The well padded astrologer stroked his corpulent belly, as he stared down intently at his cowrie board. There was a frown on his moon shaped face, a face that owed its shape to good rich food, even as he strove to read the cryptic messages that the Gods were strewing before him. “This girl is a blessed child!” he said ponderously. The parents’ faces lightened, for a second, but the next remark dashed their hopes all over again. “You must keep her away from water though, all her life. I see much danger for her through water!” He paused, and shook a podgy finger at them in admonishment. “Beware of water that might even take her life!”

So I grew up inside Supriya’s mind, a nugget of fear that exploded within her when she went near water.  She had once burnt her arm as a child, while helping her mother to fry pappads. In her exuberance she had dropped one pappad into the boiling hot oil, and the oil had spurted out and fallen on her soft skin. “A girl must always be able to cook and feed her family! After all, she has to go away to her husband’s home one day!” Her mother had just concluded, her oft-repeated theory when Supriya drew back with a sharp cry, looking down at the perfect round patch on her arm which, in a split second, had puffed up in a transparent bubble.

 As her mother held her arm under the tap, and soothed her with her favourite sweet, I churned within, and she cowered, as the water flowed in a steady jet on to her arm. The bubble had subsided, leaving only a tiny scar, but the fear of water never quite left her. I never allowed her to forget, not for a moment.  She often dreamt of being engulfed in a churning torrent of water, and she would wake up screaming at night, unable to breathe. Her mother would rush in to comfort her, tenderly smoothing back the hair from her sweat drenched forehead.

“We should take her to that famous monk in Gaya, the one who reads the past and foretells the future. He has great spiritual powers,” suggested her paternal grandmother, who believed that religion could solve any problem. “And have everyone believe that our daughter is mad? Only those who are possessed go to him!” her son said firmly. “But these dreams...!” her protests went unheeded, as he turned away impatiently. He was of the old school, and in his opinion, women were not meant to have opinions, only children. Besides, he wanted no stigma to attach to his daughter, who was now eleven. In a few years, she would be ready for marriage!

Supriya’s mother watched her romp around with her friends. She was playful as a lamb, brimming over with energy, but at night, she would go into a shell and refuse to sleep till her mother sat by her, crooning a soft song to her. I would also lie within her, serenely, waiting for the moment when I would rule over her mind, as the night monsters appeared, monsters dripping in water, their eyes emitting fire and brimstone.

Today, I watched as the mother waited patiently for her daughter to close her eyes. From the faraway look in her maternal eyes, I could see that her thoughts had winged back to the days when she had been pregnant. What rejoicing there had been in the household, as her father-in-law had twirled his handlebar moustache in pride and proclaimed, “My grandson will be named after me! After all, he will be my heir!” The house resounded with laughter and gaiety, as she went through all the ceremonies to bear a healthy son. Her mother-in-law made her exercise, taking care not to let her tire herself out. She made nutritious food for her, tempting her with delicacies. “Our little Baba needs all this to make him strong and handsome,” she would remark, as she urged her to gulp down a huge tumbler of milk, fortified with almonds.

The day Supriya was born, a deadly silence descended like a pall over the household. The sounds of joy had been cut off, and the mother wondered in anguish whether she had lost the baby. Was that when I too was born, a nugget fated to lie dormant till Supriya grew up to her fears?

Her mother-in-law came in with a strange expression on her face. “You have a baby girl.” Her usual smile was missing, and her eyes filled with tears as she went on. “Your father-in-law is unhappy. He wanted a grandson so badly.” She looked at her with sympathy. “You know how it is here. Boys are always looked forward to. A girl is considered a burden from the day of her birth. We will have to start collecting her dowry...!”

She made up for her folly the following year. There was rejoicing as she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, who was promptly named Pritam after his ecstatic grandfather. Ladoos were distributed, and firecrackers lit up the evening sky, to proclaim to the world that the heir of the family had arrived. Supriya, only a year old, sat on her mother’s knee and watched the celebrations – celebrations that had been conspicuous by their absence when she was born.

The years flew by and Supriya turned sixteen. I watched in silence as her brother, Pritam, turned into a typical landlord even at fifteen, pampered silly by everyone. He swaggered around, more than aware of his own consequence. He had fared dismally at school, but that made no difference as the school owed much to his grandfather, who gave lavish donations to make sure that his grandson did not warm the bench in the same class too long. Supriya was a good student, but even when she won prizes for academics, she knew she still lagged behind her brother. She was only a girl, after all!

Her parents were in the midst of a serious discussion. “The family is very highly spoken of,” her father was saying. “And they have only one son.”  “What about their demands?” Her mother’s voice held a trace of anxiety. “A little more than we expected!” Supriya’s heart sank, and I raised my head for a moment, as she shuddered, for it was her marriage that was being discussed, even without her consent. That is how it had always been, in their male dominated society. “We know what is best for our daughter,” went the arrogant dictum. “Besides we are the ones paying through our noses to marry them off, so we should have the final say!”

