Reading Time: 8 minutes
Sujata Parashar’s The Temple Bar Woman is a socio-political thriller about a woman who was abducted, mistreated, and finally left to die. The book discusses the victim’s method of retaliation and revenge. Earlier, Sujata had this plot in her mind. The gruesome 2012 Nirbhaya rape case inspired her to pen it. Here are excerpts from her novel, published by Pune-based publisher Vishwakarma – exclusively for Different Truths.
Lat Serai, Agria Pradesh, 2017
The crowd was swelling, the slogans growing louder. She noticed all of it. The throng of people in front of her large white official bungalow, in a posh residential locality, boasted some familiar figures. The prominent angry faces that led the excited and ever-increasing mob-like crowd had been good to her in the past. Most of them had claimed to love her. Some knew her personally, others had worked with her, but all had benefitted from her. Radhika Chowdhury smiled. Her eyes, however, were contemplative as she parted the thick curtains of her rather large glass window to take a good look outside. They were getting ready. But not yet, and certainly, they shall not be the one to make the first move, she thought. That should be the director’s privilege. What fun it will be when they come to know! She smiled at her own thoughts. If an onlooker had been close enough, he would have noticed that the smile, however, was not a pleasant one. Radha’s eyes briefly sought the majestic gates that were heavily manned by her strong, unyielding security guards. They had been ordered to let no one inside the bungalow. She noticed that some of the people in the crowd were trying to break in. However, she knew better. The task was next to impossible. The massive gates were locked from the inside, and the security was extremely tight.
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Satisfied, her deep-set eyes turned away in defiance and focused on the clear blue sky above her palatial bungalow. What caught her gaze calmed her. The sky was serene, carefree and unaffected by the events at play. She had been like that once – calm and positive about life. But that was a very long time ago. Eighteen years had passed since then, she mused sadly. It seemed like another lifetime. She had been happy then and proud of herself. Even afterwards, when… she was tortured and… She stopped herself from delving deeper. It was too painful. She looked away. Her Baba, her dear friends and the simple village life: she missed it all. But she could never again return to that life. She had been such a simpleton. A village teacher – Radha, not Radhika. Her beloved father had been so proud of her. However, that uncomplicated and pure life was not meant to last. Everything had changed for her on that unfortunate day when, despite her father’s disapproval, she had gone to the mela with her best friend, though never to return home. She would have perished but for her determination to avenge her lost honour. That simple girl had now turned into a seasoned politician. Skilful in the art of cheating and lying, just like the rest of them. Vikram Pratap Singh had underestimated her. In fact, he was still unaware of the fact that she was the same girl he had destroyed. But she had neither forgotten nor forgiven him. He would pay the price for it now. She clenched her fists momentarily to control her emotions. Unable to get a hold on the sudden surge of her long-suppressed rage, she rushed to the adjoining washroom. On reaching the white marbled sink, she opened the tap and started splashing water on her face, deeply wishing the cold water to wash away her sad memories. She turned her thoughts to a different direction. These men had pretended to treat her as one of their own, but only before her. They had never really accepted her. It had all been a farce, a game. And she, too, had played along, pretending to be naïve. It cannot be denied that I had indeed been foolish in the beginning, she thought sadly. They had been wary of her past since the very beginning, and not only that, they had subtly punished her almost every day with their insinuations. It had been hard, but she had tolerated their barbed comments and mental torture. She knew that it would all end one day, but she had to be patient for her plans to succeed. That day had finally arrived.
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The world would know her story today. The culprits will be finally brought to book, Radha thought. The offenders will be punished as she had promised herself. They would pay heavily for cruelly snatching her happiness and peace. Absentmindedly, she picked up her stale cup of tea on the bedside table, took a sip, smirked and immediately abandoned it. Instead, she picked up her favourite homemade coconut cookies prepared by her personal chef. The time to avenge my lost honour and pride is finally here. No use prolonging it any further, Radha concluded, as she polished off the last cookie and walked purposefully towards the marbled balcony. A sizeable section of the balcony was neatly decorated with rows of manicured green potted plants of all shapes and sizes to keep the room cool. She waved at the noisy crowd. The slogans against her Party became louder as the crowd noticed her acknowledging them with her hands raised. It was just like being with her students during the morning attendance routine. Radha was unfazed by the reaction she received from the crowd. This was expected. In fact, this was all planned. Staged. She knew it. She knew because she herself had scripted and directed it. The ignorant cast and crew and even the supporting actors were playing their part to the hilt. Only the lead actor of the play was missing. She was the lead actor. It was time to announce that to the audience. ‘GJ’, she said to them silently. It was the abbreviated form of the phrase ‘Go Jump.’ During her teaching days, her favourite student had coined and shared the phrase with her. Funnily, she had never used it then. It was only much later that she found herself using it almost regularly and it always managed to calm her nerves. She said the words again. This time louder and pointedly towards the entrance of her house. ‘GJ…all of you!’ Though the irony was, she thought smiling, that it was she, who would have to jump from her third-floor balcony! But she was ready to do so. She smiled warmly, enjoying herself. Of course, there was no one around to witness her endearing smile, and it was only for herself and the heavens above. She climbed up the low parapet. As she jumped from it, her final thoughts were, may all those criminals go to hell!
