and opened her drawer?
She examined the fruit, her confusion growing. She simply didn’t know how to respond to this man. She had never met a fluent, English-speaking fruit cart vendor before.
“Please,” he added.
Vaani stared into his eyes for a few moments, mesmerized by the shades of brown illuminated by the sun. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope. She took the fruit from his hand, whispered a quick thanks, turned and walked briskly toward her office.
She ate the first two bananas in the morning, thinking about him the whole time. The free banana she kept aside for later. By the time she left office in the evening, he was gone, replaced by the same man who was there every other day manning the cart. She ate the third banana in the bus, absentmindedly tracing her fingers against the ridges of the peel.
She’d always envied the girls who got dimples when they smiled. He had given her one. She wanted to be seen more closely by him, learn how she looked through his eyes. Those eyes had kindness. She looked at her feet as a small smile forced itself onto her lips, and saved the peel in the plastic bag. She’d never been the type to get flowers from boys; finally, she had something to press in a book, a memory she hoped to fondly recall decades later.
*
Vaani woke up to the alarm the following morning. She washed her hair generously, and parted it to the right so it framed her face in a flattering way. She applied lotion on her face and then carefully put on makeup, adding a tinge of red to her cheeks, a lightly sparkling transparent lip gloss, and thick lines of kajal around her eyes. She added big jhumkas and completed her look with a stack of bangles that matched her kurti. She was just getting ready for another day at office, she told herself.
But when she got off the bus, her eyes went straight to the banana cart. There he was, watching something on his phone, and covering his mouth as his body bent over with laughter.
She walked slowly toward the cart, not sure where to look and worried about the expression on her face. She checked the back of her kurti three times, making sure it wasn’t stuck in her butt. She pushed her hair behind her ear, then brought it in front, and then pushed it behind again. She glanced at him and he was looking straight at her. She looked away instantly, missed a step, and staggered slightly. Reaching his cart, she looked pointedly at the many bunches of yellow and green bananas.
“Two elaichi bananas?”
“Yes, please,” she said, still avoiding eye contact.
“Another day, another beautiful pair of earrings, Vaani.”
A surprised laugh escaped her lips. “Thank you, Aaqib.”
“Your voice makes my name glow.”
She looked into those eyes and smiled
“Budding poet, are we?”
“I will be—now that I’ve found my muse.”
She stared at a black patch on one of the yellow bananas, not sure how to respond.
He extended his hand forward to hand her the bag. As she curled her hand through the handle, he let his fingers graze the back of her palm. She looked up at him and saw a softness in his eyes as he smiled at her.
“See you tomorrow,” she blurted out, without realizing what she was saying. She caught him smile one more time before walking away.
“Another day, another beautiful pair of earrings, Vaani.”
A surprised laugh escaped her lips. “Thank you, Aaqib.”
“Your voice makes my name glow.”
“Wait!”
She turned back to him.
“The weekend starts tomorrow. Do you work Saturdays?”
“I don’t.”
“Then meet me tomorrow.”
*
On Saturday morning, she filled her bag with clothes, makeup, and jewellery. Her father sat reading the newspaper; Vaani reached out to hug and kiss him goodbye. She told her mother that she was going to spend the day at her friend Rani’s house, who lived alone in Mumbai.
Once at Rani’s, Vaani changed: she had chosen a red kurti and black tights. She put on kajal, added red to her cheeks, eyelids, and lips, and put on red bangles. She had carried three earring options. She held each up to her ears, seeing which went best with her outfit. The pressure to wear impressive earrings for the third day in a row was too much for her. She decided not to wear any.
“How do I look?” she asked Rani.
“For the banana cart guy?”
“I told you: I think there’s more to him.”
“And what if there isn’t?”
“Then I won’t see him again. It’s that simple.”
“Please don’t fall for him.”
“I will not. It’s really not that big a deal, you know.”
“He owns a road side fruit cart. I cannot stress that enough. Next, you’ll go on dates with a taxi driver or a food delivery guy. Are you insane?”
“I just feel something around him. Like a tinge. And pretty. The way he looks at me, I feel pretty.”
“Come to the club with me tonight and you’ll feel that ten times in ten minutes.”
Vaani laughed and headed out. She walked over to the bus stop, carefully tying her hair so the bus ride wouldn’t mess it up. She felt enough excitement and nervousness that she took to chanting the Hanuman Chalisa in her mind to keep herself calm. At her stop, she got off, opened her hair, and then walked over to the bridge above the creek. It was a part of the city she’d never been to before; the sense of curiosity and adventure only added to her excitement.
“He owns a road side fruit cart. I cannot stress that enough. Next, you’ll go on dates with a taxi driver or a food delivery guy. Are you insane?”
He was waiting on the middle of the bridge. He wore a light blue kurta today and his head tilted to the side as he saw her and smiled.
“Hello ji,” he said.
“Hi.”
“You look stunning.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking down and trying to suppress her smile.
“I see you skipped the earrings today.”
“I honestly didn’t know which ones to wear.”
