Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows

‘They’re not gossips,’ Nikki said, rushing to the widows’ defence. For all her frustration at being excluded from conversations about Maya, Nikki admired Sheena’s protectiveness. ‘Sheena’s especially loyal to her. I suppose these stories get distorted and she wants to prevent that from happening.’

‘There’s only one story,’ Tarampal said. ‘Sheena’s like Kulwinder – she doesn’t want to believe the truth. That’s the truth.’ She pointed at the back door. A small window in the door provided a view of the garden but it was dark. Again, Tarampal was assuming Nikki knew this truth. She looked at the Fem Fighters magnet clip; if Maya were alive, maybe she’d be teaching the women’s classes and finding some way to sneak in erotic stories under Kulwinder’s nose. What was this terrible fate that nobody wanted to discuss? If Nikki wanted to know more, she had to play along. ‘Well, I did hear some rumours that Maya was not very honourable,’ she said.

‘Maya was seeing an English boy, did Sheena tell you that? Hanh, she wanted to marry him. Came home with a ring on her finger and everything. Kulwinder put her foot down and told Maya she had a choice – marry the boy and leave her family forever or leave the boy and have her family.’

Leave the family, Nikki thought immediately. Good riddance to old-fashioned parents. Then she was struck by a sobering memory of her first few weeks alone in her flat. It had been lonely enough without giving up her family forever. ‘And a forced marriage was part of the deal?’ Nikki asked.

‘An arranged marriage by the people who had her best interests at heart,’ Tarampal replied flatly. ‘We all cared for her, you know. I was a close friend of Kulwinder’s and I had seen Maya grow up. We knew what she needed.’

‘Were they compatible, then?’ Nikki asked. A good blood-type match? she refrained from asking.

‘Sometimes Maya and Jaggi got along but they fought a lot too. Most of their arguments were in English but this body language, everybody can understand.’ Tarampal puffed up her chest and tilted her head upwards to challenge an invisible adversary. ‘One day she purposely said in Punjabi, “We should get our own place.” She wanted me to hear it.’

Nikki sensed a bit of excitement in Tarampal’s reenactment. Auntie Geeta got similarly carried away whenever she arrived at Mum’s place with fresh gossip. ‘She just wants to connect to people, the poor thing,’ Mum always said in her defence, though Nikki knew Mum found it unsettling, this eagerness to vilify people for entertainment’s sake. Yet Nikki found it just as difficult to suppress her curiosity. ‘Did they move then?’

‘She was very unstable, you know.’ It was the second time Tarampal had mentioned this. ‘The question is, why did she want so much privacy? In our community, girls move in with their in-laws once they’re married – since I was offering very reasonable rent, Jaggi decided to stay here and this became their marital home. See, Maya didn’t want to accept her life. She was trying to live as if she had married that gora.’

She thought she could make it work, Nikki thought sadly. ‘So they stayed here?’ she asked, looking around. Even a contemporary home like this one would feel confining to a woman trapped in an unhappy marriage. ‘I’m guessing Maya wasn’t happy about it.’

‘Not at all. Then Jaggi began confiding in me. He suspected that she was having an affair. Maya put on perfume in the morning before going to work in the city. She stayed late at the office and was driven home by a man from her office. Who would drive all the way to Southall just to drop off a girl unless they were getting something in exchange?’

‘A friend. A kind colleague,’ Nikki said.

Tarampal shook her head. ‘Nonsense.’ Her pronouncement was absolute. ‘Maya and Jaggi had a big quarrel about it. She packed her bags and went home to Kulwinder’s place.’

Here Tarampal paused and stared out the window. Nikki followed her gaze. The plain curtains in Kulwinder’s bay windows were drawn tightly together. What happened when Maya decided to leave? Nikki imagined Kulwinder’s lips set in that stern line as she shook her head and ordered Maya to do her duty.

‘And then what?’ Nikki asked.

‘Maya was home for about a week, and then she was sent back. Things were peaceful at first but it didn’t take long for the fighting to resume once she returned.’ Tarampal sighed. ‘You can’t expect the world from your husband. The sooner you girls understand that, the fewer disappointments you’ll face.’

Mindi’s dating profile picture flashed into Nikki’s mind, that shimmer of hope in her eyes. Nikki felt a sudden relief on Mindi’s behalf. She had far more control over her situation than Maya had. Although Nikki still had her doubts about Mindi meeting the women of the families first, at least she had choices. She could say no, and she certainly wasn’t going to be bullied into a three-month courtship. Mum would never allow it. ‘My sister is looking for a husband but she’s being selective,’ Nikki informed Tarampal. ‘She wants to avoid being let down.’

‘Good luck to your sister, then,’ Tarampal said. ‘Let’s hope she does not end up losing her mind like Maya.’

A silence stretched between them, during which Nikki’s eyes scanned every available space in the house to avoid Tarampal’s intense stare. The kitchen opened out onto a living room with a plush suede sofa facing a modern stone fireplace. A row of three framed wedding portraits lined the wall space above the mantel. Each bejewelled bride wore a large gold hoop on her nostril and a pattern of sequined bindis that studded the arch of her eyebrows. The overwhelming jewellery partially obscured their facial expressions.

‘How did Maya die?’ Nikki asked softly.

‘She took her own life,’ Tarampal said.

‘How?’ It was a morbid question but Nikki had to know.

‘The way women in our culture do it when they are filled with shame,’ Tarampal said. She blinked and turned away. ‘With fire.’

Nikki stared at Tarampal in horror. ‘Fire?’

Tarampal nodded at the back door. ‘There is still a patch of burnt grass in the garden. I don’t go out there any more.’

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