"Unlock the latches, let the breeze in
There comes the maiden, her eyes alert but meek
Wolves surround her, drooling over her flesh
But she is a chaste woman, the womb forever a pure place.
Not once will they be able to catch her."

Hearing Nandini's pearls of wisdom, the seer furrows his brows,
his mind lost in a maze of thoughts.
He knows, but he also doesn't, and so goes on a cycle of mystery.

The door closes with a creak, and the seer falls asleep.

"Protect her," proclaims Nandini.

****

The note was licked ravenously by the candle's flame. Maya shuddered at the very thought of the paper being her fragile skin, and the licking fire being his lustful tongue. She removed her hand with a gasp when the paper was reduced to a tiny piece of soot.

Sonalota wasn't entirely wrong when she had labelled all men as the same.

It made sense to her now. Her naive heart had, for once, imagined Boro Babu to be a man above the notions of class and vanity. Otherwise why would a man, whose attire and mannerisms revealed well his silky standing in society? For a flickering moment, she had assumed him to be one of those sensible Babus, who, educated in ways of the renaissance, knew how to look at a soul.

But he was just a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"I should have just denied coming here. Either way, it's my fall."

As a lonely woman in the village, she would have been subjected to the taunts of many women, and the lecherous stares of men who always had to search beyond the loving lap of their wives. Escaping to the palace meant a promised source of income, and perhaps better food and shelter, but it was a golden cage. Yes, there were women who chose to sleep with a prince than a drunkard because the former filled their bellies. Maya didn't judge them. It was society which forced women to choose between two equally ugly options. Some women were afraid of suicide, and would rather let their mortal bodies be called filthy than burn on a pyre.

Maya questioned if she belonged to that group.

Being a devotee of Kalika, death always fascinated Maya. But it wasn't equivalent to wishing for death. She had been born a dreamer, and she would dream till the last breath. The thought of slicing her veins was too revolting. Much like laying on the bed of a man whom she wasn't married too. At least marriage could protect dignity, if not consider consent.

"I will not go."

She would resist. She would run from this man for as long as her legs would allow. She would go near death, but not die, and hope he would find someone easier to satiate his thirst. Alas, she knew men loved challenges, and often they disguised the denial of a woman in the garb of playfulness. Maya would have to be careful. Play dumb, if necessary.

"If he hints at anything, my only answer will be that I never got any note. Just a pouch of coins. I will act as if I know nothing."

I can't even think of anything else.

"Rajas and zamindars are so filthy. That Mr. Bakshi, he is from a zamindar family too. Sonalota only has gold to wipe her tears with. But again, some women don't even have that." Maya scoffed. "It's like we can never attain perfect happiness."

Her thoughts were put at a pause when she heard Rituja calling her. The girl was carrying a basket of beguni– brinjal coated in a batter, fried and then sprinkled with black pepper. "Can you help us with serving the food?"

Maya smiled. Rituja's face was nothing less than sunshine, and such a beauty. But dread was a friend of beauty. Did the Boro Babu also use this innocent maiden's body?

"Sure," Maya answered, although it wasn't to Rituja's question.

The girl took Maya to the kitchen. Rani sat on a stool, rubbing her back. "I can't do so much. Old-age. My daughter must slowly take all my duties."

"I may help you."

"Yes, please. Rituja will bring the fritters, but you must serve them rice first."

Maya took the rice and a spatula. Rituja gave her the directions to the dining hall. Maya rolled her eyes on the way to it. People like her ate in the same room they slept in, while the rich had four walls for every occasion.

Even forced intimacy.

The dining hall was long and vast, with a cool marble floor and no windows. There were stone statues of Kubera and Ganesh depicted as having a feast. Paintings decorated the walls here too, each portraying a specific dish. On the crimson tablecloth lay glasses and plates of bronze. Only in front of the Rajon there was a bowl of silver, and nothing else.

Rajon Vijay was sitting at the head of the table, and his son Tirtha on the opposite end. On either side of the table sat Boro Babu and Shalini. The room was huge, but the table had only four people to cater to. Two men fanned each of the royal members.

Maya went first to the Rajon, but he shook his head. "You are new, so you don't know. Actually, I don't have rice at night. Only soup."

"Oh!" She slightly bowed as a sign of apology. "I shall remember."

"You serve the others. Rani will soon come with my food. Had my mother been alive, she would have been her age. Her bones are decomposing, so are her senses. Everything is nowadays difficult for her, even simple cooking."

"Whatever you may say Dada, but she still cooks the best," Shalini chirped. "On your birthday she made the best mutton. Ah, we didn't have it for so many months–"

A reprimanding glare from Vijay made Shalini purse her lips. Maya's head was cast down. Shalini had again spoken without consideration. With doe-eyes she looked at Maya, quietly requesting to be forgiven. The fatherless woman displayed a pained smile.

"This much," Shalini said. "I can't eat more than that."

Tirtha didn't even spare Maya a glance. His attitude was indifferent, his body tilting away to avoid even a little contact with Maya. She didn't mind it though. Abhorrence was something she was getting habituated to.

At last came the turn to serve Boro Babu. Maya poured three spatula of rice and then was to go away, when he raised his hand. Shalini giggled, while Boro Babu hung his face in embarrassment.

"I...I need some more."

