अन्तः अस्ति प्रारंभः।
The end is the beginning.
A caterpillar dies, to birth a butterfly. Water evaporates to rain down. Dead carcasses fill the stomachs of vultures.Life gives way to death and death to life. In a vicious circle of different karmas...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
Maitri chided Mihira over her time management, saying that she did not even see the old woman these days. Mihira completed her assigned chore and left for her job, came back and completed her secondary chore and slept off, only to again disappeare as the sun raised over the horizon.
Mihira listened half heartedly, eyes threatening to close as she washed the utensils.
"When your kaka was alive," Maitri continued, sewing something on one of her pink sarees,"I was all interested in only the household chores. Everything had to be done at a particular time, so that my home kept running smoothly. I do not remember his voice these days."
Mihira wondered if she could remember her parents' voices. She heard Shaili in her nightmares often, it would be impossible to forget the piece of her heart that Shaili was, but she did wonder if she would one day fail to recall the faces of her parents.
"It does not mean that I love him any less. I remember all his preferences, I remember the position he used to sleep in, I remember the scented oil he loved to massage in my hair." Maitri continued, a reminiscing smile on her face.
The throb in Mihira's shoulder increased, she remembered Durukti's words. The pride she held, for she was the sister-wife of Kali. The scar that her claw had left on Mihira's shoulder had healed, but looked an ugly mess. It made her minutely worry for the upcoming winters— she knew from experience that flesh wounds hurt worse in cold.
For a moment, Mihira wondered what Durukti felt.
Even a rakshashi was loved, and yet Mihira wasn't.
She buried the ironic chuckle in her throat and have Maitri an apologetic smile, bashful and chided in one. "Tell me more?" She did not wish to hear anything anymore. Hearing about love was as equal to acknowledging that she would never have it. And even if some unfortunate fool loved her, who would want to be loved by her?
Mihira was a nameless body in Kaliyug, and she will be a nameless dead body in Dwapar as well. She would not matter, to anyone, except Rukmini didi and Krishna. They would be the only ones who would remember the stain that Mihira would leave on the epic.
Maitri talked about how their first child died in infancy, and how she and her husband mourned their child. Mihira wondered if her parents mourned her.
(Did they live long enough to mourn her?)
Guilt coursed through her at the thought that Lakshita and Atharva did not even get to mourn their daughter. ____________________________________________________
The next day, Mihira wrote a letter to her faux parents. It was something that she couldn't even fathom thinking, but it was what they expected of their daughter. An update on her well being, a small footnote on being promoted, talk about the great education system and worries about their well being, as well as the well being of Prakriti.
