The Alpha Killed My Husband

3| Ayesha: The Madame

If I had thought that I had seen it all in the past three years, there are disgusting truths and unbearable realities that are still there to unfold—stories I have never imagined even in my worst nightmares, that can lead me to total failure.

There are many more tales of miseries and arm-twisting constraints in the Appy Lane that are being sung in silence, yet the sonnet of Twaivada pierces the loud echoes and screams the horrors, only a devil can have the heart to listen.

At seven, Armaan Bhaijaan knocks at the door of the brothel with us at his back. It is supposed to be my first prominent step toward the ruins of Alpha Rudransh.

'The business is closed today, visit tomorrow.' A young werewolf, probably in his early twenties, opens the doors and shuts them immediately at our face without even a second glance.

'Birju! I want to meet Ayesha.' Armaan Bhaijaan bangs the door again. His demeanor changes in a flicker and almost a new man replaces his otherwise amicable attitude.

The boy opens the door with a sheepish smile. He stares at the ground and steps aside. Armaan Bhaijaan did not bother with another glance and in a second we are standing in the courtyard surrounded by at least some four hundred women—all of whom are dressed scantily and gawk at us with expectant eyes.

From the corner of my eyes, I spot Ankita standing in the corner of the second floor. I avoid the usual exchange of pleasantries between Bhaijaan and Madame and take a look around the brothel.

There are rooms everywhere I could see—up to the fifth story. The dim blue paint is peeling off and the doors are rusting. There are aroma candles that illuminate and spread a seductive fragrance. From where I stand, I can spot a couple of torn and worn-out couches in the corridors.

In the middle of the courtyard, on a squeaky bed lays the Queen of this palace—Ayesha Harjeevndas.

'Who are you?' Her voice is sharp and drips off the confidence that I have never seen before in any woman. It snaps me off the trance and jolts weird energy.

My snaps at the lady look expectantly at me. A teasing smile is playing on our lips.

In my life of twenty-four years, I have met many women—Ambitious and those who are always satisfied, gold-diggers and the two goody-shoes, the sluts, and the innocent, the intelligent and the dumb, the manipulative and those who are always on their toes to dance around. But none like her.

Ayesha Harjeevandas, the queen of Tawaivada and Madame of the Brothel is special. Looking at her charming face, I am almost in trance.

Why did I not see it coming? I think and curse myself. I have spent a whole year roaming around these lanes, planning, rehearsing, gathering facts, and shaking truths. How can this one significant detail slip through my fingers?

Nagini, my snake hisses in the brain. It is up in a jolt as if it has met a long lost friend. For some unknown reason, I could not avert my eyes away from Ayesha who is peering at me with equal intensity.

I gulp at the sensation and drop my eyes at the toes. My insides alarm me that Ayesha Harjeevan isn't anything to play with. The blonde were-woman has a heart of gold. I was told, but why was I not told about her overpowering personality?

'I am Komal, waitress at The Rajbhog and she is my friend, Neha.' I reply hesitatingly. My eyes have grown a mind of their own—the ragged Italian tiles seem to be the most fascinating object in the world.

I hate how timid I sound in front of her. I am a queen, a woman who is born to rule and lead. I should not be intimidated by a mere p********e to the least. My toes curls in embarrassment as I combat with myself to look up.

The lady has seems to get over whatever was bothering her. Her intensity has faded away and a taunting smile caressed her thickly painted red lips knowingly. At the age of thirty-two, Ayesha is aptly maintained with her busty figure, short height, and curly tresses. For a woman of her business, Ayesha is surprisingly flawless with no trace of having had s*x the night before and before.

She could be a woman with an appetite or maybe she doesn't do the business at all.

Generally, the women from brothels are always covered in bruises or hickeys. The monsters are beasts in bed. Their tired eyes, swollen lips, and limping walks scream the saga of their nights in detail. Their moans have been vibrating the walls for ages. Ayesha seems to have taken an exception—either that or she does not work at all.

'What brought you here, Sa—Komal? Did that Fat Little cook spread your legs already? Swept the spatula? Cooked an omelette out of your ovaries?' The lady cracks what might have been a bad joke, but the women around her have taken a hilarious pinch in it.

The Twaivada echoes at our humiliation. My hands clenched to the side in frustration at being overpowered. Wasn't she supposed to jump at the thought of getting two women for free and push us to business right away? She doesn't have to pay anyone. Why is she being a pain in the ass and interrogating us like a bloody damn cop?

'No one did anything to us!' I seethed through gritted teeth. 'We are virgins.' I lie, pinning her under a serial killer glare.

Fake it till you make it! They say.

'I see!' Ayesha lets out a fake sigh. In these moments of futile combat, I see my worst fear coming alive and twerking at my face.

I have crossed the two wooden doors at least a thousand times in a year. It was the first time I have seen a woman so beautiful and open yet so reserved and bitchy.

