Note: This piece was Adjudged Winner for BTB September 2025 monthly Writing
The first time I saw him assume a human form was when my father raised his hand against me. I spotted him in Baba’s eyes, Baba had turned into a monster. Because I had worn a frock above my knees. He had possessed Baba whole, in it’s fiercest form, and I named him ‘Rosh’.
She would watch from afar, not moving, not helping. ‘Bhaybheeta’, I labelled her.
Then Bhaiyya murdered the boy I loved, to salvage my honour and caste. Rosh was Bhaiyya now, forcefully marrying me off to his conceited friend.
I guess I was Rosh’s prey. Following me forever, today, as my husband. Bhaybheeta tagged along too, she was Maa then, now Mummyji. Scared, helpless.
One of those days, my teenage son tried to force himself on a domestic help, and casually flung the girl when caught red-handed.
‘Thwack!’ The slap reverberated across the hall. I looked around. Hurt son, shocked husband, but no sign of Rosh.
A look at the mirror, and there he was. Rosh. In me, in my form.
I roared in anger, I wouldn’t let Rosh out anymore. He would reside in me, as my fierce strength.
Protector of the Bhaybheetaas, Destroyer of Evil..
