A coercive sacrifice

A bell tolled tirelessly in a distance. The rooster who had, hitherto been asleep crooned unapologetically. I watched the rooster through the bars of my window. The rooster was oblivious, of course, to the fact that his wake up call wasn’t needed. No one in the house had slept the previous night. From a distance, through the morning mist, I saw two young men approach the front yard. They were dressed in white and wore somber expressions. I turned from the window to look at the crumpled dupatta on the floor. I had made an attempt to sleep, but had failed. On the floor, beside the door, was a plate of uneaten rice and pickle. My sister in law, Laxmi, had pushed the plate through the gap, under the door. I had made no effort to pick it up, so it lay there, cold and forgotten, just like me. I remember distinctly what my sister in law had said "Eat this food, it’s the last you'll get".

I rested against the wall and slid down into a seated position. The floor was cold but I didn't mind. A fresh crop of goose bumps erupted all over my hands. I wrapped my dupatta around myself and rubbed my hands.

The previous night I had been in the kitchen with Laxmi when a commotion had broken out in the front yard. We, younger bahus didn’t pry into family affairs, so we stayed in the kitchen. The din turned into wailing. Someone had started crying, but who?
"That's maji" said Laxmi as she, drew her veil and ran out of the kitchen. I threw my dupatta over my head and followed her into the courtyard.

Maji was, on the floor, beating her hands against her chest and crying. She was cradled in the arms of my oldest bhabhi. The men, my father in law, my two brothers in law, my husband's youngest cousin all stood and watched with pained expressions. Where was my husband? All eyes were on Maji, who was now seated, cross legged on the floor. Laxmi went forward, towards Maji and I followed suit.
"Not you, you witch!" said Maji as I sat beside her. "You brought a curse upon this house, you killed my son" she said in between sobs.

Before I could comprehend what had happened, I was dragged out of the courtyard, my screams were muffled and my sobs ignored. I was locked up in the storage room and have, since then, been here.

I am locked up like a criminal. My crime is that I've allegedly killed my husband with my cursed stars. My husband, was a man, I had met a fortnight ago, a man I had married a week ago, and who had died in circumstances I was unaware of.

I heard footfalls, the bolt was unlatched from the outside and a woman entered. As she drew closer her silhouette grew solid. Her face came into view, I leaped up and ran into her arms. It was my mother.

I cried into her chest as she her ran her fingers down my hair.
"Don't cry, my child" she said
I withdrew from her embrace after, what seemed like a lifetime.
"Can I come home, with you?" I asked her
"No child" she said
"Where will I go?" I said looking into her eyes, searching in them for an ounce of sympathy.
"How did you get here?" I asked when she didn’t reply
"We got the news and came at once" she said
"Where is father? Didn't he come?"
"No" said mother cupping her palm over her mouth as she broke into sobs
"He couldn't see you...like this" she said
I held her as we cried together.

She fed me the cold rice and pickle and despite it being stale and cold, it tasted delicious. Perhaps I was hungry or perhaps my mother’s hand had magic.

I asked my mother how my husband had died. She said he had been bitten by a poisonous snake in the field and succumbed soon after. "Do you think I am cursed?" I asked her
She didn't reply at once. She placed her hand on my head and said “Run away while you can”
I drew back from her. "What?"

The door opened and in came Maji with the other women of the house. All of them had worn white. My mother stepped away as they led me out of the storage room. I looked back at my mother who didn't follow us. She remained there, her tears dried up on her cheek, her face was pale and devoid expression.

I was led to my room. Maji and my sisters in law entered the room with me, the door was latched from the inside. My clothes were taken off, I was bathed and dressed in a red sari.

Afterwards we made our way to the courtyard where my husband lay on the floor. He was swaddled in white. On all sides, he was covered with flowers. Cotton had been stuffed into his nose and ears. He looked sad, just as sad as he had looked on our wedding day. The men, lifted the body and chanted 'Ram nam Satya Hai' in unison as they led the body out of the house.

I wept bitterly as they took him away. My tears didn't stem from grief but from the uncertainty that loomed over my fate. The women led me out of the courtyard and we joined the procession. This was odd, the women didn't usually follow the funeral cortège. We walked slowly towards the ghat.
The procession was quite big, who would have thought that my husband could draw such a large number of mourners? As we walked, a woman came up to me and touched my feet. Before I could stop and ask her anything, Maji pulled me ahead.

The ghat was full of people and a pyre had been set up. 10 feet above the pyre, was a platform and wooden staircase led up to it. The body was placed on the pyre and logs were put over the body covering it completely. I had never seen a cremation before and was curious to know how it was done. My father in law, who had shaved his head, carried an earthen pot and made a circle of the pyre. He dropped the earthen pot from over his shoulder on completing the circle. He then lit the pyre.

Maji collapsed and a few women attended to her. The pundit came up to me and chanted, Laxmi poked me in the ribs and urged me to follow him and so I did. He led me to the foot of the ladder leading to the platform and he handed me some ash. I took it in my hands, and stood at the foot of the ladder. We were too close to the pyre, the heat of the fire blazed against my skin and the overpowering smoke sent me into a coughing fit. The pundit was climbing the ladder and urged me to follow him. I was confused and unsure. Was I supposed to drop the ash on the pyre from the platform? I followed nonetheless. The crackling of the fire was so loud that I could barely hear anyone from the crowd.

I climbed the ladder and looked over at the large crowd. All of them were watching me and not the burning pyre. The pundit urged me forward but I stayed still. What did he want me to do?

He held my hand with frightening force and pushed me ahead to the tip of the platform. I realized then, and perhaps too late, that I wasn't up there to offer ash to the pyre.

I screamed and wrestled my way from the edge, but two other men beside the pundit were all forcing me forward, pushing me to the edge, pushing me into the flames. The heat, even from that distance burned my skin and I fought and struggled to break away.

I looked at the crowd pleadingly for help. I saw my mother in a distance, she was crying.
"Amma" I screamed helplessly
"Amma help me" I begged
"Amma don't let them do this"
"Maji" I appealed "please, I'll be a servant in the house but please don't do this" I sobbed.

No one spoke, no one moved, perhaps they couldn't hear me, and perhaps they didn't want to. With a mighty shove I was pushed into the pyre and the burning flames engulfed me.