Bhabra

24. tractors and murderers

Madhulika, who was still not used to her nonchalant way of talking about Vishal's overall depravity, chose to address the second part. "Friends?"

"Would you rather be enemies when we're on the same side?"

Same side. It was an odd way to put it, given that this wasn't a game or a war. But Madhu understood what she was trying to say, and eventually nodded in acquiescence, deciding to keep her reservations private for the time being.

The morning rehearsals went as usual. Madhulika's heart swelled with joy when she saw the kids actually listening to Sunanda teaching, and not just bobbing on their heels impatiently to get to the fun part of school. If the dingy, single room and its metal shelves crammed with old donated books could be called a school. The thought further drilled in Madhu what the indifferent faces of the poorer farmers had.

Neither her nor her father had done anything for Bhabra, in spite of being her most privileged children.

She'd assumed convincing the kids to attend school and pitching in funds for constructing its proper building would be enough. But with each passing day, walls kept closing in on her. Her and the lies she kept telling herself.

Three weeks.

Sunanda had to visit the bazaar after school, leaving Madhu to go home alone.

A group of volunteers were setting up a stage in the empty ground behind the temple. Three piles of hay and dried wooden sticks were being collected to make up the skeleton of Ravana, Kumbhkaran and Maghnath's effigies, to be burnt on Dusshera. Sunanda had adopted a dramatic way to end Dusshera celebrations. According to her script, at the end of the Ramlila, the boy who was playing the role of Lord Ram would send a wooden arrow in the direction of the statues and someone would simultaneously light them from behind, symbolically burning evil to dust. If all went well, the stage won't catch fire too.

She took out the cows for grazing after returning home. Settling down on the wild grass, Madhu watched Gauri and Ganga munch on their lunch while ignoring her overexcited dog. Little Gayatri soon came over to her, folding her skittish legs to rest her brown head on Madhu's lap. The calf closed her big doe eyes when her fingers gently scratched her head.

"You know you have this bad habit of disappearing during mealtimes."

She titled her head to see Nakul standing over her, holding two foil rolls. "Please don't tell me you made paranthas again."

"Champa did," he said, moving to sit on the ground beside her.

They fell quiet, soaking in the warm sun rays characteristic of mid-October afternoons. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, Madhu could almost transport back to the memories of her bunking school and lazing around with Shikha at a secluded corner of the football grounds. Much simpler times, when she hadn't been weighed down by grief and guilt.

Her mind jumped from school to home to Delhi, and in an attempt to distract herself, she turned towards Nakul. "You know that thing you do, the annoying thing?"

"What annoying thing? There are many."

She ignored the way her heart fluttered at the sight of him cuddling her dumb dog as he said that, and pinned him under what she hoped was a pointed stare. "That cryptic thing where you don't give me a straight answer when I ask about your scars. On your face, on your chest--"

"--Been thinking of my chest a lot lately?--"

"--NO, yes, that's not the point it's just." She took a deep breath. "It's just Sunanda was cryptic too yesterday, when she told me about her marriage with Vishal."