The sound of a goat bleating woke Madhu up the next morning.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she squinted out of the window. A woman was poking around the house, one hand clutching the rope encircling the thin neck of a goat next to her.

"Oi! Champa!" Madhu called out, once it became clear who she was. "What are you doing there?"

The woman jumped, turning her head in every direction to locate the source of the voice until her eyes landed on Madhu, who had her torso hanging out of the window.

She backed away quickly, folding her hands and bowing deeply. "Looking for the backdoor memsahib," she said, sounding tiny.

"Back...? No there's no need to, come through the main one." Madhu removed herself from the window before Champa could reply, motioning in the general area of the entrance.

When she stepped out on the porch, Champa was already there, standing in the far corner of the main gate, beneath the Litchi tree. She was wearing the same shabby red sari from the other day, but it looked much cleaner, its faded colour devoid of any mud.

Seeing Madhu, she gently walked towards the porch, leaving her goat tied to the bars of the gate. Madhu noticed that she gave a wide berth to the black Tulsi located next to the last step of the porch, careful not to touch it.

"Why don't you leave Rani in the shed? She can eat some fodder there, I'm sure the cows won't mind."

"Oh okay." Champa mumbled. As she started back towards her goat, Madhu gave another offhand instruction.

"Oh also, would you mind watering the Tulsi for me? And the rest of the plants? I always forget to do that."

"Y--You want me to water the Tulsi?" 

"Yes, that's what I said. Do that and then meet me in the kitchen." With that, Madhu went inside, leaving behind a dumbfounded Champa.

It took about ten minutes for Madhu to wash before she entered the kitchen-cum-dining room to see that Champa was furiously telling something to Nakoo, stopping quickly when she noticed Madhu.

"I just asked Champa to prepare dalia for breakfast, if that's okay with you."

Madhu nodded, chewing on her cheek to stop herself from asking what they were discussing. They clearly didn't want her to know.

She sat down, flicking through the Economic Times that Nakul somehow got delivered here. He himself was absorbed in the editorial of Dainik Jagran.

"What is the rate here," she scribbled on a piece of grey newspaper, slipping it over to his side.

Nakoo raised his brows, glancing over at Champa who was chopping orange carrots before scribbling something down.

"There is no rate here, no one can afford domestic help, you'll have to decide her salary by yourself." In contrast to his large persona, his handwriting was neat and cursive.

That was strange but Madhu should have seen it coming. Back home, her cook—who also cleaned the bathroom on weekends because that was one chore Madhu simply couldn't handle herself—had insisted on being paid according to the rate, an unofficial minimum wage every domestic help of the area demanded. It had to increase every Diwali too, much to the dismay of every aunty in her neighbourhood.

These helpers did everything from broom-sweeping, mopping and dusting to cleaning bathrooms, gardening and cooking. Every chore had a specific rate, and special timing slots were generally more expensive. A maid would charge extra for coming in to clean before office hours than at twelve noon. Sure, back in Delhi the life of these workers wasn't the best, but at least they had enough confidence to demand the money they wanted. Here, Champa hadn't even asked about her pay, hadn't even thought of it as important.

Madhu waited until she had placed the bowl of lentil soup in front of her, before bringing up the subject of her salary. "Champa would two thousand per month for breakfast, lunch and dinner for two be enough?" It was what she paid her cook back in Delhi.

"B--but you've already paid me memsahib."

"That? No that was your due for all the sowing and harvesting work you do. I still haven't paid you all fully for that, just wait till Diwali and I will." Her stomach twisted at the sight of Champa's watery eyes. "Discuss this with your family and tell me tomorrow."

She shakily bobbed her head up and down, slipping away from the kitchen after Madhu was done speaking.

"Why is she always so scared?"

Nakul squared his jaw, looking at her oddly as if not knowing whether Madhu was joking or not. "People haven't really been kind to her."

It was vague but Madhu let that slide. There were more important matters to discuss. Due to the events of the day before, Madhu had forgotten all about looking for tractors. She talked to Nakul about it.

"I don't know anything about brands and cost."

"I'm going to the district office today," he replied, spooning the last remnants of dalia and shoving them in his mouth. "I can post the order for a dispatchment, got a friend who owns a tractor manufacturing unit in Jalandar, that plus Diwali season would get you a good discount.

That was as good a plan as any, and Madhu didn't argue over it. Finishing her breakfast, she quickly washed her bowl and went to take a bath.

When she returned, Nakul was no where to be seen. Madhu sighed, wanting to facepalm for forgetting to offer him her car. There was nothing to do here anymore, and after scanning every page of ET again, she threw the newspaper away, deciding to visit the village bazaar.

She quickly changed from her pyjamas to a more appropriate salwar-kurta and locked the house door behind her, knowing that she had about three hours before Champa would return for lunch. Holding down Chikki to attach an unused leash on his collar was like a sumo match. He was intelligent enough to follow her even without it, but being in an unfamiliar place, Madhulika couldn't take any chances.

Peeking inside the cow shed, she saw two out of her three cows chewing and one, a smaller calf sleeping. Their bovine smell, a mixture of stale dairy and dung, was too overpowering for her and Madhu quickly withdrew her head, gagging. She could almost imagine her mother shaking her head in disappointment.

