THE CURSED BEAUTY

C-17

"kya maine kuch galat sawal puch liya, bade thakur?" the girl asked. Her questions were like salt on Anirudh's wounds. It hurt him. The girl poked about something which is a sore spot, and was getting him irritated.

"Kaka! Ham yaha puja ke liye aaye hai na? toh bahar walo ke faltu baton par samay kyu barbaad kar rahe hai?" Anirudh taunted. Ram dev looked uncomfortable. He  felt a dash of sadness himself.

"Ishumati. Ham Shubra behen ki atma ki shanti ke liye puja karwaane aaye hai." He whispered.

The girl whose named he knew as Ishumati, looked shocked. Her eyes watered instantly and a few sobs escape her lips. Anirudh's uncle immediately hugs her and starts comforting her, while Anirudh is still trying to calm himself down.

" I couldn't even see Mitarbon ( aunt) the last time" she sobbed of ram dev's chest.

"It was an accident. She died too early" he whispered, while Anirudh just stormed off of the sight.

"She became the mother I never had. And now Durga ma robbed me off her too." She said warily.

"Tell me Ishumati, whenever you visit a garden; which flowers do you pick to make the garlands for Durga ma?" Ram dev asked.

"I would pick the best flowers, bade thakur" she replied while sniffing.

"That's the same logic with people. God also craves love. He picks up a  good people to keep him company" He explained her softly. "Apko bhi yeh puja mein shamil hona chahiye. Agar aap chahe."

"Par thakur Moshaay, aapke bhateeje, hame pasand nahi karte" she replied hanging her head down. It was true. Every time Anirudh and Ishumati met, they would fight. She would tease him and he would scream in anger. It was a bad combination.

"Usski baato ko dil pe mat lo, beti. Wo abhi dukh mein hai" Ram dev sighed. "Hame acha lagega agar aap shamil hongi, baaki faisla aapka hoga."

Ishumati thought about it for a few seconds. Sure, Thakur Moshaay did not like her, but she couldn't waste an opportunity to pay respect to her dead only mother figure in her life. She had come to check over Malti, but the heart breaking news of her Mitarbon's demise had distracted her mind from the topic completely.

"Okay" she whispered and held Ram dev's hand just like a scared daughter would to her father. She trusted Ram dev fully.

Together they reached the puja spot where a hawan kund was placed. A Pandit was preparing all the things necessary meanwhile Shyaam dev was setting a photo of Shubra and adorned it with a garland. Somnath and Batuknath watched everything with a silence. Whereas Anirudh stood in front of the 9 feet tall idol of Durga ma and stared at it.

"Koi mannat mang rahe hai?" Ishumati asked Anirudh .

Anirudh turned to look at her. He noticed that her cheeks had dried tear marks, her eyes were red. Just like his. Seems like this girl was familiar to his mother as his kaka.

"Inse mang mang kar tak gaya hu. Aaj tak dard ke siva kuch nahi mila."

 " Kabhi kabhi sochta hu, ki yeh sach mein hai bhi ya nahi." Anirudh said in a monotone.

"Mai apko nahi janti." She replied but paused for a second. "Par apka dard samjh sakti hu. Maine bhi apno ko khoya hai. Dard kabhi khatam nahi hoga. Bas waqt ke sath kam zarur ho jayega" She whispered. Her eyes again held tears but she wiped them off quickly.

"Chaliye. Puja ka muhoorat ho raha hai" and held out her hand. She thought that now, Anirudh and her had an understanding so he might as well try to be civil with her. But man she was wrong.       Anirudh Roy Chaudhary was a tough cookie to crack.