Pursuing from the antecedent chapter, narcotized Anirudh utterly annihilated Bondita's spirit. She yearned to annihilate herself and perchance even demise shunned approaching her facilely. She felt like a bird with broken wings, unable to fly or escape the cage of her fate. She felt like a flower withered by frost, losing its color and fragrance and becoming a lifeless ornament. She felt like a star fallen from the sky, dim and forgotten by the eyes that once admired her.

But what could she do, what could she say?

 She had no voice, no choice, no way. She had given him her heart, her soul, her everything, and he had crushed them all under his feet. She had trusted him, loved him, followed him, and he had betrayed her, left her. She had dreamed of a bright future, a happy life, a noble cause, and he had shattered them all with his lies.

She was nothing, she was nobody, she was nowhere. She had no hope, no joy, no peace. She had no friends, no family, no home. She had no name, no identity, no dignity. She had nothing to live for, nothing to die for, nothing to fight for. She was a shadow, a ghost, a speck.

He was everything, he was somebody, he was everywhere. He had power, fame, wealth. He had allies, enemies, admirers. He had a reputation, a mission, a vision. He had everything to live for, everything to die for, everything to fight for. He was a hero, a leader, a legend.
How could they ever be together, how could they ever be apart? 

They were opposites, they were parallels, they were complements. They were fire and ice, sun and moon, day and night. They were love and hate, joy and sorrow, life and death. 

They were a miracle, they were a tragedy.

"You broke my heart and left me blue

You lost a love you can't renew"

(A/N: First time trying to write poems please if it is not nice forgive me and please tell me whether it is nice or not)

Bondita was aware that lamenting would be of no avail at this moment. She carried the appellation of "Choti dugga" for a sound reason. She was the brave and fierce daughter of Durga, the goddess of war and strength.

She ought to always assert herself but her physique and psyche were not in consonance with her. Her body was frail and exhausted from the long journey, and her mind was tormented by the memories of betrayal and humiliation.

However, she had sworn to never exhibit frailty before anyone after the ignominy that she endured from the Tulsipur people as she was an adversary at the panchayat and the sole person whom she confided in after her Dugga ma, her Sakha babu, betrayed her.

He was the one who had taught her to read and write, to question and challenge, to dream and aspire. He was the one who had given her the respect and dignity that no one else had. The most agonizing anguish is felt when the one who conferred you with such extraordinary esteem yesterday makes you so unwanted today and she had already suffered that torment. And now, would she not resume combating the malefactions of the nation and the world, was that not their mutual aspiration. But presently she lacked the fortitude to retaliate against anyone or anything. She felt like a candle in the wind, flickering and fading, ready to be snuffed out by the slightest. Wasn't it always their dream, but now he left her hand when he swore not to, just like he always did making her a "chodi hui aurat."

  Was it always a lie?

But she was not alone, she was not helpless, she was not hopeless. She had her Dugga ma, her mother, her protector, who always watched over her, guided her, blessed her. She had her education, her knowledge, her wisdom, which always empowered her, enlightened her, inspired her. She had her courage, her resilience, her spirit, which always lifted her, strengthened her, motivated her.

She was not a candle, she was a fire, she was a light. She burned with passion, with determination, with justice. She shone with grace, with dignity, with beauty. She was not a star, she was a sun, she was a force. She radiated with warmth, with love, with life. She moved with energy, with power, with purpose.

He was not her dream, he was her nightmare, he was her curse now. He haunted her, he hurt her, he harmed her. He deceived her, he deserted her, he destroyed her.  Now He was not her hero, he was her villain, he was her soul's enemy. 

How could she ever love him, how could she ever forgive him? They were enemies, they were rivals, they were foes. They were oil and water, fire and ice, light and darkness. They were pain and pleasure, war and peace, death and life. They were a disaster, they were a mistake, they were a tragedy.