As she continued on towards the centre of the village, pulling a disgruntled Chikki behind her, Madhu realised that there was no escape from the cattle smell. Even stronger in some places which were more populated. Sounds and sights accompanied the smells, with people going about their business in every direction. Vendors of fruits and vegetables lined the streets of the bazaar on every side, yelling about the how cheap and fresh their potatoes, onions and bananas were. Random stalls of cotton candy and ice lollies were surrounded by screaming children, loudly bargaining for two items for the price of one.

The narrow, winding street was crowded with people, mostly shoppers and temple goers. They parting occasionally to allow the odd cycle to pass by. This was a weekly market, so everyone was busy stocking up groceries.

The bazaar street led to the steps of an ancient Rama-Sita temple situated on the banks of the Bhabra river, with the flower and sweet shops being closest to the temple. Even though she wasn't particularly religious, Madhu made a mental note to visit the temple soon, just to look around.

At last, she reached the section of flour. Madhu slowed down, scanning the stalls around her, looking for Raju.

She did a double take when she saw Suman instead of him, and rushed forward.

"Suman what're you doing here? You were supposed to rest!" Madhu knelt down on the carpet on which the woman in question was sat.

She had been furiously working a rotary quern, a chakki, grinding hard grains into fine flour, strands of oiled black hair sticking to her sweaty forehead.

"Didi!" Suman stopped spinning and leaned back, panting heavily. "You don't have to worry, I'm doing fine."

From the brand-new bruise underneath her eye, Madhu knew that wasn't the case. Beside her, a two-year old toddler was playing with a broken rattle, Madhu guessed that girl to be Kavita, with her younger sister, Vinita, sleeping on her mother's lap. Something must've happened for Suman to have ventured out alone, to set up shop with both her children in tow.

"You're not fine." Madhu didn't want her voice to come out so forcefully, but she couldn't help it. She needed to rest dammit! "Come to my place if you can't go home. We're friends, aren't we?"

That was stretching the truth in all honesty. Sure, they had spent five hours together in the dingy waiting room of a government hospital but that wouldn't strictly qualify them as friends.

"Didi, no, I told you I'm fine. Raju was busy with sowing season so he couldn't attend the shop. This was only for today. I will go home when I've sold all this." She gestured to the pile of pulses and sacks of flour. Madhu estimated it to be over twenty Kilos of dal lentils and fifty of wheat flour. Knowing that this was the only way, she took out a wad of cash from her purse.

"I'll buy all of it, would be throwing a party sometime I'm sure." That was a lie, but Suman didn't need to know that. "Do you have any cart I can use?" 

Suman didn't acknowledge her words. Her bottom lip quivering. She had only been at Bhabra for two days, and this was the fifth person who had frozen in front of Madhulika just at the sight of money they had rightfully earned.

"You don't have to do this," she finally said, her voice muted.

"I told you, I'm throwing a party soon and I need food. I'd rather buy stuff from you than any stranger."

She mutely nodded and accepted the cash, pulling the strings of all jute bags of flour and grain, before going to talk to the man at the stall next to hers, coming back with a borrowed cart. Suman lifted Kavita and placed her on the cart, instructing her to tightly hold on to the handle. Her younger daughter was tied to her breast with the help of another cloth, with Suman's one hand securely holding her back.

They stacked the bags on the cart one by one, and only when they were finished, did Madhu notice a small bundle of clothes tied inside an old sari, lying on the ground. Seeing Madhu eyeing her clothes, Suman finally admitted. "He kicked me out."

Madhu didn't say anything, silently urging her to continue.

"He got very angry last night, after the funeral, and he--he said that I need to collect my things and get out of the house. This was all I could gather before he punched me." She pointed towards the bundle. "I pinched as much grain as I could from the granary and rushed out, spending the night at my neighbours', those who had looked after Kavita and Vinita yesterday. I needed money so I came here today."

Reaching out, Madhulika tightly gripped her hand. She wanted to pull Suman into a hug, but she didn't know whether that would be okay with her. Suman glanced down, pressing on her fingers.

"Don't tell Nakul bhai."

Madhu would have protested if it wasn't for the steel present in Suman's voice. She figured that this needed to be approached with baby steps. Suman's safety was the priority right now.

"I won't. But you need to come home with me." Madhu handed her the keys. Turning around, she handed a fifty Rupee bill to a young teen boy lounging nearby, trying to sell a single balloon, hiring him to push the cart after which she turned towards Suman again. "Go with him, you can rest in Nakul's room, or you can take one of the guest rooms, I don't mind. I'll be back with you in a couple of hours, need to do a few more things."

Suman nodded again and closed her fist around the key-chain.

Madhulika turned and walked away before she could see a single tear slip down Suman's cheek.

Dalia: a kind of porridge made from lentils.

Chakki: (not to be confused with Chikki which is the name of Madhu's dog and means jaggery). Chakki refers to a stone quern with wooden handles on top of a stone wheel that is rotated manually to grind grains into flour.

Dal: pulses/lentils.

Hope you liked this chapter!