A Mirror Never Lies

A mirror never lies.

Her mother was fond of repeating the adage. Staring at the reflection of her naked body, Rashmi thought the adage was certainly true. The mirror reflected the truth of her life. The mirror couldn't hide her age or what she had gone through. Her breasts, large and pendulous, drooped without the support of a bra. Faint lines crisscrossed her flat but squiggly stomach. Just above the pelvis, a thin scar, proof of having carried another life within her for nine months.

And, above the right breast, a faded burn mark.

Looking at the scar a vision flashed. A reflection of a younger version of her wearing a scarlet nightgown. Rashmi stared at the scar, swallowing the bile that rose in her. The ringing of the mobile from the bedroom broke her trance. She quickly donned her plain, serviceable cotton nightgown, covering her nakedness, before rushing into the bedroom to pick up the phone.

"How is your room?" a voice spoke from the other side, without preamble.

"It's fine," replied Rashmi.

"You don't like it?" Asked the voice.

"I said it is fine, Devika!" snapped Rashmi, irritation coating her voice as her mind struggled to overcome the memories that threatened to drown her.

"I just asked a question. You don't need to get irritated", Devika snapped back.

"I replied to your question. You are imagining inflexions in my voice when they aren't any!" Retorted Rashmi.

"Ok, sorry! Have a good night's rest. I have something planned for you tomorrow!" said Devika.

"Another surprise? Can't I just stay in my room and relax?" Rashmi asked, her temper fraying, "God! Sometimes you are so overbearing Devika that I swear you remind me of your father!"

The moment these words left Rashmi's lips, she wished she could take them back. As she searched for words to repair the damage, Devika spoke, her voice suspiciously even, " I am nothing like my father, good night."

Rashmi sighed as the other end went silent. She had hurt the one person whom she loved most in the world. Devika, her over-protective daughter. One who loved Rashmi wholeheartedly and would gladly slay dragons for her. But sometimes, Rashmi secretly wished Devika would just let her be.

It is this place, Rashmi thought, glancing around the room.

She should have said no to Devika's hare-brained scheme of a surprise holiday to celebrate Rashmi's fifty-fifth birthday. She should have backed out when she saw the city's name on her boarding card or when the chauffeur brought her to this hotel. But no, she had kept quiet, not wanting to disappoint Devika.

And now, she was back in the same hotel as she had been thirty-five years ago.

In despair, Rashmi covered her face with her hands as memories of that night, thirty-five years ago, came rushing back.

*****

Rashmi looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her youthful body was clad in the scarlet satin nightgown her sister-in-law had packed in her trousseau with a naughty wink. The nightgown was risqué, caressing her curves lovingly. It was a far cry from the plain cotton nightgowns she used to wear. Rashmi blushed seeing her reflection in a nightgown designed to arouse passion in her husband. "Husband", she whispered to herself, rolling the syllables in her mouth. A stranger, and yet, one whose nearness caused her heart to beat faster.

She had met him only once before the wedding when he had come for the bride viewing ceremony. Their fingers had brushed when she handed him the tea cup, and a frisson of awareness had gone through her. They had hardly exchanged any words as they sat side by side surrounded by garrulous relatives, but the whole time Rashmi had been aware of his presence. And just like that, Rashmi fell in love with the taciturn man her parents had chosen for her. Yesterday, her father had given her hand in his, with the sacred fire as the witness. And today, in the most exclusive 5-star resort of this beach town, she was going to become his wife completely.

The red tip of a glowing cigarette on the balcony announced that Shekhar was there. Looking at his back, Rashmi smiled. This marriage was going to be full of love, she promised herself. She would make sure Shekhar was happy always. Sensing her presence, Shekhar turned around slowly, cigarette clamped between his lips.

His eyes raked her body from top to bottom, but he didn't make a move, the darkness of the balcony making it difficult for her to read his expression. Unsure Rashmi waited as the silence stretched. Just when Rashmi thought she would cover herself with a robe, Shekhar came closer. Rashmi felt her heartbeat growing erratic with anticipation. But before Rashmi could react, Shekhar took out the cigarette from between his lips and ground the burning tip just above her right breast. Rashmi screamed as the cigarette burned her delicate skin. Oblivious to her pain, he continued to press the cigarette down, increasing the pressure, until Rashmi thought she would pass out from the pain. And then, just as suddenly, the cigarette was lifted. Dragging her by her arms, Shekhar threw her on the bed. Stunned, she lay immobile as he unbuckled his trousers before invading her virgin body. After minutes of torture, during which Rashmi felt her very soul being invaded, he removed himself from her. The light from the table lamp illuminated his face, cruelty dripping from it as he looked at her dispassionately while he dressed again.

