Chapter 2: Ananya’s Demand

2

Ananya picked up the plastic stool my cousin had kicked and sat, utterly poised, in front of us.

Her eyes—sharp behind her glasses—were full of cold contempt. Her saree was simple, cotton, pallu tucked tight like the office-going ladies of Kolkata or Pune. She adjusted her specs, and her stare cut through us sharper than any blade. Even the crows on the tamarind tree fell silent, sensing the tension.

'First day, you tried to take my snacks, saying, "Chalo, sharing is caring." Second day, you dragged out the trek—so much drama—hoping I’d get scared and depend on you. Third day, wrong path, straight into those damn thorns. You thought I wouldn’t notice?' Her Hindi-English mix rang out clear, making my cousin’s ears twitch—his tell for nerves.

'Am I right, guide bhaiya?'

I couldn’t answer. She was right about everything. The plan was simple: on Day One, she’d be drawn in by our friendly act, relax, share food, and lower her guard at Gulmohar Hill. Day Two, she’d be busy with selfies, linger behind, and the schedule would slip—forcing a camp at Chandanpur Top. That place—ten metres high, stone pillar steep, no escape without a rope ladder—was perfect for cornering a target. Hungry, cold, helpless, she’d be forced to surrender, pretending it was her choice. The whole adventure group was a setup—"voluntary loss of virginity" was just a twisted game for her alone.

But she saw through everything. It was like I’d spent hours weaving a story only to have her recite the ending before I finished.

A gust rattled the drying clothes above us. I stared at a crack in the cement, my cheeks burning with public shame. In our village, men don’t get insulted by women—not like this. I avoided her eyes, fidgeted with my shirt collar, Amma’s old warnings about 'smart city girls' echoing in my ears. I wanted to deny it, to shout, but the words stuck like day-old rice.

'What are you trying to say?' my cousin managed, voice shaky.

Ananya’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. 'Do you still want to sleep with me now?'

Her words cut the air, bold and blunt. Even a beast like me was speechless. The aunty outside, who’d been peeking, dropped her basket of sabzi in shock, brinjals rolling across the path. My cousin’s ears turned bright red, and he shrank back.

'As long as you help me with one thing,' Ananya continued, her gaze never wavering.

'What thing?' I asked, my mouth dry.

'I just heard you say there’s a group this afternoon. Take me with you. I want to watch your operation.' She looked straight at me, as if refusal wasn’t an option. 'You do this anyway, na? Let me watch, and I’ll satisfy any request you have. Deal?'

'Why?' I stammered.

She didn’t flinch. 'You remember Amit? Your partner.' She glanced at the sky, voice tight. 'I’m his fiancée.'

The name hit like thunder. Even the TV blaring Ramayan from a neighbour’s window seemed to hush. 'Amit' echoed around the basti, bouncing off walls and memories.

3

Hearing Amit’s name, my heart jolted. That trip—I tried never to think about it. Director Nikhil’s group: four men, four women, three targets. Amit, strong and ruthless, took a woman named Deepa—owner of a coaching centre, always elegant, gold-rimmed glasses, skin fair as sandalwood. Her voice still haunted me.

'...I am willing to be your temporary wife...'

'...I am willing to be your dog, is that enough? Are you satisfied? Just kill me...'

Deepa’s desperate cries echoed in my head, mingling with the memory of her bangles clinking as she pleaded. Outside, wild wind shook the tent, carrying snatches of an old Lata song from some far-off campfire. That night, I learnt silence can be heavier than any shout.

'Amit and I were supposed to get married,' Ananya said, voice barely above a whisper. 'But then I found out—not just cheating, but these adventure games with you lot.'

I thought she’d come for revenge. But she shook her head.

'Don’t worry, I’m not here for drama. I stopped loving him that moment. I just want to reclaim my lost youth. If he can enjoy life, why not me? I want to know what pleasure he found that’s greater than love.'

Her voice was steady, but her eyes shimmered. In another world, Amma would have warned me: this is the kind of city girl who’ll set your life on fire—too sharp, too stubborn, too much heart.

My cousin snapped, 'Why should I believe you?'

Ananya stood, walked right up, and paused—her hand trembling for a split second—before she pressed his palm against her chest.

'Tell me, what will make you believe me?'

My cousin’s voice dropped. 'It’s not convenient to talk here. Let’s go inside.'

I knew what he meant. No woman would agree to such a deal. But again, I was wrong. Ananya pulled him into the inner room and shut the door, leaving me outside, the wind prickling my skin. Can a woman’s hatred make her give up everything?

Even the old wall clock above the fridge ticked louder. I shifted, trying not to think of what was happening inside. The colony kids picked up their cricket again, but their voices sounded muffled. In our world, women swallow insults quietly. But Ananya—she turned her pain into a weapon sharp enough to cut steel.

