Confession

The year that I was in tenth grade, was a very exciting one. I had suddenly realised the fact that I was attractive, for boys paid me a daily obsecration. And I could make them do chores for me with the mere flutter of the eye and a smile. They would carry my bag, get me toffees, buy me cool drinks, and on few occasions would even help me cheat in the exam. 

But there were times when even cheating didn't help. I failed in the first unit test of math, and feeling that I would flunk in my matriculation, Papa enrolled me in Satya sir's math tution classes. Satya sir was a very strict teacher. I reluctantly agreed to attend the class, knowing fully well that Papa would not accept any other alternative. There, to my surprise, I found Ajit. 

Ajit was the son of our kirana uncle. He was a year elder to me. Whenever I would go to the kirana store, I would invariably find him there. I caught him stealing glances at me many times, though I pretended to not notice. Once, when I was there, he was all alone, minding the shop. He went pink when I spoke to him directly, and awkwardly tied up the sugar I asked for. As I walked out of the shop, I couldn't help but turn back. There he was, staring at me. Once he realised I was looking at him, he felt rather ashamed, and quickly pretended to arrange the biscuit packets. I just couldn't help myself, and flashed a smile at him. He went pink, then beet red. 

From then on, whenever I visited the store, or passed in front of it, I would throw him a smile. He would eagerly lap it up, like a hungry puppy eating out of my hand. Him being at the tution, was a welcome distraction. In the beginning he would feel embarrassed when I caught him gazing at me. But with time and little encouragement, he lost the awkwardness, and would coyly smile back. By the end of the month, Ajit was escorting me home. All through the way, we would talk. Actually, I talked and he would listen. He would hang on to each and every word of mine, nodding his head in affirmative at regular intervals. 

A month passed. Ajit would now wait for me at the end of the street, and we would walk together to Satya sir's tuition class. He would get me an eclair or orange drops from his shop. He once mentioned that his father would be angry if he came to know that Ajit was picking up a toffee each day. One day, I casually asked him if he could bring me a milk chocolate the next day. He did. That was all the confirmation I needed.

By the end of the year, we graduated to holding hands. Just after my tenth board exams finished, on that particularly stuffy warm evening, we shared a kiss in a deserted bylane. He was reluctant and rigid, for he was scared of someone spotting us and reporting the matter to his father. But as I circled my arms around his neck, he just melted. The first kiss is for keeps, they say. It was certainly a memorable experience for him. He later mentioned that I had made it so easy that evening. Of course!

Four more years passed. Our romance was at its height. And the fact that it was secret made it all the more exciting. The thrill of meeting, planning the meeting, taking detours, coming up with new excuses to say to the family, was exhilarating. We would meet at predetermined spots thrice a week. Mondays were reserved for museums and art galleries, Wednesdays for bookshops and Fridays for any public event like art exhibitions or sales. And we would make sure that we don’t go to the same place every week. On other days, we would steal glances, catch flying kisses and come together for brief moments in dark deserted bylanes. 

We have had our share of hair-raising instances when we bumped into people we knew. On such occasions we would exhibit supreme resourcefulness, and later would laugh our heads off. Our romance was action-packed, considering all those times when we were a hair's breadth away from being caught. 

Ajit had been utilising his time judicially during these four years. Alongside college, he had been working at his father's shop, thus gaining valuable experience. He was much unlike me. He tends to take his work very seriously. Industrious is how I would describe him in a word. Meanwhile, his father, who already owned a total of three kirana shops, opened a garment shop too. As he was busy establishing the garment shop, the responsibility of the kirana shops fell on the shoulders of Ajit's brother. Ajit was hoping that he would be helming at least one of them. He was desperate to prove himself, but was totally ignored by his father, for reasons known only to him. I made use of this opportunity by sowing the seeds of discontent in Ajit's mind. Hit when the iron is hot, and I did exactly that. He was hurt by his father's behavior, though he didn't show it.

Ajit was working day and night to establish himself as a worthy successor to his father. On the other hand, my father had all but finalised my wedding with a boy of his choice. These fathers are a difficult breed. Either they expect too much from their children or too less. 

My father was from that school of thought that believed that daughters are a burden and the sooner they are dumped on someone else’s head, the better. So he had been searching for a groom since the last few months. He finally found one who matched his expectations. He invited them to our place, and I didn’t like the guy one bit. All he was interested in was to know whether I could cook and clean. He asked me if I was good at cooking. I wondered if next he will ask me if I was good in bed too. I had half a mind to ask him if he was. For the man wouldn’t stop bragging about himself. He didn’t care to even acknowledge the fact that he would be taking home a wife, not a commodity. 

