Weakness

Dragging him, she went inside the hut and lay him down on the ‘shaiyya’. She scrambled through the medicines on the shelves and finally found a concoction for treating wounds. She knew the dose wouldn’t be suffice but she had to keep him going otherwise the guilt of not being able to save him would haunt her every single, living moment of her life. She grabbed some cotton and dabbing the medicine onto it, applied it on the wound. He sighed in pain and she instantly smeared her hand on his head.

The touch of human skin made her realize how lonely she had been.

Tears of self pity ran down her cheeks and she realized that a woman’s life could never be according to her own will. Everything was planned; and she had to abide by it. Otherwise, she would be a taboo, whom the society would look down upon. Alone, deserted and forgotten.

She stared at the man. He didn’t look very old and had eyes the shape of almonds. He had coffee coloured skin which seemed flawless and a sharply accentuated nose. His lips were the colour of the soft pink roses which Ilaa had loved since childhood and a strong jaw line was the dominating feature of his well chiselled face. He had slender fingers, calloused hands and smelt of the earth, with a faint, lingering trace of tobacco. She wondered what might have happened to him that he was so desperate to depart the planet. She vowed to take care of him and spent the next three months, nourishing and revitalizing him, until he could walk on his own and talk.

Budh had changed Ilaa’s life completely. He was from Paithan and was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. A wealthy merchant’s son, he was the pampered darling and had never anticipated any sort of trouble until the ship of catastrophe struck his life with such vehemence that there was no chance for recovery. His parents had put the load of their businesses on him once he had turned eighteen. There was the additional burden of marriage heaved onto his shoulders. He felt like a caged animal; there was nowhere to run to, no escape. He got married three years later but his wife had tragically passed away of an ailing disease within three months of their marriage. The mountain of miseries had just begun. The business suffered a heavy drawback after her death as Budh’s heart ached for her presence.

On a fateful day while walking down a street, he heard an old family friend saying, “Budh never wanted to get married. Maybe his ill will towards the idea of marriage killed his wife.” Budh was livid with anger ; he had never felt this insulted before. And that night, he did not return home.