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Justice - S01E13 - A Duty to the Court

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Our Stores. Apply Filter Remove Filter Categories. Customer Review Newest Arrivals. Gold THB Gold. All the latest offers delivered right to your inbox! We Accept. Shipping Methods business days Minimum 10 business days. Our Locations. Hopefully their parents would arrange marriages to more appealing men. They handed him cash and jewels. Dowry is a serious business in India. When the dowry is found wanting by the groom or in-laws, the new bride is on occasion burned alive. The dowry paid to Dhillon included the rings, three bracelets, including a gold one for his mother, a neck chain, clothes.


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He could get those things in Canada. He preferred cash. To Dhillon, the amount was modest; he could earn that much in Canada selling one used car. The family considered it an investment. They mortgage their lives to Dhillon, give him their daughter, and the payoff would be a move to Canada for all of them in the future through family reunification. The golden dream. Dulla always carried a revolver sticking out of his waistband for all to see. As Sarabjit got into the car with Dhillon to drive the two hours to his family home in Ludhiana, Dulla pulled the gun and fired several celebratory shots into the air.

The change for Sarabjit was like a slap in the face. Shops and markets spilled onto the street, diesel exhaust filling the air along with the smell of sweat and fruit and vegetables decaying in the heat. She tried to block out her fear. What was the point of letting doubts creep in? Do not resist.

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It is pointless, only brings more pain. But subversive thoughts danced in and out of her mind anyway. She knew the entire concept was so Western, but what of her dreams? She grew up in a village called Mairu, even smaller than Panj Grain, with three younger brothers.


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She completed high school then moved to Panj Grain at She was still in the first year of college, studying Punjabi and history, trying not to dream of a future of her own design, but somewhere inside, in a perfect world, she had wanted to be a teacher. She always knew it would never come true. Sukhwinder Dhillon entered the bedroom.

The Bumpy, Grumpy Road

Even at the best of times, the first night is an awkward moment for a young Indian woman in an arranged marriage. Sometimes new brides are able to put off sex until getting to know the groom better. Sometimes there is no option. Sarabjit knew there would be none with Dhillon.

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She was afraid. He sat down on the bed, the mattress straining underneath him. He was quiet at first, the only sound horns coming from cars and scooters in the darkened alleys below. They had barely even talked before, not even at the wedding, where the ceremony requires no speaking from the couple, or at the reception, where Dhillon drank copious amounts of whisky with his male friends and danced with them in a circle.

Sarabjit murmured quietly, inaudibly, staring at her bare feet. She was unaccustomed to a man even having the familiarity to look her square in the eye. She wanted to cry. Dhillon continued.


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She expected this bluntness, but it still shocked her. The thought of running out on him did not cross her mind, it was beyond the pale. It would humiliate her family, her parents would be ostracized in the community, likely asked to leave their village. Her in-laws would probably burn her for it. All she could do was stall. Kaprey laah dey. Finally, she slid off the lehnga, the thin scarf, then her blouse, pants.

Dhillon removed his shirt and undershirt, and pants. Unprepared both mentally and physically for what was happening, Sarabjit felt the weight of the large body on top of her, then a painful burning sensation as he entered her. Later, they lay on the bed. It was all very odd, she thought. She felt nothing. Sikh men are often considered chauvinistic by Western standards, not inclined toward expressions of affection for their wives in either word or deed. Why was he talking like this? He lamented his lot in the world. The fact is, I could bring 10 girls back just like you.

They were offering me even younger girls, 16, 17 years old. She had decided at the wedding that no matter how bad it all seemed, she was strong. She would will herself to make her life work, no matter what. But now, in the darkness, with her virginity—in Indian culture, her most precious possession—painfully torn away by a man she was rapidly growing to hate, she knew the story was not going to end well. And then, five days after their wedding, Dhillon drove the Maruti along the ragged roads, Sarabjit beside him, and his niece, Sarvjit, and his two daughters in the back.

His young daughters yearned to see their grandparents. She and Hardev had lived with Dhillon and Parvesh while visiting Canada for long stretches.