I had decided that I have had enough. As soon as they left, I rushed out. I went to the kirana shop, pretending to buy some chocolate. Inspite of Ajit’s father being present, I signalled Ajit to met me. In a few minutes he came out. He followed me as I walked towards the bus stop. I hopped on to the first bus that came. It was going towards the railway station. Having made sure that Ajit too boarded the bus, I bought a ticket. The half an hour bus ride gave me time to think and plan my next course of action. 

Once we blended in the crowd at the railway station, we walked towards the end of the platform. On an empty bench, we sat and discussed the harsh truths of life. I told him with tears in my eyes that perhaps this is the last time I would be meeting him. He remained silent even as he gave my hand a squeeze in sympathy. "Do something Ajit. I am being sent to the guillotine. Don't just sit there. Please save me. I beg you." Tears were streaming down freely by now. "I would rather die than marry someone else. This isn't a filmy dialogue. I am very serious. I cannot live with anyone else. Can you picture me with someone else Ajit?" I said a lot more, blackmailed him emotionally in every which way possible, for I could sense him giving up and slipping into inaction. I couldn't afford that. I needed Ajit now more than ever. Afterall, I had been grooming him for this very moment.

It was an easy decision for me, though not so for Ajit. He was torn between his love for me and his duty towards his family. Through tears and sobs, pleadings and wailings, I was able to shock and move him. I painted a picture of my tormented soul, reiterating that he would be responsible for my death. And even after death, I would find no peace as I would be pinning for him. "Will you be able to live with the guilt? Would you really be able to live knowing that you pushed me into killing myself?"

Ajit was tough on the outside, but inside he was all mushy. And he was easily influenced. With just the right words, the right tone of voice, it was easy to bend him in whichever way you wanted. I sensed it quite early in our relationship. It's one thing for boys to fall for girls and do their every bidding. But once the charm is gone, the boys go back to their egoist self. It was different with Ajit. He was by nature a soft mushy guy who had great difficulty in saying no.

Thus I was able to convince him to elope. He was a practical man though. His mind immediately went to the possible consequences our act might have. To begin with he was scared of his father. Dread is the right word. He was absolutely terrified of his father. He kept repeating that his father would kill him. It was a real possibility, I admit, but I just had to take the risk. I told him we could go live in another city, where none knew us and begin our life anew. I just prayed and hoped that he would be convinced enough. 

So two days after that conversation at the railway station, we prepared to leave. I collected as much cash as possible, packed a bag and left the house quietly at around midnight. I reached the designated spot and found that Ajit wasn't there. For a minute, my heart sank. I thought that Ajit had chickened out. Then I spotted him, and let out a sign of relief. We left for the railway station and caught the first train to Delhi, and I was free.

I could only guess what might have happened when our families came to know of our flight. My guess was right. All hell broke loose. My father announced that he was breaking all ties with me. In pure bollywood style, he stated that his daughter is now dead for him. Well and good. I have never had much attachment with them anyways. Ajit's father, on the other hand, sprung a surprise. He transferred a few lakhs in his name. Ajit was surprised and relieved. I was shocked, to say the least. But what happened next eased my mind. Ajit's father sent him a message. With the money, Ajit could start his life with his new bride, but he need not return home ever again.

In this way, both our families cut off their respective ties with us. I couldn't have asked for more. Everything was falling in place nicely. 

Rain or shine, rich or poor, everyone needs to buy groceries, so saying, Ajit opened a kirana shop. It was for nothing that I had pampered him for four years. He was resourceful and I sensed that I could use it to my advantage. 

To begin with, we got married. I wouldn't have insisted on the marriage, but I knew Ajit wouldn't have it any other way. So I let him. Then we rented an accommodation. It was a very small house. The living room doubled up as the bedroom, the kitchen was infested with roaches, and the bathroom’s roof dripped while the taps remained dry. Yet we were happy. Ajit would toil in his shop during the day. In the evening we would walk around the markets or visit the sights of the city. Occasionally we would go to the movies. And every night we would make love. 

While Ajit was working to establish the shop, I wasn't sitting idle either. I started tution classes. To my credit, I was very good with children. I used this skill to the fullest. Ajit implored me to get an office job, but I wasn't interested in toiling in an office. Besides, I liked to have my fingers in many pies. Alongside the tution classes, I also started selling imitation jewellery, accessories and other knick-knacks. While helping out Ajit at the shop, I would tell the women customers about my place where they could buy fashionable accessories at a low price, and those who would come to me would be recommended Ajit's kirana shop. This mutual arrangement worked beautifully. 

