... and everybody thinks it was an accident

The first time I met him was in a hotel room. Not the sleezy "pick up" kind of hotels, but the finest of them. That incidentally is the place where I meet all my lovers; each and every one of them, including Sumit.

Mine is not your regular story. My story is slightly different. I never ran away from home to be picked up by a guy who runs a brothel and put into sex trade. I calculated the risk and got myself into it. I'm not the cliche the documentary filmmakers and social workers talk about; the kinds they pride in telling you. Speaking in a bloody condescending manner like they're doing a world of good. I think they're just bitches all around with such shoddy and sad sex lives that they would enjoy more with battery operated vibrators, if you get my point. I don't believe in the vibrators either; I'm a proud whore and I take pride in teaching the art of lovemaking to the crappiest of them "lovers".

Coming back to my story, I was the typical middle class girl who grew up influenced by the school of thought that said sex wasn't bad, it wasn't a taboo. I also realised the quick money in the business and I loved money. I loved finery; rich clothes, jewels and the finest of food money could buy. I knew the risks. I also knew for a girl like me I need the right contacts, and contacts, for a urban girl like me were aplenty... like how men hang around a good looking woman. All those rich kids looking for a thrill, a change... just one night of pleasure. And what I night!!! Those sexy cars, the plush hotel rooms, great food and 5000 rupees in one night. All in hard cash. Pretty straight.

My parents? Well, I told them I work in a call centre. Not very off the truth, is it?
Got married. To a "colleague's friend."
Who I met at a "social dinner."

I saw all kinds of the men.
Sampled each and every one of them.
Taught them a lot, learnt a lot.
I still relied on Public transport though, since I never knew how to drive.
Enjoyed a lot. A hell lot.
Sex. Money. That must be what they call heaven!

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Sumit was a nice guy.
Now he's dead.
His wife killed him.
All those who die are "nice guys", but this one genuinely was.

He's dead, because he accused his wife of being a whore in less than 2 days after his wedding. And he didn't want to be married to a whore.
She was a whore.
Only he didn't know that.
He thought she was his friend's ex.

She knew he didn't know the truth about her. She didn't intend him finding out either. She just hoped to keep juggling her business around like she did with her parents. There was only one mistake. But that's history anyway, why talk about it?

She inherited all his money.
But she stills works, still averages 75000 rupees per month, all in cash.
She still uses public transport to get around for work, because she never knew how to drive.

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I killed my husband, and everybody thinks it was an accident.