The intricately carved mahogany table holds the glass vase elegantly. The vase sits precisely where she said it must. Orchids and jasmine are gently fragrant in the hallway. The calm clean serenity of the entrance is a stark contrast to the life Mena lives.
The doorbell rings breaking the silence of the quietness surrounding the walls.
The door is answered by Mrs Khorana, Mena’s mother in law. Who is her usual picture of smiles and politeness.
Mrs Khorana’s silk Ikat saree is draped over her porcelain skin and no one would ever guess such beauty hid such a sinister mind. Mrs Khorana’s guests would always compliment how well she had aged.
After the guests settle in after the usual pleasantries. It’s the cue for Mena to react by performing her expected duties.
Mena brings in biscuits and tea for the guests and presents herself in orderly fashion as always. Hair neatly combed back and plaited, her saree pressed and pinned into place as instructed.
As conversations progress it comes to attention Mena has forgotten to bring in sugar. Mrs Khorana’s eyes glared right at the silently sitting Mena.
“Mena sweetie you forgot the sugar”.
Mena hurried over towards the coffee table to pick up the empty sugar dispenser.
Mrs Khorana lovingly stroked Mena’s back and with a smile whispered in her ear “Just you wait!”
Mena quietly sits attempting to hide her quivering. A delicate fish caught in a tangle net now gulping for air, dreading her inevitable gutting.
The next morning Mrs Khorana finishes her breakfast and walks across the kitchen, past the dining room to the cellar door. She unlocks it and Mena falls forward onto the floor at Mrs Khorana’s feet. Mena didn’t choose to fall but standing pressed against the old boiler and the door, her feet couldn’t bear her weight for another second.
Sobbing Mena implores, “I promise, I promise I won’t forget again”.
Mrs Khorana looks at Mena with that all so familiar disgust, repulsed by the sight of Mena. “Get up!” She scowls. With her teeth clenched she tells Mena to go and cover her disgusting blue and purple arms.
In the hustle and bustle of the Sunday farmer’s market Mena places tomatoes into the brown paper bag. She suddenly is surprised someone other than Mrs Khorana is actually calling her name.
“Mena Mena” in an almost shriek like excited voice, it’s Emily from college.
Running over faster than Mena can make up any excuse, Emily quickly hugs her long lost best friend.
From the embrace, Mena’s eyes clench tightly over Emily’s shoulder; hiding the crippling pain burning away.
Emily, now holding both Mena’s hands looks at the tearful Mena, “Ah my darling, don’t cry I have missed you too!”
Mrs Khorana almost instantaneously presents herself like a demonic shadow. “Who’s this sweetie?” She didn’t have to say anything else. Her smile was the familiar warning and Mena knew it was time to go.
“Err… I’m in a rush we, we err… Have to go Emily.”
Emily frantically writes down her telephone number on the back of a receipt pulled from her purse. “You must, must call me, Mena we can’t not speak for another five years! Call me, promise?”
“Yes, I will Emily, I promise,” said Mena, hesitantly.
Mena was more concerned if Mrs Khorana suspected anything. As soon as they got into the car park of the market place Mrs Khorana forced her hand into Mena’s jacket pocket.
“I’ll have that telephone number Mena.”
She looked more frightening than ever before. Mena feared Mrs Khorana’s smiles and silence more than her screeching.
Days passed following that tragic talk to another person. Even Mena’s clothes were incapable of covering up Mrs Khorana’s rage. Mena couldn’t feel exactly where she was hurting. Everything was hurting. The pain engulfed her so immensely from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet.
Mena’s shades of brown and yellow are now interrupted by new additions of purple and blue. Oddly enough great care was taken to not injure Mena’s face or hands, they needed to be presentable to the world.
Accustomed to bearing the pain like a second skin, Mena laboriously prepares everyone’s meals. She is unaware that at every meal time before she sits to eat, Mrs Khorana opens the capsules and quickly sprinkles the white powders into her food.
Mena was always uncomfortable and in too much pain from her injuries to notice her own clammy skin, her burning urine and the slowing of her heartbeat. With the passing of each brutal punishment, Mena became oblivious to the symptoms of poisoning she was experiencing.
Mena woke up suddenly from her sleep that night and felt as though there were insects crawling in her veins. Every inch of her body was pulsating painfully. She did not have the will to get up and tell anyone, after all, who would help her. She closed her eyes tightly and curled up into a ball wishing she would die that very night and be with her beloved husband.
The following morning Mena awoke to her disappointment. She noticed the excruciating pain from the night before had disappeared entirely. She touched her bruises and flinched, those were real. She convinced herself her mind was playing tricks.
Mena had other worries playing on her mind, the weekend had arrived and presented itself with the additional fear of what kind of mood Mr Khorana was in.
