Winner of Wattpad India Awards 2020 (Judge's Choice) in the New Adult category.
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"The lights are cheeky, you can't live without them, and yet if you get too close, they'll blind you. Darkness? Well it doesn't cheat. It's cool and soothing. It's r...
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They returned to Bhabra three hours past dusk. After checking up on the cows, Chikki and Suman, Madhu had little energy to do anything but crash.
The following morning, a plan was imprinted in her mind even before the crust completely fell off from her eyes. If it could be called a plan.
It was more of a sense of purpose, an urge to unclutter. Something. Anything. Everything. She continued to lay on the bed, preparing herself for the day. Nakul's side was cold. Seven in the morning and he was already up and about. That relieved her a little, she still had some time.
Six days.
A quick bath and breakfast later she drifted out of the house, wrapped in a shawl to guard against the beginnings of winter chill. Behind her, she was pulling on the garden trolley Nakul had rolled in her art studio many moons ago, carrying the murtis she had finished painting on Dusshera. Dried and ready, they were to be kept in the empty school room behind the temple until Diwali.
She placed the murtis beneath the table Sunanda used, covering them with a newspaper and making a mental note to take her cell number from Satish for enquiring after her. Leaving the room, she considered going inside the temple to look for the Pundit when she spotted a saffron robe disappearing from her line of sight. She followed it around the temple until she spotted the old man on the ghat, lips muttering in prayer as lose marigold petals slid from his open palm into the water.
Toeing out of her flats, she descended the steps until she was next to him, cool water rising up till her ankles and soothing the cuts on her bandage-free feet. He tipped his head to acknowledge her presence, speaking only after his palms were empty and the mantra complete.
"How are you this morning?" It was a simple question, unassuming even. But there was something about the way he asked it that made her pause, wanting to be honest yet impress him at the same time. In their short friendship, she had become used to his eccentric, almost eerie way of speaking. Low baritone forcing her to stop and think about her answer.
"Pretty good," she said slowly. "Happy even, but I don't know where to go from here."
"To sustain that happiness?"
"Yeah. I cannot stay here, in Bhabra I mean. As much as I love this place, I need to go back."
"Wasn't that always your plan? What's holding you back now?"
"My newfound source of happiness?" she found herself saying then immediately cringed at how corny it sounded, regardless of how true it was.
"Then you need to do redirect your source. Happiness should come from within. It's unfair to burden anyone else with that job." He turned around to pick up his white cotton jhola lying on the top step before returning to her side.
"Okay I'm not here for one of your spiritual lectures." She didn't bother asking how he knew it was someone instead of something.
"I don't give lectures, that's the job of a guru I'm a pundit."
