Puran turned towards Thooli’s voice. She stood in the doorway with her teeth clamped around the door’s wooden frame. He paused, his body warm from his exertions. He realized he had an erection, and sat down on the sofa with one leg over the other to camouflage it. His mouth dribbled some spit. He began abusing his wife again, viciously—words that his daughter would repeat calmly in the police station the next morning. Kamla was on all fours. Her posture aroused him. It reminded him of earlier fights, when Thooli was Maya’s age. Then the fights had ended in violent lovemaking. Hazily, he remembered another night when she had crawled up to him and bitten him on the shin. He drew his legs in. Kamla crouched, then leapt up like a frog and straddled her sitting husband. She tore at his hair, scratched his face and bit his nose, which began to bleed. Puran realized it was an invitation to a second round. He threw her off and stood up. Kamla turned to escape. Puran put an arm out to restrain her, but only managed to tear her sweater and a piece of her blouse, exposing her right breast. She passed her screaming child as she darted into the kitchen. ‘Enough of your hatred,’ Puran shouted, as he chased her. He wiped his bloodied nose and entered the kitchen. He locked the door and looked around for a weapon. There was a bamphok lying on the ledge next to where the hen had been slaughtered and cut up. He would have liked to get his hands on the bamphok, but his wife crouched next to it like a wounded animal. A khukuri was closer to him, and he got hold of it, waved it about and said, ‘Now what do I do?’ ‘Hit me, eunuch,’ she hissed. He advanced and in a sweeping, graceful movement brought his weapon down on his wife and missed. Because of his drunkenness, and his inexperience with the khukuri, he had used the weapon
The Book of Aleph
AU TU MN