For everyone in the household, it meant the difference between polite requests and grumpy demands. For Mena however, the angry Mr Khorana unlike the excited Mr Khorana never came near her and never touched her. For that reason, Mena was always relieved by his grumpy moods.
The bellowing of Mr Khorana turned in the frustrations of Mrs Khorana who blamed every misfortune on Mena her cursed daughter in law. Mrs Khorana hated Mena relentlessly.
This started the moment her beloved son was diagnosed with cancer and signed everything including his inheritance from his grandmother over to Mena. The exact same inheritance that Mrs Khorana was denied.
Later that morning, Mena was unable to see clearly from yet another episode of fever and terribly blurred vision.
Unsteady on her feet, Mena brushes against Mr Khorana in her attempt to get to the bathroom. Mr Khorana bizarrely for the first time offers Mena assistance and helps her to sit down onto the chair inside the bathroom.
He then makes his way quickly down the stairs to Mrs Khorana. To her delight he places his credit card into her hand. He tells Mrs Khorana she really deserves to treat herself after impressing all his friends that visited that week.
The house is empty. Eerily silent. Mr Khorana stands glaring over Mena with a sadistic beastly thirst for her. He lifts her up off the chair holding her arms and throws her to the floor. Fully aware she can barely stand, he has no difficulty in telling her she will finally be his.
Barely able to breathe from his weight pressing against her already tired, exhausted body with bruises, Mena cries out in a voice completely being ignored.
“Please stop, please don’t do this to me. Please. Please…”
Mr Khorana lifts up her cotton floral kameez, ripping it from the front and back. He then stuffs her mouth with its cloth, slamming it in further with one of his hands as he pins her down.
“I know you want me, you touched me earlier on purpose didn’t you!”
Mena’s tears roll down her face as his stubble scratches her breasts and as fast as he can, he unzips his trousers and thrusts himself violently inside her.
Being dominated by this man who has explicitly forced himself into her, Mena reacts.
Within moments Mr Khorana screams and falls sideways onto the floor in agony. He is wailing and he is terrified as he attempts to crawl out of the bathroom. He lays on the floor curled up screaming, looking at his clenched hands screaming.
“Somebody call a doctor… Somebody help me!”
Mena scrapes herself and the torn remnants of her knickers and salwar off the floor. Holding the wall and hallway railings she manages to get her body, burning in pain and disbelief into her room.
She just about sits up on her bed and diminishes into complete hopelessness with her head sinking into her hands and tears rolling endlessly down her cheeks.
After trying to make of what just took place sitting on her bed, she collapses on her bed, and falls into a hellish smoke of unconsciousness.
Meanwhile the neighbours heard the agonising screaming of Mr Khorana and had arrived, banging at the door downstairs. They call an ambulance and telephone Mrs Khorana on her mobile.
Mrs Korana returns from the hospital and storms up the stairs like a forming vortex of anger about to blow out the life of Mena. Howling she blasts open her bedroom door and finds Mena unconscious. Mrs Khorana the hurricane of destruction is only getting angered thinking how dare that Mena still be sleeping?
Ferociously she destroys Mena’s room smashing everything in her path, throwing, pulling, and ripping at anything.
“Sleeping are you?” Mrs Khorana screams.
“How dare you attack my husband? You blood sucking leech, have this!”
Mena struggles and opens her eyes unable to move her limbs with her torn clothes still wrapping her body.
With those frightful words, like a surging tide Mrs Khorana picks up the broken mirror frame high above her head and with a furious velocity moves to smash it down upon Mena’s head.
Mena shuts her eyes wishing again for death. The room is silent. Mena’s eyes fall open of their own accord and in the blur from her pillow she can see Mrs Khorana lying on the floor. What had just happened? Mena felt no pain. Mena was expecting pain. Where was the pain?
Mrs Khorana dizzy from the sudden blast she felt to her head the moment she hit Mena was now fierce and raging. She got up and grabbed Mena by the hair only to scream in terror herself. Mrs Khorana’s scalp was throbbing down to the roots. In bewilderment she slaps Mena and feels her own face pulsating with fiery heat.
“What is this black magic you witch?” said Mrs Khorana.
The mother-in-law steps back very frightened now and starts looking at Mena. Observing Mena’s entire body in detail she can see it is clear without a single mark. The marks she knows full well she herself had pounded into Mena.
Mrs Khorana trembling and too scared to turn around slowly steps backwards out of Mena’s room. Her foot misses the step. Mrs Khorana crashes thunderously down to the staircase and finds herself in an abyss of pain.
Mena lies on her bed, looking at the ceiling, as the daily sun begins to sneak through her window and finds a rare expression appears on her face. A subtle care-free smile.