Thus asks the seer, "O Nandini, your body is of soft flesh and fragile bones.
How will you kill the king?"

Nandini says,
"I will die at the hands of Maharaja.
I, a poor woman, of no value, shall sacrifice her life.
Alas, the Maharaja doesn't know,
That my death is my only weapon,
my biggest weapon.
It will haunt him forever."

****

In the heart of a small town unknown to all maps and lost among uncountable coordinates, the namesake of the Devi struggled to wake up from her deep slumber.

Maya was her name, the beloved daughter of a single doting father. Her eyes as dark as blazing coal and skin dipped in the copper of dawn shone under the incandescent rays of the sun. It was a fresh morning following a raging storm. The rains had cooled down the earth, also sealing Maya's eyes with sleep. Still in the land of lucid dreams, the young woman ignored the calls of her upset father.

"Maya, wake up." Intentionally he kept the utensils and spatulas with a clinking thump. "Won't you sell the flowers?"

She twisted and turned on the mattress, pulling the blanket closer to her body. The blanket was possibly older than her age, with holes in it and threads peeking out. Yet, it didn't make Maya shudder. There was such an inebriating comfort to relaxing after a rainy night. One forgot every pain, exhaustion just an unreal nightmare. She smiled as the fragrance of wet grass wafted to her nose. In her mind, Maya imagined the goddess walking along the moist roads, her red-dyed feet leaving a trail so beautiful.

Shuffling noises disturbed her vision. Falgun came and threw away the blanket, sprinkling holy water on her face. She scrunched her nose and kicked her legs. "Baba! What sort of behaviour is this?"

He scoffed. "And should a working woman sleep so late? Look, it has crossed eight. If you don't go and sell the flowers they will rot in the house."

Maya reluctantly rose. Her Baba had already arranged the baskets of flora. Those were overflowing with tulsi leaves and marigold garlands. She went and inspected the petals. Some of them had gotten grey cobwebs and black spots. She removed the spoilt ones and ensured there was no insect roaming in the bunch. "What about the hibiscus?" she asked. Her most loyal customers were lovers of the scarlet beauty.

Falgun didn't reply. His lips murmured a mantra of Kali while he worshipped her with incense. When the puja was over, he glared at Maya. "The ones I had collected have all wilted. Can't you see how bad it is raining nowadays?"

"As if I am to be blamed."

"But you could have woken up early to sell the flowers. The Raja's men come at dawn. They pay well. But you don't think of earning-"

"Baba, it was raining last night. Even at dawn. I don't think anybody came to the market."

"Oh, but they will now. Go and hurry up!"

Maya adjusted her aanchal and opened an old, scrapped almirah. Inside, covered in a dry cotton cloth were a few hibiscus. She flaunted them to Falgun. "See, your girl knows tricks."

Falgun gathered his brows, then cleared his throat. "Fine, you are learning." A smile made his lips quiver, but he didn't allow his father's pride to be evident. "Don't assume that you know everything. There is more to understand about flowers. They are delicate and require a lot of attention."

Maya brushed her teeth with a stick of neem and muddy powder, then went for a quick bath. Her father would never allow her to sell flowers without a good wash.

"I have served Maa some sweets today," he said. "Bought them at half price yesterday. Have the prasad."

"Is it juicy or dry?"

"No sugary-syrup sweet in house! They bring nasty ants."

Maya loved the yellow, scented kamalabhog, but could not bring those in the hut because her father refused to keep anything of that sort. And so even Maa Kali had to be satisfied with simple sandesh.

"And there's last night's roti." Falgun took his sling bag and stood at the threshold of their home. "I am leaving for the Raja. Make sure to sell all those flowers. Not every seller will come today, so you must get this chance and use it to attract new clients."

"I heard the Raja will hold a short celebration today?"

Falgun nodded. "Yes. Nothing much. It's his birthday but he isn't into pompous displays. His family desires him to enjoy a little."

"I hope he will give us some food today." Maya heaved a sigh. "We don't get to have mutton often."

"Hmph! You aren't Kali so don't crave it so much. Nonsense."

Maya laughed. Falgun left for the royal temple, muttering complaints to Kali against his so-called pampered daughter.

She wished for his safe return, like everyday.