It was the best phase of my life. I had longed for freedom since I remember. Freedom to be my own master, to do my own bidding, to live life on my own terms. And ever since I could remember, I had wanted an escape from the life I had been living. I could see it clearly that I could not do it alone. Ajit was just a vehicle, a medium through which I could accomplish my dreams. Had it not been Ajit, it would have been someone else. 

I won't lie, the next four years were tough. Slowly but surely, fortunes changed. I drummed into Ajit that we have a point to prove. We had no other choice but to make it a success. He worked doubly hard. The business grew. As the kirana shop expanded, we engaged a helper too, as Ajit was finding it difficult to handle the growing day-to-day business all by himself. My private tuitions were a big success, with around twenty students. And during festivals I would earn a neat profit out of selling jewellery and accessories. We got a bigger, better flat on rent.

In-between, I had a little setback when I learnt that I was pregnant. This unexpected development shocked me. I was apprehensive that the arrival of a child would cement our relationship. And I was certainly not ready to be tied down. It was with great difficulty that I could sever all bindings. I would not want to tie myself down again. Moreover, I thought motherhood was too big a responsibility. So I thought hard, and decided to abort. Needless to say, I did not inform Ajit about the pregnancy nor about the abortion. He would never have let me go ahead with it. And when he did come to know, it broke his heart.

For our tenth anniversary, we gifted ourselves a flat. A secondhand flat, still our own. Ajit expanded his business further. He took up a larger space of three floors. His kirana shop was now a supermarket. As far as I was concerned, I diversified into selling saris and dresses. We were busy and happy. 

At times, Ajit would become nostalgic about his family. He would talk of visiting them. I anticipated an emotional outburst from him and I was ready. I would remind him of all the times that he was ignored by his father, and all the times when his father favoured his brother over him. Also those times when he was insulted by them, and the times when he was considered worthless. By bringing back the painful memories and jostling him back into misery, I shut the door of reconciliation that he was threatening to open.

Gradually, on my nudge, Ajit entered the garments business and I helped him run it. The profits were phenomenal. In just two years, we opened three new branches, one of which was in the busiest mall of the city. On my insistence, Ajit agreed to do an ad campaign. The famous actor Veda was roped in for print ads. The response was positive and I could convince Ajit to do a television ad campaign as well. The publicity did wonders and our store was famous. Increasing footfalls translated into increased sales.

I was pushing myself actively into the businesses. I loved a good challenge, and I loved to win. Years ago, I had challenged myself to break free. I won that hands down. Running a business was no big deal compared to that. If Ajit had a keen business acumen, I wasn't far behind. With my bold and shrewd decisions, I forced Ajit to acknowledge my invaluable contribution towards our growth. Then I asked him if I couldn't handle the garment business on my own. As I had anticipated, he readily agreed. Good for him. I never had to use Plan B in this regard. 

Time flies. This statement is especially true when we love what we do. With no ties to confine me; and Ajit, tamed and twisted around my little finger, I was on top of the world. I was living the life that I had dreamt of as a teenager. Some dreams are crooked, I admit. Perhaps that's the reason they say that few dreams better remain as dreams. Not for me though. However wierd my dreams were, they came true. 

Ten more years passed and we were an established name now. Ajit's supermarket was the go-to place of residents for everything, ranging from a needle to a piece of furniture. On the other hand, my stores did a roaring business during festivals, with the women and children's wear being the busiest section of the shop.

For our twentieth anniversary, we bought a brand new apartment on the fifth floor of a posh residential complex. I did it tastefully, according to the latest trends. Ajit mentioned that I could try my hand at interior decoration. Why not, considering how well it earns. Money is my greatest motivator. 

Twenty years of togetherness is a huge ask. Unbeknownst to us, we began to grow apart. Not having any children was Ajit's greatest regret. He once mentioned that perhaps this was a punishment for our elopement. He had even thought of going back to his family to ask forgiveness. I never agreed to this because I believed, and still do, that we never did any wrong. 

He often wondered to whom he would leave his wealth. So one opportune morning, I convinced him to make a will, with me being the major beneficiary, along with a little settlement for his family. Now all I had to do was to ensure that he didn't change it.

