She folded her hands and bowed infront of the torn picture of Lord Shiva.
This has been a routine for the last ten years and also, for the upcoming decade.
Her hands were starting to wrinkle, and she looked older than her age. There were dark spots under her eyes and streaks of white hairs, popped here and there among her dark hairs.
She was weary, from dragging herself all day long and even felt remorseful for her condition.
Everytime, she closed her eyes, she became restless and anxious. Every incident seems like yesterday and these ten years had made her realise, that she was helpless and was incapable of forgetting everything and moving on
The rain was beating hard on the tin rooftop, and it made harder for her to concentrate. She kept the book aside, and picked up the pen which he had given him once and said,
“Look here, at the tiny crystal. It glows just like your eyes!”
She had blushed back then. And she did the same ten years later. She smiled from the thought, and couched below, and grabed an old torn diary.
“Amit, why do you keep your diary to yourself? I’m your wife, you vowed to share everything with me!”
Amit had, looked at her frowning, and then quickly regaining he said,
“No darling it is nothing like that!
just used to old habits.”
She was not suspicious. But her insticts had told her something was wrong. For time being, she pushed the thought away, but after that incident, conflicts in her mind was frequent. She was curious at the same time afraid.
Finally she decided to sneak into and steal his diary.
That night, when the village fair was in full flow, people started pouring in from different places and the speakers were loud enough,
back in the village a lone figure, wrapped up in blankets slowly edged towards the bed where Amit was sleeping and then in a flash drove the knife, through his chest.
She cluched her face and stopped herself from crying. She never thought, she would have to bathe her hands in blood. She was no women of empowerment nor, one to speak for her rights.
But when she read,
13th July Friday, 2007
She dosen’t know, I’ve put her up for sale, but somewhere I’ve a weakness for her. She is hard to convince, but not impossible either. Her prices are going up day by day, and she will be a great deal sooner. I don’t care what they do with her, but I’m sure they will just play the ‘master servant game.’ I can see my good days ahead of me but, I’ve to keep this diary out of her reach as she is cunning and can be really be a danger.
Next time I’m on you, she is long gone, and there will be someone else in her place. 🙂
She was stunned. At one moment she decide to talk to him, but eventually realised every attempt except murder was futile and not an option to consider.
Ten years later, she did not repent or regret what she did, instead her heart mourn for the fallacy of his words and her unshaken faith towards him.
Image Courtesy 📷: Pinterest