Her father was a man of humble nature and cultivated no desire, but Maya, as an admirer of passionate folklore, had dreams. Perhaps those would never be fulfilled, but what was wrong in at least weaving wishes? After all, she was a woman- a symbol of wealth and prosperity. It was only natural for her to grow excited at the mention of thick, spicy gravies and a plethora of delectable dishes. Falgun used to say her mother loved mutton, and she consumed it a lot during pregnancy. It was an expensive delicacy for them, but he could never deny his wife. Maya was born a heavy and plump girl. The people then used to joke how the poor priest could afford to have such a squishy baby.

That was more than a decade ago. Now Maya was eighteen, and a motherless child for sixteen years.

Maya cleaned the house, prayed to the little idols of the deities, and then sat for breakfast. But when she saw the clock strike nine, she hurried with a stale roti in her mouth and baskets in her hands. Indeed, the market was less crowded than usual. Most of the shops were shut.

She layed down her necessities and began her routine. Men and women flocked to her shop today since no other flower seller was present. The fresh hibiscus impressed many, and Maya concluded from their glowing faces that she had earned more customers. By eleven, not a leaf was left. She counted the cash and put them in her purse. The local married ladies who sat with vegetables and fruits ranted about their husbands, how they were weak in bed and what not. Maya took in the spicy details. The married women went a step further by advising Maya about the arts of passion for her to use after marriage.

Growing anxious at the idea of matrimony, she excused herself and went to have some tea and biscuit at the local shop. It was run by Lalon's son. Although the boy was a friendly and kind soul, his father was dislikeable in Maya's perspective. Lalon bullied her Baba, so she didn't respect him. But his son never treated her in a dirty manner. To the contrary, Maya suspected he had a little crush on her.

Like every other day, she got two free biscuits. The boy would go on how few women nowadays earned, and that she was a modern lady, like those urban memsahebs. Maya talked with him, but it pained her to know she would have to break his heart. Not only was he three years younger to her, and thus impossible for her to romantically pursue, but he was the son of a man whom she despised.

Presently they discussed about the crops and how the monsoon affected them. Things were going well, until they saw a figure approaching near with the gait of a lion. The boy's face turned dull when a tall man came to his shop. He wiped his sweaty forehead with a rag and stuttered, "Yes, Bakshi Dada?"

This Mr. Bakshi was a middle-aged man donning a white dhoti and a black coat. He carried an office bag and a pouch of apples. "My in-laws have informed me that you owe them twenty rupees."

The boy gulped. "Yes, I will repay it soon."

"That money was given to them by me. I don't know why they lent it to you. Anyways, it's their outlook. But I am not a benevolent man. You need to give back the money in a week. Otherwise I will bring my men to break into your house."

His voice was hoarse and dry, very hurtful to the ears. He cast an irked glance at Maya, who averted her gaze and took a bite of her biscuit.

"My wife and I will remain here for a week. I need the money by then, I repeat," he said. Maya realised the extra information was aimed at her.

"I am going to the market," he added. Maya finished her snacks and left the place. Bakshi went in the opposite direction.

Maya kept her baskets at home, and then ran to meet Sonalota. All her friends were married, most of them outside the town. Rarely could Maya visit them.

Sonalota's parents had renovated their hut into a proper house constructed with cement and bricks. Lately they wore better clothes, spoke with only selected people. They had landed into money because of their son-in-law, that Bakshi.

Perhaps due to their sudden bragging attitude, rumours spread about Sonalota. It was always a meek girl who had to pay the price of someone else's sins. Maya knocked on the door, and Sonalota's mother opened it. She wasn't pleased to see Maya. Her frown disappeared when Maya brought out a packet of sweets. "I came to meet Sonalota."

Swaggering by her, the proud lady popped in the sweets in her mouth and pointed at a room. Maya parted the curtain and saw her friend sitting on a khatia. A baby boy was sucking her thumb. Upon seeing Maya, Sonalota beamed from ear to ear.

They embraced in silence. Maya placed a peck on her cheek. "The little girl is now a mother."

"Yes." Sonalota caressed the boy's head. "We have named him after my father-in-law. He was happy to have an heir."

Maya faked a smile, clutching the bedsheets in her grip. Sonalota had no sign of sadness on her face, her motherly warmth showering affection on the newborn soul.

"Protect this child," Maya whispered. "It feels good to see your family happy again."

Sonalota stiffened. She brought the baby close. The boy nudged her breasts. Sonalota cooed to him a melody, then began feeding him her milk.