His startling words carried the smell of charred wood and ashes. Maya imagined the bits of paper falling over them, enveloping them in a fire that was to ruin her completely.

"Hrishav has an infinite pit in his stomach," Shalini joked.

Maya's eyes widened. So that is his name.

"Shalini, don't tease him. He is a young man. Of course he will eat! Not just slurp soup like me." Vijay muffled his grin. "Maya, don't hold back from giving him more."

Although the Rajon and sister were laughing, their seemingly plain words carved a threateningly sensuous mark in her mind. A mark which could have made her as blissfully shy as a new bride had things been as dreamy as a fairytale, but now only invited disgust. They weren't her family, and she didn't rightfully belong to them.

She didn't want to be associated with them.

Hrishav averted his gaze, and after Maya was done serving the rice, she along with Rani and Rituja came with the rest– dal, beguni, fried cauliflower, rohu fish and mackerel curry. Rani them brought vegetable soup for the Rajon, pouring it in his silver bowl.

Maya observed each way the four were eating. Tirtha was someone who lacked enjoyment in the process, as if he were only eating to keep his vitals going. His face always showed off a disgruntled frown. Shalini was talkative, being scolded by Vijay to not speak while eating. She was a picky one too, who meticulously separated the bits of panch phoron from the dishes. The Rajon was slow, and his eyes made sure everybody was doing fine. Hrishav gobbled up like he had been fasting for days, smacking and licking his lips. He was also the one to give the most compliments to Rani.

"You know what? If I knew how to cook like you, I would have opened a restaurant in the city," he said.

Tirtha, who kept mum all this time, laughed with a mouthful of rice. "Men don't cook, and absolutely not for the common folk."

Shalini heaved a sigh. Vijay and Hrishav pretended to have not heard the orthodox man.

After the dinner was done, the servants brought for them lukewarm water and wipes. They washed their hands first in a soap solution, then in normal water, followed by scenting them with a certain perfume. Maya twisted her lips.

"Rich people," Rituja whispered in her ears. "And keep control of your facial expressions, the Rajon sees everything."

Maya gulped.

When Shalini and the others were standing up to leave, the Rajon asked them to wait. "I have something to say."

Maya was afraid if it would be a lecture on ungrateful servants.

"As you all know, my wife died last year, and two months ago we honoured her soul. It's more than a year now, so the mourning period is over. Which means, regular religious activities can commence. The temple was always running but we avoided doing sacrifices. The restriction is now lifted."

"So we will be doing the patha boli again?" Tirtha asked, his eyes glimmering akin to garnets.

"Yes, like we used to. I know you all miss having mutton, that is why I had instructed Rani to cook it on my birthday. Anyways, my birthday will remain a little dull for the rest of my life."

"Just for some priest's death?"

"The Rajon is speaking," Hrishav hissed at Tirtha. The latter clenched his jaws.

"The sacrifices will begin. People who wish to come and do puja, asking for their desires to be fulfilled, can come from the next week. I want this declared."

"Anything else, Dada?" Hrishav asked.

"A puja. We will do a puja, a small one, since the mourning period is over. It will be our return to normal life. I will tell Lalon and Ramu what to do. Hrishav, you know your duties well."

"And I will hold the legs of those goats–"

"Maya," Vijay ignored his excited son, "you will help the priests. Gather the best flowers, press the sandalwood, etc. Puja will be on Friday." Vijay rose from his seat, and so did the other members.

Maya washed the dishes along with the other maids, cleaned the table and then went to her room. But upon reaching there she saw a group of men along with Boro Babu, now known to her as Hrishav. The men were moving a khatia in her room.

The very audacity of the man irked her. How could he bring in furniture and enter her room without her permission? It clicked then– this wasn't her home. And she wasn't the leader here.

She was no one.

With rage bubbling inside her, she waited. To get his attention, she cleared her throat. He spun around and smiled. "We are making arrangements–"

"It is very kind of you, Boro Babu, but really, I can do without it."

"You won't, Maya." He crossed his arms. "My servants all have a bed."

Like you want me to have your bed? Ah, so where does Ramu and Rituja go? I am sure you don't even miss out on Rani.

"So, you are attending work from tomorrow. I have already told you that. Rest tonight."

Each of his words had an underlying meaning to Maya. She balled her hands into fists. "Yes."

The khatia was placed and the men left. Hrishav lingered. "If you have some things still left in your previous house, I may ask the men to bring them here."

He wanted her to shift completely, to be wholly in his territory.

"No," she replied. "I don't need that almirah anymore. Although I will be glad for a wooden shelf to keep my idols on. Or perhaps a stool."

"That's it? It will be done."

Maya prayed her subtle mention of the Divine would warn him.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I think your salary is decent, but don't hide your problems."

"I don't need anything. I am happy."

Hrishav parted his lips, but he spelled only silence. Staring down at her curled up feet, he said, "Good night. It's a new place, and your new life."

As he walked away, Maya noticed his narrowed eyes pointedly gaze at a shadow behind a pillar near Ramu's room.

****

word count: 2151 words

Today banner loaded yay!

I will upload another chapter to this and then go on a little break till Oct 19th. I have made a rough plan regarding my three ongoing works, so that after exam I can update easily.

What do you think about all the characters, especially Hrishav?