“But what if I don’t like the boy, Ma?” she wailed. Her mother was silent and she knew she had touched a raw edge. Her mother had not liked her father either, but over the years, she had learnt to tolerate him. Never had she shown her revulsion openly, but Supriya had noticed the way she looked at him when he said or did something particularly brutal. Not once had he shown tenderness or understanding, both qualities that had been denied to the women of the family over generations.

Bedecked in a gold brocade sari, surrounded by frolicsome activities, she waited, gnawed by uncertainties, as ‘they’ came to see her. After all, she would be marrying the family, not just the boy. “Make sure that you don’t stint on anything! They have to see our house, and our daughter, at their best.” The orders were crisp. “If this proposal works out, our daughter will have everything she wants!” Except the boy of her dreams! she thought wryly, as I trembled within, for her fate would be mine as well.

They gazed at each other as their parents discussed matters of money pertaining to matrimony. He smiled in approval and the auspicious day was fixed. Her mother wrung her hands in despair. There was so much to be done, so many people to be invited for it was an alliance between two influential families. And if even one worthy relative or friend was unwittingly left out, it would be an unforgivable insult!

“What a striking couple!” the whispers followed them as they walked together around the sacrificial fire. She looked ethereal as she demurely followed her brand new husband, and I cringed a little as I beheld the tiny flames that crackled and glowed in glee.

Akash proved to be a devoted husband and his parents too seemed amiable, given the circumstances. It was a typically Bihari joint family, where the men dictated terms and the women meekly followed suit, quashing their own wishes. However, Akash’s mother had learnt the useful art of ruling the roost while appearing to bow before her husband’s wishes, an art learnt over years of seduction and common sense.

There was a pool by the side of the house where the family would often congregate, especially when the heat of the summer sun transformed the house into an oven.  The children would dive into the refreshingly cool water, followed by the youngsters as the elders watched on, indulgently. The first time Akash took Supriya to view the pool, I rose up in strident protest, and he was astonished by the way she turned her face away, her eyes filled with terror. “I am petrified of water!” she whispered, as he tried to cajole her to at least put her feet in. “I am right there! I will not allow you to fall in!” But I remained wilfully intractable, and his entreaties had no effect on her. The nightmares returned, this time the monsters lurked in the shadows of the pool, dripping with water, with bloodshot eyes that glowed menacingly in the gloom.

As the months went by, Supriya became aware of a charged atmosphere in the household. Pieces of conversation that ceased when she walked in. “...time you spoke to them... a year has gone by!” An air of expectancy, as thin and fragile as cobwebs, hovered over the whole house. She was canny enough to grasp what they were all waiting for.

When she experienced nausea in the morning for the first time, her mother-in-law embraced her ecstatically and turned into a matron overnight, a solicitous one albeit. When the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, the household went into raptures.

Now every movement of hers was checked, as she was told what to eat and what to wear. At first she enjoyed the attention, but soon she felt invisible shackles chaining her to the house, a feeling of being hemmed in. Akash was helpless against his mother’s restraints. When he tried to remonstrate with her, she only said, “Hush! Supriya needs all the care she can get. She is going to be a mother after all.” According to her, this was not a matter for the men folk to get involved in.

Supriya was in a particularly irritable mood when her mother-in-law came bustling in with a bowl of prasad given to her by a renowned god man. “This will ensure that you have a bouncing baby boy!” she said with a faintly predatory smile. Supriya nibbled at the prasad, but she couldn’t resist asking, “What happens if I have a daughter?” The older lady’s face turned crimson and she snapped, “Don’t even utter such inauspicious things. No girls have been born in this house for years!”

The truth hit her hard. All this pampering was for her unborn son, and not for her. She confided in Akash, “If I have a daughter...?” The expression on his face unnerved her as he retorted, genuinely horrified, “Don’t even think of it. Ma and Bapu will have a fit!” She would get no support from him against his parents. I watched her struggle with her emotions, wondering whether to raise my head, but by then, the moment had gone by.

Her labour had begun. She was aware of Ma standing over her, waiting for her grandson to be born. The doctor brusquely ordered everyone out of the room. When Ma protested, she added, “That goes for you as well! I do not want my patient upset!”

“A girl...!” she came back to consciousness, as the cry was taken up. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she dreaded the consequences, while I churned around in apprehension.  How would she face Ma? She looked at the little mite who lay by her, howling away lustily, as if aware of her sin in being born to a household that didn’t want her. Ma strode in, crestfallen, trying to hide her disappointment, as she picked up the little one. She did not exhibit any joy towards her. “Maybe next time!” was all she said.

Supriya hugged her tiny daughter tightly. Now she had someone who belonged to her alone.  Akash stood by his mother’s side, pleased that they had a healthy baby, but too nervous to say so. He had not proved his masculinity yet. That would come later when he had a lusty son to carry on the family name.

