Yesterday, 04:48 PM
The next morning arrived with a heavy blanket of humid air that clung to Devika's skin as she made her way to the college. The events of yesterday weighed on her mind—the uncomfortable encounter on the bus, Kulkarni's lingering stares, and the way even Ramlal's eyes had followed her movements. She felt like prey surrounded by predators, each waiting for their moment.
Inside the staff room, Devika settled at her usual corner desk, spreading papers before her but unable to focus. Her mind kept returning to the elderly man on the bus—his brazen touch, his whispered words. Why hadn't she slapped him? Why had she frozen instead? The questions churned inside her, leaving her feeling hollow and confused.
Saradha entered the staff room, her bangles jingling softly as she set her bag down at a nearby desk. She glanced over, immediately noticing Devika's distracted state—the younger woman's eyes unfocused, fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden desk.
"Everything alright?" Saradha asked, pulling her chair closer.
Devika nodded automatically. "Yes, fine."
Saradha's experienced eyes studied Devika's face, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes, the tightness around her mouth. "You don't look fine. Something's troubling you."
"It's nothing," Devika insisted, reshuffling her papers with unnecessary force.
Saradha reached across the desk, gently stilling Devika's restless hands. "We've known each other long enough now. I can tell when something's wrong."
Devika looked up, meeting Saradha's concerned gaze. There was something maternal in the older woman's expression that made Devika's carefully constructed walls begin to crumble.
"It's just..." Devika began, then faltered, glancing around the staff room to ensure they weren't overheard. "These past few days have been... difficult."
Saradha leaned closer. "Tell me."
The dam broke. Words poured from Devika in a hushed torrent—about the elderly man on the bus who'd touched her inappropriately, about Kulkarni's increasing boldness, about the way Vishnu and Pathan stared at her during practical classes, about Ramlal's lingering gaze. She described feeling constantly watched, constantly pursued.
"I don't understand what's happening," Devika concluded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've always been modest, proper. I've never invited this attention. And yet... when these men approach me, I freeze. I can't seem to resist or push back. I just... let it happen."
Saradha listened intently, her expression revealing nothing of the thoughts swirling behind her eyes. When Devika finished, she took a deep breath before responding.
"Have you spoken with your husband about any of this?" Saradha asked gently.
Devika's laugh held no humor. "I've tried. All we do is fight now. I told him about the video someone sent me—him with another woman in Dubai. He denied everything, called me paranoid. Said I was making things up because I was lonely."
"And were you? Lonely, I mean," Saradha probed.
"Of course I was lonely! I still am," Devika admitted, her voice breaking slightly. "But that doesn't mean I imagined him with that woman. I know what I saw."
Saradha nodded thoughtfully, her fingers tapping against the desk. Inside, her mind raced, remembering Pathan's words, his threats backed by compromising photos of her own indiscretion years ago. "Make her starve for lust," he'd ordered, and here was Devika, vulnerable and confused, practically delivering herself.
A pang of guilt shot through Saradha. This wasn't just about saving her own reputation anymore. Devika was genuinely suffering. Perhaps there was a way to fulfill Pathan's demands while actually helping Devika navigate this situation.
"Maybe," Saradha began carefully, "the problem isn't with these men's behavior, but with how you're responding to it."
Devika looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Your husband has betrayed you—multiple times, from what you've described. You've tried reasoning with him, tried saving your marriage, but he refuses to acknowledge his actions." Saradha leaned forward. "Perhaps it's time to consider a different approach to your life."
"What approach?" Devika asked, her voice small.
"You could find someone new," Saradha suggested. "A fresh relationship, someone who appreciates you properly."
Devika shook her head emphatically. "No. All men are the same. They start sweet, then show their true colors. I don't want to be hurt again."
Saradha nodded, as if this was exactly the response she'd expected. "Then why not try something different? Instead of letting these men's attention distress you, why not embrace it—on your terms?"
Devika: "What are you saying?"Saradha: "Listen. Instead of worrying about a husband who doesn’t value you, give importance to the men who actually appreciate your beauty."
Devika stared at Saradha in shock, unable to believe what she was hearing from her senior colleague.
"You want me to... to encourage them?" Devika asked incredulously.
"Not encourage exactly," Saradha clarified, her voice low and reasonable. "Just stop fighting against it. These men are already fascinated by you. Instead of being constantly stressed about their attention, use it to your advantage."
"But that sounds dangerous," Devika protested. "These men—especially Vishnu and Pathan—they don't respect boundaries."
Saradha waved away her concern. "Nothing will be dangerous as long as you keep things within limits. You control how far it goes."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping further. "Don't show your intentions directly. Keep their interest simmering, seduce them subtly, tease them with seeming accidents. Don't overtly attract them, but don't stop them either. Keep everything natural, as if unplanned."
Devika's eyes widened with each suggestion. This was her respected senior speaking—a woman she'd turned to for guidance.
"That's..." Devika struggled for words. "That's manipulative. And wrong."
