Confusion. A dreadful feeling of confusion crawled its way up to me as I sat on my customary seat in the suburban train. To me, it was something that I hadn’t experienced in such a long time that it was almost a forgotten emotion. As strange as the first ray of light touching a newborn, as outlandish as a gushing river in the desserts. I took pride in keeping my life a monotony. I was wearing exactly what I would wear on a Wednesday. A dark grey cotton shirt and grey slacks. My long tresses in a sleek bun, not one hair out of place. In the midst of the confusion, something as mundane as the eminent smell of mild detergent on my clothes provided me with the composure that I needed. I took a long whiff of it, feeling a little better. Familiarity was the one thing that had always kept me grounded. I needed it, I craved for it.

The air felt filthy around me, as if it could read my mind. I ignored it, and got a sniff of the compartment, trying in vain to spot that familiar smell. It was ridiculous how on this day, when I had planned everything to the second, something unexpected should happen. I sniffed again, hoping somehow magically the man would walk into the compartment as though he had to just go to use the restroom. But, no. He wasn’t here. I knew it with the same certainty with which I knew that my baby, my innocent and unknowing kid, wasn’t here in this lonely world with me anymore. A drop of tear rolled down my left eye. I mechanically picked up my arm to get rid of it as the countless number of times that I have done before. The last thing I needed was to be looked at queerly by a bunch of people. People that I recognized from my regular commute in the train. Strangers, nevertheless.

I touched my watch, making sure that my timing was right, knowing very well that I couldn’t have gone wrong. Disappointment seeped into me and I closed my eyes, remembering. Trying to conjure strength and courage with my memories.

“Ammaaaa”, I heard him shouting, his shoes making the softest thumping noise, as he ran down the street. I immediately smiled, knowing that he was going to tell me something new about school today. I had always been in awe of how even the smallest of things made my boy happy. I had just gotten back home from work, and I was a little tired, but somehow I knew that his excited voice was going to give me all the energy I could ever want.

He rushed into the house and threw himself on the couch, his face red as he said, “Amma, Kriti gave me an icky kiss on my cheek today!”

I bent down to his level, quickly removing his shoes and socks. I pretended to sound baffled as I asked, “What?! Why would she do that?”

Kriti was his classmate and had a huge crush on him.

“How should I knowwww?” he whined, his lips turning into an adorable pout. I relished watching him pretend like the whole situation grossed him out. My theory though, was that he secretly enjoyed the attention.

“Well munchkin, just ask her.” I said, as I ruffled his hair. “Now, why don’t we go and get you something to eat?”

A screech sounded and ended my reverie as the train stopped at the next station. A horde of passengers got down and another horde replaced them in the train. And then suddenly I got a whiff of him. He had a rather strange scent, the tangy smell of his perfume fused with his own bodily musk. In a way, it made it easy for me to tell him apart from the rest of the crowd. He wasn’t that far away from me. From experience, I knew that he was in the first class bogie right next to my ladies’ compartment. There was a small metal barricade separating the two compartments. It was around three feet tall and if I wanted, I could jump over.

The train screeched as it made its final stop. My pulse quickened and my breathing became hasty. My trepidation grew multifold and for just a second I thought about walking away. Simply hopping into the next train back home. But the thought died as quickly as it had come. I could never live in peace until I did what my kid deserved. Until I avenged his death. I would die every living day, hoping things were different. Immediately, despite knowing what was awaiting me, I grew calm, letting my lips curve into a soft smirk.

I got up and moved towards the exit, using all my senses to keep track of my baby’s killer. The monster that had taken his innocent life away without a second thought. I got down the compartment into the crowded suburban station. I was not worried about losing him in all that swarm of people. I had planned everything with extreme care. I started following him from a distance paying acute attention to his footsteps. He was wearing worn boots, I could tell. The clipped sound of them on the cement pavement had gone a little soft but were heavy enough yet. He wasn’t very tall, probably around 5’9’’. So even though he had a decent pace, his steps weren’t too long and he was a good enough match for my 5’8’’. He exited the station and I heard him turn to his left as he stepped into the streets.