That day never came! She had three beautiful daughters, and each time, Ma grew more and more bitter. Her longing for a grandson seemed to have warped her personality.  The gentle love she had once showered on Supriya seemed to have vanished into thin air. Akash’s father held himself aloof and did nothing to stop his wife’s ill treatment of their son’s hapless wife. I was in my elements, wailing like a banshee deep within, as she suffered in silence.

Ma’s frenzy reached new heights when she tried to persuade Akash to get married again. He gently, but firmly refused. “Ma, how can you even think of it? Aren’t you a woman as well?”, ”Don’t you need an heir?” she screamed at him. “Our family line will die down if you do not have a son!” Akash shook his head as he tried to calm her down, but she was like a demented woman.

Supriya sat waiting for Akash and the girls to get home. Today was their wedding anniversary and she had worn her wedding sari, feeling curiously young again. Ma was rather subdued these days.  She had even made kheer for them since it was a special day. Maybe things would work out for them after all!

Dusk had fallen when Ma came in with a cup of kheer. She had insisted that she would do all the cooking that day, and had forcibly sent Supriya to change and be ready for the evening. “Taste this and see if it is sweet enough!” she smiled. Supriya took it gratefully. Anything to keep Ma in a good mood, she thought, as she drained the cup.

In a while, her eyes felt leaden and she felt sleep overpower her, even as she fought to keep her eyes open.  In vain, I tried to churn within her, a little nugget of fear, trying desperately to warn her of impending danger. Ma stood there, her face in shadow, as she watched Supriya go under. “Ma, what have you put...?” and then, she was out like a light.

She tossed and turned. She was dreaming again, as she threshed around, her body drenched in perspiration. She could see Ma in the obscure fringes of the room, indomitable and grim. She advanced slowly, a larger than life figure, and Supriya could see nothing beyond her. Her nostrils flared as the stench of kerosene filled the room, but she could not move as her limbs lay heavy and inert. She, and I, both tried to scream, but our voices stayed within.

She felt herself being yanked up by Ma, whose black sari made her appear menacing in the dark. She put a strong arm around her waist and guided her out of the bedroom, as Supriya stumbled her way into the kitchen. Ma propped her up against the kitchen platform. There was an ominous silence as she disappeared, and Supriya sensed that she was in real danger. Her head was heavy, her eyes leaden. She steeled her nerve, and stumbled towards the wash basin while I writhed and shivered in agony as, much against her wishes, she took some water in her palms, and splashed it on her face, despite her dread.  She had to keep awake, if she was to survive. Again and again she splashed water on her face, her sense of preservation overcoming her revulsion, as I sensed myself growing smaller and frailer.

Suddenly Ma stood there, candle in hand, a dark presence in the room. There was a sudden movement and the candle vanished, as if swallowed by the darkness. Little tongues of flame appeared around the edges of the table, the smell of kerosene overpowering her.  The flames advanced steadily and Supriya heard the click of the door being shut. She tried to scream out, even as the words formed within her benumbed mind. “Ma, open the door! Please open the door!”

Ma stood still, a strange smile on her face as she watched the blaze that had enveloped her own feet. Her unhinged mind wanted her to destroy the seed of their troubles but she was unaware of the danger to her own life as well. Supriya heard frenzied shouts and a pounding at the door, as the flames crept nearer and nearer. Suddenly she heard a crash as the door was broken open, and she made a lunge towards it. A shocked Akash appeared for a split second, and then a whole bucket of water was thrown at the flames, but Ma stood firmly in her way, a maniacal gleam in her eyes.

Supriya froze as she tried to unravel her chaotic thoughts, even as I began to scream deep within her mind, warning her, imploring her to move quickly. The flames had almost died out, but Ma had now laid hands on a sharp kitchen knife and was moving towards her, her shadow creating an almost theatrical effect in the kitchen which reeked of kerosene and smoke.  Supriya could see a frenzied Akash trying to get behind his mother. “Supriya, move out of the way!” he shouted.

Ma advanced steadily like a battleship, the knife held out, even as the glee in her eyes chilled Supriya’s bones. She could hear the water as it flowed out from the tap, dripping down the sides of the wash basin, falling over her toes, even as she tried to cringe away from it. I had reached breaking point myself, growing from a nugget to a full sized wave of terror. As Akash came closer to Ma, she suddenly turned and lunged with the knife, her broken mind not able to register that she was trying to harm her own son. Akash froze, and backed away a little, and in that split second, Ma swivelled towards Supriya, her eyes aflame with determination.  

Supriya, who was wedged between the wash basin and the approaching knife, closed her eyes in despair, as I tried to impel her into action. Nobody knew what happened next, but there was a slithering sound, as Ma slipped on the floor that was slick with kerosene and water, and she fell forward, the knife held out, as Supriya screamed, and I screamed along with her, soundlessly, helplessly!

Suddenly, there was blood everywhere; blood flowed copiously onto the floor already made slippery with kerosene... and water, oh dreaded water! I felt myself dissolving into nothingness. Supriya’s last image before the darkness overcame her was the face of the astrologer, and his ominous words, “Beware of water that might even take her life!”