The depth in her is intimidating to me. Still, I'd rather die than let it appear on the surface. Something tells me that the arrogance, manipulation, and smiles are weapons Ayesha is using to defend herself from the world. Her eyes held sorrow and fire. In friction, something crosses through them. She almost seems concerned but masked it beautifully with another sad smile that does not reach her eyes moist with unshed tears.

'Why do you want to travel through the yards of black roses when you can bloom into charming orchids? You have the fragrance, just let it spread and let it go! It's the best you can do to yourself and others. You are a charming woman, Darling…hate has done nothing but destroy worlds.' She whispers.

The khol stuffed eyes soften a bit and seem distant as if it wasn't a suggestion but a monologue that Ayesha has been delivering to herself. The air around me becomes thick and tense. None amongst the ladies or the two werewolves utter a word.

It's the conversation of the eyes which is exclusive to everyone else. It is the cosmos reclining.

'Sometimes, fighting is far better an option than letting go, Ma'am. At least, the warriors take no grudges to his death bed.' I speak each word slowly.

Silence lingers in the air as Ayesha stands rigid like a statue and searches my eyes. I have played this staring game millions of times. I can not be defeated.

'What makes you so desperate to sell your bodies to those hungry wolves, Darling? They are beasts full of lust and nothing else. They will rip you apart. Why do you want to ruin yourself? Why not give yourself to a man who would die in love for you rather than to those who worship the organ dangling in between their legs? You have a better destiny ahead of you. Don't burn!'

At first glance, Ayesha seems to radiate an aura of a rude b***h who wouldn't take any s**t from anyone, but a closer glance won't take twice before blowing one's mind away.

Madame Ayesha is not what I had imagined her to be. Instead of the old rag with an evil lust for money, she is a young woman with captivating eyes and even a tantalizing mouth. Her face is glowing with power and pride. She is ruthlessly stubborn and knows to get her way—as if she has seen it all, taken it all.

I was here first…before you! Her eyes scream.

'Her grandmother is sick. We have been told that the guests with Luna pay handsomely. We are here for money, Ma'am. We will do anything.' I repeat the line like a well-versed parrot. I have been planning the whole scene in my head for a month now.

I have figured out every minor detail. I am not reverting at any cost. No matter what, Luna is dying today.

I will have to add the sobs and chokes to make it more believable and eventually, the Madame would melt.

Her ankles chime as eliminates the distance between her bed and the stairs where I and Avika am standing. I rake my eyes around, meanwhile, to find various curious eyes pinned over us. The were-women were all dressed scantily with their hair let loose and heavy makeup to hide the scars life has left on them.

'What do you want, girl?' Ayesha repeats with humiliating sassiness. She uses her index finger to raise my chin and take a careful glance. I was standing a couple of paces away from both Avika and Birju and beside the comforting warmth of Armaan Bhaijaan. Nonetheless, her presence made me gulp.

The woman reeks of something that I crave every single day: fearlessness and painfully unbudging independence.

'Money!' Avika whispers breathlessly. Even from afar, everyone can hear the shiver in her voice. The Twavivada echoes with giggles and laughter of the workers. To mingle with noise, the clock struck with a gong of seven.

We only have two hours to convince Madame Ayesha to let us in. The girls would be leaving at nine. Ankita had told me that the guests were to be entertained after ten. It is how the brothels work, I figured.

'I cannot take any of them. They are too pure to be part of this world. Take them away, Bhaijaan. I will pay for their grandmother's surgery. Shoo!' The refusal is slapped on our faces almost immediately. Ayesha Madame comes out to be a tougher nut to c***k than I'd initially take her to be. Her face is stern and deprived of any emotions whatsoever. There is a certain sorrow in her eyes that almost melts my heart while it ignites the fire in my brain.

I can feel her loneliness through the layers of mightiness she has pulled. There is something mysterious about the lady that wants me to hug her and assure her that everything will come out to be fine and that I am here for her as she is for me.

'Please, Madame! We need the money we cannot return. We will do everything you say: strip, pole! Ankita has told us about all of it. We will satisfy your clients and make sure they visit us again. We can commission some of our tips too. Just let us in, please.' Avika pleads. The desperation in her voice does not only surprise Bhaijaan and Madame, but it also puts me in a trance too. For some reason, I could not come up to speak anything in front of the lady that Ayesha is.

It is perhaps the first time I am overwhelmed and overpowered by someone's personality to the extent of being spellbound. I am tongue-tied.

Whatever it is, it is going to cost me another year of miseries and burn of revenge.

Do. Something. I tell myself, hurriedly racking my brain for a way out of it. From my peripheral vision, I glance at Armaan Bhaijaan heaving a defeated sigh—he is about to give up. No! You cannot.

I squeeze my eyes as I try to recollect everything bad that has ever happened to me. It's time, I exhaust everything I learned.

I elbow Avika before I slump down on the ground with a loud cry, erupting from the depth of my heart.

'I thought you were like me, one amongst us…' I chose my words wisely, nailing the confirmation straight in Ayesha's emotionless face.