The soft shimmering light of the moon not only played hide and seek with the heavy clouds promising rain but also with the betel leaves whose vines were dangling around the wooden grill belonging to one of the windows of the old mansion of Nandapur. While the winds carried the dust from the arid, parched soils of the village, it also played with the flame of lanterns kept to provide ample lighting of the room where two figures were sprawled next to one another on the pink fluffy mattress with intricate stitches at the borders.

Caressing the seven-month bump of the woman leaning on his chest, the man had a content smile on his face; he adoringly played with the woman's stretch marks which were one of the testaments of their union. The man was none other than Gopal Nand Prasad, one of the two lawyers from the village of Nandapur.

Situated at the eastern borders of newly constituted Bihar, Nandapur was an agriculture-centric village like most of the villages during that time; things were calm there, as serene as possible for a British colonized India.

Though there were still whispers of discontent lingering in the hearts of the masses, most of the dissatisfaction amongst the people due to the Indian famine was washed after the passing of roughly twelve years. As for other suppression issues, there was still unrest to tackle them and win the basic rights of their existence. The people had a short span of memory, still, the notion of an independent India was not forgotten.

But the pair, Gopal Nand Prasad and Kamla Devi had some other thing in their mind. They had no care whether the King of England graced the land of India or the capital shifted from Calcutta to Delhi, what occupied their minds was the fact that a tiny precious soul was soon going to enter their lives and bestow them again with parenthood.

Being a fairly normal family during that time, the pair was blessed with a son and a daughter namely, Maheshwari Prasad and Pratibha Devi respectively. Now being blessed with Mata Shashti again, the happiness of the couple knew no bounds.

"It has already been seven months since the creation of this little bundle of joy," Gopal whispered through the veil of loosely bound tresses of his wife.

Adorning sweet-smelling gajra in her hair, she gave her husband a shy smile with red sprinkled on her fair cheeks that looked more ethereal under the moonlight while the shadow of betel leaves highlighted her watery eyes. Kamla Devi was known to be the beauty of her village during her unmarried days but her charm hardly diminished after her marriage except she got a bit plumper which was suitable for a married woman of that time.

"Do you think it would be another boy?" Kamla whispered while her eyelashes flutter, casting a shadow beneath her eyes that also acted like kajal.

"Who knows," Gopal Prasad shrugged off the mundane question and combed his finger through the stray locks of his wife. He had stability in his life and there was hardly anything that he wanted more apart from wishing for a future that adorns the same comfort as he is experiencing today.

"You are truly unique," Kamla giggled while shaking her head. "When the entire world is running to get more and more male heirs to continue their bloodline, you are just shrugging things off as if they have little to no connection to you. I wonder if the child would carry this trait of yours, he or she would truly be Anootha or Anoothi."

"What you said is not true, even I would prefer to have another boy but despite the child being another girl, I would be content with her," Gopal rectified his wife. His head snuggled against the fluffy pillow.

"Whatever, I am still naming our child with those names. For some reason, I find them truly suitable for this child."

"Why so?" Gopal raised his brow in curiosity but her wife barely paid attention to it for her mind was regaled with the images of an infant babbling in the arms of Gopal while her older kids were nestled against her bosom.

"Just because I feel like it," Kamla answered half-mindedly, she was still weaving the dreams of her small family.

The couple stayed in their posture for quite some time, waiting for Goddess Nidra to bless their eyes that were already conniving several dreams in their orbs. It was tranquil. The gales entered the spacious room, whispering secrets of joy from the land far away while also carrying the soft petrichor that was telling a tale of rain that was about to bring arc on the faces of farmers for the month of Savan was here.

The eyelids of Kamla drooped a little indicating that sleep was about to engulf her when she was woken up with a screech. "Fire! Run! The main kitchen has caught fire!"

The hurried scream was coming from outside their room. Being one of the rooms closest to the kitchen, the place was soon infiltrated with thick smoke. With a hasty jolt, Gopal Prasad sat up, supporting his wife who was now wide awake with alarm present in her eyes.

Quickly they got off the bed but an unfortunate event brought Kamla to scream in pain; her leg got stuck in the blanket leading her to fall from the bed. Groaning in pain, the mother gritted her teeth in agony while a thin sheen of precipitates accumulated on her forehead.

It didn't take much time for Gopal Prasad to yell for help after looking at the condition of his wife when with a strong thud the wooden door of their room was broken and two servants entered to help the couple.

In haste, the female servant helped her mistress to get out of the room with the help of her master while the other male servant was navigating the path for them. Throughout the journey Kamla was withering in pain and trying to keep her consciousness intact while smoke kept on choking her, lulling her into a deep slumber.

"Chote malik, we need to hurry, Choti malkin is showing signs of labour. We need to get out of here soon," The maid informed Gopal who was struggling to not stumble in the thick smoke.

"So soon?" Gopal coughed out ingested smoke, wiping the tears articulated by his reddened eyes.