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The next day, the newspaper headlines stunned the readers and led to chaos in the state capital. One of the headlines read: ‘Newly appointed Chief Minister tries to commit suicide.’ *** ‘Madam CM, how are you now?’ Radha turned her head towards the voice. She was aware of her surroundings. The smell of the hospital, the sharp pain in her legs and the white of the walls had a mixed effect on her senses and made her feel nauseated. She had not died. Her plan had worked. She allowed herself a little smile but winced at the sharp pain that shot through her at the slightest movement of her body. ‘Err…if you don’t mind, may I have an interview with you? asked Tulika, the young journalist from one of the popular newspapers, on finding her staring at her. Radha knew her well. In fact, she had come to like her. Tulika was sincere and dedicated. She had followed the election campaign very closely. Her articles and news reports had worked to her Party’s advantage. Radha had been glad to have her on her side and had, several times, invited her personally to travel with her during her various election rallies in the state. Radha noticed that Tulika was respectfully standing at one corner of the hospital bed, waiting for her to respond. Somehow, she reminded her of her own friend, who was lost to her now. It made her cringe inwardly. Instantly, she reminded herself that her life and times had changed. She was Radhika Chaudhary now, a shrewd politician who had staged her own suicide. What mattered now was that the big fish was finally caught. ‘Why did you take such a drastic step after winning the elections?’ Tulika asked gently. ‘I…jumped from my balcony,’ she began haltingly, ‘only to show that I am not afraid of death,’ Radha said. ‘I had died long ago…when those bastards took everything away from me. It’s a long story. The rumours you’ve heard about me are true. But the cock and bull story they’re spreading, isn’t. I rose from the dead. That bit is true. But why and how I came into politics is something no one but me knows.’
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She paused to catch her breath and let Tulika absorb all that she’d disclosed before continuing slowly, ‘Just understand that no criminal will roam the streets just because he is powerful. I’ll expose all of them soon; this time, I have all the proof the court or anyone needs.’ Tulika was shocked at the CM’s revelations. She was not expecting it. This is sensational news, she thought to herself. ‘Who are “they”? asked Tulika, trying to control her excitement. ‘Vikram Pratap Singh and his close aides,’ Radhika responded briefly. It felt so good to reveal the names of her tormentors. ‘My God! The leader of the biggest Party of the state? They are supporting you to form the government. How can they…?’ Tulika was dumbstruck! Vikram Pratap Singh was a very powerful man. In fact, he would have become the next CM had Radhika Devi not ruined his chances by her mammoth win. She had meticulously planned her political career: making the right moves and doing the right things at the right time. So much so that even the seniors in her minority Party, who disliked her brash and autocratic style of functioning, grudgingly admired her for her equal influence on the masses and the Party workers. Over the years, she had gained more popularity and support from all quarters than any other leader in the Party. It was then that her Party had decided to gamble on her name, and it had paid off. Although the Party leaders on both sides had forged an alliance and Radhika Chowdhury had been unanimously chosen as the Chief Minister, it was common knowledge among the Party workers of both the Parties that Vikram Pratap had been furious when Radhika Devi’s name was proposed for the CM’s post. Yet he had no other option but to comply with the wishes of the people and his party seniors. Radhika Chowdhury could not be touched. The masses loved and respected her and did not want to see anyone else as their CM. Radhika’s weak laughter brought Tulika back to the present. ‘No such thing! He’s a coward. A nobody. You will know his story soon,’ said Radha, closing her eyes. The sedative they had given her was strong. She wanted to sleep. She knew she needed to. It had been ages since she had slept soundly without strong sedatives. In fact, she had begun to dread the nights.
But now, she thought, I can finally put my ghosts to rest. She was happy. Remembering that Tulika was still with her, she opened her eyes once more and smiled at the girl. Before the latter could say or do anything else, she opened her mouth and slowly uttered these lines from her favourite movie, Gone with the Wind: ‘As God is my witness, as God is my witness, they’re not going to beat me. I’m going to live through this…’ and drifted off to a dreamless slumber.
About the Author
Bestselling novelist, short-story writer and poet Sujata Parashar became popular with her ‘Pursuit’ series and has written twelve books across genres. With a Master’s in Human Rights, Sujata has rich and diverse work experience. Apart from authoring bestsellers, she is also a psychosocial trainer and the founder of a talk-therapy-based platform, The Talk-It-Out-Express, a platform to enhance emotional well-being. She’s also the Vice-President of the Women’s Indian Chamber of Commerce and Industry’s (WICCI) Arts leadership Council, Delhi chapter. Sujata has received the prestigious PVLF Author Excellence Award 2022 for her non-fiction, ‘Going Solo – Raising Happy Kids.’ It’s a hand guide on single parenting. Her other prominent awards and accomplishments include recognition as one of the Women Achievers of 2021 by Apeksha Sandesh News. And the 100 Women Faces 2018 award and several other literary awards. Find out more about her on the website, www.sujataparashar.in
(Contributed by Sujata Parashar, author, The Temple Bar Woman, Vishwakarma)
Cover photo sourced from the novelist
