A/N above is the picture of a ghat.

The next day, Nakul returned with a doctor after dropping Suman and her daughters at the bus stand. To Madhu's relief, her injuries were shallow, and she was given the green light to move around on the condition that she would take things easy.

The following week passed by uneventfully. Once she could get out of bed without feeling the presence of darts sticking to every surface of her body, Madhulika spent her time taking long walks across the estate and poring over the accounts of Jasm Inn her father faxed Nakul once a week. He also wanted to know if she was doing okay and whether she had adjusted to Bhabra well enough. Madhu informed her dad about her broken phone but apart from that, didn't mention the recent fiasco. Nakul didn't either and she was glad he wasn't the meddling type.

Champa came back to cook three days later. In spite of what Nakul had told her, Madhu could see the fear in the older woman's eyes at the mention of the police complaint she had filed. Thankfully though, she said that Kamal was alright and would be discharged from the hospital soon.

After leaving her bed and bathing before dawn on her tenth day in Bhabra, Madhu found herself walking further away than usual, squinting at a conical spire, an ancient looking shikhara of a temple. She could've taken the shorter route through the bazaar but decided against it and followed the river instead. The river had a ghat, eleven large stone steps leading into the water. She imagined the steps being crowded by devotees on holy days, bathing and praying in the river. Right now, however, they were empty except for one familiar-looking pundit. She stopped near the boundary wall of the temple to remove her sandals before approaching her father's old friend.

Wearing only a simple white dhoti and a sacred thread over his chest, he was standing on the fourth step of the ghat, water splashing his ankles, or rather ankle, for his other foot was resting above his knee in the yogic posture of vrikshasana, the tree imitation, his hands joined above his head. The rising orange sun seemed to be positioned exactly above his heaven-pointing fingertips and it hurt Madhu's eyes to look at him directly. It was odd how calm he looked, despite having an impressive pot belly, his balance was perfect.

"You can come closer Madhulika, the water won't burn you," he said eventually, resting both his feet on the ground. He didn't explain how he knew she was standing behind him.

"I wanted to offer prasad in the temple, but I couldn't buy another box of sweets after the first one was...well, used up."

He didn't face her when she descended the steps to stand beside him, but Madhu could spot the corners of his mouth turning upwards at her words. "I'm sure God won't mind; it must've been used up for more important purposes."

Madhu got a feeling that he knew more than he was letting on. She hadn't ventured out of her house much after the incident, but Nakul had mentioned in passing how the villagers were talking about the granddaughter of the old Thakur sahib being involved in a truffle with the men of Brigesh Babu sahib, another rich landowner in Bhabra. Wealthy people fighting seemed to be their only source of entertainment.

"I guess so," she said after a long stretch of silence. "Do you know how old this temple is?"

He lowered himself to sit on the second step and Madhu followed. "Old enough. Much more ancient than I am and that's saying something."

"Oh, c'mon you're not that old. You don't even look a day over fifty." Moving her feet up and down, she watched as the shallow water rippled below her heels, soaking the ends of her jeans.

"Fifty thousand or fifty million?"

She shook her head, laughing, even though it was hard to tell whether he was joking or not. But he must be.

"I don't know about you, but I haven't in my whole life, felt older than I do today."

"What's troubling you Madhulika?" he asked softly. There was something so serene about his presence that she felt she could tell him everything. Even when he wasn't talking loudly, his deep voice reverberated, and Madhu almost imagined the breeze slowing down around her.

"I...I had come here to survey my family's land, preferably to build a resort here and if that didn't work out then maybe sell it. But so many people are dependent on it. They help in growing crops, yes, but they also take a part of it for themselves, they graze their cattle here, some families are even living on the estate for decades now. Selling it would throw their lives in turmoil."

"It would."

"The funny thing is," she mumbled, scratching the underside of her long nails to avoid looking at him. "I wouldn't have cared if I hadn't visited the place. Back in Delhi, the solution was obvious, sell the land and reinvest the money elsewhere. If Papa hadn't insisted on considering opening Jasm Inn here, I would've never given these people a second thought."

