Vagina Insanity (2 page)

Being prejudiced to Vinay’s myopic but bloody mind, I
thought of giving him a mealy-mouth answer. Thinking that he must
have had an evil idea, I did not want to speak to him. I never
liked mingling with the outlaw villagers, but there was no other
place to live. Being born in Bihar is similar to born in Taliban.
In the age of twenty years, I had seen five murders, three rapes,
and many dacoities through my own eyes.

Those who are suffering from oppression in the state,
their anger may not get expressed in public, but it does find voice
in massacre taking place in the state. We Indians are leading a
shameful life amid the legalized corruption and prevailing crime.
At times, this anger is exploited by politicians, to win votes, or
to make up for a politician's own failing. Some of them steal the
limelight as a political heavyweight and become the friends of
corporate honchos and movie-stars in a quick span of time. Just a
few of them fall from grace in a blue moon and sent to the jail on
charges of corruption. Despite being late entrants, some criminals
secure a veto power in the party and become pointsmen to the
supremo.

Since childhood, seeing his hyper-euphoric behavior,
I sensed Vinay’s tone conspiratorial today. But considering that
raising the doubt is of no use, I replied to him in the shortest
sentence I could frame.

‘I am not keeping well today.’

I was expecting him to go away but he pushed the door
open and came in. Though ever since I had become a teacher, most of
the villagers used to give respect to me, and Vinay’s behavior was
also changed for me, but I was still getting a little nervous that
time because his presence was always terrifying. Hearing my words,
he brought smile on his face, but that was clearly showing his
deceptive and cunning motives hidden behind. I couldn’t understand
anything beyond that. Till that day, I had never been the victim of
any ill-will, deception or injustice, so I hadn’t got the sixth
sense to smell any rat around.

The way he came in, without asking or waiting for the
permission that showed how ill-mannered he still was. After getting
in, he started talking to my mother showing cold sympathy and
concern to the family. He appeared to be descending from his true
nature replacing his boss-over attitude with cajolery. Ten minutes
passed in the conversation which I did not intend to hear. After
that, he said that he wanted to take me to a neighboring village to
talk to some parents for tuition. The name of a parent he mentioned
was also a criminal – a criminal bigger than him.

In most of the villages of the state, you will find
about forty percent people involved in gruesome crime, thirty
percent living life in extreme poverty, fifteen percent getting mad
while entering adulthood and remaining fifteen percent people are
only living life with proper food, education and manner.

He took me to the village without letting me have
breakfast.

It wouldn't be amiss to state that no event till the
date had taught me to recognize friends-turned-foes. The village he
took me in was worse than mine. Poverty, illiteracy, castism and
crime had broken the backbone of the society long ago. The people
never knew a full measure of justice in any aspect of life. They
were in the path of embracing the burdens of their past without
having any knowledge of their betterment. Binding their particular
grievances and struggling to feed their families were the only aim
of their life, which was making themselves, succumbed to despair or
cynicism. Their anger and resentment weren’t always expressed in
polite company but they had helped shape the political landscape
for at least a generation. The politicians routinely exploited
fears of crime for their own electoral ends. The conservative
commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of castism
in the state. No religious sermon could ever bring the belief among
them that the society can change and come out of basket case.

“So often it happens that we live our lives in
chains and we never even know we have the key.” – Lyrics
Already Gone

Chapter Three

“In today’s world, someone is always waiting for your
neck to come under his axe.”

The world is very restless today. Hindu Holy
Scripture is banned in Russia, riots take place in England,
financial crisis has weakened the backbone of common-wealth
countries, people are creating chaos in Libya and Egypt and Syria,
earthquakes are devastating Japan and middle Asia, civil war is
bubbling up in China, and people go on hunger strike from the very
next day of the commemoration of Independence Day in India. Bomb
blasts are so common as if they are crackers. Some more natural
calamities are doing naked dance on earth.

In this mayhem, I have brought out this book not with
the expectation of monetary benefit or absurd publicity or dragging
you abrasively down to know the abbevillian culture I was born in,
but I just want to let you know that whatever happened in my life
in the name of marriage, is really condemnable and nefarious in
human society of the entire world. The narration of this book is so
strong that I believe taking it as news rather than story will be
more sensible.

It’s advisable that people with weak heart should not
read this as it may turn them hyper-tensed because it contains some
chapters which may be too severe for some people. It is as
poisonous as cyanide and as powerful as dynamite! Perhaps God made
me resilient enough to survive and write this book; otherwise it
was just not possible. The fastest volcano-size international
publicity, which no other novel has ever received, is ready to stun
you with naked, cruelest and shocking truth of my life. Neither I
am experiencing a déjà vu, nor dreaming in a dream, nor making a
subterfuge attempt to giving you a fallacious impression, but I am
writing a real blunt truth that no writer has ever dared in the
writing history.

Taking you back to my village I let you know what
happened next.

‘How much fee do you charge sir?’

I was asked the question by the person Bahadur Yadav
whose son I was brought to teach. An illiterate man with rude
behavior could not convince me with his tone that he really wanted
his son to be tutored. My hesitation was obvious to come seeing his
family environment because that was not supportive in any sense to
a child’s academic future. I had to reply to him, but before I
could say anything he uttered again.

‘I can pay you anything. You just teach him,’ he said
in a verbal disorder.

‘Yes,’ I had to say this time.

The roughness of his voice did not allow me to say no
to him but I still couldn’t believe he really wanted an instructor
for his son. I noticed that he started confusing me when he
realized his failure to convince. After a few minutes, he went away
leaving me to think about two things. First, the way he asked me
the question was showing that he was making a fun of me. And
second, after I told him the fee I would charge, the grimace coming
on his face was absolutely awkward.

