The Third World

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Inspired by a true story
(The locale and the dates are almost close to the real life incident)


 


April 2nd 2004
Byappanahalli Police Station Limits
Bangalore
2200 hrs


Old Madras Road- a quiet summer’s nightfall in a sleepy little township – Byappanahalli .


Untouched by the sophistication of the big city, it is home to a few thousand residents, mostly Tamilian in origin. The ambience is a hybrid of Tamilian & Kannadiga cultures, tilting heavily in favor of the Pandyans.


Puratchi Thalaivi Amma’s (Dr. J. Jayalalithaa) & Kalaignar’s (M. Karunanidhi) posters are plastered on every compound wall; even the local cinema plays more Tamil movies than Kannada. A local square in the Town Market is called the ‘Kaveri Virar Circle (Cauvery Heroes)‘ in memory of the Tamilian folk who lost their lives during the Cauvery riots of 1991.


The local dialect in Byappanahalli is a Tam-Kan combination, an alloy of generations of usage.  Restaurants serve Idli/ Vada/ Pongal/ Bisibele-bath during breakfast, Chettinadu meals replete with Khara-kozhambu, parippu, sambar and rasam for lunch and Kuthu-barottas (Ceylon parathas tossed in gravy in a rather musical ritual on the frying pan, a Madurai delicacy) and Mutta dosas (Egg dosas) without discrimination during dinner.


Pig-Mutton stalls festoon the place as do the local cousins of the draught beer pubs- the Sharaabu Angadi.  Business is brisk as usual; the patrons are mostly laborers who toil away during the day for their livelihood and the evening hooch. The women folk do menial jobs in the nearby city, providing themselves and their children three square meals a day.


"Kokila, Kokila" Tamilselvan (Selvan) called out after his customer who had just left his shop.


Selvan was the bachelor-boy proprietor of ‘Thiruvanmiyur Stores’- the most popular grocery in town. His color television was a local hot-spot for the women folk. This marketing maneuver worked wonders for him as the ladies invariably bought their grocery items at his shop.


A couple of his favorite customers didn’t even have to pay for the stuff they bought- for a few supplementary favors he graciously received from them.


Kokila had been his loyal customer for a few years now. She was first seen in the village in the winter preceding the turn of the millennium. She did not go unnoticed. However, no one questioned her descent, her origins or her current domicile. She spoke Tamil, she looked Tamilian and she along with many others like her had logically made Byappanahalli their home-town.


"What happened? You jollu-party! Why are you howling like a dog in heat?" shot back Kokila.


"You forgot your Afghan Snow and Lux Soap here you ****", Selvan replied.


"Oh that, I thought you are up to your ‘Gaja-kolu’ stunts again Selvan", Kokila smiled, snatching the package Selvan held out for her.  Pinching his cheek forcefully, she left in a flourish. Selvan winced, in pain.


"Thevdiyaa, you deserve that", Kokila was on her way again, the jingle of her anklets ringing through the night. He saw her turn round the corner and she was gone.


He returned to the Television. Sivaji & Vyjayanthimala were now singing and running around trees. Selvan now noticed the buxom Sailaja leering at him from the far end of the counter. He rubbed his hirsute chest in anticipation. As her feminine magnetism beckoned, his manhood responded. He nodded suggestively and she understood. It was Sailaja’s turn tonight.


Kokila neared her residence, she saw a Toyota Qualis parked close by flashing headlights very suggestively. The engine was humming, albeit silently. Her anklets continued to jingle. The car’s registration plate was blank- "Must be a new car", Kokila thought to herself.


Suddenly, someone grabbed Kokila from behind and gagged her with his palm. As she tried to wrench herself free, she was bodily lifted and dumped in the backseat of the car. The car took off to an unknown destination, four men plus Kokila. Inside, the Qualis  smelt  of alcohol and cigarette smoke.


3rd April 2004
2 am


Selvan lay on his bed snoring like a pig after a high-decibel session. Sailaja was by his side, her legs spread-eagled, and her lips parted in a satisfactory smile even in sleep.  Tiny beads of perspiration on her brow shone in the orange street light that seeped in through a carelessly tossed window curtain. The air around reeked of intense body heat with adulterous overtones.


Some one rapped on the main door. Selvan stirred, Sailaja slept on.


A few more baton-knocks, this time with an increased intensity!


"Yaaru", Selvan muttered sleepily.


He quickly picked up his pajamas from the floor, running into them hurriedly and to the door. 


Fumbling at the bolts, he opened the door. It was Machiraju, the local police constable.


Selvan was not very pleased to see this intrusive swine at this unearthly hour. Machiraju was Kumar’s Uncle. Kumar was an entrepreneur dealing with lube oils and lubricants, married to Sailaja for over 4 years now. They had no children; Kumar reportedly had a problem with his performance and seed-counts. He was however a very loving husband and provided her with everything, but one important need. 


