------

Hands perched on the velvet, puffy, off white clouds, I craned forward, my neck probably in resemblance to an Ostrich's, for a better look.

Staring intently at the gold rimmed portal, I waited patiently for the swirling mist to clear out, giving a better sight of the happenings in the blue planet, far away.

"Shift aside girl!"

Of course. Can't these older spirits understand that monarchy doesn't exist anymore? Stamping authority everywhere they walk, huh?!

Sorry. We can't exactly move. Our form of locomotion was something similar to drifting.

Moving aside reluctantly, I grab a few puffs of clouds and stuff them into my ears.

At least I'll be liberated from hearing her 'difficulties and struggles' being the handmaiden of her 'arrogant' queen.

Huh. She's not arrogant at all.

Hearing a 'whoosh' from the portal, I push out the lady beside me and once more turned my attention towards the mist.

Seems like Thanatos had found his latest victim.

As the mist clears out, the silhouette of a young girl, around sixteen or seventeen years old, appeared in my eyesight.

On the terrace, curled up against the damaged wall was she, drowning in her thoughts.

She mirrored my state of about two hundred years ago.

When I was alive.

Feeling a pang in my heart, 'I' did something impulsive.

And I don't do impulsive cause that's what landed me here.

Sending a word to Thanatos that he has been called by the council, to discuss about the traffic of souls at our gateway, I momentarily distracted him.

Breaking the section thirty seven, clause ( i ) of the constitution for freelance spirits, I dived into the portal, my misty body carried away by the fog within it.

Floating through the cosmos with an unimaginable speed, I manage to be back to that place.

That place where ---

Interrupted by a sob, I drift to the crying, soon - to - be - dead soul.

Shaking myself out of the mist, I come into her range of vision.

Her mouth agape, I knew that she was having a 'once in a lifetime' moment.

I mean you don't get to see a glittering vapourised figurine everyday, eh?

Locking the terrace door, I take in a gust of air to calm myself down.

Except I can't do that anymore. As a matter of fact, spirits are not under the mercy of trees, H2O or O2.

"You are ... you are a ... a ..."

"I know what I am. And that's why my time is limited here," I told her, struggling to keep my form in this known but unfamiliar world.

"Okay. Let's start with this. What's your name?" I asked, trying to reduce the hostility I held for the human species. Especially women.

"Aayushi."

"And why do you want to jump?"

"Cause even if I did no one would be bothered!"

Does it make me 'ruthless and unsympathetic' if I say that I find her stupid? Well if it does then I don't care. She is stupid.

"No one likes me. No one loves me."

This is as bad as that court lady's rambling. Why did I sign up for this?

"You know, there is this thing called 'honour among the departed', ever heard of it?"

"No," she muttered, her vision blurred from her sea of tears.

"Up there, we have this system of categorizing the dead on the basis of how they died."

I took a pause. And then a deep breath.

"And trust me, cowardice is ranked far below."

"Far below," I whispered.

The leaves stopped dancing with the breeze and the birds stayed still. That was the importance of the 'honour among the departed'.

Sensing the sudden chill around, she jerked her head up.

Tucking her loose hair strands to those black locks, she clutched the Pashmina shawl around her tighter.

The winter night, contributed its share in making her cheeks appear red, almost as bright as the lehenga I wore on my wedding day, two hundred years ago.

"No one loves me," she whined.

Memories are like glass shreds when they assault your heart and tear it apart.

*

"We love you," they said, holding onto my shoulders, pressing it, to offer me comfort.

They were parents after all. They were obliged to say that.

*

And after ripping off your heart, they leave an untended gash which bleeds endlessly.

"They think that forcing me to study is for my betterment. They don't care if I'm happy or not!"

*

"This marriage is for your betterment, Kanchan!" whispered my Ma (Mother), trying to make herself believe rather than me, that it was 'actually' for 'my' betterment.

Little did they know, the whole household was aware of the recent financial crisis.

A girl is a liability. She's better off at someone else's place than at her own home.

*

Hopes and expectations. Sometimes these are misinterpreted. And sometimes they are not.

"They are willing to spend everything they have for my education! That's the only thing they're concerned about!" her ear-splitting shrieks echoed louder as the winds ceased.

*

My Baba (Father) instructed, as I was brought down the stairs and seated at the well decorated mandap. (pavilion)

"Kanchan we are spending everything we have on this marriage. Don't do anything which shall ruin our respect in this society and be sure to bite back that nasty tongue of yours!"

At that moment, this so called 'marriage' had lost all its worth.

I was sure of one thing.

My life was set ablaze, just like the sacred fire symbolizing the 'purity' of our marriage, burning right in front of me.

*

Punching the wall, she created a dent in it.

Taking no notice of her bruised knuckles, she hiccuped, "Education- hic- my foot!- hic- I don't- hic- want- hic- to be the- hic- perfect child!"

*

Taking small and silent steps, I stop on reaching the fancy wooden oak door. Clutching the brass lion shaped door knocker, I tapped it lightly against the wood, contrary to how loud my heart was thumping.

I waited patiently for my good -for- nothing husband to look up from his files.

"Ji?" ("Sir?") my voice came out uncertain.

Receiving his nod, the ultimate grant of permission, I continued, hoping it won't end as bad as I calculated it would.

"Hame aapse kuch kehna tha!" ("I wish to express a request!")