They fought for a cause together but now he left her alone when she needs him the most. They were one soul in two bodies but now the soul and the body is damaged. Wasn't it always:

(Guys please listen to the v.2 of our favourite song)

Handiyaan se rasgulle Khaye
Paido pei imali chakhi,
Ek patr Mein Vivah ki do Sharte likhi,
Tay kar liya ye,
Maa bina doli na chadungi,
Ladhna pada duniya se
Ladh jaoogi agar sath dega wo
Agar Ho hausla mera
Rishta tera mera*4

But now he left her alone in this perilous path of thorns to cross it all alone.

Bondita got up with all her strength and woke up. She took a quick bath to wash away all her sorrows in the water, hoping to cleanse her soul from the stains of his betrayal.

She was no more a carefree girl doing mischievous things. She was a married lady right now. She could no longer wear a chiffon saree studded with simple motifs complimented by minimalistic jewellery and accessories and could no longer keep her partition open, letting her hair flow like a river of black silk.

She wore shakha, the beautiful red ivory bangles worn by married woman which was gifted to her during her Basar ghar ceremony. She also wore her pola and loha badhano which she was supposed to wear till the end of her life, binding her to a man who had broken his vows.

She wears the heavy pink banarasi saree adorned with traditional floral foliate motifs which was gifted to her during her bhou bhaat,weighing her down with the expectations of her in-laws.

She wore the heavy jewellery gifted as she was the bahu, to be precise badi bahu of the esteemed roy Choudhury khandan, shining like a false star in the sky of their pride.

She quickly wore the gold chik necklace, which was gifted to her by her beloved husband on their wedding day. The last time she wore it, it provided her happiness like a warm hug, but now the choker set which she loves is choking her like a cold snake. Her neck adorned the pati haar and the sita haar, which touched her belly button like a gentle caress.
She also wore the saat noli haar with a nolok, which adorned her abdomen like a sparkling jewel. She quickly secured her luscious hair in a big beautiful bun, placing a khopa  surrounded by a gold gajra with a pearl studded bun pin. Her beautiful ears adorned the kaan baala, which made her look like a princess.
And her milky waist, now with marks of his betrayal, adorned the gold kamarband, which felt like a heavy chain. She wore the pearl studded naukchaubi on the right side of her nose, which pierced her heart like a sharp needle. She adorned her feet with the jingling nupur(payal), which sounded like a mocking laughter. She quickly placed her veil and secured it using the tiara, and placed a tikli(maang theeka) covering her partition, not before filling it with a handful amount of sindhoor from the sindhoor dhani.
Flashback:

On her wedding day, when Anirudh filled it with his own hands, the sindhoor fell on to her nose, indicating that the husband will ultimately love and adore his wife. It was a moment of bliss, a promise of eternity, a sign of divine blessing. She looked at him with love in her eyes, and he smiled back with affection in his.

She recalls these moments and the suhaagrat's events, and she feels that it too was a lie.
A cruel joke, a broken vow, a false hope. She feels a surge of anger, pain, and despair. She wishes she could erase him from her memory, but she knows she can't. He is everywhere, in every thing, in every breath. He is her husband, her lover, her enemy.

She looks at herself in the mirror, and she sees a woman who is both beautiful and broken. Her face, which is the epitome of grace and elegance, is now stained with tears and sorrow.

Her eyes, which are the windows to her soul, are now dull and lifeless. Her lips, which are the source of her smile and laughter, are now quivering and silent. Her skin, which is the canvas of her beauty, is now bruised and scarred. Her hair, which is the crown of her glory, is now messy and tangled.

Her jewels, which are the symbols of her status and wealth, are now mocking and taunting. Her clothes, which are the expressions of her culture and identity, are now suffocating and restricting. Her veil, which is the shield of her modesty and dignity, is now hiding and concealing.

She speaks to herself in the mirror, and she says, "Oh, you poor thing, you foolish thing, you naive thing.  How could you give him your heart, your body, your soul? How could you let him ruin your life, your happiness, your future? How could you be so blind, so weak, so helpless? How could you be so unlucky, so unfortunate, so miserable? How could you be so betrayed, so hurt, so broken?"