Kumar’s business involved weekly travel to Chennai & Kovai (Coimbatore) for supplies. Sailaja assisted Kumar in his business during his weekly absence. She took her role quite seriously- working day and night in his absence; the sheer mention of oil-change was an aphrodisiac.


Luckily she had found Selvan, a master craftsman, who doused her raging flames of passion with the finesse of a fire-service professional. Their sessions had always been intense and fiery; something both of them looked forward to, with a religious fervor every week.


At the door…


"What brings you here Machaan? Yen daa Ooyira vaangrey"? Selvan asked Machiraju.


"Dey, I know Saila is here with you tonight. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone". Machiraju assured Selvan.


"Halkaa nann maganey, you came at this time of the night to tell me this? Why do you keep an eye on my bedroom all the time you ba***rd? Are you not happy with the money I give you?"  Selvan thundered.


"Adaa Naaiye, we can discuss that later. Some one raped Kokila and dumped the semi-conscious body near the Police station a little while ago. Kokila is in a real bad shape" Machiraju whispered.





""…Some one blew a conch at the temple. A symbolic sign of triumph….""


"Our Kokila?" Selvan asked.


"Which other Kokila do you know of, you horny dog?" Machiraju was visibly annoyed.


Back at the Police Station, Kokila was slowly coming back to her senses, every inch of her body writhing in pain. She had slept with Men before, but never had been subjected to so much male domination anytime in her life. She was bleeding copiously. Her body bore the script of the violence and her clothes, the sediments of the male swill-out.


A local doctor had been summoned to examine Kokila. He ratified the sexual assault, terming it gang rape.  Administering Kokila with necessary first aid, he even called for a saline IV. 


"Kokila will be fine in about a weeks time", he told the Station House Officer.


Next morning, after some required paperwork and questioning, Kokila was allowed to go home. On a condition that she reported in person at the station- Once a week till the case was heard by the local court.


A few weeks passed and Kokila limped back to normalcy.


It was a festive season for the locals – Byappanahalli jathrey (local festival) was very popular. The local temple came to life during these 18 days of the year, only to hibernate for the rest. The deity was special, so were the celebrants.


Kokila had gone to the Police Station in the morning; the Station House Officer (SHO) was out of town. So she was asked to report again that evening.


She was dressed up in bridal finery; it was the most important night of the temple festival. She was in a hurry; she had to be at the Temple on time.


Machiraju and his SHO were present at the station. Food & snacks leftovers, empty glasses & cigarettes stubs filled up the centre table.  The air was hazy, the dimly lit up ambience added to the heady scheme of things. At the temple, chanting and ringing of bells had reached a crescendo.


Kokila was about to sign the register when the pen slipped out of her hand. She bent down to pick it up- she felt him grab her by the waist. She screamed ‘No’, but the male grip was overpowering. She had experienced a similar thing a few weeks ago.


In one single movement she swung the pen from the floor, lodging it right into the man’s neck. Machiraju screamed and doubled over, the pen still stuck, in the flesh near his collar bone. He was on the ground.


But the SHO was a beast. Kokila was barely a match. She gave in, yet again.


Some one blew a conch at the temple. A symbolic sign of triumph!


"Whose victory was it?  Aandavarey?" Kokila thought as she passed out ? prey to primal male viciousness.


To be continued…


Glossary of terms: In order of appearance



  • Puratchi Thalaivi- Revolutionary Leader (Woman)
  • Amma- Tamil/ Kannada for Mother
  • Kalaignar- Artiste
  • Pig Mutton- Local English for Pork. Mind you! These are very serious reading boards!
  • Sharaabu Angadi- Kannada -(Arrack- Country liquor shops).
  • Jollu-party- (Jollu- Saliva) Tamil Slang – a lecher, someone who drools
  • Gaja-kolu- (Gaja-Elephant, Kolu- Stick) Tamil Slang –  sexually overactive
  • Thevdiyaa- Abusive, Tamil Slang, normally refers to a Bitch, also used as a short form for SOB.
  • Yaaru- Tamil/ Kannada- Who?
  • Machaan- Brother-in-law, Tamil slang – someone close, popular colloquial usage
  • Yen-daa Ooyira vaangrey- Tamil- Yendaa- Why man?; Ooyiru- Life; Vaangrey- Take; Colloquial usage- Why are you killing me?
  • Halkaa nann maganey-  Verbal abuse Kannada Slang ? Bloody little Scoundrel
  • Adaa Naaiye- Tamil- You Dog, abusive
  • Aandavarey- Tamil-  God Almighty

Author: Amarnath Bantwal- Kuwait


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