And With This Hand, You Shall Not Sin
When Styja went away, she left her hand with me. Her right arm, down from the elbow. I kept her on my pillow when I went to sleep. Some nights, she’d weep blood.
In the mornings, I’d change the bedsheets and the pillow covers, wondering all the while where she was and when she got up and how she must have been feeling right now.
On one such morning I find her in the kitchen, sitting on the dinner table.
“What are you doing over here all alone?”
She points her index finger at the bowl on the kitchen counter with a plate of buttered bread beside the bowl. Made you some breakfast.
“Looks delicious. Smells good too.” I step closer to the dish. “Is this chicken soup?”
Yes. She snaps her fingers once.
Bringing the cuisine and the conversation on the dinner table, I taste a spoonful of the soup and the bread. “This does taste yummy. Your culinary skills are getting better every day.”
A thumbs-up.
“I like waking up beside you, but you rarely give me a chance. I can’t say whether I’m too late or you’re up too early. I’d like to believe it’s the latter for I never seem to catch up with you. When did you get up today?”
She points her finger at the wall clock. I wait for the minute’s and the hour’s hand to settle at some specific numbers as they spin backwards. They rest at five and two. Five-ten.
“Who gets up so early? Did you sleep at all? I saw you wept blood. Is everything okay?”
No response.
“I can’t know if you don’t share things with me, Styja. I’m only trying to help here. Should I bring you the pen and the notepad?”
No. Her fingers snap twice.
It’s unusually cold in the morning I land up in the garden looking for her. She is watering the plants. The first ray of the sun plays along the edges of her skin, making it glow. It adds an ethereal touch to her hand.
I step closer and hold her near the wrist as we go down watering the plants together. The sound of intermittent giggles flows through her veins. It makes me smile as well.
She had wept, once again, last night but I don’t want to bother her with uncomfortable questions. Once we are done watering the plants, I place her palm on my chest close to my heart as we continue walking. She likes staying there.
Crossing our garden and beyond the fence, we step into the forest. A walk down the gloomy shade of the willows and its playful darkness reminds me of the song from The Innocents, and I sing it out loud –
We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow.
But now alone I lie and weep beside the tree.Singing “O Willow Waly” by the tree that weeps with me.
Singing “O Willow Waly” till my lover return to me.We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow.
A broken heart have I. O willow I die, O willow I die.
Her voice joins me in the chorus. The forest and that song always bring the rest of her back to me. Walking with my eyes closed, I sense her palm slowly getting off my chest and holding my palm, her fingers fitting perfectly between mine. We wander deeper into the forest, hand in hand, side by side. A jungle of darker trees. Dark memories.
Time escapes me. I can’t remember how long it has been since the day I took her hand in mine.
“Will you marry me, Styja?” I couldn’t have gone wrong. I had practised the act many times in front of the mirror with the ring I spent all my savings on buying. Couldn’t have gone wrong, except with her reaction.
“Oh no! Please don’t do this.” Styja pulled her hand away hastily and looked in the opposite direction. “Don’t make it more difficult for me than it already is.”
I wasn’t willing to give up so easily. “Why is it so difficult? Are you saying you don’t love me?”
“You know I do.” She put her palm on my cheek. “But Father has already promised my hand in marriage to someone else. I cannot disappoint him now.”
“Please, Styja, let’s not make this one more failed love story.”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“Come on. At least, we can speak to your father.”
“He won’t agree.”
“And I won’t stop trying until he does.”
Sometimes, we don’t realise how easy things are, and we are too ready to jump to conclusions. The events that unfolded stand evidence to this.
When we reached her home, I stepped inside, held her hand firmly and looked straight into her father’s eyes. “Sir, I know you don’t know me. I know you want your daughter to marry someone you’ve chosen for her. And I know you’re a retired army general, so no one ever dares speak against you. I risk all that knowledge on my part and ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. I love her and promise to keep her happy forever.”
Her father didn’t react. Instead he looked at Styja who was still holding my hand, fear and guilt written all over her face. “Do you love him too?” A calm composure in his voice.
“Yes, Father. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell --”
Her father raised his hand to cut her short. “And how long have you known him?”
“A few months,” Styja muttered.
“Sorry, I can’t hear you.”
“A few… six months.”
“Good.” His father now stared back at me. “That’s a long time. She must really love you. I’m sure you do too. I’m impressed by your confidence, young man. Not many would have the guts to speak up in front of me the way you did. That tells me you care for her a lot. Perhaps, more than this old man does. I don’t object to your demands, but as you can understand, as a father, I need to know a few things about you before that — like who you are, what you do, where you stay.”
“Of course, sir. I’m --”
His raised hand stops me this time. “As much as I wish to believe whatever you’re going to tell me, the first thing I need to know is where you stay. I need to see where you’re planning to keep my daughter. Please write the address on a piece of paper, and we’ll visit your place tomorrow. If things go well, you’ll have just what you want.” He smiled at me.
I did as he told. Looked at Styja once before I left. I don’t think I had seen her happier.
I waited for them to arrive the next morning. They didn’t, but someone left a parcel on my doorstep — a big brown envelop, quite heavy, and on it, someone had scribbled — And with this hand, you shall not sin.
Unable to decipher what that could mean, I put my hand inside the envelope, and two hands, instead of one, came out. My hand holding onto Styja’s, fresh blood still dripping down the elbow from where it had been chopped off. I screamed and threw it away. I sensed my body going numb, my feet giving away. I let myself collapse on the floor. And then, I noticed a note attached to Styja’s arm. With trembling hands, I picked up her hand to read it.
Since this is what you wanted. The rest of her’s beyond your garden, beneath the willows. She’s all yours.
Sometimes, we don’t realise how easy things are, and we are too ready to jump to conclusions.
I didn’t want to believe what I made out of it. Clasping onto the edge of a table, I got myself back on feet. I staggered through my garden. It was longer than it used to be. Didn’t seem to end. I stumbled onto something a few times. Fell. Got up. Resumed my half-walk half-run.
I searched in the forest, beneath the willows, hoping I won’t find anything there. And then, I chanced upon a circle of loose mud under one of the trees, like a broad hole in the earth freshly closed. Not large enough for a human body to fit inside.
No, this can’t be true. It can’t be Styja.
I started digging the earth with my bare hands, and then I noticed similar small circles of loose muds in a few other places beneath the willows.
The last thing I remember is throwing up and a searing pain originating at the back of my head.
I breathe the morning in with my eyes closed as I walk deeper into the forest, still holding onto Styja’s hand.
“You know, I’m worried after the nights you weep blood in your sleep,” I whisper.
Her grip grows tighter around my palm. You shouldn’t worry. You’re there beside me, aren’t you? I always know that.
I smile. I hum the tune once again until we are singing it together –
We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow.
But now alone I lie and weep beside the tree.Singing “O Willow Waly” by the tree that weeps with me.
Singing “O Willow Waly” till my lover return to me.We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow.
A broken heart have I. O willow I die, O willow I die.
