The dusty road to the dispensary felt strangely new when Randhir walked it again. He carried his small suitcase in one hand, his stethoscope swinging gently around his neck. For almost two weeks, he had been locked inside the Aggarwal mansion, treated as both a captive and a guest. Now, as he neared the small mud-brick building that served as the village clinic, he felt a strange mixture of relief and unease.
The dispensary door creaked open. Everything was as he had left it: his books stacked neatly, the old wooden chair pushed against the wall, and the cot by the window where patients sometimes rested. He brushed the dust off the desk, exhaled, and sat down.
For a moment, silence filled the room. He thought of his family back in Nashik, probably still worrying about him. He thought of the villagers—how they had no other doctor but him. And, despite himself, he thought of her.
Sanyukta's voice, sharp yet steady.
Her warning: "Na tu bachega, na teri family."
Her eyes, fierce but strangely vulnerable.
Randhir shook his head, forcing the thought away. "I'm here for duty. Bas."
Word spread quickly that the doctor had returned. Within an hour, two women came with their children, one with fever, the other with a cut on her leg. Randhir checked them carefully, his gentle smile returning as he gave medicines.
"Doctor saab wapas aa gaye!" someone whispered outside. But when Randhir asked them about the Aggarwals, the villagers avoided his eyes. Some pretended not to hear. Some simply folded their hands and left quickly. The fear was too deeply rooted.
Randhir felt that familiar frustration rise in his chest. He wanted to help them, to free them from fear—but he was just one man. And the Aggarwals were too powerful.
At the Aggarwal Mansion, That night, Sanyukta sat alone on the terrace, her brothers downstairs celebrating Kishore's recovery with loud laughter and drinks. The wind carried the sound of drums from a nearby wedding, but she wasn't paying attention.
Her thoughts wandered back to the doctor.
"Aaj se wapas apne dispensary mein hoga... patients dekh raha hoga. Itna seedha hai... aur itna ziddi bhi. Kitna ajeeb admi hai."
She frowned, annoyed with herself.
"Sanyukta, ye sab sochna band kar. Doctor ke baare mein zyada sochne ki zaroorat na hai. Usne bapu ka ilaaj kara, isliye bach gaya... bas. Aur koi wajah na hai."
Yet she couldn't ignore the uneasiness in her heart. The way he had smiled at her, even after being tied and threatened. The way he had spoken about his maa. It all kept replaying in her mind.
Randhir sat by the lamp in his dispensary, writing notes in his register. Outside, the village was quiet, the only sound the occasional bark of a dog.
Sanyukta leaned against the cold stone railing of her terrace, staring at the stars.
Both of them, unaware of the other, were thinking the same thing.
"Why can't I stop thinking about that person?"
YOU ARE READING
Fight For Right
Short Story"Innocence versus brutality. Right versus wrong. Two souls from completely different worlds-one raised to protect, one trained to kill-find their fates bound together. What happens when a naive boy falls into the hands of a girl for whom mercy is a...
