WITCH HUNT

I rush home because I have spent more time at Bhabhi’s house than I intended. It felt like a breath of fresh air meeting her after long. To be with someone who shares the same emotional quotient as you is a place to be. On the outside, Aliza Bhabhi looks desperate and dull, like a woman seeking protection from her husband and his family. The way her voice turns into a whisper and her limbs retreat when surrounded by a group, makes it appear as if she is clueless, troubled, and seeking help. But deep down, she is something else. She holds herself together when stressed, and the kind of composure she maintains in adversities makes it clear that it is her tricks to let people undermine her so she can surprise them with her fight back. She inspired me in more than one way, including when she decided to end her marriage with my brother the moment she found his truth. I am happy she is willing to help me even at this hour. 

 

 

But here, at home, things don't seem so well. As I opened the door to enter, Ma, Baba, and Bhai looked at me anxiously as if they knew I would be walking through the door the moment it creaked. I paused in the hallway and glared back at them.

“Where have you been? We were all worried for you,” Ma shrieks, her voice piercing the roof.

“I… I had to…” I stumble, wondering what she will make of it if I tell her the truth.

“Let me finish it for you. You had special classes, didn't you?” Bhai asks, and something about his tone doesn't sound right. “Or what's the excuse this time? You had special tests or was made to wait after class for work or…” he drags, and I nervously look at him to see if he will mention Bhabhi.

“Or you were busy taunting guys and heckling girls at school?” he finishes as I look in horror.

“What? What are you saying, Bhai?” I ask

“I met Faridoon Aunty on my way. She says awful things about you. That you are doing scary, questionable things at school, and if we have lost control of you already. Where am I to hide myself?” he fumes.

“But I never did anything at all. She is lying,” I protest.

“So, didn't you hit someone at school?” he asks, and I know I am in deep, deep trouble.

“Yeah, I did. But that's not..”

“See… she says she did it. You didn't believe me. Look at her confessing her crimes,” he tells Ma and Baba, his fingers pointed accusingly at me. 

“No, no. Not at all. I just had an altercation with a friend. But there was nothing that I did as she made it look,”

“So, tell us why were you suspended?” he asks. I feel my home crashing down on me. I tremble from head to toe. I don't know what he knows and how much he knows. I swallow the lump in my throat.

“She does dirty things at school,” he looks at Ma this time, and I can see three pairs of eyes fixed on me. “She looks up things on the internet that she clearly shouldn't. She was caught red-handed and suspended. Everyone knows at school. I felt so ashamed to meet Aunty and others,” he says, forgetting he himself has done things he should be ashamed of. I am confused by his accusation. 

“What questionable things?” Ma interrupts.

“Now, I don't know what that is. But clearly, things that are prohibited for her,” he says, and I wonder if I should be happy that he doesn't know the truth or be worried that he is mistaken. I don't try to correct him. Instead, I don't meet their eyes. 

“You won't be stepping out of this door ever again,” he says, and I feel my world come crashing down on my feet.

My head spins and I feel nauseous. Forget lessons and revenge; I am grounded. 

This is a part of BlogchatterA2Z 2025

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