She turns away from the mirror, and she says, "No, I will not be his wife, his lover, his friend. I will not be his anything. I will be my own person, my own woman, my own self. I will be strong, I will be brave, I will be free. I will be happy, I will be hopeful, I will be healed. I will be me.

(guys , please listen v9 of our fav song)

"Tujhme Roshan Hoga SurajToh Dhoop Bhi AayegiShabd Kaagaz Par ChalengeToh Raah BhiTu PaayegiTeri Kismat Tere HathonSe Hi Likhi Jaayegiere Kadamo Ke Nishano Par Chalengi Yeh DuniyMain Teri Aankhon Mein Dekhu Sapna MeraRishta Tera Mera..."

Well,is that going to be be possible Bondita,lets see?

Bondita quickly rushed down the stairs as she did not want to be late for the morning veneration. When she arrived nobody was there. Actually, she was very much early as the big clock just struck 5:10 am now. She had not seen a stroke of sleep in the previous night. She prayed to Dugga maa to cross this painful life with ease, like a boat sailing across a stormy sea.

The great sasu maa of all time Mrs Sampoorna Roy Chowdhury also entered the room after five minutes. Her face grew red in anger looking at Bondita remembering the talwar baazi incident. She came there and taunted saying, "Maharani toh hamse bhi phle aagayi, dekho Dugga maa". She took the conch and blew it to start the nitya puja. She took the agarbathi and lighted it up and waved at the magnificent statue of DURGA MAA and intentionally hurt Bondita's wrist and covered it up as if she did it unintentionally. Bondita winced in pain but neither did she scream nor did she cry, instead she was very calm. It seemed as if Bondita never knew pain in her entire life, though pain knew her very well. 

While Sampoorna wanted to hurt Bondita physically, even somewhere in her stone heart she also felt very bad for Bondita, who had suffered more than anyone could bear. All this was very much small in front of the torture Anirudh gave her the previous night, which left her broken and bruised. She felt like a puppet, a toy, a tool. He played with her, used her, discarded her. She was not a person, she was a thing, she was a nothing. She heard his voice, his laugh, his taunt. She wished she could forget, erase, delete him . She wondered why he did this, iff he wanted to do this, who he was. She had loved him more than anything, more than anyone, more than herself. But he did not love her, he did not care for her, he did not respect her. 

Was he ever her husband, was he ever her friend, was he ever her teacher? 

She doubted, she questioned, she challenged. He was a hypocrite, he was a fraud, he was a fiend. She felt betrayed, she felt humiliated, she felt devastated. She saw his face, his smile, his touch. She hated him, she despised him, she loathed him, creating a description by using words that convey her emotions. She wanted to escape, to run away, to start anew.

But she could not escape, she could not run away, she could not start anew. He was her fate, he was her bond, he was her cage. She was his wife, she was his enemy, she was his victim. He loved her not, he cared for her not, he respected her not. He hurt her more, he betrayed her more, he abandoned her more,. He took her happiness, her dignity, her dreams.  She was a flower, a beautiful and delicate one, he was a thorn, a sharp and painful one, he was a poison, a deadly and harmful one. 

She was a flower, a rose, a lily, he was a fire, a blaze, a spark, he was a flame, a torch, a candle,.  He was a fire, a fire that burned her, he burned her fire. He was a fire, he burned her flower, she was a flower, he was a fire.

Hey darlings, how are you all?

This part was supposed to be published last week but due to frequent powercuts faced here in Chennai by Michaung , I was unable to write. After 2 days when I opened wattpad I was very happy, guilty and sad. I was happy coz we became a fam of 1k, guilty coz of  I am not a good writer neither do I update often, sad coz  I thought I'd get more  response from you folks for the part-3 's a/n  question 

Target:300 views ,35 likes,30 comments( definitely without my comments and answer for the questions in this author's
Note in this part as well as the previous chapter and atleast half of the target comments mujhe inline comments hone chahiye please 🥺🙏) aur this only if you guys want please follow me.

Until I meet you all in another update

Its your author
Aahana