"So, what's stopping you from giving a go ahead to the resort now? Is the site not beautiful enough?"

"Oh, it's divine alright. But...I don't know. I mean, one part of me thinks that it'll boost tourism and give these people better jobs, but then, what would the guests who come to stay here think of Bhabra?"

"What's wrong with Bhabra?"

"What isn't?"

"Well then," he paused as if thinking over his next words. "Why don't you do something to help right all the wrongs here?"

If it had been anyone else, Madhu would've clicked her tongue in annoyance at the impossibility of this prodding question. The pundit next to her was, however, not anybody else. He made this suggestion so gently, so innocently, that she couldn't bring herself to be angry.

"How can I?" She shrugged. "They would not have me shaking the foundations of society."

"What foundations? These false lines along caste and gender have been created by man. God is self, divinity resides in each and every one of us. If every Atman is part of Brahman, then how can we label people as impure?" He inhaled deeply. "Shiva cannot survive without Shakti and nobody would've heard of Rama if it wasn't for Valmiki."

"So, you don't believe in caste?"

"Caste exists, has always existed and would continue to exist as long as professions exist. But the differentiation and alienation that arises out of it? That is, forgive my language, stupid. This is all an illusion, nothing is real except prabhu, Rama, the almighty."

It was a lecture her religious mother used to drill in her every day. The material world is Maya, an illusion. She could never completely grasp the meaning of those words as a child, but she enjoyed listening to them, for they sounded deep and philosophical. Right now, sitting on the bank of a smoothly flowing river, she understood them even less than before. The idea that everything she had worked for was an illusion, was not reality, seemed unsettling. She didn't want to accept it.

"Ma used to talk about attaining liberation from the materialistic cycle of life and death. To me though, that idea of nothingness, of not knowing which world you might enter, is scary. I would want to come back to Earth in another body even after death. It's familiar you know?"

He smiled at her in a fatherly fashion, wise eyes lighting up in understanding. "I get that. Even I have chosen to stay back on Earth, but not for those reasons of course."

That was yet another strange statement, though Madhu didn't question him, knowing his spirituality made him operate on another level than her.

They sat together quietly for a while, thinking about nothing and everything. Even though she had poured her heart out to this practical stranger, Madhu didn't feel vulnerable. In fact, it seemed as if she was more at ease than before.

"Do you still sculpt?" He said abruptly, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"You were a sculptor, right? Do you still do that?"

"How do you know that?"

"Your father told me. Well, do you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, unsure. "Yes, but I'm awfully out of practice."

"You can practice now," he simply said. "Can you sculpt the murtis of Ganesh ji and Ma Lakshmi for Diwali for the temple?"

"I can try."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. As he was about to get up, Madhu remembered something. "Kaka what is your name? I forgot to ask the other day."

He laughed a deep, belly rumbling laugh. "So now you city kids call your elders by their names? God what is happening to your generation?"

Her cheeks flushed. "No no, I was just curious. You see, before meeting you, I didn't even know my father had friends."

"So what? You want me to tell you stories about Mahesh?" There it was again, his uncanny ability to know exactly what she was thinking.

"Would you?"

"Why don't you ask him? He'll be the best person to tell you everything about your father."

"Oh umm..." Madhu stumbled on her words, not knowing how to phrase it properly before coming up with a lame excuse. "Him and I are...not very close. Not about personal stuff at least."

"He's family, your relationship with him is supposed to be personal."

"Well it isn't."

Maybe he detected Madhu's sensitivity regarding the topic, for his next words were far more tender than before. "Do you think hesitating in asking him questions would change that?"

When she didn't reply he dusted his knees, getting up. "Why is it that we're always so afraid to talk to the people we love?"

He walked away after saying that, leaving Madhu to ponder over his words.

Before going back inside the temple, the friendly pundit called out to her one last time. "Don't forget about the murtis Madhulika! I'm counting on you."

Madhu didn't seem like the sculpting kind huh?

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Murti- in this case means, the image of God. It can be an idol, a painting, or just the image inside one's mind.