I walked behind him at a constant pace, knowing where he was headed next. The tiny shop at the street corner to get chai and a cigarette. Every single day, this happened without fail. Come to think of it, the monotony almost made my job simpler. Almost. I patiently waited as I smelled the rich aroma of tea and I heard him chatting with the owner in between loud slurps. The shop owner muttered something and the man barked out a throaty laugh. The situation was so commonplace that one wouldn’t really think that the man could be a murderer. I let out my own laugh as I thought about how deceptive people can be. It had been so long since I had had a conversation with anyone that my own voice seemed alien to me. A daunting feeling crept up in me. I quickly ignored it as I heard coins being thrown into the counter.

He began walking again and soon enough, I smelled the cigarette. He walked past the huge apartment-building that was once home to many families. The harsh cyclone that had hit the city a couple years ago had seen the end of the structure. Now, it just stood demolished and lonely. I heard his footsteps pause and I imagined him leaning on a part of the wall to finish his cigarette in peace.

I started walking towards him, my pace slowly growing. I had been waiting for this for a long time now and I felt a cold-blooded pleasure at what I was going to do. My sickly figure and dull clothes made me a camouflage and he didn’t notice me until I wanted him to. I heard him flicking his cigarette away and take two steps toward me. I could only imagine how he was looking at me questioningly.

Soon enough, I heard his voice.

“What in the hell are you doing here? You are trespassing!” he said, his voice masking any sign of unease. For all I knew, he probably didn’t recognize me. How long had it been? Seven years? I felt a breeze of disappointment. Before it could grow into annoyance and anger, I quickly pushed through it. I fixated my eyeballs raptly at his direction.

“What do you want, Shaira?”, this time his question was loud, almost a yell. Him uttering my name was the only sign of recognition. I keenly listened to his voice and gauged where he stood. I already knew how he was built.

Before I could even realize what was happening, my right hand went to my back and I pulled out the .22 calibre revolver. My brain caught on to my body pretty quickly and in what felt like a tenth of a second, I had it pointed at him.

Perversely, I fantasized about what his expression must be. In the beginning, his monstrous expressionless face contorted to show confusion, followed by shock, anger and finally it morphed into remorse. Repentance for killing an innocent boy, and ruining the life of his mother. I wanted him to beg me for his life, his gruff voice reduced to a mere cry as he would look at me pleadingly.

Karma is a funny, funny thing. You would think everyone would get what they deserved. How hilarious! You would be a fool to sit and let ‘chance’ take care of your dirt. You have to take it up on yourself to deliver. You have to become the enforcer of karma.

Suddenly, I heard him shuffle, his footsteps marching toward me and I broke away from my trance.

“Shaira?” my brother called out again, his tone conceited. “Put the gun down!”

Ah, he hasn’t changed! He didn’t expect me to go through with it, did he? He was still the arrogant and ruthless person he had always been. But what he didn’t know was that I had changed. I was a world away from the timid little mouse that he used to know. I felt the burn of rage in the pit of my stomach rising up and fresh, cold tears dropping down by cheeks.

I inhaled deeply and pulled the trigger.

“hmmph” he grumped in pain as I heard the bullet hit him. I wasn’t sure where. I shot a couple more times at his direction and I heard him scream in agony. I let myself scream along with him, letting all the years of suffering out. When I let myself stop, I couldn’t hear anything from him. Not his voice, not the soft sound of his breath. I moved closer to him and placed my palm on his chest. I felt him unmoving, lifeless.

Swiftly, I turned the gun towards myself, placed it on my forehead and pulled the trigger again.

In the final moments of life, I let my heart wander. My anger had fizzled out. Now, there was only grief. Grief for the sightless, young girl that was brutally raped, for the eighteen-year-old that was disowned for being pregnant out of wedlock. Sorrow that a man would rather kill his nephew than protect him from the cruelty of the society. I mourned the young boy who thought the world of his mother, that knew nothing of the unkindness of this world. And I let myself picture my son’s smiling face as I took my last breath. And that’s when I knew. I knew that there wasn’t going to be a light at the end of this tunnel for me.