Chapter 22

Arjun walked back to the dorms, the buzz of the fest still ringing in his ears. As he approached his room, he noticed the door slightly ajar. A sense of unease settled in his chest. The door to his room was never left unlocked. Pushing it open, he stepped inside, expecting to see Banishree sitting on the bed or maybe sleeping. But the room was eerily quiet.

"Shree!" he called out, his voice echoing in the empty space. There was no response. He called out again, louder this time, "Shree!" Panic started to set in as he quickly checked the bathroom, only to find it empty as well. He hurriedly checked the balcony as well. He was starting to get worried.

His mind raced. "Where would she go?" he thought, dialling her number. The familiar ringtone echoed around him, but it only served to amplify his worry. Her phone was here, but she wasn’t.

Arjun sat down with a thump on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair in frustration and anxiety. He felt utterly helpless. His eyes scanned the room in desperation, and then something caught his attention—a piece of paper on the study table.

He walked over to it, a sinking feeling in his gut as he picked it up. The note was brief, written in her familiar handwriting. As he read the words, his heart sank further.

"Hum teen hazar liye hain. Koshish karenge aap ko lauta dene ki. Khayal rakhiye ga, Doctor Babu apna. Banishree." (We have taken three thousand. Will try to return it to you. Take care of yourself, Doctor Babu. Banishree.)

Curling the paper tightly in his hand, Arjun clenched his jaw, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven gasps. He couldn't believe it—his wife had left him. But why? That disturbing question hammered his head. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. Where could she have gone? She didn’t know anyone around here, didn’t know the city. The thought of her alone, vulnerable, and scared made his blood run cold.

He needed to find her, and he needed to do it fast.

Arjun didn’t waste a second. With his heart pounding in his chest, he pulled out his phone and quickly dialled Lola's number. The phone rang twice before Lola picked up, his voice still filled with the excitement of the fest.

“Arjun! Where are you, man? Sunidhi’s about to sing another hit—”

“Lola, listen to me!” Arjun interrupted, his voice tight with urgency. “Bani’s gone.”

“What?” Lola’s tone shifted immediately, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. “What do you mean she’s gone? Where did she go?”

“I don’t know!” Arjun nearly shouted, frustration bubbling over. “She left a note saying she’s taken three thousand rupees and she’s gone. I have no idea where she is!”

“Calm down, Arjun. We’ll find her,” Lola said, trying to keep his own nerves in check. “I’ll call Chola and Nikhil, and we’ll meet at the dorms in five.”

Arjun hung up and immediately called Chola. He picked up on the first ring, the music still blaring in the background.

“Arjun, what’s up?”

“Chola, Bani’s missing. She left a note and I think she’s run away.”

“Wait, what? Why would she—”

“I don’t know, okay? But we need to find her. I’m losing my mind here,” Arjun replied, his voice cracking with worry.

“Alright, alright, I’m on my way. Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” Chola reassured him.

Within minutes, the three friends arrived at Arjun’s dorm. Lola was the first to speak as they all gathered inside the room.

“Where do you think she might’ve gone?” Lola asked, looking around the room for any clues.

“She doesn’t know anyone here,” Arjun said, running his hand through his hair again. “I don’t even know if she has enough money to go anywhere far. She could be out there, scared, and alone.”

Chola, trying to think logically, asked, “Did she say anything to you today? Anything that might give us a clue?”

Arjun shook his head. “Nothing. She was perfectly fine at the fest. She was smiling, enjoying herself… I just don’t understand why she would leave like this.”

Nikhil, who had been quiet, spoke up, “Maybe she overheard something, or someone said something to her. We need to split up and start looking. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“Arjun, you and Nikhil check the railway station and the bus station nearby,” Chola instructed. “Lola and I will search around the campus and nearby streets.”

Arjun nodded, grateful for his friends’ quick thinking and support. “Thank you, guys. We need to find her. I can’t… I can’t lose her.”

“We’ll find her, Arjun,” Chola said firmly, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s move.”

With that, they all split up, each of them on their way to find Banishree and bring her back home safe.

Banishree stood at the side of the road, clutching her small bag of belongings, her heart heavy with the decision she had made. The bustling streets of Delhi were overwhelming, especially at night, but she forced herself to stay calm. She had to leave. She had to get away before Arjun started looking for her.

Spotting an auto-rickshaw approaching, she stepped forward and flagged it down. The vehicle slowed to a stop beside her, and the driver, a middle-aged man with a weathered face, peered at her curiously.

“Bhaiya, Railway station jana hai,” (Elder brother, I need to go to the railway station) she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The driver eyed her carefully, noticing her small bag and the uncertainty in her eyes. “300 bhada lagega,” (The fare will be 300 rupees) he said flatly.

Banishree’s eyes widened in surprise. She remembered when she had first arrived in Delhi with her husband, and he had only paid 100 rupees for the same ride. “Bhaiya, bhada toh 100 hai na,” (Brother, isn’t the fare only 100 rupees?) she asked softly, hoping to reason with him.

