Death knocks at the door.

****

Maya felt a tornado swirl in her mind. It uprooted the very foundation which she had built before coming here.

Devipuram was slowly becoming more than just a place to explore, more than a mere piece of inspiration for an article. It was becoming a part of her life, whether she liked it or not.

The mysteries that enveloped Maya pulled her into the abyss along with them.

At present, she slurped the sweet tomato soup that Nathu had cooked specially for her. It surprised her to know she could have this dish here too, from someone who wasn't her mother. But it was just a smile that Maya could force. Internally, she knew she couldn't think straight.

Her brows were furrowed and head lowered. Not even once did she match her gaze with Nathu, Anandi or Aadi Babu while eating. The other three often spoke about the daily occurrences of the village, about the rising prices of food products, the current Chief Minister and his policies... seemingly everything under the sun...

"Would you like to have some pakora?"

Anandi stood up with the tray of cabbage pakoras– fried balls made from cabbage and spices– in her hand.

"These are very tasty," she said, but neither time did it produce a reaction from Maya. She was busy in her own world, playing with the spoon and the sauce on her plate.

Aadi Babu carefully placed his palm over that of Maya. The touch made her shiver for a moment. Returning back to the present, she exhaled deeply.

"What happened, Maya?" Aadi Babu asked.

Maya clutched the tablecloth in her fist, shaking her head. "It's nothing. I was just wondering about some of the difficulties of being disconnected from the city."

Aadi Babu frowned. He took back his hand, looking at Maya with suspicion. "You can tell me if something troubles you here."

"She might be homesick," Anandi interrupted. She pushed forward a bunch of pakoras on Maya's plate and gave her a stern look. "Eat them. You can always think about troubles all day long but not while eating. It harms the energy intake."

Maya saw worry in Anandi's gaze. The latter wiped her neck with her aanchal and began scooping the rice pudding. Her fingers quivered as she held on to the spoon.

Nathu too got affected by the choking secretiveness of the silence, but in a flick his look of curiosity changed into a sense of understanding. He gave his wife a patronising glance and turned to Aadi Babu.

"I heard a new policy in education will be implemented, something about the vigorous inclusion of mother tongue in each state."

"Oh yes!" Aadi Babu raised his fists in the air. "That I have also heard and I am very happy. People should respect their mother tongue. We need to study it with dedication and devotion. We need to analyse the works and lives of Tagore, Nazrul, Saratchandra and alike with more minute attention."

Soon the conversation steered away from Maya's tensed behaviour to the political and social interests of the common folk. Anandi's shoulders slumped and she looked better and less pallid, but there was not much change in Maya's disposition. She was still lost in another world, with reluctant participation in the conversation, sometimes with a slight nod of the head or an ejaculation.

After the meal was over, Aadi Babu retired to his room with a novel, Nathu went to the kitchen to wash the dishes, and Maya went upstairs to the common balcony and sat there with a cup of ginger tea.

The night was quiet. The irritating barking of a dog could be heard,and then the faint reply of the foxes that likely resided in the forest. A gentle cool breeze fanned Maya and made the aged trees that kissed the sky dance to its tune, as if in a trance. The moon floated over a boat of greyish white clouds, spreading sprinkles of pale yellow light all around.

Maya stared at the moon. It was a beautiful creation of God. It saw everything happen, yet it had the patience to never come in between the affairs of the humans, keeping mum the whole time.

And what is happening to me? And what's this phenomenon around bad luck?

She had met him just once but it was enough to induce a flood of emotions in her. Intentionally or not, her mind found a way to travel back to his name whenever she thought about something. She didn't blame herself for that, because somehow whatever was happening around her quite smoothly pulled him into the picture too.

Along with bringing herself in.

He isn't visiting veshyas for pleasure, I believe. Even Lalita said the same. Maybe he is helping Radha out of guilt.