"Is it?" Saradha countered. "Think about it. Your husband doesn't appreciate you. These men do—albeit in their crude way. Why should you spend your days stressed and fearful when you could reclaim some power in these interactions?"
Devika sat silently, absorbing Saradha's words. Could there be truth in what she was saying? Was there a way to transform her vulnerability into strength?
"The key," Saradha continued, pressing her advantage, "is never allowing them to go too far. Never engage in actual relationships. Keep them wanting, yearning, but always at arm's length. That way, you hold the power."
Devika shook her head slowly. "This doesn't sound like a good idea."
"Perhaps not," Saradha conceded, gathering her papers. "But consider your current situation. You're stressed, frightened, feeling powerless. Is that working for you?"
She stood, placing a gentle hand on Devika's shoulder. "Think about it. It's your life, your choice. You can continue as you are, letting the stress consume you, or you can try a different approach."
With that, Saradha walked away, leaving Devika alone with her thoughts.
Devika remained at her desk long after Saradha had left, her mind tumbling with conflicting emotions. Was Saradha right? Could she transform these uncomfortable encounters into something that gave her control rather than took it away?
She thought about Rajeevan, about the video showing him with another woman. She'd given him years of loyalty, of devotion, and he'd repaid her with betrayal. Why should she continue to hold herself to standards he'd so casually discarded?
Then she thought about Kulkarni, about Vishnu and Pathan, about the elderly man on the bus. Their hungry eyes, their presumptuous touches. The idea of encouraging their attention made her stomach turn. And yet... hadn't she already permitted it to some extent? Hadn't she allowed Kulkarni to touch her navel, even kiss her there? Hadn't she frozen instead of slapping the man on the bus?
Maybe Saradha was right. Maybe her attempts to fight against these encounters were only causing her more stress. Perhaps there was power in acceptance, in redirection, in control.
Devika gathered her papers with unsteady hands, her mind still churning. She wasn't sure what path she would choose, but for the first time in weeks, she felt something other than fear when contemplating these men's attention.
As she left the staff room, she caught sight of Vishnu and Pathan lurking in the corridor. Their eyes tracked her movement, as always. But today, instead of quickening her pace and looking away, Devika met their gaze briefly before continuing on her way.
Their surprised expressions followed her down the hall. They hadn't expected that. For once, she'd done something they hadn't anticipated. And in that tiny moment, she'd felt a flicker of something new—not fear, not embarrassment, but a small, strange sense of power.
Devika wasn't sure if she would follow Saradha's advice. The suggestion still felt wrong, dangerous even. But as she walked toward her classroom, her stride a little more confident than before, she couldn't deny that something had shifted inside her—a small seed of possibility had been planted.
Whether it would grow into strength or lead to her downfall remained to be seen.
Inside the staff room, Devika settled at her usual corner desk, spreading papers before her but unable to focus. Her mind kept returning to the elderly man on the bus—his brazen touch, his whispered words. Why hadn't she slapped him? Why had she frozen instead? The questions churned inside her, leaving her feeling hollow and confused.
Saradha entered the staff room, her bangles jingling softly as she set her bag down at a nearby desk. She glanced over, immediately noticing Devika's distracted state—the younger woman's eyes unfocused, fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden desk.
"Everything alright?" Saradha asked, pulling her chair closer.
Devika nodded automatically. "Yes, fine."
Saradha's experienced eyes studied Devika's face, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes, the tightness around her mouth. "You don't look fine. Something's troubling you."
"It's nothing," Devika insisted, reshuffling her papers with unnecessary force.
Saradha reached across the desk, gently stilling Devika's restless hands. "We've known each other long enough now. I can tell when something's wrong."
Devika looked up, meeting Saradha's concerned gaze. There was something maternal in the older woman's expression that made Devika's carefully constructed walls begin to crumble.
"It's just..." Devika began, then faltered, glancing around the staff room to ensure they weren't overheard. "These past few days have been... difficult."
Saradha leaned closer. "Tell me."
The dam broke. Words poured from Devika in a hushed torrent—about the elderly man on the bus who'd touched her inappropriately, about Kulkarni's increasing boldness, about the way Vishnu and Pathan stared at her during practical classes, about Ramlal's lingering gaze. She described feeling constantly watched, constantly pursued.
"I don't understand what's happening," Devika concluded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've always been modest, proper. I've never invited this attention. And yet... when these men approach me, I freeze. I can't seem to resist or push back. I just... let it happen."
Saradha listened intently, her expression revealing nothing of the thoughts swirling behind her eyes. When Devika finished, she took a deep breath before responding.
"Have you spoken with your husband about any of this?" Saradha asked gently.
Devika's laugh held no humor. "I've tried. All we do is fight now. I told him about the video someone sent me—him with another woman in Dubai. He denied everything, called me paranoid. Said I was making things up because I was lonely."
"And were you? Lonely, I mean," Saradha probed.
"Of course I was lonely! I still am," Devika admitted, her voice breaking slightly. "But that doesn't mean I imagined him with that woman. I know what I saw."