The driver’s expression hardened, and he shrugged arrogantly. “Madam, chalna hai toh chaliye,” (Madam, if you want to go, get in) he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Banishree hesitated for a moment, looking down at her feet. She knew he was overcharging her, taking advantage of her vulnerability, but she didn’t have the strength to argue. The urgency of her situation weighed on her mind—she had to leave before Arjun realised she was gone.

With a quick nod, she climbed into the auto-rickshaw, settling into the seat with a resigned sigh. She gripped her bag tightly, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes again. As the auto-rickshaw pulled away from the curb, the realisation of what she was doing hit her hard. She was leaving behind the only happiness she had ever known, the only man she had ever loved.

But she had no choice. She had to go.

The more she thought about what Shreya had said, the deeper the wound in her heart became. She couldn’t stay, not after realising she might be the reason a thriving relationship had been shattered.

How could she live with that guilt? How could she continue in a marriage built on someone else's tears? Her maami ( maternal aunt) had always warned her that a marriage built on someone else's pain was cursed, destined to fall apart. Those words echoed in her mind, making her heart ache even more. Though she didn’t know this woman, Alia, her heart ached at the thought of being the cause of her suffering. She just wanted to apologise, to tell her that everything she had done was out of ignorance. Now that she knew, she was doing the only thing she could think of to make it right—she was leaving.

But as the auto-rickshaw bumped along the uneven roads, another feeling began to creep into her chest. Anger. Resentment. How could Arjun have played with the emotions of two women? The thought of him having a life with Alia, all while bringing her into his life, made her blood boil. How could he do this? How could her Doctor Babu, the man she had come to trust and love so deeply, be so heartless?

Her maami's warning came back to her, more forcefully this time. Never trust a man. The words cut through her, a harsh reminder of the world’s cruelty. Perhaps her maami had been right all along. Perhaps she had been foolish to believe in love, to think she could be happy. How could she have been so blind?

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she let the anger take hold. She would never forgive him for this. He had shattered her trust, destroyed the one thing she had held dear. How could she ever look at him the same way again? The man she had adored, the man who had promised her a lifetime of happiness, had betrayed her in the worst way possible.

As the auto-rickshaw sped towards the railway station, Banishree felt her resolve harden. She had been naive to believe in fairy tales, in happily ever afters. Life wasn’t like that. It was harsh, unforgiving, and she had learned that lesson the hard way. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her heart heavy but her mind made up. She would leave this life behind, and she would never look back.

She stepped out of the auto-rickshaw, paid the driver, and made her way to the ticket counter. Her heart was heavy, and her mind raced.. As she reached the counter, she quietly asked the clerk, "Ek general dibba ka ticket. Patna jana hai." (One general compartment ticket. I need to go to Patna.)

The clerk glanced up at her, a bit puzzled. "Konsi train?" (Which train?)

"Koi bhi. Jo sabse jaldi rawana ho jayegi," (Any train. The one that leaves the earliest.) she replied, her voice barely steady but carrying the weight of her decision.

The clerk handed her the ticket along with the change. She glanced at the ticket and saw that the train was scheduled to leave in just 20 minutes. A wave of anxiety mixed washed over her. She could feel a headache coming on, but she pushed it aside. This was no time to focus on anything but getting away.

She quickly bought a bottle of water and two packets of biscuits from a nearby snack shop on the platform, knowing she needed something to keep her going on the long journey. When she boarded the train, she wasn't surprised to find the general compartment crowded. Every seat was taken, and people were standing wherever they could find space.

A man noticed her standing with her bag, looking lost, and offered her his window seat. Banishree gave him a grateful smile, too exhausted to say much, and sank into the seat. Resting her head against the cool glass of the window, she watched the scene outside.

The platform was bustling with life—families saying their goodbyes, some with tears, others with smiles. She could hear the announcements echoing over the loudspeakers, mixing with the chatter of the crowd. The station, always alive with activity, felt like the heartbeat of the city, a constant reminder that life goes on, no matter what.

As she sat there, she couldn’t help but smile, though it was bittersweet. She thought back to the first day she had arrived in Delhi, nervous but hopeful. Arjun had been by her side, introducing her as his wife, that had warmed her heart. Now, here she was, leaving everything behind, running from a life that had turned out to be built on lies.

The train started to move, slowly pulling away from the station. Banishree felt a strange sense of calm despite the tears that still welled up in her eyes. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she knew she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t live with the thought that her marriage had caused someone else pain.

As the train picked up speed, the world outside the window blurred into a mix of lights and shadows. Banishree closed her eyes, letting the steady rhythm of the train soothe her, at least for a moment. She was leaving behind a part of her life, a part of herself, but she hoped that somewhere down the line, she would find the strength to start over.

For now, all she could do was breathe and wait for the next chapter to unfold, even if it meant doing it alone.

************************************

Vote and comment!

Hare Krishna!