Thakur's Hidden Desire | 18+

54. Escape

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Inayat POV

'Chalo bulawa aya hai, mata ne Bulaya hai!'

The melodious words invaded my ears, bringing peace to my soul. A small girl came to my seat, and offered a red chunri to me, but the moment I forwarded my hand to hold it, she retracted her hand back.

"You are a muslim! You wouldn't like this, I guess?"

The little girl whispered, and I felt a jolt at my heart. Even this little life has Hindu-Muslim stuff hazing her mind, but who am I to judge her? I was exactly like her before I got married to chhote thakur.

"Hey! Don't say that, and...I'm a Hindu. I just covered my head in this way."

I lied to her, because explanations don't work in this world nicely, and she is too small to understand me. She quickly forwarded her hand again, and I held the chunri. Touching it to forehead, I tied it around there. I covered my hand slightly with the dupatta, and began pondering upon him again.

"What's your name?"

The little girl asked, smiling at me. I grinned at her. She was gazing at my fresh wounds, that were still bleeding. I don't know what name I should tell her.

"Sita....Sita Thakur!"

I muttered in a low voice, remembering how the middle aged woman gave me that name a few minutes ago. Her intentions were evil, but mine are pure with this name.

"You seem hurt. My parents have the first aid. Would you take it?"

The girl sibilated, gawking at my wounds without blinking her eyes. She seemed scared, perhaps she could feel how much pain I was enduring at this moment.

"Sure!" I answered, and went backwards. My wounds were hurting. Both my palms, and biceps were bleeding, drenching my saffron suit into crimson red colour.

The trees, homes and vibe all around was refreshing, but my poor heart was wailing for union with my husband. Would he ever come to know how much pain his wife is enduring? If we ever meet, will he forgive me for what I vociferated against Balraj bhaiya and Dhanraj bhaiya? How is my mother managing to breathe after knowing about my death?

"Jai Mata di, Sita ji! Show me your wounds."

A fair, slightly thick woman appeared before me, and I signalled her to take a seat beside me. She must be the mother of that little girl.

"Assa....Jai Mata Di, didi!"

I muttered, joining my hands together. I was about to greet her in my own way, but I remembered that I had just said a lie to them.

"How did you get so hurt?"

She asked me, quickly wiping off my wounds with the antiseptic, that was applied on the cotton. It was hurting a little, but I didn't react. The pain in my heart was far more than this physical pain.

"I am separated from my husband, and....was caught by the women of lal chowk..."

I told her, and she gawked at me with astonishment. Her breath paced up. I hope she is not misunderstanding me.

"What?.....did they?"

She asked me, her voice turned hoarse and it trembled with fear. She was genuinely worried for me.

"No! I...... I escaped, breaking the window."

I told her immediately, and by then she had covered my wounds with the bandage. I glanced at her, and gently brushed off a tear that travelled down her cheeks. She seems good at heart.