Excerpt – Brink By S. Bhyrappa
After a while, she got up, placed the revolver in the chest and entered the children’s bedroom. In the faint red light of the night lamp, she observed their faces. ‘Both have the very same forehead, nose, and eyes. They are born with these features only to torture me’, she told herself and gritted. When an idea surfaced that all her worries would vanish if she shot them both and herself, her mind did not approve of it even in that state. No, this is not my cuppa. A sequent flashed: anyway I am dying, so why not invite him, shoot him, and then shoot myself? Consensus came from within. Yes, I can do this. But these thoughts have surfaced even before. None of these are occurring for the first time. Behind came the memory and the disappointment that they were never executed. She held herself in contempt for being a coward, incapable of any act. Watching the children asleep, she chastised herself that she was a sinner who merited death penalty for contemplating murder of such charming kids. With brisk steps, she went to her bedroom, opened the chest, and again took out the revolver. Holding it, she stood by the window and lamented about her dithering. The strong suit of determination is lacking! Felt like crying, but compellingly suppressed and contained it. Subconsciously, she slid the window curtains. Dense darkness outside. Instantaneously, the hill came to her mind. Outstretched, it stood behind her house, death congealed and personified. Felt she must go there. Still holding the revolver and leaving the light on, she took the key bunch and went out. Vikrant sleeping in the front kennel, growled. Vishvas in the hind kennel echoed. ‘Eh, it’s I.’ In recognition, they started yodelling. Opening the garage door and the gate, she drove the car out, parked outside, shut the garage and gate, boarded the car, and sped towards the hill.
Silence everywhere. The streetlights receded, darkness congealed, and the faint outline of the hill appeared like concrete death asleep. Only the gradient road was visible in the automobile light. After she had driven some distance so that the township was out of sight, she halted, put off the light, killed the engine, and sat quiet. Darkness and silence meld, she sensed death and felt that she was near the location she longed for. Having witnessed it several times in daylight, the ravine to the left and what lay beyond it appeared just in memory, the present ocular evidence being just darkness incarnate as void. And as she kept watching it, her mind felt a semblance of equilibrium. For some time, she stay put. Then she gunned the car and started scaling the hill. She felt annoyed at the disturbance caused by the strained sound of the uphill engine to the stillness around. The floodlight that flashed, as if to split the road, was irksome too. Nevertheless, she drove towards the peak, to the section facing her house. Parking the car, she took out the revolver and got out. It was pitch-dark where she stood, and scattered in the distance were the streetlights of the town. As she looked at them, the darkness at hand got intense. Craning her neck, she saw a few random starts twinkling feebly in the sky, establishing the impregnable fort of darkness. The feeling that darkness and loneliness alone were the ultimate truths of life teemed within. She reflected that if she were to shoot herself through the temple and die here, in this lofty place, it would establish her self-respect. But the hand that held the revolver did not rise.
As she stood for some time, her sight shot in the direction of her house. The light from the lamp at the rear appeared feebly. Is it from my house or someone else’s? She stood watching it. A surge of fear crept into her. The children were alone, sleeping. What if they woke up and started crying, ‘Amma, Amma,’ or if some robber broke in on seeing me leave in my car! She got in the car, put on the light, and glanced at her watch. Ten minutes to two. She recalled that earlier while she stayed in a rented bungalow in Yadavagiri, many a night she would leave the children at home and drive ten or twenty miles in the darkness. But ever since she moved to this own house on the outskirts of the city, this was the first time that she thus ventured out; this was the first time that she was so downcast. No more apathy. She gunned the engine and drove speedily down the hill. What if the car broke down in this jungle! Nervously, she arrived at her house. When she opened the gate, the dogs started barking. She lent her voice to let know of her arrival, then opened the garage door, parked the car inside, locked the gate, and walked up to the children’s room. Both were asleep. She went to her bedroom, locked the revolver, placed it securely in the chest, and changed. After long, she fell asleep.
