Adultery Indian Social Worker and the Bully by shiprat

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Finally, asking a couple of friendly old women for directions, I reached Parvati's house.

"Shikha memsaab!" she sounded surprised when I poked my head in through the door of a tiny single room brick house. She was serving her daughters a simple meal of dal and rice.

"Parvati, I need to talk to you."

"Please come in, memsaab. Have a seat. Please join us for dinner."

"It's okay. I just ate."

"Please memsaab, just a little."

I accepted a tiny portion, knowing that refusing too insistently could be seen as a sign of condescension or ingratitude. I spoke to the girls, asking what they studied, what they liked to play, and so on. Parvati probably knew why I was there, because she didn't make much eye contact. I did notice though that there was a fresh bruise on her arm that she kept trying to hide with her pallu.

"You girls go to Pinky's place and watch some TV." she sent the girl away after dinner, closed the door behind her, and then turned to face me.

"Do you know why I am here, Parvati?" I said.

"Who told you? Was it that nosy Naina? Anyway, it was nothing major, memsaab."

"Told me what? What was nothing major?"

She stayed silent.

"I can see the bruise on your arm, Parvati. Are there more bruises...under your clothes?"

She nodded and started to sob.

"But it was nothing big, memsaab. At least nothing big enough for you to come here and get involved. He was having one last night of drinking with his friends to celebrate his new job before going on that truck to Bangalore. He just got a little carried away in bed and slapped me around a bit. It wasn't like he was hitting me out of anger."

"Wait...what are you saying? That these bruises are from sex?"

"Yes! That's what I am saying. It's not like that last time." she smiled and said. "Last time it was from a fight. This is just from sex."

"You think it's okay for him to hit you during sex?"

"Yes...I mean no...no...it's not that...it's...you won't understand memsaab. But believe me, he has changed." she sincerely believed it.

I sighed, opened the folder and took out a Hindi newspaper. And I walked towards her.

"Sunita also told me something like that. That her husband had changed."

"Sunita?"

I handed her the newspaper and pointed the story to her. She read slowly, moving her lips, as her eyes got big.

"What are you saying, memsaab?" she asked, her voice now almost a whisper.

"I have been doing this work for many years now. I see similarities. In fact, I think your husband is even more psychotic than Sunita's was. And that nice inspector who helped you the last time? He thinks so too. Sunita was once sitting in the same chair in my office you were sitting in. She was making the same excuses, telling me her husband had changed. See where she is now."