4

Director Nikhil called to say the group was down one female member—someone fell ill. But with Ananya, it was still eight. Four days, three nights, deep in the hills. My cousin and I knew the trail like the back of our hand, but this time, we set off again with barely any rest or fresh supplies. My cousin was charged up, yelling at us to leave before his chai cooled. Ananya followed, silent as a shadow. I felt something would go wrong. The missing woman was usually the leader—the first to compromise, to break the others’ resistance. Would Ananya play along or break the pattern?

The bus rattled and groaned on the road to Gulmohar Hill. Someone grumbled about the potholes, a vendor at a dusty stop yelled, 'Chai, samosa!' My cousin muttered, 'Aaj toh afternoon nap gaya.' Ananya stared out the window, hair whipping in the wind, lost in her own world. The rest of us exchanged glances—without the lead sheep, anything could happen now.

At 4:30pm, we reached Gulmohar Hill, the classic first stop. The hill jutted out like a mushroom, flat-topped, rich soil perfect for tents. The view over the valley was dazzling, and tourists always fell for it. We set up camp, and the tourists circled the fire, singing, showing off, trying to impress. My cousin and I hung back, letting them bond. The men’s job was clear—make the women feel safe, trick them into handing over supplies, and wait for their defences to crumble the next day.

Someone passed around a battered steel flask of Old Monk, and the smell of roasted groundnuts mixed with woodsmoke. A Bluetooth speaker played Kishore Kumar, and city voices swapped stories of heartbreak and half-baked dreams. My cousin lounged a little away, hands behind his head, fake-counting the stars. He didn’t fool anyone, least of all me. Our job was to watch and wait until city nerves softened.

'We shouldn’t have let Ananya join. She knows us too well. Why invite trouble?' I said.

'You don’t understand,' my cousin brushed me off, those words stinging more than usual.

He watched the three other women: Priya, Alia, and Vani. Priya was the beauty—wheatish skin, white kurta, sneakers, champa-flower bright. Her high ponytail reminded me of old school crushes. The others faded in comparison.

After nightfall, the bonfire died down and everyone lay back to watch the stars. The sky was dazzling, brighter than I’d ever seen. Priya came over, her mehendi-stained fingers brushing the grass, blue nail polish chipped. She lay beside me, her eyes full of city dreams. The others whispered nearby, screens flickering like fireflies.

5

'Arrey, no,' I said when Priya asked her question. She looked at me, shocked. 'Why? Your pay won’t be cut.'

I explained the route, each stop, how much they’d miss. Priya listened, then said all eight had agreed: no trekking, just camp here for two days. She went to lie outside the tent, her voice lost in the group’s chatter.

Gulmohar Hill wasn’t meant for our usual games—too close to the village, easy escape, network always available. The four men agreed without even asking us—so spineless, it made my blood boil. My cousin came back from peeing, heard the new plan, and his eyes nearly popped. Everyone had sworn to follow instructions, but the second a woman spoke up, they folded.

'Damn, men are really pathetic,' my cousin said, forcing a smile as he walked me over.

'Everyone, the lovely lady says you all want to stay. I just want to confirm: really camping here for two days?' He thumped his chest, acting the big man. 'I say stick to the plan, but your wish is final. Want to stay, we relax—perfect. Or shall I tell you what you’ll miss?'

He gave me a look, so I said, 'Tomorrow, we’d cross Gulmohar Hill, pass a crystal-clear spring, a field of wildflowers, then reach the ancient forest and Chandanpur Top...'

'Bhaiya, we’ve all decided—no more trekking around. Gulmohar Hill is perfect, na? Why go anywhere else?' Priya cut in, sharp as a school principal scolding the class.

I looked at the four men. Not one contradicted her.

In the faint light, one man fiddled with his phone, pretending to check WhatsApp. Another sighed, muttering, 'Madam ne bol diya toh bas.' Priya’s command had shifted everything—no one wanted to challenge her now.

'If we’re staying, let’s upgrade the camp: gentlemen, help with tomorrow’s work. Men should do the heavy lifting.'

The four men got up and followed us to the back of the tent.

'What are you trying to do?' my cousin hissed, face darkening. 'Are you really here to travel?'

No one answered. The air was tight as a drum. I whispered, 'What are you thinking? Remember why we formed this group?'

The men exchanged sly grins. 'Of course we remember.'

'Then what’s this drama?'

Director Nikhil chuckled, 'We remember exactly why we’re here. That’s why we said stay put. If they all agree, why go anywhere?'

A hush fell, broken only by neem leaves rustling and a distant koel’s cry. The men smiled that half-smile, thinking they were still in charge. But the air had shifted—someone else was calling the shots now, and even my cousin couldn’t pretend otherwise.

As Ananya’s eyes met mine, I knew this trek would not end the way anyone expected.