1946, Andarmahal Colony, Coochbehar

Shreema quickly put on her saree and the other jewellery. The baby was still sleeping. She was tired but she could not stop, she had to return, Nandan will still be searching for her. Then the nausea took over and she collapsed on the cot. One of the girls came along and held her arm.

"Call Sirisha di," said the other girl through the door while Maya was laid on the cot. Despite her diffused state her off white saree was neatly pleated and her golden belt securely wound to her torso.

The gathering outside was not that peaceful. Andarmahal Colony colony once used to be a dancing school, over time it became something else, it never was a birthing house. The matron there had stopped more births than she had given. There was a roadside shack, a dhaba, outside. Usually highway truck drivers came here to spend the night. The building opened into a massive sprawl with a catacomb of doors and stairs leading to various rooms. A lot of colourful options were available here, the courteseans stood in all their glory, certain people appreciated them more than they did their art. Soon a middle aged woman, similarly feminine like Shreema walked down to the commotion, the girls in the main space stopped talking. This time of the night most of the customers were asleep or dead drunk. The woman adjusted her saree, which was loose ay very specific places. That moment of a quiet commotion, a baby cried out loud, everyone at the dhaba was suddenly civilised. It was astonishing how something that innocent could put the fear of God into the people with the lowest of intentions.

Shreema slowly opened her eyes to the elderly woman called Sirisha, who was now sitting beside her. She looked deeply and said, "you find Asta siddhi yet?"

"Yeah, I am the epitome of realisation," Shreema spoke between screaming in post delivery cramps.

Sirisha pressed down hard on Shreema's left thigh, "you know I had this whole vision when I refused your mother's offer after she got us out of Orissa."

Shreema lifted herself leaning on a nearby pillar, "yes she told me all about it" she was too tired to laugh, "something about birds defining new horizons inside their cages. Accepting and rejecting their captivity at the same time..."

"Yes we were both right at our times...," Sirisha said to be cut off by an bulky man walking down with no apparent equilibrium.

"Where the hell is...," the man looked around noticing the mildly crying baby. He thought it best to walk away.

"...but we gradually being proved wrong by the minute." Sirisha completed her sentence without looking away.

Shreema looked around to the men sitting afar watching and waiting, then she noticed the girls huddled around her daughter. She breathed out heavily and said, "you still teach mohiniyattam to them?"

"I impart only the basic sense of musicality, they are more at par with the Arundale repertoire."

"Sorry to hear that."

"It's still a safe haven," Sirisha looked around, "we rescued some devdasis from lock hospitals and prosecution in some states. How is your.....life going?"

"You can say mistress," Shreema queerly found that word humorous now, "it's a life I chose, it is getting more complicated but I chose it so..."

"Doesn't mean you can't change it," Sirisha coaxed a familiar musicality, "you can remain here."

"No," Shreema's voice got more firm, "he knows me, he'll look for me. I've to protect my child."

"But you're gone, that's what he wants right," Sirisha pressed, "what does he need you for?"

"People remember the stories", Shreema said heavily, "Nandan will want to keep me close. I suspect he already has the stakes erected to burn me."

"It is tragic that you'll risk belonging to him your whole life, just because you possess faith in his demons!"

"Doesn't matter what I am, she", Shreema walked to her child, "oh god, I haven't even thought of a name yet..."

Shreema could've processed the turmoil inside her and started cascading at the spot. Then again throughout the years she practiced suggestions of emotions that were not real. Disciplined herself to make others feel the exact proportion of an emotion to arrive at an epilogue she wanted her audience to. Sirisha patted on her back, Shreema wiped her eyes.

"She sould never be an orphan, you understand me," Shreema almost threatened Sirisha, "I have to go and fight, I allowed something terrible to happen on my watch..."

"I'll make sure of her upbringing," Sirisha promised not to be on the receiving side of a woman's fury, she knew it too well, "you know you can stay here and fight!"

"Princely state of Coochbehar, huh!?"

"The Koch dynasty ruled this area for a long time. They fought against the Mughals, the british and even the Indian government had a hard time with them! This is our home now! We will fight for it!"

Shreema walked away, the girls who gathered there could only look. As tired she was, Shreema increased her pace hurried, not wanting to be near her child. The hurt she felt was refined through her training and aesthetic senses to a special facial expression. She remembered every moment of the time she spent with her daughter.