Maya kissed the tiny feet of the baby. "He is handsome."

"I am not going to sit back and think about the past," Sonalota said. "It's not like everyone gets to have a son. I did."

"But your daughter-"

"She died," Sonalota hissed. "That...that girl was never meant to be. The fever ate her."

"Are you fine though, Sonalota? I hear people talk behind your back. They say that your in-laws have exploited you."

"Huh?"

"I mean, they," Maya rubbed her temples, "they made you do things against your consent."

"Gibberish." Sonalota clenched her jaws. "I don't expect you to believe them."

"I am your friend. We have grown up together like sisters. If you are in danger, you can confide in me. I won't harm you."

"Seems like you are jealous of my marital bliss like all other girls of this town. None married as rich as me." Sonalota jerked her head away when Maya reached out to touch her. "Don't. I am seeing you have changed a lot. Drastically. Listen Maya, I am at peace with life, a loving mother and a contented wife. I don't have any regrets. And if you want to join in the drama, don't keep your bond with me."

Maya's eyes widened. She hardly knew what to say. Sonalota and she did have arguments as kids, but never did she accuse her of something so grave. "I do not envy you."

Sonalota swaddled the baby, feigning to see no third person in the room. A pang stung Maya. She quitely crept out of the house. Outside, she saw Mr. Bakshi coming. She politely smiled to him, but he walked past her as if she were untouchable.

Nothing eventful happened later that day. Maya cooked, counted the month's savings and then watched the moon when night fell. Her Baba usually came back by the evening, but perhaps due to the celebration he was late today. She hoped he would bring some tasty food.

Hours passed. The town was asleep and lights glimmered in the distance. Drunkards met under street lamps to play cards. Maya's breaths turned ragged. With her purse and a little knife, she went towards the Raja's mansion.

She met no human on the way except the blind madman who roamed at night. Upon reaching the regal mansion, she asked the guard about her Baba.

"He left two hours ago."

Maya's heartbeats increased. Palpitating, she ran back for her home. There was no one who could help her, and she was too afraid to go and speak to the drunkards. They were lustful men and her Baba wouldn't want her to mingle with the classless.

She stood in the middle of the road, hearing the dogs bark in the distance. She noticed a man passing by on a cycle. She called out to him. Going closer, she recognised him as Mohan Babu. He was reeking of alcohol. Maya was apprehensive of talking to a man high on his senses, but he had connections to the Mukherjee. "Ah, you had gone to the celebration today?" he asked joyously. "The mutton was delicious!"

"Baba," she cried, "he hasn't returned."

Mohan squinted. "But he left before me. How come he is still not home?"

"I don't know. I asked the guard and he couldn't say anything."

Mohan scratched his chin. "Hop on," he gestured her to sit on his cycle, "I will take you to the palace."

So, they again traced back their path. The guard was now dozing off, and upon asking the question again, he repeated the same answer. Maya slid down against the wall and sobbed. Mohan's alert eyes searched the surroundings. All of a sudden, he gasped. "Look there."

Maya wiped her tears and saw where the man was pointing. On the road that went behind the mansion, to the back of the garden, was a tiffin box. The lid was open and cats munched on pieces of mutton. Maya gasped. "It's my tiffin box."

Mohan and Maya followed the path, going behind the house. The walls prevented them from entering the garden. "I don't feel good about this," Mohan said. He took off his round spectacles and cleaned them with his handkerchief. "Did your Baba have any debt? I am asking because maybe someone hurt him. Try to recall if he owed anybody-"

He tripped and stumbled. Wearing his specs, he saw what he had landed on. Crawling away from the bloodied body, he uttered an uncanny scream.

On the road lay Falgun, a sleek cut on his throat having snatched his life.

****

word count: 2555 words

So here I am, working on two ongoing series AND another standalone novel (and exams yeah). Yup, this book will be a standalone.

Maya and Hrishav, eh? Nah, this isn't THAT Hrishav. Yk, like, I really traumatised you guys on a name lol. Idk if I will again but let's see. The name is definitely interesting.

Okay so, I want to warn you that there will be many mature themes in this book. No not just s*x. If that has love I think it's okay, but I mean we have stuff more than that. Creepy yes. And some social issues. I think you will be able to guess a few.

How do you like the first chapter? Do you find it interesting? If yes please do engage. I LOVE your comments! And yes, if possible share to your reader friends!