Finally, after a great hassle, the four people got out of the burning mansion and amidst the group of people who were trying to put out the fire that was blazing around the main kitchen. No one was in a state of mind to deal with a woman who was in her labour but with things forth, they had no option but to find a place for safe delivery.

Maheshwari and Pratibha who were safely escorted by the servants outside the mansion soon spotted their parents but their faces paled looking at the condition of their mother. Despite that, they rushed to their father and tugged his kurta to get his attention but he paid no heed to them; time was running and he needed to make arrangements.

Commanding the servants in his haggard condition, he left his wife in the care of the maid and rushed to find a place for the child's delivery. Both the siblings had never seen their father in such a condition ever before but they had no other option other than to be obedient and stay with their half-unconscious mother who was pitifully nibbling her lips.

The residence of a brahmin family next to the northern wall of the mansion was selected for the delivery, the wife of the brahmin was readied to act as a midwife as at the current condition, finding a midwife was a difficult job for a person whose house was on fire.

"Hey Narayan! What kind of day are you showing us?" Saraswati Devi, the mother of Gopal Prasad limped to her youngest daughter-in-law. Seeing a familiar face, both the kids rushed to their grandmother and clutched her white cotton saree. The Chandan on her forehead was wiped out by now and the bald head was meticulously covered by her saree. Even in the moment of such distress, there were no tears in her eyes but her lips kept on chanting the name of God.

"Hurry! Take choti malkin to the brahmin's house," Gopal rushed to the maid and asked her to escort his wife to the place of arrangements.

Soon the doors were closed and women who were woken by the commotion of fire were called to the brahmin for help in delivery. The night which was peaceful moments prior now was shrouded in turmoil with people rushing to put down fire while women facilitated the delivery of the wailing mother.

It took half an hour to extinguish the blazes, the men eventually heaved in relief. It was now time to speculate on the damage done by the fire. Thankfully, there was not much loss and the smoke was mostly due to freshly collected wood for the kitchen. All the residents were safe due to the alarming screams but the same could not be said for the kitchen and two rooms adjacent to the place; they were completely charred and the betel plant was scorched, no longer there to add an element of harmony between the couple who previously occupied the room.

"Narayan knows what we are being punished for," Saraswati Devi wailed in agony looking at the state of the house that she looked after in her younger years. "On one hand the fire devoured our abode while on the other hand, my youngest daughter-in-law is-"

Saraswati Devi stopped amidst her sentence and gaped wide-eyed at the thought of the arrival of the newest member in the house. Trying to make amends with her current incidents she hurriedly limped to her son.

"My son! Listen to me! I am sure this is some sort of indication from God himself! This child- I am sure this child would be another girl, I am telling you this child would be a bad omen for us! This child is cursed!" Saraswati violently shook her son.

"Ma, what are you saying? This child carries our blood and flesh, how can you ever call it cursed?" Gopal scrunched his brows and held onto the wrinkled hands of her mother which were clenching on his cotton kurta that was splotched with ashes from his struggle to put down the fire. He tried to calm his disarrayed mother by tightening his hold around her now cold arms but the old woman hardly paid attention to it before parting herself from her son and rushing to stop women to let the harbinger of her family's demise to come into the world.

Perhaps even the Gods were against such a heinous idea of Saraswati Devi that as soon as she tried to step out of the gates of the residence, she tripped on a rock and lost consciousness. Gopal was the only one who was there at the time when Saraswati fell. Calling on the servants he hurriedly took her mother back to the mansion.

Meanwhile, the chaos in the abode of the Brahmin family didn't subside. Kamla who was facing a great deal of pain for the third time was barely able to her consciousness intact. The women scurried to fetch fresh water to clean off the excess loss of blood and the wife of brahmin urged Kamla to push further while wiping off the rivulets of sweat accrued on her forehead occasionally.

Getting contractions two months before the day of delivery made things complex and the previous fall of Kamla didn't make anything better. The wife of Brahmin didn't possess much experience in helping women giving birth so her skills weren't polished when it came to easing Kamla's ache yet she still tried her level best.

With the grace of God, finally, someone was able to get the midwife from the outskirt of the village despite the upheaval caused due to fire and soon the ambience of the room changed. The midwife meticulously ordered the women to get a fresh sheet while directing Kamla to push at an interval of every five minutes.

Before anyone could interfere in the birth of the child, soft cries were heard with the final push of Kamla. It was a girl. The midwife heaved in relief after completing all the procedures and cleaning the infant but soon she noticed something was wrong; the child's cries were barely above a whisper. If one didn't pay enough attention, they would hardly be able to register the child's voice.

The midwife gasped with understanding flashing in her eyes. She has heard of this condition before, the child was mute by birth! Still, she wrapped the child in a soft cotton cloth that was ripped for her to snuggle up the child in it. She had no other choice but to inform the family regarding the unfortunate condition of the child. Turning to the mother, she found her unconscious so she had to inform another relative of the child's disability.