But if Radha's onset of widowhood has nothing to do with Hrishav, why is he helping her? Is it pity and humanity working inside him?

Let's say, God forbid, if something happens to Nathu, will I help Anandi out? I might not, except sending my condolences. It's quite obvious that extending help is not in my capability. But what if I am living here? Then maybe I can help her.

Hrishav belonged to a silk-stocking family, so definitely he had the chance to support someone financially. He was also the eldest son of the house, as Aadi Babu said, so he should have some sort of authority and no one would possibly stop him from helping a veshya, or if they still protested, he could do it in secret.

But why isn't he helping Lalita? Oh, maybe because her past isn't clean. No one would try to be so good.

The barking of the dogs finally ceased. An uncanny silence billowed and filled the balcony. Maya sipped the ginger tea and warmed her body.

Something is pushing Hrishav to help this sole veshya named Radha, something which is probably pricking his conscience.

"Can we talk?"

It was Anandi.

Maya kept the cup on the table. Patting the place beside her on the sofa, she smiled. "Yes."

Anandi came and joined Maya. For some time they didn't say anything, only looked around and kept their lips sealed.

"Aadi Babu doesn't know that you visited the slums," Anandi said at last. "And don't you dare tell him."

Maya gulped. "Yeah, I know he wouldn't want me to go there..."

"You are disturbed by whatever you saw in the slums, I can understand."

Maya didn't want to tell the real reasons behind her restless mind. She shrugged. "It's all the same, in cities or in rural areas. They get treated all the same. It's like a fixed tradition."

"Did you meet Lalita?"

"Yes, I did." Maya pursed her lips. "She told me she was also a journalism student."

Anandi nodded her head. "Nathu told me about your job, why you are here. It's great that you take interest in the lives of women such as them. Who knows, your article can encourage people to support them or change their perspective."

Anandi ran her fingers through her long hair, gathering the tresses into a bun.

"The world just appears to be liberal, but it isn't. Prostitution is not something that someone normally chooses, but once a woman or even a man enters the field, there's rarely a door to exit," Anandi remarked. "People label you as tainted."

"Prostitution is a profession that has been existing since ancient times," Maya said. "Maybe it wasn't named as prostitution back then, maybe it was looked at with a better perspective. Something more flexible and sensitive."

Anandi caressed Maya's head, looking at her with a fond gaze. "I hope no one there treated you badly?"

Maya thought it wise to not speak about Rahul. She did not think it was right to share it with her, since Lalita was already involved in it. It might end up hurting Anandi.

"No. An old woman helped me find Lalita's house and I talked to her. She told me about the others too, even though no one else talked to me."

"That's good. I was worried for your safety too. Your attire gives away that you don't belong there, but still"–Anandi's fingers stroked Maya's cheek in delicate and fragile circles–"they could have thought you were new prey."

Anandi retracted her hand, as if she did something wrong by expressing the motherly warmth. Her eyes glistened with fear, mind lost in a dream of nostalgia.

Maya felt Anandi was thinking about Lalita, though she was not sure. She didn't want to press the woman and make her feel more miserable. But still, she had to ask one question.

"Do they ever call you bad names because you visit Lalita?"

Anandi's smile was full of pain. Her eyelids drooped close.

"It was a fellow veshya who informed me that a newcomer was narrating her past, and she had spoken about a woman named Anandi. It was then that the sky broke over my head. I knew I had got back my sister, but in a state that I had never imagined even in nightmares.

"At first I used to visit her in secret. The people there cast me bad looks while the men commented on my character. Some even had the audacity to pursue me! It was all very frightening, but I knew I had to cope up. Soon the other veshyas realised that I was a relative of Lalita and gave her money from time to time."

A sudden epiphany struck Maya on hearing those words.

A thread of sisterly love connects Lalita and Anandi. It is what brings them close every time.

And in Radha's case, as per her words, Hrishav held no feelings for her while she did. And that his heart belonged to some her.