I figured out something being cooked up against me
but that was unclear. Within a minute, I was surrounded by his kith
and kin and the village-folk who wanted me to get involved in
talking. But very soon I realized that they weren’t the people who
could ever agree to the significance of education but they could
discuss only immaterial things in detail. I saw that Vinay had
already left the place and gone behind the house to platform
something unusual. I had to continue talking with my broken
language to the people standing around. A shallow perception that I
had been enclosed was instinctively making me nervous. I was
waiting for Vinay because I didn’t want to stay there any longer.
As I wanted to go but I knew if I made any stupid attempt, it would
damage my reputation in the society which I was earning my living
from. The broken-mirror stress I was born with made me keep silence
and try to understand the reality of the scene.

Finally I saw Vinay at a distance and tried to call
him up but I saw him communicating with a new hooligan. He was
hiding his face from me so that I could not figure out anything
from his lips. My doubt was increasing and I was trying to find out
the way to run to the main road without letting them know
anything.

Ten minutes passed but there was no chance to run
away, and if I would make any faux pas, that would bring disaster
for sure. After a while, some more Tarzan-size men started coming
closer to the room which I was sitting in, and made fake efforts to
keep me engaged in some irrelevance. Talking about education was
left behind because they had never received education and never
ever seen the walls of schools. By the time half an hour had
passed, and then I saw that they brought me fruit-juice. As I was
hungry since morning, so I drank that. Suddenly, the people
standing in the room went out and they locked the door from
outside. I was perplexed as not being able to understand anything.
The room was completely dark with no window.

The solemnity sojourned with silence tearing the
layers of the darkness leapt out at my face and whispered something
to my sense.

I realized that I was kidnapped. Kidnapping was and
still is quite common in the state. Many producers have made movies
on this. Even today, the people in the state are being kidnapped
for marriage, extortion, and enmity, in which some are killed
without being granted a second thought. I was consoling myself with
the belief that whatever worst they had planned but they would not
kill me for sure.

‘Then why have they kidnapped me?’

I asked the question to myself. Perhaps for marriage,
I thought, because the way they were treating me was showing their
utmost politeness which they never showed in the time of killing
their enemies. Though I was not a babe magnet or matinee idol, and
had never expected babia-majora, Backy Fiona or voluptuous girls
with bazookas coming into my life, yet the back-stabbing for
marriage was not giving me any solace except embarrassment. The
culture I was born in, having big-mouth sisters for illicit liaison
could invite death at any moment. So I was never involved in
adultery and till the date I was virgin.

I was left with the only chance that I would cry for
help if they brought me to the main road.

Alas! That also never happened.

The very next thing that shocked me was the car that
came in to doorstep of the room taking all possible narrow turns. I
could hear the sound only. Then the door was opened and I heard a
commanding voice from behind…a little rough, a little
torturous…

‘Sit inside teacher.’

I turned behind and saw that it was Bahadur who said
that.

‘You are not doing good to me,’ I could murmur that
much only.

Taking the benefit of my Achilles’ heel and leaving
me at Hobson’s choice, they made my life a matter of ridicule that
I could never rinse off in my entire life. From beginning till end,
this story revolves around the cruelty of the world my life
suffered at several occasions. If you are expecting this book to be
a piece of entertainment, believe me, I re-define entertainment and
promise to give you truth of thrilling sensation. This is not a
sneak-peek bonkbuster craft of a novice imagination, but an
original blunt truth. Whether you feel it sarcastic or metaphoric,
but it is true that while reading this, you will understand how the
legalized injustice and systematic disorder is rusting out human
society in the state I was born. It is not a buffoonery or
hocus-pocus piece of literature, and that is why it invited flak
from all quarters in the very beginning of writing. Be it the
sanctum of scholars or the cerebrum of researchers, this book has
imprinted its enigmatic success in a very short period of time.

This ground-zero reality which discloses catastrophic
and catalyzing snares to mankind, is definitely strong enough to
crackle the silence. This terrible truth will have you come across
the chapters in which I have written how I was literally raped by a
woman and left astray. Having had the journey from Pandora of
monkeys to the sanctuary of monks, and from the cubicle of
prostitutes to the altar of nuns, I have portrayed almost
everything in its true sense. The circumstances never stopped
wreaking havoc on me and I also never knelt down in submission. At
times, you will find my writing rule-breaking, and not stereotyped
conventional one because at the time of writing truth I cannot
think of giving literacy animation to this story. Since I started
writing, many people asked me the question that why I am writing
the book on my own life. And my answer was that I am giving the
same to the world what the world gave me. A clear-cut
justification! Only the wearer knows where his shoe pinches.

“Every self-made rich pretending to be decent today
was the great reactionary in his past.”

Chapter Four

“There are no classes in life for beginners: right
away you are always asked to deal with what is most difficult.”
–Lord Osho

They took my words to their deaf ears and forced me
to sit inside the car as quiet as a goat sits in a butcher’s shop.
I felt a sudden searing pain slice into my head. I opened my mouth
to scream, but the air forced itself into my lungs with such a
painful pressure that I thought my chest would explode. The eyes
felt like they were being rammed backward into my skull and a
deafening fumble tore through my eardrums, pushing me toward
unconsciousness. I had never expected my life to be so miserable. I
cursed Bihar so many times to be my birthplace. I cursed my own
innocence and credulousness for falling into their trap. I never
expected that they would stoop down to that level.