Saradha nodded thoughtfully, her fingers tapping against the desk. Inside, her mind raced, remembering Pathan's words, his threats backed by compromising photos of her own indiscretion years ago. "Make her starve for lust," he'd ordered, and here was Devika, vulnerable and confused, practically delivering herself.
A pang of guilt shot through Saradha. This wasn't just about saving her own reputation anymore. Devika was genuinely suffering. Perhaps there was a way to fulfill Pathan's demands while actually helping Devika navigate this situation.
"Maybe," Saradha began carefully, "the problem isn't with these men's behavior, but with how you're responding to it."
Devika looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Your husband has betrayed you—multiple times, from what you've described. You've tried reasoning with him, tried saving your marriage, but he refuses to acknowledge his actions." Saradha leaned forward. "Perhaps it's time to consider a different approach to your life."
"What approach?" Devika asked, her voice small.
"You could find someone new," Saradha suggested. "A fresh relationship, someone who appreciates you properly."
Devika shook her head emphatically. "No. All men are the same. They start sweet, then show their true colors. I don't want to be hurt again."
Saradha nodded, as if this was exactly the response she'd expected. "Then why not try something different? Instead of letting these men's attention distress you, why not embrace it—on your terms?"
Devika: "What are you saying?"Saradha: "Listen. Instead of worrying about a husband who doesn’t value you, give importance to the men who actually appreciate your beauty."
Devika stared at Saradha in shock, unable to believe what she was hearing from her senior colleague.
"You want me to... to encourage them?" Devika asked incredulously.
"Not encourage exactly," Saradha clarified, her voice low and reasonable. "Just stop fighting against it. These men are already fascinated by you. Instead of being constantly stressed about their attention, use it to your advantage."
"But that sounds dangerous," Devika protested. "These men—especially Vishnu and Pathan—they don't respect boundaries."
Saradha waved away her concern. "Nothing will be dangerous as long as you keep things within limits. You control how far it goes."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping further. "Don't show your intentions directly. Keep their interest simmering, seduce them subtly, tease them with seeming accidents. Don't overtly attract them, but don't stop them either. Keep everything natural, as if unplanned."
Devika's eyes widened with each suggestion. This was her respected senior speaking—a woman she'd turned to for guidance.
"That's..." Devika struggled for words. "That's manipulative. And wrong."
"Is it?" Saradha countered. "Think about it. Your husband doesn't appreciate you. These men do—albeit in their crude way. Why should you spend your days stressed and fearful when you could reclaim some power in these interactions?"
Devika sat silently, absorbing Saradha's words. Could there be truth in what she was saying? Was there a way to transform her vulnerability into strength?
"The key," Saradha continued, pressing her advantage, "is never allowing them to go too far. Never engage in actual relationships. Keep them wanting, yearning, but always at arm's length. That way, you hold the power."
Devika shook her head slowly. "This doesn't sound like a good idea."
"Perhaps not," Saradha conceded, gathering her papers. "But consider your current situation. You're stressed, frightened, feeling powerless. Is that working for you?"
She stood, placing a gentle hand on Devika's shoulder. "Think about it. It's your life, your choice. You can continue as you are, letting the stress consume you, or you can try a different approach."
With that, Saradha walked away, leaving Devika alone with her thoughts.
Devika remained at her desk long after Saradha had left, her mind tumbling with conflicting emotions. Was Saradha right? Could she transform these uncomfortable encounters into something that gave her control rather than took it away?
She thought about Rajeevan, about the video showing him with another woman. She'd given him years of loyalty, of devotion, and he'd repaid her with betrayal. Why should she continue to hold herself to standards he'd so casually discarded?
Then she thought about Kulkarni, about Vishnu and Pathan, about the elderly man on the bus. Their hungry eyes, their presumptuous touches. The idea of encouraging their attention made her stomach turn. And yet... hadn't she already permitted it to some extent? Hadn't she allowed Kulkarni to touch her navel, even kiss her there? Hadn't she frozen instead of slapping the man on the bus?
Maybe Saradha was right. Maybe her attempts to fight against these encounters were only causing her more stress. Perhaps there was power in acceptance, in redirection, in control.
Devika gathered her papers with unsteady hands, her mind still churning. She wasn't sure what path she would choose, but for the first time in weeks, she felt something other than fear when contemplating these men's attention.
As she left the staff room, she caught sight of Vishnu and Pathan lurking in the corridor. Their eyes tracked her movement, as always. But today, instead of quickening her pace and looking away, Devika met their gaze briefly before continuing on her way.
Their surprised expressions followed her down the hall. They hadn't expected that. For once, she'd done something they hadn't anticipated. And in that tiny moment, she'd felt a flicker of something new—not fear, not embarrassment, but a small, strange sense of power.
Devika wasn't sure if she would follow Saradha's advice. The suggestion still felt wrong, dangerous even. But as she walked toward her classroom, her stride a little more confident than before, she couldn't deny that something had shifted inside her—a small seed of possibility had been planted.
Whether it would grow into strength or lead to her downfall remained to be seen.
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