Two of the men came forward, tied my hands behind my back, and led me through a narrow, cleared lane in the dense jungle where a wooden throne was placed. All of them seated themselves on rocks that had been carved out as chairs and stools. I was tied to a huge banyan tree right beside the throne.
A few minutes later, I heard the beat of trumpets, interspersed with the growls of wolves. All the men on the rocks stood in honor as the tribal chief arrived. A dark, tall, muscular man, about 50 years old, emerged from the forests, a gigantic dagger hanging at his waist, surrounded by ten more tribesmen. He seated himself on the throne and gestured for the others to take their seats. He had already been briefed on the incident.
After a long yawn, he spoke: “So you are the one who saw Suzuki‘s daughter naked while she was bathing?”
So, the name of the man whose home I had stayed at was Suzuki.
Already frightened by the chief’s gigantic physique and swinging dagger, I gathered my courage to murmur like a sheep. “My Lord, my King, it was unintentional. I didn’t know about the bathing spot behind the village. I was just looking for them when I reached the waterfall. I didn’t see her nude, just her bare back, and then I rushed away. You can ask her.”
His angry gaze intensified.
I continued, “Lord, please forgive me. It was an unintentional mistake, and it won’t be repeated. I will leave for my camp today itself.”
The tribal King discussed something in whispers with Suzuki and the other elders. The atmosphere was calm and serious. I could only guess what they were conspiring.
A few moments later, the King said, “You cannot be forgiven. If I forgive you, it will set a very wrong precedent. Unlike your corrupted urban culture, in our society, only a husband can see his wife naked. You deserve strict punishment. You will be beheaded today at dusk.”
I started crying in despair. Unable to comprehend the situation, I began to shout for mercy. The King leaned toward Suzuki, who was still standing by his side, and they discussed something in an inaudible voice.
The King, after a discussion with Suzuki, said, “There is a way out. Since only a husband can see a woman naked in our culture, you will have to marry her as you have already seen her bare body and live with us forever, becoming a member of our tribe.”
I started crying in agony again. “No, I cannot do this. I have to return to my camp, my family, my parents. Please forgive me, Lord, I cannot marry and settle here.”
The King reacted angrily. “We gave you a way out, but it seems you deserve punishment.” He then handed his dagger to one of his bodyguards and commanded, “Chop off his head right now.”
I don’t remember what went through my head at that moment, but getting married was probably a better option than being beheaded.
I started shouting again. “I will marry! I will marry her and settle here forever! Please don’t behead me!”
The King announced, “Tonight you will be married to Sukira, as per our rituals and traditions. You are our royal guest now.”
For the first time, I learned the name of my future wife: Sukira. It was a beautiful name.
He ordered his men to untie my hands and prepare for the evening ceremony. The meeting was adjourned, and the King receded into the dark jungles with his trumpeters.
Dusk had fallen. I was draped in a green and yellow shawl with a wooden crown on my head. Sukira appeared at the marriage spot, her torso half-covered in red and yellow, a crown of fresh leaves and flowers on her head, and jewelry made of beads and ivory bangles.
We sat beside each other on banana leaves with a fire and an altar in front of us. A priest-like man performed rituals and recitations in the tribal language. Half an hour later, Sukira was officially my wife.
Trumpets and drums began to play, and the young men and women of the tribe started dancing around the fire. Sukira and I were forced to dance as well. More than thirty goats were sacrificed at the altar and roasted over the fire for the feast.
After the ceremony, all the tribesmen retired to their huts. I was taken to a newly built mud hut, painted in fresh blue and red, with a thatched roof of fresh leaves that gave it a distinct scent. The walls were decorated with red and white wildflowers.
Sukira, my wife, was already sitting on the cot and looking more beautiful than ever. I was impressed by her looks the first time she had appeared in front of me the day before. I had no idea that destiny had planned my marriage to her.
Disturbed, silent, and calm, I went and sat beside her.
I said, “Sukira, you know that what happened this morning was unintentional. I had no ill intention. I was just looking for your father to help me get to the campus.”
Sukira, after a brief pause, replied, “I know it’s not your mistake. My scream was a reflex action. I was helpless, as no one would listen to me. The decisions here are made by the King and the assembly, and we have to abide by them.”
After another pause, she extended a cup with her mehndi-covered hands. “Please have this drink.”
“No, thank you, I can’t drink it,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Sukira assured me. “It’s made of coffee beans that people in the nearby town drink. I had them arranged specially for you.”
“But how did you get coffee beans in this jungle?” I asked.
Sukira explained, “I know you didn’t like the soup yesterday, or the cake. I paid a visiting school teacher from the adjacent village to get it from the city.”
