“Who does she thinks she is? Mother Teresa?” Sheila asked Chaitali.
They were sitting in the ground of the correctional home, talking with each other.
“No! It’s not like that, she is brooding type.” Chaitali replied, as if she was trying to give excuse on her behalf. She paused for a while, straightened her white sari and then continued.
“I talked with her for a few minutes last evening. She is sharing my room. She killed her husband after just a week of their marriage. The judge decided that she was not mentally stable and needed treatment.”
“Within just one week?” Sheila asked with a little trace of surprise. The people they mingled with were rarely the sweet, compassionate type so she was not shocked, just a little surprised.
“Was it a love marriage gone wrong?” she asked further.
“No. it was love, one sided, the man wooed her for years, finally she gave in and married him.” Chaitali said.
“What happened after that? She discovered that he was already married with kids?”
“No! She said that the man was a monster. He has been stalking her for years; he knew everything about her, every little thing to be precise.” Chaitali gulped, “and within three days of their marriage she caught him doing something heinous. Then she plotted the plan for next three days, waited for the chance and executed the plan.”
“What did he do that heinous?”
“His sister left her only son with him when she died. That night when she woke up he was not in bed, she went out to look for him; he was in the room of that small child, abusing him.”
“She did not give out a single hint, she knew that he knew she loathed, despised pedophiles with her heart and soul.”
“She burnt him alive for desecrating her body, soul and heart.”