Good and evil walk together.

****

Whether it was the goddess or her handsome creation behind it, Maya was pulled towards the temple whenever time was free. And along with that swum a subtle wish to dig deeper– how was the temple connected to the murder?

She had been pacing around and admiring in silence the shrines and statues when a little tap on her shoulder alerted her.

"Here again?" a familiar voice asked.

Of course, she didn't feel welcome.

"Yes, again. I love being here," she replied tartly.

Shekhar tugged at his braid in a perplexed manner. "I wonder how one can love this place despite the macabre string of murders which cling to it. We priests are bound to come here for Mother, but you aren't."

His fingertips grazed the side of her neck. The sordid action made her flinch. He immediately retreated his hand.

"You come here for someone else, don't you?" he asked.

"Whatever be the reason for my visits it doesn't concern you, Shekhar," Maya scoffed.

Shekhar's lips curved in amusement. "Libellous stories paint your head priest in a negative light. I pray you will be able to save him. After all, this is what fairytales constitute of," he remarked with a sly smile and walked away.

Maya took a deep breath. Easy, easy. Shekhar knows that I suspect him but the way he is reacting is making me more dubious. Isn't he afraid of being caught? What power is behind him that he walks with such confidence?

Maya went and sat near the stairs of the temple, resting her face upon her palms.

I don't have any proof regarding Shekhar. But yes, he accepted that the murders are related to the temple. It's a good clue. And he knows about my softness for Hrishav.

Manas hurried past her, only to stop suddenly at the bottom of the stairs and turn around. "What are you doing here? The temple isn't a club to revel. You can't come here whenever you want."

"The door to the Mother is always open for her children. I can and I will come here whenever I desire."

Manas cursed her and trudged towards the kitchen. Maya let out an exasperated sniff.

"They think me to be a fool, huh!" she spat. I don't understand why the police don't do anything. Oh well, maybe strange things happened to them, as Aadi Babu had said. But why? Why does nobody question why and just blame the unseen and unknown for everything?

Maya tapped her feet in agitation and bit her nails. No, there is someone or something more behind this unseen and unknown. After all they need a puppet to showcase power.

"And oh! We have a guest."

Hrishav carried the thali of bhog and Manas followed him with a chalice of water. Maya got up and cleared the way for the two.

"Just a minute, I need to make her eat on time," Hrishav said.

The warmth in his words was contagious enough to make Maya smile. How much he cared for the Mother, she thought, and then how much would he care for a human?

Maya stood outside the garbha griha as it was bolted by a frowning Manas. She didn't mind him at all now, his presence was as unimportant as that of a mere fly.

And she waited. She could hear the jingling of bells, certain mantras being chanted and then complete silence. The two men came out. Manas left the two alone, murmuring something incoherent under his breath.

"So, you haven't seen her yet right?"

"Seen whom, Hrishav?" Maya asked.

"Kalika. You haven't seen her idol yet. Today after her lunch is over, get a good look of her transcendental beauty."Hrishav adjusted his janeu and pleated the uttariya over his left shoulder.

"You love her so much, don't you?" Maya asked in a whisper.

Hrishav's fingers ceased to fidget with the uttariya. A dreamy look that was etched on his face turned grave and wan, the pair of eyes looking as vacant as an abyss. There was a tint of sadness in them, like old remnants of something he had held on to in vain.

"I do, yes," he stated plainly. "I love Kalika."

Maya felt it was a question too personal that she had asked. When people around her age mingled in affairs and flings, the priest probably wished to have furtive meetings, if any, then only with the goddess. He treasured her like his heart.

"Do you love her?" he asked.

Maya questioned herself. Do I? Oh yes, she did, but was her love as deep as that of him?

"I don't know if I will cross the seas for her, but I will always try to assure her that love is present."

Hrishav grinned. "You sound as if you are having a clandestine relationship with her and are going through a tough time to appease your charming woman."

Maya raised her hands. "Never! I don't look at her in that way. She is my mother, that's it."

Hrishav shrugged. "Understood. But you can look at her any way that you want. Love for the divine is fluid and complex at the same time. It differs from person to person, what they need and"–his palm brushed hers as he walked behind her–"what they want."

An electrifying jolt ran down Maya's spine. Sweat tittered down her forehead, body frozen on spot. She felt her breaths were all stolen. It was a feeling unmatched, something she had never gone through.

What did the priest have to sweep off her feet? Why did he have such control over her?

To Maya, it was destiny.

"What-what do you want?" she fumbled.

Hrishav eyelids drooped. "Maybe I cannot tell."

"And maybe I wish to still hear."

As the breeze toyed with the tall trees and Maya's silky long hair, the two youthful souls dived deeper into each other through a gaze that kept secret more than what could be told openly. Yes, both had their own secrets, some sweet and some bitter.

"She must have been done by now. Let's go, you can look at her."

Hrishav pushed open the door and a musky scent wafted to Maya's nose. It was dark and ancient inside, the walls being mostly brownish-red in colour. The place was redolent of incense and that sweet fragrance that emanated when sprinkling water on dozens of flowers. The floor beneath was cold, just like it had been the last day. Then the idol was oddly covered in a red cloth, but now, it was free to be beheld.