As time passed, he began to get more and more restless. I wasn't able to put a finger on what was eating him from within. Neither could I comprehend why he was dissatisfied. The man had everything one desired; an established business, luxuries of all kinds and money to spare. Yet he seemed sad and dejected. I would try to cheer him up from time to time, but he just seemed so disconnected that I gave up. We began to have fights. I would lose my patience with him, for I no longer felt obliged to keep him happy. Infact, keeping him happy was not amongst my top priorities. 

Some of our fights were purely domestic, some were concerned with business. In both the cases, our outbursts were witnessed by our staff. More often than not, our confrontations ended with me calling him names and storming out on him. After one such heated exchange, I was so enraged that I called my lawyer and asked him to prepare divorce papers. But better sense prevailed, and the next day I told him to tear them off.

Ajit had meanwhile taken to spirituality in a big way. It was surprising, considering that he was never much of a spiritual person. A guru caught his fancy, and Ajit would attend all his discourses. He would insist that I accompany him. But I neither had the time nor the inclination. He had become one of his guru's favourite disciple.

I remember that wet July night as if it was yesterday. Ajit had come home late from his guru's discourses. This wasn't unusual, as he would often be the last man to leave. I had had my dinner and had gone to bed. Around midnight, I was woken up by him. He said he needed to talk to me. I couldn't understand the urgency and shoved him away, telling him that I was tired and we could talk in the morning. But he insisted that he wanted to talk. I was mad for being disturbed from sleep and I snapped at him. He shouted back at me. That jolted me out of my slumber. He stammered a half-hearted sorry and said that he had something very important to ask me. 

I haven't forgotten what he had uttered, "Guruji said that I had a child. Yesterday, he read my horoscope, then told me that I had a child. When I denied it, he insisted that there was a child, if not alive, then dead. He refused to believe it when I told him that we never had any children. He wanted to see your horoscope. I had taken it with me today. He read yours and said that you had conceived once." 

I couldn't believe my ears. Ajit continued, his voice quivering with emotion, "Guruji also said that you have blood on your hands. I want to ask you two questions. Is it true that you conceived? And what does guruji mean by blood on your hands? Did you kill someone? My head is spinning. I don't know what to think."

When I didn't reply, he went on, "Guruji would not lie, would he? He is the most famous horoscope reader of these times. It is said that he can tell about our previous lives too. He cannot be wrong. If he says you conceived, then you did. Why don't you say something? Your silence indicates that it's true. Why didn't you tell me that you had conceived? You have no idea how much I have waited for such a news. What had happened? Miscarriage? But why didn't you tell me?" 

He opened the balcony door and sat on the chair with his head in his palms. The chair was wet, with rain pounding since evening, but he didn't seem to notice. He sobbed, childlike, and demanded I tell why I hid this from him. He brushed aside my hand that I had placed on his shoulder to pacify him. Why didn't you tell me, he kept repeating. I could have said something, but decided to keep quiet, for whatever I say would be taken unkindly by him.

He looked at me and asked whose blood I had on my hands. I couldn't meet his gaze. I don't know what he saw on my face. Perhaps it was guilt, or was it blood? Whatever it was, it cleared the haze in an instant. He stood up suddenly. His words still ring in my ears, "Did you.... Did you kill our child?" He knew.

I couldn't say anything. He had put two and two together. I shrunk back, hitting the wall. This was the one and the only moment of my life when I wished I would disappear, for I dreaded having to answer those piercing questions. There was nowhere to escape. Ajit stepped towards me, grabbed me and shook me violently. He demanded if it was true. He needed have asked. He had guessed as much. He dug his fingers into my arms and pinned me against the wall. 

"Why? Why did you kill our child? Answer me, Radhika? What had gotten into you? Why didn't you tell me?" His eyes were bloodshot. I saw rage building up like never before. Suddenly I was scared of him. I wanted to run, to escape. He kept on talking, demanding answers. I could bear it no longer. I pushed him with all my might. It took him by surprise, and he was thrown back. He attempted to regain his balance, but slipped on the wet floor. My push and the slippery floor made him fall with double the speed.

He fell on his back. His head hit the floor with a loud thud. The tiles cracked with the impact. He did not move. I was too petrified to do anything. I might have stood there, starting at him for a few minutes, until I realised that he was not moving. I went near him and called his name. He did not respond. I touched his arm. He did not respond. I got closer and shook him. He still did not respond. I placed two fingers against his nostrils. I couldn't feel him breathe. I checked his pulse. I could get nothing. I bent my ears to his chest. All was silent. 

Ajit was dead. My blood went cold. I was afraid even to breathe. I slumped next to him. Then came the thought that sent shivers through me. I killed him. Blood on my hands, again.