"Bolo," ( "Say," ) curtly he replied, face stoic as ever. Remind me, why did I marry him?

"Hame lekh seekna tha ... ," ( "I wish to learn writing ... ," ) I trailed off, not knowing how he would react.

"Lekh?" ( "Writing?") was the last thing he asked, giving me an impassive look.

*

Let the magical curing of hiccups be damned. At least those would have kept her quiet!

"They don't care about me. No one cares about me. If they did then-," the girl lets out a muffled sob.

*

"Don't you care about this family's honour?" his voice dangerously boomed, throughout the empty family library.

"She says she wants to learn writing!" he chided further, talking to himself.

I did not dare to meet those eyes.

But when the leather boots stopped appeared in the eyesight of my downcast eyes, I knew.

If I did not look up the consequences could be worse than what I anticipated. So my head rose on its own accord.

"Aah! AAHH!" I screamed in agony, feeling the imprint of the rings of his fingers on my cheek. Leaving it red and rosy.

It took every ounce of my willpower, to not slap him back, right at that moment.

"Remember this slap if you dare to waste my time like this again!" he spoke menacingly, marching away.

*

This girl is bawling her eyes out for god knows what! Just because she wants to be relieved from her studies and assumes that her parents don't love her? If they didn't, they wouldn't have been bothered about her academics!

*

Staying up late nights, I worked hard to learn writing, all by myself. Every morning completing rest of the household chores, half asleep, was proving to be a difficult task.

The fear of getting caught in the storeroom those nights.

Leaving not a single trace of my work in that place, so that no one stumbles across it.

All these efforts were useless. I realised that one fine morning.

Exposed by that ferocious monster when I fell asleep there, head rested on sheets of paper and ink bottles beside me, just when my eyes caught the first ray of sun.

*

"I just want to die!" she whimpered.

My opinions stand firm. She is stupid.

*

Dragging me by my waist length hair through the corridors of that hell of a mansion, he pushed me into the courtyard, making me fall on my face.

As blood trickled down my face from the impact of hitting the marble floor, I looked at the audience gathered. Even a single pair of eyes sharing some 'sympathy' at least, would have been fine.

But I found none. No saviour.

Inhumane pigs.

And I knew what was about to come. But I had to do something before that.

Standing up on my broken limbs, I walked to the pig headed male chauvinist.

Lifting my bruised hand, with all the strength I could muster, I slapped him. Tight.

He staggered for a bit but then looked up. Eyes red, full of rage.

Looking into those eyes with a fire stronger than his, I sent my message clear.

I had done no wrong and I will face whatever I had to.

Moments later I felt the sticky red fluid ooze out of my stomach, as I clutched onto the dagger stabbed in there.

As I crumbled to the ground, my legs unable to support, I felt the pain.

Not the pain of bleeding to death, but their betrayal.

My parents who stood there watching, doing nothing.

I locked my eyes with the women of the house gathered around. Not even a flicker of pity? Hope?

The courtyard was basked in sunlight, but the marble tiles were cold.

It was a winter morning.

The golden spots of light danced in front of my brown eyes before they lost their charm and turned into black spots, lifeless.

Like me.

And then,  just like millions, I was another victim of honour killing. 

*

"NO ONE LOVES ME!" she screamed louder, letting go of her Pashmina shawl.

Giving her a nasty look, specially after my lovely trip down the memory lane, I finally decided to speak up.

"Listen Aayushi!"

"If life had taught me anything it is the fact that you live in this world for yourself. Others may love you, may not love you, may care for you or not."

"But you! 'You' have to love yourself! Unless you love yourself, prioritize yourself, understand by yourself what is good for you, you ain't getting anywhere!"

"The art of reading and writing has the power to make a man rise from ashes. Utilize it wisely, for there are many, not as fortunate as you, to be encouraged to learn this."

The tear stricken girl lets my words sink into her dense brain. And the moment she does, she runs towards the locked door.

Grasping the latch she turned slowly.

"Can I ask you something?"

I nodded my head impatiently, looking around for Thanatos to appear anytime.

"When did you die?"

I paused for a second and sighed, "1817, when I was twenty one."

She nodded and proceeded to open the door.

"Aayushi!" I called out, gaining her attention.

"Aayushi, the one who lived long. Live up to your name!" I whispered, drifting back to my soft clouds.

Exhausted from that confrontation, I decided to wander for sometime, to clear the smog in my mind.

"Kanchan!" Thanatos called out.

"You saved her didn't you?"

Trying to get away, I heard him continue.

"Why did you change your name after getting here? Why do you not like being called 'Kanchan'? What should we call you?"

Looking at the blood stains of that day, still blotched all over my hands , I replied.

"Kanchan means gold. And I held more worth than the few gold dimes which they spent on my marriage."

Drifting closer to him, I spoke in a hushed tone, making each word clear.

"Kanchan, is dead. This-," pointing at my misty form "-is Lekha."

"And Lekha, means, 'the art of writing'!"

Floating in the sky, I dove in and out of the clouds.

I fly in the sky, relishing the silence, watching the clouds ruffle in ripples.

I felt the chains of my memories holding me back, snap and fall into nothingness. Perhaps, talking with that girl did 'me' more good than her.

Embracing my freedom, I finally, let myself be free.

At last, I was nubivagant.

---