Keep that hidden muse aside for now. Think if a thread of guilt does really connect Radha and Hrishav.

"The villagers then got to know about it. And all this while I kept Nathu in the shadows. Unfortunately, he got the news too. It brought cracks to our marriage."

"Was he more concerned about his reputation or yours?"

Anandi sighed in exasperation. "His words and attitude are aggressive but I know he cares for me. He cares for our marriage and our future. He knows that if he falls, the marriage will suffer, and if I fall, the marriage will suffer too. It is our duty to protect the promises we have made."

"But by visiting Lalita you aren't being disloyal to Nathu in any way."

"But I am keeping my character at stake, Maya! It is what disturbs him. Such things in turn bring bad luck to the marriage."

Bad luck – Maya thought if Hrishav was again tangled in this affair too.

I pray he isn't.

"I can't make them understand that being a veshya or loving a veshya doesn't degrade one's character. Kalika loves us all equally and has taught us to do the same. If we cannot follow in her footsteps, then how can we be the children of Kalika?"

Anandi's eyes had a piercing glow to them. She jutted out her chin while speaking and held onto the sides of the sofa with a powerful grip. Her every stance was ferocious and rebellious. Maya, in an instant, greatly admired her.

"I agree with everything you say," Maya said, holding Anandi's palms in her own. "You are a wise woman, Anandi."

"If you do consider me wise, then I suggest you visit Aadi Babu once before going to sleep."

"But why?"

Anandi averted her gaze to the cup of tea that had by now turned cold. She freed her hands from Maya's grip and whispered, "He cares for you. He is worried for you. It's his responsibility to see that you don't feel sad and uncomfortable here."

"I understand. I will surely meet–"

"You are more than just a guest to him."

Maya cocked her head to the side. "Really?" she asked.

"Yes. Trust me."

"Ah... so that's why he gave me permission to use his daughter's clothes."

The endearing revelation didn't go well with Anandi. She got up from the sofa, trembling like a dry leaf exposed to a gelid breeze in barren winters.

"Anandi, what's wrong?"

Maya held her by the hand but Anandi yanked away her arm and stuttered, "Please-please go and visit him once, okay? As I-I said. But, you see, I think there's no need to wear his daughter's dresses. It's not... appropriate. You should not take her place."

"I am not trying to take her place. You get me wrong."

"No, I was just saying. It's friendly advice."

Anandi briskly began walking out of the balcony. She turned back once, asking the winds to convey the warning to the young journalist.

"Remember my words, Maya."

****

Aadi Babu was engrossed in reading a new book, again one on mystery and murder. As much as he wanted to stay away from blood and deaths, the darkness always lulled him close. Thus in the light of the lamp he sat on a rocking chair and read the book thoroughly.

An unexpected knock at the door alerted him.

"Come in. It's open."

A timid but cute looking Maya came and stood in the doorway with an apologetic smile.

"I am sorry for my strange behaviour. You are quite older than me and should have realised by now that I cannot tell you what I feel."

Aadi Babu gestured Maya to sit on the bed. She did as asked.

"I hope you aren't angry with me..."

Aadi Babu kept the book aside and entwined his fingers. "You are a growing woman. You are like my daughter. And sometimes daughters hide things from their parents, don't they? It's a natural process of becoming an adult. Even I used to keep certain things a secret when I was young."

Maya didn't feel anything wrong about this man comparing her to his daughter. Maybe he missed her a lot. Maybe his relationship with her got strained and now he was trying to find that same warmth somewhere else.

Parents need to feel needed, need to give love, that's it. It is their way of loving.

"But I really want your stay in Devipuram to be memorable. I don't want any obstacle or unpleasant event to happen," Aadi Babu muttered, just loud enough for Maya to hear.

"I can assure you Devipuram will be very memorable."

"I sense a pinch of sarcasm in that?"

Maya pursed her lips.

