Revenge

II.

In the last few months, Hasna looked slick as she padded out her slim body. Her face turned oval-shaped, like a duck egg. How a woman could change so drastically just by gaining a little muscle and fat beneath her skin was beyond Mohor Ali’s imagination. Hasna glowed and looked so youthful with her extra weight. She appeared so different, so unknown. Sometimes Mohor Ali was puzzled. Was she the one he had married? That little girl was now able to do everything from collecting twigs and dry leaves for cooking to catching fish from the stagnant pond. Whenever she got free time she would sit with her fishing rod. Until Mohor Ali came home, she was never tired of working. Still, she felt constantly empty and had no peace of mind. It was not that Mohor Ali upset her. Her heart was not at rest and she knew tranquility was more vital than happiness in marriage.

The reason behind her unease was Mohor Ali’s first wife. Mohor Ali had not yet divorced Efu, and so she would often come to their house. Efu scrutinized her with a faint smile. It was hard to tell if that smile bore sarcasm or contempt or loathing. No matter how uncomfortable she was about Efu, she reserved her feelings. She took good care of her satin. She served her with whatever leftover green vegetables she had in the kitchen and addressed her as her elder sister, “Boro afa, please eat some.” “No, no, I’m not here to eat at your place!” “This isn’t my home only. It doesn’t matter if I live in it or not. It is your home too. I am only taking care of it and doing the chores. If I don’t cook he will starve, you see.” Efu listened and burst out laughing, laughter which bounced her body in a wave. She narrowed her eyes, thinking of something serious, “Starved? Is he ever starved? He is never hungry! It’s me who is always starving!”

“Boro afa, then eat something.” Efu sat to eat like a pampered child but did not eat a single morsel and scattered all the rice on the veranda. The fragrance of the rice attracted the ducks and chickens immediately. The shalik and the sparrow swooped down from the bamboo bushes. Feeding the birds made Efu calm. It was only then that her arid eyes would become overcast and dense with moist clouds. The moment the birds were fed, Efu would leave immediately. Like a bird, Efu wanted to fly. Not being able to do that, she fluttered her sari in the air and plunged into the muddy pond. Hasna watched her satin in amazement. She was also scared that Efu might jump on her when she was alone. Anything was possible for a madwoman who killed her own children in the labour room, thought Hasna. And so she did not want to agitate Efu in any way, despite her annoyance with Efu’s habits. She could not possibly read her mind. Efu never stayed during the evening; if she did, Hasna had no idea what she would do. Efu was incredible! It was hard to predict her mischief. She had already caused a lot of trouble. One hot summer afternoon while Hasna was resting peacefully on the veranda, Efu suddenly appeared out of the blue and set free four of the ducks that Mohor Ali had recently bought. Efu blurted it out herself, “You know what? I set the ducks free near the swamp. They only had rice to peck in the house. Let them feed on the snails and shellfish out there!” She paused a little and said, “Water is the life of ducks. Don’t you think it is a sin to keep them on land away from the water? So I let them loose into the pond.”

Hasna did not know what to say when she heard of the duck incident. Another day, she created more mischief. Hasna had just finished cooking lunch and was fishing with her fishing rod in the rotten pond. Efu spilled all the freshly cooked curry from the kitchen to the stray dogs. When Mohor Ali came home and discovered this, he yelled at Efu for her waywardness. Efu was unmoved, and did the same thing the following week.

Sometimes Mohor Ali suspected that Efu most likely did everything on purpose. From the way she talked, it was impossible for anyone to believe she could be guilty of such misconduct. Mohor Ali was often at a loss when he heard how logically Efu spoke. Even Hasna was amazed by her rationality on one hand, and her daily misbehavior on the other.

Hasna also noticed how often Efu would keenly observe Mohor Ali’s bed. She circled his cot time and again and muttered things to herself. Hasna could not hold her curiosity and had often asked, “What are you saying, boro afa?”  Efu kept on mumbling things as if she overheard Hasna. Hasna would repeat, “Are you speaking to me, boro afa?” “No, what is there to say to you?”

Even though Efu avoided her, Hasna tried to fathom what was in her mind. Mohor Ali was still Efu’s husband, her swoami. She used to take care of this house. This bed was laid for her and no one told her to leave the house when Mohor Ali got married for the second time. When Hasna came to this house after her marriage to Mohor Ali, Efu left the house on her own. But she came back once in a while. Hasna did not know for certain why Efu came back. Was it because she had a particular reason, or was it merely to quench her curiosity?