Blindsided

The first draft of this story was born due to my frustrations over ‘K’ serials that ruled our family evenings. It was scribbled on the back page of a notebook during a boring Economics lecture and it lay forgotten till I found it years later while packing for my marital home.

Once I settled in my new life, I finished it, polished it and sent it to my usual entourage - my best friends and my brothers. And then I rushed to read it to the newest addition to the group, my husband.

Ours was an arranged marriage. He had only read the humour articles and slice-of-life blogs that I had written for my work. This story was about a husband and a wife.

Poor guy.

*CONTENT WARNING* - Depictions of Violence

The wool blanket feels hot against my skin. I toss and turn and finally lay flat on my back, abandoning hopes of comfort. My heart hums from the excitement of today. I feel on edge. For a moment I forget how to breathe. What was it now? Air into the lungs and air out. I let out a huge gust of air which makes me burp. That felt good!

I turn. Darling husband Sudeep is fast asleep. He has kicked away his blanket and his nightshirt sticks to his back. I extend my hand to touch his shoulder. It is damp. He responds to my touch with only the tiniest hitch in his snoring. I look back at the ceiling and replay the events of the day.

I broke the cardinal rule. I should’ve kept my mouth shut at dinner. But if his mother had a problem with dirty socks on the table, then she should have shouted at the person who bloody wore them. Her shocked face was quite the delicious reward but to top it, the debacle pissed off darling husband. He pushed away his half-eaten plate and went straight to bed. By the time I was done with the kitchen, he was asleep.

I wish he wasn’t facing the other way. Even though he was annoying, looking at his face would give me much needed comfort. “Turn,” I whisper, staring at his back.

The curtains dance to the wind’s tunes. In a lane far away, a car reverses with a loud ‘eeee-ooo-eee-ooo’. Sudeep suddenly snorts, murmurs something and rolls over his body towards me. Even in sleep, he has a small furrow between his eyebrows – probably because his wife has been acting batshit crazy for the past three days. It feels good to see his face, limp like a flour sack. I finally feel the nerves leaving my body.

I slide my hand under the pillow and remove my knife. I ram it to the hilt into his throat. His eyes fly open as blood squirts out in short bursts. He gurgles and tries to clamp it with his hands. He writhes. He flails. Then stillness – he dies much quicker than I expected. Fascinating. I want to savor the moment but my stomach growls. I sink my real teeth into his neck. Wow! My friends were right – a fresh body is so tast –

Shrieks ricochet inside my skull. I roll my eyes. She managed to break through the barrier again. Damn these devoted wives!

“Oh, shut up!” I snap at her.

I close my eyes and push the owner of the body I am currently residing in, into the recesses of my mind, well, technically her mind. She cries too much. It’s exhausting. Locking her inside was tricky and she sometimes got out but hey, a little leeway for a first timer.

I take one more bite and hear her howl. She did care quite a lot for this lard bucket. Touching…but also pathetic.

“Hey!” I say. “Can you taste his flesh too? After all, it is your tongue I am using.”

I feel her soul crumple; her screams make a fine symphony for my dinner. I was anxious for nothing. Possessions are delightful!

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