It was a tense, hot summer evening when I first laid eyes on Suresh. The humid New Delhi air clung to my skin as I stood outside the Lakshmi Narayan Mandir, waiting for my arranged marriage to begin.
I was only 19, too young for matrimony in my opinion. But birth order and family pressures demanded obedience. Even though I had dreams of attending university and becoming a doctor someday, those were sacrificed for this union with a man twice my age.
Suresh looked prematurely old as he emerged from the temple. Gaunt and stooped, with a latticework of grey streaking his long, oily hair. Our eyes met and he flashed a crooked grin, revealing yellowing teeth. A shiver ran down my spine. This was to be my husband, my lord and master for the rest of my days.
The week after the wedding, I found myself alone in our home. Suresh had left for business in Chennai, leaving me to unpack and settle into my new life. As I put away his things, I discovered a letter opener in his desk drawer. The cold steel felt good in my hand.
An idea began to take shape, a wicked plan bubbling up from deep within me. I couldn't explain it, but something about Suresh infuriated me. Perhaps it was the way he slurped his tea, or how his toes curled like claws. Most of all, I despised his hair - thinning and unkempt, usually slicked back with grease.
I would shave it all off, I decided. It would be my revenge against this man who had stolen my future. I giggled at the thought of his bald, shiny head bobbing around once I was done with him.
Days passed and the anticipation grew. I could barely sleep or eat, so eager was I to enact my scheme. Finally, Suresh returned home, jet-lagged and exhausted from his trip. I made him a hot meal and poured him a whiskey before guiding him to the bathroom.
"You look so tired, my love," I cooed, starting the shower. "Why don't you relax and let me give you a shave? I've been wanting to try my hand at it."
Suresh grunted his agreement, too weary to argue. I had him sit on the closed toilet seat as I readied the razor. My hands shook slightly as I lathered up his neck and cheeks.
I shaved slowly, meticulously, my blade skimming over his skin. Suresh relaxed into my touch, eyes fluttering closed. I worked higher and higher, moving up the sides and back of his head. He shifted and I nicked his ear.
"Ow! Be careful, woman," he barked, opening his eyes.
"Sorry, my love," I apologized, soothing the cut with my fingertips. "You're just so very...hairy. It's difficult."
He harrumphed but closed his eyes again, trusting me completely. And so I finished the job, leaving him as bald as a newborn. His scalp was waxy and covered in age spots. I rubbed my hand over it, feeling a thrill.
"There, all done," I said brightly, rinsing off the razor. "You must be exhausted. Go rest while I clean up."
Suresh shuffled off to the bedroom without another word. I caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He looked ridiculous, like an angry egg. I couldn't hold back my laughter.
And so began my reign of terror over my new spouse. I reveled in my power, my control. Daily, I would shave his head with a straight razor, nicking him just enough to make him wince. He grew more and more subservient, not daring to cross me lest he lose his remaining hair.
I had friends over often, throwing parties where I paraded my bald, obedient husband in front of everyone. I'd run my hand over his slick head for all to see, my arm around his shoulders. They would smile and fawn over us, never suspecting the evil lurking beneath.
But Suresh knew. He could see it in my eyes, feel it in my touch. I whispered to him in the dark of night, my lips brushing his bare ears. "I own you now. I could carve you up like a pumpkin if I wanted. You belong to me."
And he would just nod, his hands gripping the sheets. I had become his God, and he my devoted subject. I thought I had him completely cowed, that he would never dare defy me.
Until the morning I woke up with a start, feeling the cold kiss of a blade against my throat. Suresh loomed over me, his bald head glinting in the moonlight. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out.
"You shaved too close," he hissed, his breath hot on my face. "You cut me deep. And now, it's your turn."
The razor dragged across my neck, a searing pain as my skin parted. I scrabbled at his hands but he was too strong. Suresh was no longer the meek man I had known. A flicker of the old Suresh shone in his eyes - the one I had glimpsed that day outside the temple. Perhaps he had never been the fool I took him for.
As my life drained out of me in a scarlet tide, I realized I had played the fool. I had misjudged Suresh, thinking myself above him. But in the end, he had been the one with the cunning and guile.
The last thing I saw was his leering bald face before the darkness took me. In my final moments, I cursed the day I had first laid eyes on him outside the temple. Some prayers, it seemed, were answered in terrible ways.