“It’s a good thing I have these,” he said, fishing into his pocket and bringing out a pair of jhumkas. They looked like mini chandeliers, with silver lines of beads in the middle and colourful, drop-shaped stones hanging from each line. “May I?”
She nodded, and he stepped forward, putting each earring on.
They looked at each other for a few moments.
“Would you like to walk? There’s a narrow path through the woods up ahead.”
She thought for a moment about the delicate juttis she was wearing, but quickly pushed that thought out of her mind. “Let’s go!”
They walked in silence for some time. Once within the trees, shaded from the sun and surrounded by the sweet chirping of birds, she smiled.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Vaani.”
Her steps became smaller and her palms folded into fists. Her head was tilted toward him but her body faced straight ahead. “I don’t know how to say it and not sound elitist.”
Aaqib looked at her with a slight smile. “Noted. You’re not being elitist. Go for it.”
“How is your English so good?”
“A lot of sweat and tears have gone into that, Vaani,” he said. “It was an obsession for me at one point. I used to read books under streetlights and watch videos on my phone and listen carefully whenever I heard English around me. It’s a language full of exceptions and contradictions. And I was determined to untangle its mystery.”
He paused for a few moments, deep in thought, and then continued. “It’s what put me on the path to coding. I knew I could master the languages if I put my mind to it. I had been doing odd jobs for years and I put it all into buying myself a laptop. And I learnt coding, one language at a time.”
“So, you’re a programmer?”
“Yes. I refuse to meet clients face to face and I work under an anonymous identity. I—”
“Wait, why?”
“Because I don’t have formal education or a degree in computer science. So, when I do this, clients get caught up in the theatrics and I get work.”
“Smart.”
“Thank you. What about you? What do you do?”
“Social media marketing.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “The thing people do when they can do nothing else,” he said, with a hint of sarcasm.
“This, from the fruit cart owner,” she said, matching his tone.
They walked closer to each other, and found more time to look into each other’s eyes.
“So, what trending hashtag has been your boss this month?” he asked, immediately bursting into laughter again. Vaani rolled her eyes at first, but then, only ended up joining him in the laughter.
At one point during their walk, he stopped, bent down, and picked up the flowers and leaves that had fallen on the ground. He collected them into a mini bouquet, a glory lily sitting in the middle, surrounded by crested floatinghearts, balsams and other wildflowers, and presented it to her with a bow. She laughed shyly as she accepted it.
“This is the sweetest bouquet I have ever seen.”
“You’re the sweetest girl I have ever meet.”
She looked into his brown eyes. They felt steady today. Full of depth. She imagined holding his hand and kissing him. She imagined that they would soon start dating. She envisioned that there would be some friction about their financial differences. But she reminded herself that he was a self-made man. He was making his way through the world. She respected him. So, it would be fine.
They had stopped walking. His eyes beckoned her closer. She looked shyly down and her vision landed on his jaw. It was sharp, and she imagined the angular bone pressing against the side of her neck as he kissed it. His left collarbone was peeking through his kurta and she traced it with her eyes. His shoulders looked strong; she wanted to rest her hands on them, while his hands snaked around her waist and puller her closer. Her hands would rest on the base of his head, since his skullcap wouldn’t allow her to entangle her fingers in his hair.
Her imagination continued showing her the film in fast forward. They would make love. It would be passionate. And funny. They would become serious about each other. By then, he would have moved to his own flat, like he’d said he was planning to, and she would go visit all the time. They would start talking about marriage.
She hardly noticed how close he’d brought his face to hers. She could feel the warmth from his breath against her cheek.
“Sorry for being so bold,” he whispered, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. His lips were chapped and it tickled her cheek.
Vaani didn’t realize she was holding her breath as they passed the group. She picked up the pace, enough that they could get away faster, but not so much that the group noticed her fear.
“Oh madam, what’s your name?” called out one from the group.
That pulled her out of her reverie. She smiled, entangling her fingers in his.
They were deep in the forest when they heard voices echoing in the distance. Raucous laughter reverberated throughout the forest, penetrating the silence floating between the trees.
Instinctively, Vaani wanted to back away from there, but Aaqib stuck to the path, moving ahead. They continued walking, hand in hand, until the source of the noise came in their line of vision. It was a group of six men, squatting on the floor in a circle. Saffron flags were resting on the tree nearby. Two of them were smoking and three were watching a video on a phone and laughing. The sixth man noticed them.
He nudged the smoker next to him who whistled loudly. Once he had the entire group’s attention, he pointed with his head in Vaani and Aaqib’s direction. Their smiles faded away, furrows appeared between three pairs of eyes and their backs became straighter. The man holding the phone turned the video off.
The couple was walking on a narrow path dotted with shrubs and huge teak, karanja and silk-cotton trees stood all around. There was a slight downward slope on the right and they were forced to walk closer to the group of men. It was cooler here, and slightly darker, as relatively lesser sunlight penetrated to the ground.
Vaani didn’t realize she was holding her breath as they passed the group. She picked up the pace, enough that they could get away faster, but not so much that the group noticed her fear.
“Oh madam, what’s your name?” called out one from the group.
