The Unventured Passions

Mundane Fairytales

Had it been a fairly tale, Batakrishna and Mira would have taken shelter in some enchanted castle full of dragons, which he probably would have killed or tamed. But neither was it a fairly tale nor was Batakrishna the dragon slayer from the furthest corner of the earth. And needless to say, Mira was no princess either.
Thus, as per the mundane commonness of reality, Batakrishna and Mira had landed infront of an old thatched hut at the porch of which an old woman was trying her best to light a fire to her clay-made oven in hope of boiling some plain rice.

"JethiMaa, we're looking for a way to the nearest village." Batakrishna approached her, and spoke very gently. But the woman didn't reply, neither she looked up to see the man standing infront.
"JethiMaa??" Batakrishna called again.

The old woman was still busy blowing on a small pipe into the oven in order to incite the fire, and looking at her futile efforts with a creased forehead, Batuk finally let out a soft sigh and took the small pocket gas lighter out from his ankle high boot.

Mira smiled at the sight as how Batuk sat down on the mud porch infront of the woman and helped her light the fire.
The woman looked up and smiled too.

"JethiMaa, we're looking for the neare..."

The old woman didn't let Batuk complete as she promptly held his hand and nodded her head sideways.

"I'm hard of hearing son..." Her words sounded older than the wrinkles on her tanned face.
"I can't see that well too." She smiled.

"Oh... " Batuk sighed, as he leaned forward a little to her ear and tried to shout. But the woman stopped him promptly with her feeble hands.

"You two must be tired, come... eat something with me... And then you can walk west to the next village." She smiled, and with an amused expression Batuk turned around to share a glance with Mira.
Mira was smiling too.

"Who? Your wife?"
The woman asked, and Batuk nodded his head sideways.

"Not yet." He murmured inaudibly, and somehow he felt the woman sitting infront heard his heart.
She raised her hand and touched Batuk's jaw in an utmost tenderness, the one expected from mothers alone, and Batuk closed his eyes to feel the warmth.

"JethiMaa, shall I call you JethiMaa?" He shouted to her ears, and the woman nodded slowly.

"JethiMaa sounds good." She chuckled softly, and turned around to pick a small bowl with freshly cut bringal on it.
Mira promptly rushed to help her.

"What's your name Maa?" She smiled tenderly at her as her frail fingers touched Mira's chin to lift her face up.

"Mira."
She mumbled, and looked at Batuk, who inturn shouted her name to the woman's ears again.

"Ohhoo... Mira!! And you are Krishna, aren't you?" She turned to look at Batuk, and he smiled and nodded his head.

"It's Batakrishna, JethiMaa, I'm called Batuk actually." He shouted.

"Good good son, very well..." The woman smiled and exhaled sharply, concentrating on the small pot of rice boiling infront.
"Why don't you get a bath, your clothes look terrible, and then I can serve you with some rice."
She remarked without looking up, and Batuk nodded obediently.

"Isn't there no other house here? Nearby?" He reached up to the woman's ear and shouted once again, and this time the old lady flinched her wrinkled face and moved her head away.

"Son, you are screaming a little too loud, even for me..." She smiled, and Mira pressed the loose hem of her saree to cover the grin of amuse on her lips.

Batuk pursed his lips and move away.

"And, no son, no other house nearby... My husband and I were the only ones living here." She sighed deeply and closed her eyes.
"We were casted out of our village."