"Well well, something has surely happened then!" Aadi Babu rubbed his palms. "Just know I have eager ears to lend to a sad soul and years of experience to guide."

He took up his book and put the bookmark on the last page that he had read. Maya took a peek at the cover.

"Death on the Nile?"

Aadi Babu beamed. "My daughter's personal collection. While she is away, I am here to enjoy it."

Maya wondered if she looked alike to his daughter. It was quite odd that there was no photo of her in his room, or even in her room, especially if it previously belonged to his daughter.

He should keep a photo of her close to him since he misses her so much.

"I really wish to meet her someday. Maybe we will be good friends."

The book slipped from Aadi Babu's grip and fell on the floor. With a low gasp he sat down and grabbed the book, adjusting his spectacles that threatened to slip down his sweaty face.

"Sh-she is abroad. Married. Settled there. She just comes here once a year."

Maya knitted her brows. Something is fishy.

"Then probably we have no chance of meeting," she said, feigning disappointment.

"Yes, that's the only thing possible. Now if you don't mind, it's my time to sleep."

"Oh! Good night, Uncle Aadi. Sweet dreams."

"To you too."

Aadi Babu stood at the door till he saw her take a turn and vanish. Then, he closed the creaking door.

And then, he hid his face in the pillow and cried his heart out.

****

The iron chains left abrasions on Maya's soft skin as she struggled to free herself. She was gagged, left all alone to rot in a dark room. It was only painted in two colours– red and black. It made her stomach twist to know she didn't have a hand in changing her fate.

In diverting her death.

A miasma of blood reeked in the room. There were bones and skulls spread all around her. The bell hanging above chimed to the violent pushes of the breeze.

Clomping footsteps approached her and then a man came into view. He carried a golden dagger studded with sapphires in his hand and a smirk on his face.

Maya looked up at him. She couldn't distinguish the features of the man in the darkness, but she knew she would never forget that devilish smirk. It had been etched in her memory.

"Tonight, I will take two."

The dagger's cold edge lingered on her neck, then travelled down her cleavage to her navel. Yes, Maya felt she was as naked as she had been during birth. She wanted to cry for help but only moans escaped her lips.

The man raised the dagger in the air. "Any last wishes?"

Maya tried to speak and shout but the gag prevented her from uttering anything.

"This dagger will now take your life."

With a swish, it landed on her.

"Ah!"

Maya woke up in a pool of sweat and a messy bed sheet. It was morning, 7 o'clock to be exact.

She climbed down her bed in a haste and went to the bathroom. She splattered some water on her face and brushed her teeth.

No, it is just a dream.

But I have never seen one like this.

It felt too ominous with whatever was going around, but Maya felt a logical explanation was needed.

Possibly the news of Radha's husband's death, and then the condition of the veshyas catalysed my subconscious mind to create this vivid nightmare.

So vivid that I could also see the dagger?

Feel its cold edge on my neck?

She wiped her face with a towel and changed into a burgundy housecoat. Noises of weeping from the floor beneath came to her ears as she opened her door.

"Now what happened today!"

She suspected that Nathu had again scolded his wife. But on going down, she noticed the men were not present in the living room. It was only Anandi, who covered her face with her aanchal and sobbed. The breakfast on the table was left unfinished.

"What has happened?"

Anandi ceased crying and looked up with tear-soaked eyes. There was horror dancing in them. Drops glided down her cheeks as she said in a quaky voice.

"A veshya from the slum has died."

Maya immediately sat down on a chair across Anandi and cupped her face.

"Is it–"

"It's not Lalita," Anandi clarified. "But I knew her. She was a kind-hearted soul. A woman you wouldn't find in a million."

Maya couldn't take the suspense anymore. Her dream and this death could not be just a coincidence.

She gripped Anandi's shoulders harshly and shook her like a woman turned mad in desperation.

"Who is it? Tell me, tell me!"

Anandi sniffled and shut her eyes.

"Radha."