Stories  
Vengeance
by Kusum Choppra

"Hell hath no fury worse than that of a Woman Scorned"…

"The author's puerile insipid language wastes the themes and insults the emotions of the characters, assaulting the intelligence of the readers…"

"Who the hell is this? How dare she write such rubbish in a literary review? Ma, you must respond to that."

"Literary critics have the freedom to praise or criticize. She is doing her job, as she sees fit."
"No, it is more than that. Why is only her opinion different? Everyone else has given favorable reviews – more or less."

"Then she is the less part of it."

"But, Ma, this is a personal attack. You have known each other. You must confront her at the reading."

"I'll do no such thing. Saraiya is exercising her right to her opinion. Any public brouhaha will only lose me my positive reviews. Also leave me open to charges of raking up a controversy merely as a marketing tactic."

" That's a wonderful idea. Look, if the next book is as good, the critics will be back, in any case. If this one sells well, they'll really flock back. And who doesn't want this book to sell? If a debate can generate sales, why not?"

"Come on, now, what is there to debate?"

"This lousy personal attack. There has to be a reason behind it. A critic can't just write something like that because she happened to be in a foul mood, or had a fight with someone just before she wrote it."

"May be the story has touched a raw nerve, some personal experience? Ma, how well do you know Saraiya? Or know someone who knows her so we can get in touch and find out. Then we'll ferret out her skeletons and expose her."

"Stop that. All of you. I know Saraiya. May be not too well, but enough, okay."

"So?"

"So nothing. I know why she has thrashed my work. It is nothing but delayed impotent vengeance."

"Vengeance? Against whom?"

" Drop it. I don't want to debate this in public. Look, if my book doesn't sell because of this review, I have all of you, my husband and children to help me out of the disappointment. She is all alone - no husband, shared children and passing through relationships. The public scandal will break her."

" What scandal? That she brought her personal life into her professional one?"

Nandita walked away into the refuge of her study. Saraiya, she thought, what have you done? It was difficult to even conjure up the face to match the name.

Her husband walked in. "Tell me, what is this all about?"

"It happened long ago. So long that I'd almost forgotten the incident, but Saraiya seems to have stoked the hurt for a long long while and bided her time to wreck vengeance for what was a totally unwitting act on my part." She stopped to collect her memories, decades old ones. Her delicate brow creased as Nandita turned to gaze out of the window.

"It happened long long ago. We were in a college festival together. You know what Saraiya is like. Now, from the papers and magazines, I gather she has refined. But she has always been very very outspoken, very dominating, almost aggressive. Long ago, she had her hair cropped into a totally boyish style and switched to pants and pathani suits, rather than salwar kurtas.

Yes, occasionally, she chooses to dazzle society in a stunning outfit. That is to make sure she remains on Page 3. She never wears a sari in public – only for puja at home in a command performance for her grandmother, never otherwise."
Oblivious of the growing number of listeners, Nandita delved into memory. "Ever since I've known her, Saraiya has walked like a man; she orders everyone about and talks down to women just like men do. She even talks like a man, only that dulcet voice sounds strange coming out of that shirt-clad throat. That is a total mismatch, which takes some getting used to. She really had to practice hoarse speaking for her male roles in college plays. She sings amazingly well, but she always hated the gentle songs that suited her voice. She preferred to wreck her throat belting out those raunchy male choruses that sounded really naughty in her voice.

Despite those naughty songs, I never suspected anything. Not then, not later. It was only a few years back that I realized what she had wanted of me. Like the naïve fool that I was, I hadn't even comprehended what she had wanted and had spurned her totally uncomprehendingly. She must have been quite quite hurt, I presume. That is why this delayed vengeance. She never got a chance earlier."

"Ma, what vengeance, what hurt? You are talking in riddles."

Nandita swung round to find her family gathered behind her. Her husband was flanked by her two married daughters and son. "When did you come?"

"Long ago; doesn't matter. What did you do?"

A rueful smile played on Nandita's lips.

– Continued

Top | Stories

Recommend This Page!

Analysis | Architecture | Astrology | Ayurveda | Book Reviews | Buddhism | Cartoons | Cinema | Computing | Culture | Dances
Environment | Fables | Family Matters | Festivals | Hinduism | Health | History | Home Remedies | Humor | Individuality | Jagoji
Literary Shelf | Memoirs | Musings | Opinion | Parenting | Perspective | Photo Essays | Places | Ramblings
Random Thoughts | Recipes | Sikhism | Society | Spirituality | Stories | Teens | Travelogues | Vastu | Vithika | Women

Home | Bolography | BoloKids | Columns | Hindi | Kabir | Poetry | Quotes | Workshop | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact

Boloji.com includes IndiaNest.com and PoeticNest.com
Privacy Policy | Disclaimer
No part of this Internet site may be reproduced without prior written permission of the copyright holder.