Opening the door, she was met with Saraswati Devi who had just gotten her consciousness and was ready to launch into the Brahmin's house but stopped as soon as the doors parted. Saraswati paled looking at the child under the faint lamplight whose pink face was shrivelled and wailed but no voice came out of those tiny lips. She frowned and clenching the rosary tucked in her waist, she took a step closer to the midwife cradling the infant.

"What is wrong with the child?" Saraswati Devi's old eyes quickly spotted something was amiss. Though the child had a healthy hue on the face and an ample amount of hair on the head, there was hardly any voice coming from her!

The midwife didn't get a chance to answer the old woman before the father of the child, Gopal Prasad whisked to get hold of his newborn. Originally, he was there to get back to his mother who rushed to the place as soon as she received her consciousness but when he got the sight of his child, his priority changed. Cradling his little bundle of joy, the palpitation of his heart was still not pacified. His eyes peeked inside the door to get a glance at his wife.

Turning to answer Saraswati, the midwife wiped her sweat and with a fumbling tongue she uttered the words that left the older woman scandalized, "The child is mute."

The words of the midwife reached the ears of Gopal who stopped cradling his child. It was like someone had poured cold water on him as he eyed his progeny. The words of the midwife were indeed true, there was hardly any noise in the cries of the child that desperately strained her vocal cord to splutter out the fluids clogging her throat.

"Gopal! I told you- I told you the child is a bad omen!" The old woman frantically searched for a place to lean onto or to find solace but nothing as such was provided to her. She looked at her son who stared at his offspring with widened eyes and a mouth left agape; under the yellow light, his face looked comical to the spectators but the ambience was too heavy to stifle any laughter. He was still not able to contemplate what the midwife informed him- how can the child he waited for so long be mute?

"Tell me, oh midwife is this child a boy or a girl?" Gopal eventually got out of his trance due to the howls of his old mother and questioned the midwife who lowered her head and tightened her hold on her saree.

"The child-" The midwife paused for a bit and took a deep breath not knowing the reaction of Gopal. By now the rest of the family soon trailed to the place to greet the sight of a disarrayed Saraswati Devi and Gopal. Gopal's eldest brother Mukund Narayan Prasad walked closer to his brother and kept his palm on Gopal's shoulder to provide him strength. Though the entire family had little idea about the situation, the gloom in the air was evident enough for them to keep silent.

"What has happened?" Mukund managed to question his younger brother whose eyes never left the withering midwife.

"Answer me," Gopal urged the woman to continue. Being despondent regarding the entire situation Saraswati Devi took out her rosary and kept on chanting the name of God while weeping the entire time. For her, the child was a being that they ought to discard as it was cursed and bound to bring down her thriving family. She could already see the end of her family even before properly seeing the face of this other grandchild.

"You are blessed with a girl," The midwife blurted out the sentence which led to another round of wail from the old woman. Her thoughts regarding the child were even more solidified.

Maheshwari and Pratibha hid behind the back of Sharmila Kumari, the wife of Mukund and the eldest woman of the family after Saraswati Devi. Concealing the harrowing sight from the children, she took them back to the mansion as this place would do nothing but juggle their understanding of morality. Their tender minds were not supposed to be subjected to this side of their grandmother who was supposed to be an idol of saintliness in their eyes.

"Congratulations Gopal! You have yet again blessed our house with Lakshmi!" Mukund patted the back of his brother while stealing glimpses at the child who was now yawning and seeking warmth to sleep.

"What congratulations? What Lakshmi? This wretched being is Alakshmi of our house!" Saraswati Devi screeched at her eldest offspring. Mukund was bewildered at his mother but kept his silence waiting for his youngest brother to explain.

Gopal was lost, just some moments prior he and his wife were knitting dreams of happiness but now- he didn't know how to react, his daughter was mute. His hands trembled contemplating whether to keep her close to his heart, showering her with the fatherly warmth he had secured for her or let the child fall, freeing her of the obscure future that lies ahead.

"Gopal, Gopal beta!" Saraswati Devi arranged her saree around his head; a meagre trial to get hold of herself through her attire. "My dearest son, listen to me. This child an ominous presence for our family, she is a direct incarnation of Yama for our family. Listen to my words my son, discard her. This is the best for our well-being."

The mother tried to reason with her son, her words were brimming with the staunch belief she held but they hardly had much effect on her son; his entire being was coiled up with a plethora of musings that kept on nagging him. Musings that were deciding the fate of the little soul in his hands.

"Ma why are you uttering such thorny words for a child who is young and innocent?" Mukund condemned his mother nonetheless his tone was pacific as he didn't want to place his mother in a tough spot.

"Innocent? This child and innocent?" The older woman spat on the ground in distaste and gave a stink eye to sheets bundling up the child. "Just when she was born, look at the state of our house. I am telling you Mukund, don't associate this child with our family."

"Ma," Gopal croaked after collecting enough courage and looked at his mother, his eyes were bloodshot and the blotches of ashes darkened his skin considerably. His attire at that time was no better than some runaway prisoner. Altogether, it made it tougher for Saraswati to garner any affection of motherhood for his youngest offspring yet she answered her son with a brisk nod hoping that he understood her point.