“No,” Geeta whispered to BB, her eyes filling. “I don’t think this is a joke. Please.” If this ended as badly as she feared, she hoped Saloni wouldn’t blame herself as she had with Runi. She hoped Saloni would know and remember them as they’d been as girls: not only on the same team, but as the same player.
“I’m polluted!” he shouted into her face, spit landing on her cheek. This close, she saw a tic pulsing below his left eye. Like a clock, it measured the time she had left. “On New Year’s, of all days. You clearly don’t give a damn about your karma, you invite Muslims and chuhras into your house. But some of us are decent fucking Hindus.” BB snapped his fingers twice. “Do you think I’m stupid? All the churel legend means is that I can’t kill you. It doesn’t say I can’t make you wish you were dead.”
He nodded at Ramesh, who limped to the kitchen, favoring his wounded leg, and returned with a knife. He walked to Geeta.
“Stop it!” Saloni shouted, struggling to her feet, the lawn chair strapped to her backside. She tried to hop forward. Her eyes were wild with distress. “Stop it right now. BB! Make him stop!”
“Shut up!” BB thundered. He pushed Saloni, who staggered a few steps toward Geeta’s cot, but remained standing. “You’ll get your turn next. You all will.”
Ramesh left Geeta to stalk toward Saloni, but Geeta knew no relief. She could read that gait. He threaded his knife tip through Saloni’s nose ring. Saloni sucked in a thin breath. Geeta pulled at her restraints. Farah shook her head back and forth as though denying she was there. The blood left Saloni’s cheeks. Ramesh flicked his wrist to pull the gold hoop, her nostril stretching grossly. She mewled, leaning closer to Ramesh’s hand to mitigate the damage. “I’m going to pull this right out.”
Geeta looked at her pinned photograph of the Bandit Queen; she’d moved her desk for Ramesh’s bed but hadn’t taken down the clip. It was from an eighties’ newspaper: Phoolan surrendering with her gang, forehead wrapped in a cherry-red bandana. She was short, made even smaller by all the men surrounding her. Though her gaze was down, she did not look defeated. It was hard to be certain, but based on her lips and jutting cheekbones, she appeared to be smirking. Geeta inhaled.
“Bada-Bhai, there’s still time to fix this. You’re right: the cops are in your pocket. But our panchayat isn’t. And you already killed one member.”
“Who?”
“Khushiben. If you harm us, the council will demand justice and then the cops won’t be able to look away, no matter what you pay them. Saloni’s husband isn’t like Ramesh. He’ll never stop going after you, and he won’t take any bribe. And her father-in-law? He’s the head of the panchayat! Face it: if you hurt us, it’s over for you.”
“I—” BB’s mobile rang. He checked the caller and sucked his teeth. He answered with a clipped “Speak. So? I’ll just pay him the usual, na? What do you mean, ‘she’？ Shit. That ASP Sinha bitch is bloody relentless.”
At the familiar name, Saloni’s watery eyes met Geeta’s. Ramesh lowered his knife to listen.
BB continued angrily, “Of course, only Sinha has nothing better to do during Diwali. But how the fuck does she even know I’m here?” His face darkened. “Did you tell— Oh, I see. I should’ve known. I’ll phone her boss right now; he’ll handle her. I appreciate the tip. I won’t forget this.” BB hung up. “Fuck!”
It must have been Karem. Of course. He was far too careful to actually involve the cops—not after what Geeta had told him—but he was certainly clever enough to lie to BB to ensure his departure. And he was certainly kind enough to go out of his way to protect Geeta.
“I need to make some calls and get Sinha off my nuts. Don’t do anything, Ramesh. Just watch them until I’ve sorted this out.”
As soon as BB left through the kitchen exit, Ramesh moved toward the tharra and ripped open a packet with his teeth. Rather than clean his leg wound, he drank.
Saloni lowered her chair to the floor, this time with the chair’s back to Khushi, partially obscuring the cot from view. Her nostril was red from Ramesh’s abuse.
“Where’s your head, Ramesh?” Geeta asked. “How long do you think you can keep us here? You heard BB—the cops are coming.”
Rather than answer, he took another pull of tharra and winced. “Ah, that’s better. You know, BB had the right idea, putting his name on you. I think I’ll add mine, too.” He pulled one of Geeta’s arms from the constraints and twisted it so her palm faced the ceiling. The tharra packet was empty; he turned it inside out to suck the plastic before tossing it.
“BB told you not to do anything. You want to piss him off further?” Saloni asked. “Besides, you touch her and you won’t be able to stay. Everyone will turn on you.”
He didn’t look at her. “They didn’t before.”
On the other side of the room, past Ramesh’s falcate back, Saloni’s arms were free. Geeta blinked to be sure. Khushi must’ve quietly come to and untied them; Geeta could only see her legs, her upper body was blocked by Saloni’s chair. Saloni rolled her lips inward, carefully removing her gold bangles without a sound. She bent to free her ankles. Geeta gave a small shake of her head; between Saloni’s shoes and heavy dress, she wouldn’t be able to move without alerting Ramesh.
Saloni said, “It’s different now.”
When Ramesh made to turn, Geeta squirmed, drawing his attention back to her.
“Is it?” Farah exhaled through her nose in a laugh that was not a laugh. “He’s right. Nothing’s changed, Saloni. Look at us. We only got the microloans because the men think the female empowerment bhajan is cute. Harmless. Don’t you get it? We were never actually advancing; we were just being tolerated.”
Ramesh stroked Geeta’s arm with the knife’s cold teeth. “Listen to your friend. Geeta’s my wife, I own her. You, all of you bitches, are nothing but a headache. This town used to be semi-decent, everyone understood their place. What, a couple of two-bit charity loans for your hobbies and suddenly you think you’re something? You only have what we allow, understood? If tomorrow we were to say ‘no more loans,’ what would you idiots do then, huh? You’ve fooled yourselves into thinking you don’t need us.
“You are nothing without me,” Ramesh emphasized loudly. He thumped Geeta’s temple with his fingers in a gesture that was meant to demean and did. “Haven’t you figured that out by now? After I left, you were lower than dirt. If I hadn’t come back, you would’ve stayed that way. And once BB leaves, I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”
Geeta closed her eyes. The other women’s biggest threat was Bada-Bhai, but she knew that even if BB left them unscathed, Ramesh would stay and spend his life ruining hers. He was her husband and she wouldn’t be free of him until one of them died.
“Ramesh,” she said, “you might as well kill me now.”
Saloni gestured for Farah to come closer; Farah refused, her chin jerking toward Ramesh’s back. Saloni’s face twisted ferociously. Farah scooted on Ramesh’s charpoy and extended her bound arms silently; as a widow, she wore no jewelry and only a thin, simple sari. Saloni leaned over to free Farah’s bare wrists. While the women moved, Geeta tried to capture Ramesh’s full attention. Nausea made her mouth water.