I was touched by her gesture, but I couldn’t accept the fact that she was my wife and I would have to spend my whole life in the jungle with the tribe. It had already been two days since I had been missing from my surveying camp. My friends and professors would either be searching for me or would have assumed I had been killed by a leopard and would never return.
Sukira said, “I know you married me out of fear of being beheaded. You don’t like me.”
I didn’t reply. I was simply bewildered by my fate, but I was somewhat enjoying the fragrance of her body. She was sitting so close. I looked into her deep eyes. She was trying to read my emotions and ease my mind.
Sukira asked, “May I know your name? After all, you are my husband now.”
I whispered, “Ishaan Sharma.”
Sukira smiled for a moment and then fell silent.
“I know you don’t want to live here, nor do you like me as a wife. I can feel your pain,” she said.
This time, I replied, touched by her kind words. After all, she was in a similar situation, married to me without her consent.
“I like you, you are so beautiful and kind,” I said, “but I can’t accept you as my wife, nor can I live here for life.”
Silence filled the hut for an hour. Feeling tired, I leaned back against the wall on the cot. Sukira lay down beside me. I could feel her agony, but we were both helpless.
Sukira leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, “I can help you escape from here and get back to your home and family.”
Astonished by her offer, I asked, “But how? There are guards all around the village.”
“Leave that to me. I know the way out,” Sukira replied.
“And what about you?” I asked.
She didn’t reply, and her sad expression was easy to decipher.
I continued, “You can get married to someone else, maybe someone you love from your tribe. That would be good for both of us.”
She was as silent as a lake. My curious expression prodded her to speak up.
“No one will marry me now. In our traditions, we get married only once, even if the husband leaves. I will have to live my life alone in this new hut. I cannot even live with my father now. That’s our culture.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was moved by the sacrifice she was going to make for me—just so I could get back to my camp and my usual life, while she would have to live alone forever, with no one to love. What is a life without love? It’s no more than an emotionless, dead body.
How could I leave her like that? But I couldn’t stay here either. For the first time, I felt her as my wife. I hugged her. I could feel her warm body, her soft, supple cheeks, and the fragrance of her hair. I was falling in love with her nature and her beauty.
I whispered, “You are my wife, Sukira.” For the first time, I had truly accepted her as my beloved. How could I not?
“I cannot leave you,” I said. “I will take you with me. I will return to take you with me to my world, forever.”
Sukira leaned against my chest and rested her head on my chin. We cuddled each other for some time. A few moments later, she suddenly distanced herself and said, “You will have to leave early in the morning before the guards wake up. They go to sleep at 4 a.m.”
I nodded in agreement with a heavy heart. The whole night, we shared our lives with each other. She was the epitome of beauty, elegance simplified, and seemed far more captivating than the glow and bloom of any urban girl. I didn’t want to sleep that night.
The night that had witnessed my marriage to Sukira was fading away, and so were her hopes.
Early in the morning, she woke me up and guided me through the sparsely populated hilltop village of the tribes. As soon as we reached the muddy road carved into the side of a mountain range, she stopped suddenly.
“Now you have to go all alone. I cannot go beyond this. Just keep walking until you find a stream, cross it, and move east through the bushes until you see the highway. I have never been beyond that, but I know that’s the way to the town. From there, you can easily reach your camp.”
Tears were rolling down our cheeks, glowing red with the orange sun rays falling on our faces. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was the queen of the jungles. Untouched by the harsh urban culture, she was the embodiment of the purity of the mountains and lakes—all imbibed in that one female, Sukira, my wife.
I had to leave. I no longer feared for my life. Now, it was for Sukira‘s sake. I had to rush so I could return one day. Just before I left, she handed me two oats cakes and a small bamboo box with a few wildflowers tied on top.
She whispered in my ears, “Don’t come for my sake. Come for yourself, only if you wish to, only if you truly love me, Ishaan. I will wait for you, lifelong.”
For the first time, she had spoken my name, and I could feel the love in her words.
With a heavy heart, departing from my wife, I replied, “I will return for you, for my wife, for Sukira.”
She smiled, with a sense of disbelief. I had nothing to offer her but a departing kiss on her forehead and a promise to come back. We both faded from each other’s view as I made my way toward the stream and she rushed back toward her hut.
I reached my engineering camp by evening. It was our third year of winter camp. I could sense the worry and despair on my friends’ and professors’ faces. My family had also been informed about my disappearance. After all, I had been missing in the dense jungles for the past three days. I narrated the ordeal to everyone, except the part where I was a married man. I didn’t tell anyone about my wife, Sukira.
The promise I made to Sukira remains unfulfilled, with each passing year reflecting the disbelief I saw in her eyes just before I left.
Sukira knew then and there that I wouldn’t return.
Maybe I knew it too.
To be continued…