Had it not rained and had the floor not been wet, had he not held me in a grip so steely that it hurt, had he not asked those questions and insisted on answers, had the guru not..... Had I not pushed him and pushed him so hard, he would have been alive.

I forced myself to calm down and think rationally. The police might get involved, and they would invariably suspect everything and everyone. I could tell them that he slipped and fell, though that wouldn't stop them from asking questions. They will find out that I stood to gain in case of his death. They will also come to know that we fought frequently. They would also find out that I had asked my lawyer to prepare divorce papers. I would instantly become suspect number one. Jail seemed a real possibility. This would spoil all my plans. I should think of something.

Perhaps I could drag him to his bed. Then in the morning, pretend that I discovered him dead. That wouldn't change the situation much as far as police were concerned. They would still prod around and might figure that he had a nasty hurt at the back of his head. The needle of suspicion would again be turned towards me. Or I could run. But in that case, I would instantly be suspected of killing him. 

My legs were too numb to pace up and down, though my brain was running a million miles a second. I thought of all the different possibilities, of all the different explanations that I could give. I found them all inadequate. Then came a thought. If I myself die, there wouldn't be any need for explanations. People could then concur what they want. The thought passed as quickly as it came. I wasn’t foolish to throw away my everything. I had worked so hard to be where I was. I couldn't plunge myself down the cliff just because I was scared. I had to be strong. 

I could turn the tables. I could say that Ajit had attacked me. In self defense, I pushed him, he fell and died. Now I had to create some evidence to prove my point. I thought of hurting myself, maybe a knife wound. I could get his fingerprints on the knife to prove that he had indeed attacked me. I rushed to grab a knife. I placed it in his hand and got his prints on it. Then very carefully, so as to not disturb his fingerprints, I held it. I was still pondering over where exactly I should stab myself when Fate interfered.

The floor was still wet. I too slipped. Unlike Ajit, I fell towards the railing. The knife slipped from my hands, as I precariously hung on to the railing. My head spun as I found myself looking down five floors. In the dead of the night, it gave the impression of a deep abyss. I held the railing with all my might and attempted to regain my balance. But the railing was wet, so was the floor. I slipped further, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself on the other side, hanging onto my dear life. Before I could even yell for help, my hand slipped further and I was falling down.

Just a few seconds ago, I was patting myself on the back. I had come up with a brilliant plan within half an hour of the unfortunate event. Now, I was lying on the concrete, five floors below, unable to move myself, pain shooting through my back and my vision blurring faster than I could comprehend.

About a fortnight after the fall, a police inspector came to meet me in the hospital. He wanted to know what had happened that night. I told him that Ajit and I had a fight. In a fit of rage, Ajit grabbed a knife and attacked me. In panic, I rushed towards the balcony. He ran after me. The floor of the balcony was wet as it has been raining since evening. We both slipped. He fell backwards while I fell onto the railing and further slipped down. Though I tried to hold on to the railing, my hands slipped and I fell down. In the last few seconds before my hands gave way, I noticed Ajit lying immobile on the floor. The inspector wrote it all down in a little notebook of his and seemed satisfied. He once more expressed his condolences and left.

On this day, April 4th,2022, I confess that I pushed my husband of 28 years with such force that he fell and hit his head to the floor, which resulted in his instant death. I also admit that I falsely accused him of threatening me at knifepoint. The fingerprints of my husband, that the police found on the knife, were made by me after his death. I purposely misled the police so that they would not suspect me.

Judge me as you wish. In my defence all I would say is that I wanted to live my life on my terms. People have goals, some want to be a doctor, some a pilot. Mine was to live on my own terms. And I did everything in my power to accomplish it. 

In this whole narrative, if I had the chance to change something, it would be the last few minutes. I would have preferred to not fall. Had I not fallen, I would have lived life in the true sense of the word. For though I am alive now, I am unable to enjoy life. I am paralysed neck down. Look at the quirky twist of fate. Ajit merely slipped on the wet floor. He died. I, on the other hand, fell from the fifth floor. I survived, albeit with a broken neck. 

I don't want to live like this. I guess I don't have any choice. Perhaps this is the first time in my life when I feel totally helpless. I couldn't throw myself down the window even if I wished to.

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Disclaimer:

The story is fictional and has no basis in reality whatsoever. The names, places and dates are not based on real persons or events, and any resemblance is purely coincidental.  

The story itself is the product of the author’s imaginative mind, working overtime. It will be deemed natural if, after reading this piece, the reader develops a deep bias against the character or the author.