His voice rung clearly through the otherwise silent forest. Vaani pretended not to hear him and kept walking away. Aaqib turned to look at the speaker, and Vaani’s grip on his hand tightened, pulling him along.
Suddenly, she heard crunching leaves. Footsteps. Fear zipped through her spine.
“Why isn’t your head covered in black?” called one of them from behind.
“She’s obviously a dupatta wearer,” another said.
“Has he given you anything to eat or drink?” a third voice asked from behind.
“What does that have to do with anything?” one of the men inquired.
“That’s how they brainwash girls. They drug them through food,” the previous voice replied.
She couldn’t believe this was happening to her—these conspiracies, these trending hashtags, all playing out in real life. There was no need to engage. By now, Vaani and Aaqib were walking as briskly as the woods would allow.
There was a sudden silence behind them, until she heard some rustling nearby. She hoped the group had decided to leave them alone.
And then, one of the men suddenly appeared on the path from the left. He’d made his way through the forest and he had a thick branch in his hands.
“What’s your name?” he asked, as he looked angrily at her. A vein bulged on his forehead, underlining the saffron bandana on his head.
“Vaani.”
In the next moment, the man had raised the branch and brought it down on Aaqib’s head. Vaani covered her face with her hands and screamed. Two of the men held her from behind while two others joined the first man, beating Aaqib with sticks and kicking into his sides. The sixth man stood coolly on the side and recorded the event. She tried to free herself, stamping strongly on the foot of one of the men holding her. That earned her a merciless slap.
Her eyes lifted to look in Aaqib’s direction, but they didn’t focus on anything. It was as though a thick fog surrounded her. She thought nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. She couldn’t hear her own voice. She didn’t know how her brain was working enough to form words.
“I haven’t drugged her,” Aaqib kept trying to say between screams.
Their beating had taken on a rhythm now. Each would take turns, and decide instinctively whether he wanted to use his weapon or shoe. The man who was recording moved around, always looking for the best angle. The two men holding her were chatting, unaffected by the scene unfolding in front of them.
They finally stopped when Aaqib had lost consciousness. He lay in a pool of blood. One of them spat in Aaqib’s face.
They converged on Vaani now. Her eyes widened as she looked at them surrounding her from all sides. She wasn’t sure what fate awaited her. She looked from one face to the other, searching desperately for some sign of humanity.
One of them asked her to repeat a chant glorifying their god.
She did as she was told, but she felt no safety as she said the name. Her eyes lifted to look in Aaqib’s direction, but they didn’t focus on anything. It was as though a thick fog surrounded her. She thought nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. She couldn’t hear her own voice. She didn’t know how her brain was working enough to form words.
They made her repeat the names two more times. They asked her to say a few more names, too: of their leaders, their politicians. They instructed her to marry a good, religious man.
She parroted everything they said. Tears rolled down her eyes. She desperately wanted this to be over.
The man who was recording brought the camera right up to her face, and then finally stopped.
Then they left, leaving behind an echo of their chatter and laughter.
Vaani got to her feet and shakily walked on the forest floor towards Aaqib. She checked for a pulse but there was none. She thought she felt a light drizzle in the air but couldn’t find the drops of water to confirm this idea. She sat quietly, tears rolling down her face, staring at Aaqib’s face.
Soon, silence descended on the forest again. Aaqib’s brown eyes were open and they faced the sky above. Vaani imagined his soul floating above, staring down at his beaten body. She couldn’t look at his face anymore. His white skull cap was partially off his head, more red than white now. The small bouquet he’d made her lay close by, blood splattered on its petals and leaves.
*
Vaani saw the video on social media. It had circulated like wildfire. The men had blurred their own faces out and shared the video with the caption ‘Don’t worry women. We’re not going to let them brainwash you anymore.”
She hadn’t gone to office the in two weeks, and she wasn’t sure if she still had a job.
At home, her father had refused to look at her ever since he had seen the video. She knew he felt more anger at her association with a man in a skull cap, than any concern for what she’d been through. “I can’t show my face in public anymore,” he said. “I should break your legs.”
All alone, Vaani fished out the dried banana peel from the encyclopaedia. She held it close to her face, remembering the strong scent that had emanated on the day she had first pressed it in. She stared at the blotches of wetness on the pages of the book. They looked like the blood she had seen smeared on his face.
She remembered Aaqib’s brown eyes, staring lifelessly at the sky. She remembered being by his side, helpless, unable to stir herself, unable to save him.
Vaani put on the earrings he had gifted her. She could hear car honks from outside, piercing the silence of her home. She walked slowly to her father’s medicine box, kept in a drawer in the hallway. Here, she found two strips of his trusty painkiller, the one he had offered her at the times she had felt unwell, when he would run his hand over her head as she took the medicine.
Vaani took the tablets out, one by one. She counted sixteen. She went to the kitchen to bring herself some water, took a deep breath, and slowly started swallowing the tablets, three at a time.
***
Aarushi Agrawal is a culture journalist with an interest in research, reading, writing, and spending time with her cat. You can find her on Instagram: @aarushi_agrawal01.
