The Shadow Blossoms~ Saaya Malar

Chapter 4

As the melodic strains of the **Subrapatham** song echoed softly from the radio, Saritha stepped out of her room, adjusting the folds of her yellow **pavadai** and blouse, a baby blue **thavani** draped neatly over her shoulder.

Her wet hair, still heavy with moisture, was loosely tied up in a towel, the cool droplets of water tracing paths down her skin. The faint scent of sandalwood and incense lingered in the air from the small altar inside, mingling with the fresh morning breeze.

The guesthouse door creaked open, its weathered wood groaning under her touch. With a curious smile, Saritha stepped onto the verandah, her eyes landing on Anusha, who was outside, deep in concentration.

Dressed in a matching baby blue **pavadai** with a mint green **thavani**, her loosely braided hair swayed gently with her movements. Anusha's tongue peeked out slightly as she carefully drew an intricate **kolam** on the ground, the white powder slipping through her fingers like fine grains of sand.

Saritha sat down on the steps, the warmth of the sun creeping onto her skin, and watched with amusement. "What's with the dramatic performance, madam?" she teased, her voice filled with playful laughter.

Anusha shot her a look, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. "You slept like a log while I fought off an army of mosquitoes all night! I swear, it was like a war zone in that room. By the time I woke up, the sun was already high, and I went to the storeroom to see if it was still livable. Guess what? I found a random deity photo in the corner. Care to offer your prayers?" she added with mock seriousness, still focused on her artwork.

Snickering, Saritha rose and wandered back inside, her fingers trailing absentmindedly along the wooden poles as she made her way toward the small altar. The faint scent of the morning **viboothi** and the flickering flame of the single oil lamp made the space feel sacred, yet somehow, unsettling. Tilting her head, she studied the deity's picture, furrowing her brows at the unfamiliar figure.

"Why is this the only deity photo here? And who exactly am I praying to?" Saritha hollered from inside, her voice laced with mild frustration.

"Just shut up and pray!" Anusha shouted back, still engrossed in her **kolam**.

Saritha sighed, offering a quick, half-hearted apology to the unknown deity. The faintest trace of discomfort settled in her chest, a feeling she quickly brushed off. With a hurried smear of the white sacred ash—**viboothi**—on her forehead, she made her way back outside.

As Saritha stepped out, a commotion drew her attention. Anusha was standing face-to-face with a boy holding the reins of a brown cow. The warm morning breeze carried the rich scent of the earth mixed with the musky smell of the cow.

"Who is this?" Saritha asked, her gaze narrowing at the unexpected visitor.

Anusha turned toward her, an exasperated smile spreading across her face. "Our local milkman, it seems. If you want cow's milk, buffalo milk, goat's milk, or even camel's milk, he's your guy!" she said with a light chuckle.

Saritha grinned, exchanging a bemused look with Anusha. "Really? You've got all kinds of milk, huh? Well, not that it matters—we don't even have a stove in that haunted kitchen of ours!" she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The boy blinked, scratching his head in confusion, clearly unsure how to respond. Before he could offer any explanation, a sharp voice rang out from down the street.

"Hey, Kumaraswamy! What are you doing over there?"

Kumaraswamy stiffened, visibly gulping as a girl stormed toward them, her steps quick and purposeful. Anusha and Saritha exchanged knowing glances, stifling their laughter as the boy's face flushed.