"You are now my wife. My property. I have branded you, and I dare you to forget it. Your body holds no allure for me. But you will submit to me how I want and when I want. And if, at any time, you think of resisting me, remember this night."

Shekhar walked out of the room, leaving Rashmi whimpering with pain. The scarlet nightgown, like her heart, was in tatters around her. As her body and soul throbbed with pain, Rashmi realised that dreaming was futile. From that day onwards, whenever Shekhar thought Rashmi needed disciplining, he would burn her on the same spot. Over time, the scar became permanent, refusing to heal completely. And the young girl who had once dreamt of romance and love faded, becoming a shadow, afraid to laugh, to dream.

The cigarette had burnt her essence.

In those dark times, Rashmi's only solace was Devika, the only beautiful outcome of that night of horror. But despite her efforts, she couldn't shield Devika from Shekhar's ugliness. Shekhar never hurt Rashmi in front of their daughter, but his barrage of emotional abuse never stopped. As Devika grew older, she pushed Rashmi to break free. But by then, Rashmi had been so conditioned to Shekhar's abuse that she refused. Frustrated by Rashmi's inaction, Devika had walked out of the house when she was twenty-two, unable to see her mother suffering. She had come back home a year ago, only after Shekhar had died.

*****

The next morning Rashmi sat pensively at the breakfast table a cup of tea cooling in front of her, thinking about Devika. For the past year, Devika had been pestering Rashmi to begin afresh. The scar had physically healed and had started fading, but Rashmi felt lost and scared. Shekhar had made Rashmi so dependent that she didn't know what to do without him. Moreover, Rashmi didn't want to start dreaming again or to go through the pain of those dreams being brutally smashed. Rashmi rubbed a hand on the scar as if wanting to rub it away. She wished she could erase her past.

Rashmi picked up the now tepid cup of tea when a man came and stood next to her table. "Ms Rashmi?" he asked. At her nod, he said, "Devika ma'am wanted you to go to the beach with me. She has something planned for you."

Rashmi sighed. Guess going through with it will make Devika happy, she thought, gesturing to the man to lead the way. As the man took her towards a speed boat bobbing in the shallow waters, she looked at the man in confusion. Seeing her look, he said, "Devika ma'am wanted you to go para-sailing." Chuckling at her look of alarm, he said, " Don't worry ma'am it is perfectly safe." Though Rashmi nodded hesitantly, she couldn't stop her palms from getting sweaty as she waded through the waves towards the boat.

As the boat gradually picked up speed, she tried to control the rising panic as the man efficiently harnessed the parachute. Rashmi felt her heartbeat rising but gave the man a wan smile as he held up his thumb to signal she was ready. The boatman throttled the engine, and the boat started skimming the water. The sail of the parachute filled with air, and Rashmi let out a small shriek of surprise when with a jerk, she was lifted into the air.

Rashmi clutched the straps of the harness tightly as she climbed higher and higher until it was just her, the wind, the sun and the sea sparkling below.

Slowly Rashmi's heartbeat normalized as she looked at the world spread out below her. The speck of the boat and the vast sea spread underneath. The sun glinted off the sea, making it look like diamonds shimmering. She realized how minuscule everything seemed compared to the infinite sky. She savoured the silence, the aloneness, as a sense of peace descended on her. Memories that tormented her, the years of abuse, and the feeling of being a failure, all seemed to melt away. She floated, letting the sun soak her, purifying her whole being.

This was what Devika wanted me to experience. Of how vast the world is and how trapped I have been in my past life and memories.

Hours passed, or maybe it was minutes before she was pulled back down. Sitting at the edge of the boat, as it skimmed the waves back to the shore, letting the spray drench her, Rashmi felt as if she was reborn. She was not the naïve Rashmi who had dreamt of romance at twenty, nor was she the emotionally and physically abused Rashmi who had loathed coming to this hotel.

Later in the day, Rashmi stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror. Today the reflection was of a fifty-five-year-old woman battered by circumstances but whose spirit stood proud and erect. This was a new Rashmi. A Rashmi who would survive independently, without any man. On her own terms.

Having defeated her past, Rashmi was now ready to face the world.

// Cover Photo by Vince Fleming on Unsplash