Chapter 9
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A humorless chuckle flooded the room. "You need not be so horrified, putri," She reached out to her, gripping her hand. Surya stayed still, refraining from flinching at the sudden warmth from her aunt.

"I-I am sorry, I had no idea-"

"Don't be. It's not your fault that I'm this way. And don't worry, your aunt is no cripple and not completely blind. I can make out shapes and colors, vaguely. My... peripheral vision is blind, and my direct vision is smudged. I could see better in my earlier years, but my sight grows worse as I age. It's... it's like an unfinished painting, undefined."

Suruchi let out an inaudible, shaky breath. "To answer your question, I like to observe with the other senses I have. Hearing and touch. They help me achieve something that sight does not let one do. To imagine, to feel. And I learn to live by those rather than the vision that we take for granted."

Surya was stunned. Each word she uttered were pearls of wisdom. She had always pitied the blind, but now her pity feel low and respect for their skills of adaptation soared high. She always thought they lose the meaning of their lives when they lose their eyesight, but now, she knew that they too had high spirits in them. Their other abilities were not shunned, they had only lost their eyesight, not the purpose of living. This was a new side to her aunt. And she was happy to grow closer to her.

"W-when did this happen? Why did my mother not mention it to me in her letter?" Surya felt the grip on her hand tighten as she asked the question.

"She... never knew," her voice was soft, fragile, and vulnerable. "Th-they lit fire to our hideout, separating me from your parents. I tried to escape, but all plausible exits were blocked by flames. But from a distance, I could see your parents fighting against them. But they were outnumbered. Surrounded. The last I saw was the sight of them dragging them away, bounding them prisoners." Her mouth straightened into a grim line.

Suruchi shuddered, lost in the horrific visions of the past. Her eyesight was no more, but the memory was still raw, and burning in her mind.

"How did you escape then?" she asked, laying the other hand upon Suruchi's quivering one.

"My horse. He pulled me out of the fire after the men had ridden away. Poor thing, he came as close to me as it could, neighing loudly. By the time it hauled me atop itself, the skin of his side had been burnt. Even the heat of the flames didn't keep him from rescuing me. The horse hadn't gotten well with me before, he was never fond of me. It's a miracle that he came, without him, I wouldn't be here right now." She allowed herself a faint smile, as the memory flashed past her glazed eyes.

"I never named him. Faithful as he was, he died a few years later. That creature was my savior, and indirectly, your mother was too. She had named him. Ashwaha-" she cut herself off with an involuntary scoff. "The irony. When I was trapped, I only heard your mother call out his name, faintly. I nearly passed out from the pain and smoke the fire created.

"Then, I was rescued. And so, eighteen years passed by. I mostly remember light, the bright yellow flames, and the pale grey smoke going across my then-present vision. My memories are fresh in my mind, so much so that they left a mark I bear to this day. They engulfed my eyesight. They liked it so much, they took it away!" She let out a laugh, one hollow and mirthless. She tried to shove the pain down her throat, but her poor attempt at a joke only showed her vulnerable self. 

Surya wasn't the one who narrated the events, but the pain in her aunt's voice touched her heart. How much strength her aunt must've possessed to withstand the physical and emotional pain!

Surya could never imagine losing her vision, brother-in-law, brother, and sister all at once. She looked up at her aunt with respect. 

Even though she had lost everything, she kept fighting.

Silence reigned on for quite some time, as the two women basked in it. One slowly bringing herself forward into the present, the other trying to go back to the past, to envision the events that had taken place.

Surya opened her mouth to ask another question but her aunt seemed to sense it.

"That's enough for one night, putri." Her voice was normal again, the touch of sadness to her tone gone. "You have long many days ahead of you to learn all about it. Go, go to sleep." In a swift motion, she pulled the curtain across the window, immediately darkening the room again.

Surya nodded in the dark, not seeming to grasp the fact that her blind aunt could not see her actions in the dark. She felt the clay walls for guidance and made her way out. She trudged slowly, step by step, as to not step on something. As she reached the door handle, her aunt called out.

"Wait," the princess heard some shuffling before it went quiet. Surya stared into nothingness, as she waited with the one thing she always seemed to lack. Patience.

"Give me your hand." She bit back a scream when Suruchi's voice appeared right in front of her. She blindly reached out her hand in the dark, stopping as it touched the soft pallu of her saree.

Warmth touched her hand, then moved to her cheek, a thumb tracing the outline of her face. Her fingers warmed her eyelids, her tiny button nose, and her neat lips. She could've sworn she heard a sharp intake of breath before Lady Suruchi spoke.

"You are just like her," the whisper startled her. Not because it was sudden, but because of the heartfelt emotions behind it. It became contagious as Surya's eyes too grew moist.

"Maa Krundhatu, putri. Crying will make you think. And thinking will not let you sleep."

The warm presence vanished and Suryakanti found herself outside her door. She only stared at the wood, swallowing the lump at her throat before walking away, leaving behind only the sound of her footsteps to echo in the empty halls.

* * *

"This time, we will stay here not for a fortnight but at least a month."

Surprised murmurs, hushed, rose up from the women. Chhaya threw Charu a puzzled glance who seemed to mirror her expression. Bahula held up a hand to silence them.

"You will be undergoing training here and learn how to settle down. As you know, we are travelers, nomads with one place here called home that we rarely visit. Most of you have grown old enough that you might want to leave our group to lead a normal life as village folk. This is to prepare you for that. There will be no sisters to help you in your daily chores, none to help manage yourself in times of drought, famine, or any drastic situation. As brave Veer Naryaha, we must all know these basic necessities. You are all dismissed to resume your assignments."

Her friend was about to go away with the crowd when Surya's arm held her back. "Wait, where are you going, Bhagini? I thought we were to pick the fruits?"

"Oh yes, I completely forgot. Bahula Bhagini has told me that I can't. She has called me yet again for 'learning solo house duties' or something of that sort. Apologies, I might have to meet you today evening or afternoon." She gave the younger one a smile.

"Oh, do you know who will be filling in for you?" Surya asked.

Charu frowned, her eyes shifting to the clouds, a crease forming on her forehead. "I'm not sure, Bahula Bhagini must've assigned someone. If not, call whoever is free to help you."

"Alright, see you later!" Surya cheerfully waved at her back as she walked away. She turned around to ask someone to assist her.

Her smile dropped. She rolled her eyes. The ground was empty. Everyone had dispersed away. Guess I'll have to handpick all of the fruits alone. She sighed but brightened up as another thought hit her. Or not.

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Glossary:

Putri (puth-ree) - daughter

Maa Krundatu (maa krun-dha-thu) - 'don't cry' in Sanskrit

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