Dhampir of Kalika

২৫. remember me

You don't need a reason to love.

****

Soon after the news spread of Mrinjay's death, horror shrouded Khatra. Kalikacharan Babu's body was found in the room of his late father Benoy Das. The inhabitants of the mansion, especially Khirodh, said she had heard the voice of her mother Radha Devi. She didn't dare to open the door to that room.

In the morning, Kalikacharan lay in a pool of blood, the silver dagger protruding from his stomach.

"Maa came to take you..." Khirodh murmured under her breath. Raktim, to the shock of all the villagers, performed the last rites of Kalikacharan Das, and even went bald as traditions demanded.

Now, Mrinmoyee was the unofficial lady of Khatra, the sole leader of the zamindari in this aftermath. She assembled the villagers in a meeting, then told them about the very raw, unadulterated truth of their existence- the vampirism in their blood, the adultery of Kalikacharan Das, and the sacrificial murders of the girls carried on by the men of her family. At the end of explaining whole of the history, she asked for forgiveness, which, for the love of Raktim, the villagers granted.

Some pitied the doctor, but more than sympathy they felt a cold anger towards the Das. Even if Raktim would remain a son of Kalikacharan, he would still be their benevolent doctor Raktim Roy.

Mrinmoyee declared him to be the official heir to the zamindari. Khatra tasted the nectar of bliss. With open arms the decision was accepted. Raktim, whether he wanted to or not, had to give in to the wishes of his men, who would now be his subjects.

Healing was a slow process but inevitable. The women of the Das family were now able to eat food like normal humans, live and breathe like the most beautiful creation of God. Death was something they could now think of, a bittersweet companion of mortality that promised eternal reciprocation of immortality. Eleven days later the shradhha of Kalikacharan Das was performed by Raktim. At the end, the bastard lived to do the duties of the perfect son.

"Kopaler likhon," Raktim whispered as tears flooded his eyes. "I was shunned all my life, and yet, even after being so undeserving and ugly, I get to enjoy this vast richness and wealth."

"A king cannot stray away from his responsibilities." Maya, now of a better health and recovered from the shock, stood beside Raktim as a loyal friend. "You will have to look after them."

"Gold will burn my skin, Maya. I am not meant for such a luxurious life."

"To the true Chandrasekhara, gold and ashes are equivalent. Whatever life offers, you wholeheartedly accept."

Mohini had told Maya about Raktim's encounter with Kalika. The holy event elevated Raktim's status in the eyes of the common folk. However, to Maya, he remained undifferentiated from his past self. There wasn't anything extraordinarily special about him, although she wished she could see the goddess too.

Maybe she would see Kalika through his eyes.

"I am going to leave tomorrow. The bus is going to depart at six in the morning," Maya informed. It would have been a utter lie if she denied not feeling her voice shake. She refused to acknowledge the pain in her bosom, but it only increased it tenfold. "Will you come to drop me at the station?"

"I will. I would have, even if you didn't ask."

Maya smiled. She felt guilty of looking into his eyes. Her life and work was such that she couldn't promise to be here, at his side, forever. Destiny demanded her to climb higher, and she also couldn't force Raktim to leave Khatra. He had to be the father figure to these people who dearly loved him. Raktim couldn't abandon them.