A Fine Balance

Throughout the day, at intervals, they were flogged as they hang naked by their ankles from the branches of a banyan tree. Drifting in and out of consciousness, their screams grew faint….men urinated on the three inverted faces. Semiconscious, the parched mouths were grateful for the moisture, licking the trickle with feeble urgency….

In the evening, after the ballot boxes were taken away, burning coals were held to the three men’s genitals, then stuffed into their mouths. Their screams were heard through the village until their lips and tongues melted away. The still, silent bodies were taken down from the tree. When they began to stir, the ropes were transferred from their ankles to their necks, and the three were hanged. The bodies were displayed in the village square.

Thakur Dharamsi’s goondas, freed now from their election duties were turned loose upon the lower castes. ‘I want those achhoot jatis to learn a lesson,’ he said, distributing liquor to his men before their next assignment. ‘I want it to be like the old days, when there was respect and discipline and order in our sociey. And keep an eye on that Chamaar-tailor’s house, make sure no one gets away.’

The goondas began working their way towards the untouchable quarter. They beat up individuals at random in the streets, stripped some women, raped others, burned a few huts. News of the rampage soon spread. People hid, waiting for the storm to blow over.

‘Good’ said Thakur Dharamsi, as night fell and reports reached him of his men’s success. ‘I think they will remember this for a long time.’….

That was the end of the punishment, but not for Narayan’s family….'Catch them all – the parents, wife, children,’ he told his men. ‘See that no one escapes.’

As the goondas broke into Narayan’s house, Amba, Pyari, Savitri, andPadma screams from the porch to leave their friens alone. ‘Why are you harassing them? They have done nothing wrong!’

The women’s families pulled them back, terrified for them. Their neighbours did not dare to even look outside, cowering in their huts in shame and fear, praying that the night would pass quickly, without the violence swallowing any more innocents. When Chhotu and Dayaram tried to sneak away for help to the district thanadar, they were chased down and knifed.

Dukhi, Roopa, Radha, and the daughters were bound and dragged into the main room. ‘Two are missing,’ said Thakur Dharamsi. ‘Son and grandson.’ Someone checked around, and informed him that they were living in town. ‘Well, never mind, these five will do.’

The mutilated body was brought in and set before the captives. The room was dark. Thakur Dharamsi sent for a lamp so the family could see.

The light tore away the benevolent cloak of darkness. The naked corpse’s face was a burnt and broken blur. Only by the red birthmark on his chest could they recognise Narayan.

A long howl broke from Radha. But the sound of grief soon mingled with the family’s death agony; the house was set alight. The first flames licked at the bound flesh. The dry winds, furiously fanning the fire, showed the only spark of mercy during this night. The blaze swiftly enfolded all six of them.