She was as black as the new moon sky she loved. Her eyes were outlined with bold red and lips painted in the shade of carmine. A garland of hibiscus and skulls adorned her neck and a belt made of hanging bones covered her private parts. Beneath her feet slept Shiva, eyes half-closed in inebriation. His countenance was relaxed while Mother's tongue protruded out. This Kali had open hair and no clothes on her body that would have otherwise acted as signs of civilisation. She was the Goddess of Destruction and Cemetery– she was as naked and true as Time.

"Isn't she wonderful?" Hrishav asked.

Maya thought why would someone cover her up with a red cloth. "Ambabuchi isn't any near, right?"

Hrishav furrowed his brows. "No? Absolutely not. And when that happens we do abide by the rules."

Maya didn't want him to get aware of the doubts in her mind. So she tried to mask her intentions. "I would love to attend her bathing and rejuvenation. I have heard of it before, but never saw."

Maya looked around and found the exact spot where she had seen blood last time. Now, it was clear with no marks on the floor. Someone must have scrubbed hard and done a lot of hard work to remove those. Hah, Manas did it, Maya thought.

Due to some unexplainable reasons, Hrishav's hollow gaze pierced the idol of Kalika. It was as if he was having a heated conversation with the Mother in his mind, and none of it could be shared publicly. His soft lips were tightly pressed into a displeased line. Maya felt she had no right to interfere and turned around to make an exit. It was then that she noticed a man standing with crabbed features pasted on his face.

"I have been waiting here for ten minutes."

A gravelly, conservative tone reverberated in the garbha griha. The voice successfully made Hrishav come out of his trance and face the man. His eyes widened upon seeing the guest, and a pleasant but tired smile played on his lips.

"Sundar? How come you are here?" Hrishav went and hugged the man. The latter was taller than him, close to six feet, so Hrishav ducked his head in his chest. Maya found him to be fairer than other villagers, much so when compared to the dark tanned complexion of Hrishav. He had disheveled locks but kept a shaved face like Hrishav.

But more than his features, his attire had caught her attention.

Even though Hrishav stayed long in the embrace, the man did nothing but pat him gently on the back and free himself from the hug. "Then think how desperate I am that I enter the temple despite being an atheist."

"Mother shall welcome all."

"I am not here to be welcomed, but I want you to come home sooner today. Devika has returned and wishes to spend time with us."

"Oh! I just couldn't talk to her last night. She said she was tired and retired early, and this morning I had to come here, as usual. I promise, Sundar, I will be quick today."

Pleased, a faint smile decorated Sundar's lips. "Good."

"Is Devika your sister?" Maya asked, jumping into the conversation like a curious kitten. Oh, she had already gotten the big surprise and her mind slowly connected the dots. This man, Sundar, was draping an ochre-brown cotton stole which looked new and fresh, and Maya knew who could have gifted this to him. He also wore a tunic underneath it and a pair of loose pants. Something was very casual and weird about this dressing sense– one usually didn't use stoles in such a weather.

And even if God would have removed the stole from the sight, Maya would have still been intrigued. The man had a profound pair of eyes, which Maya swore she had seen before, but the moment was not merciful enough to remind her of when or where.

"Yes, Devika is my sister," Hrishav replied. "The doctor-sister, she came here for a few days. And meet Sundar, my younger brother."

Maya put up a polite smile. She did get nothing in return, except a judgemental gaze and a nod of the head.

"Is she Aadi Babu's guest? The journalist from Calcutta?"

"Yes, I am," Maya replied. Why isn't he asking me but Hrishav?

The man heaved a sigh. "I would like to talk to you in private, Hrishav. How about we take a stroll outside?"

The grave features smoothened out a little and he wrapped an arm around Hrishav, who bade Maya a goodbye.

But Maya was already too fascinated by this new figure. Sundar Babu– she understood who he was now– the entrepreneur in fashion, the youngest son of the family, and an atheist. The visionary– probably that too.

"He had to have grand ideas about reforming his village."

So a new character in my life...

And yes, the epithet is perfect for him. He is handsome like his older brother, but maybe charmless.

Maya, with her nose sniffing for clues and eyes hunting down suspects, trailed after the two men, keeping a safe distance. Hiding behind a statue, she tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"A bad habit, yet should help in times of distress."

She felt like those royal maids and handmaidens who collected secret information for their mistresses, just that she was the maid and the mistress both.

Unfortunately, she could not hear much– the men were talking in undertones. Still she could clearly distinguish the difference in their reactions. While the younger brother, Sundar, appeared to be calm and commanding, Hrishav had lost his cool and thumped his foot and pointed his finger at the former. Two words Maya could hear in crystal clear sense were 'Christian' and 'love'.

When the two men drew a line to their conversation and began walking back, Maya quickly made a run for the temple gate and escaped before they could see her. Running and panting, she felt the two words were eerily connected to her.

And at that moment, she felt too afraid about her identity and her feelings. Her guts proclaimed that danger was near, waiting for the right time to pounce.