Daughters of Kalika

২৭. kalika

She is the daughter of a veshya. She is the daughter of Kalika.

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Sundar was ready to tear apart the head of the culprit from the body when he saw that lustful creature. He had never imagined such a twisted mind would be alive in the world, and that too in the pious village of Kalika. Whatever be it, now that it happened, he was ready for war.

"Maya needs us. We cannot just stand still. Damn it, where is Hrishav!"

Aadi Babu stiffened. His grip on the revolver threatened to slip due to the excessive sweating. He shut his eyes and shook his head.

"What happened, Aadi Babu?"

Sundar kept his rifle down and looked at the old man with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I have a question to ask..."

"About what's going on?"

"Yes."

"Ask away."

"How much does it take for a man to become what he once hated and feared?"

Sundar's shoulders slumped. He stared at the ground, his mind a blank slate to jot down theories. "I suppose it is possible. But why–"

A needle pricked and peeled the skin inside his throat. He ceased to move and for moments refused to breathe, gulping in the internal bleeding of memories. "Do you know who is doing this?"

Aadi Babu didn't reply and denied matching his gaze with Sundar. The latter bent forward and begged Aadi Babu to look at him. "Please, don't joke. This isn't the moment. Don't tell me that–"

A feminine scream pulled everyone's attention. All eyes now on the temple, the scene that unfolded next made everybody drop their jaw. Shekhar carried a bloodied body on his shoulders, and when it became obvious whom it belonged to, Anandi revealed all her rage.

"Lalita!"

Her voice made goosebumps rise. Her eyes had darkened to a shade of deadly red coated with tears. Shekhar dumped the body and it rolled down the stairs. Nathu held on to his wife, not allowing her to escape. The otherwise unsympathetic man was quivering too, his eyes wet along with the ones in the crowd.

But it wasn't what troubled Sundar. He knew Lalita's death would hurt him too, for the woman had helped him in the past, and took good care of his love.

It was the scream of his love that snatched away his soul.

Running behind Shekhar was a sobbing Sahiba, her cries reverberating like broken bangles clanking on the floor. Just that, this time, it was the man on the brink of widowhood.

Sahiba had dressed in red and kept her beautiful hair open. Her black eyes appeared like two studded obsidian stones. Yet, despite being so serene, she was the serenity of destruction, the very image of doom coming.

Sundar threw away his rifle and ran like a madman towards the barrier. Sahiba too, upon matching his gaze with him, hopped down the stairs, often missing a step in the rush. They were so close to the promise of being the closest...

"Sahiba, don't go there!"

And he hit the barrier, fell down, and rose up again. His will desired to crush the ruthless, monstrous wall that separated him from his beloved. Each called the other's name, but neither could reach the destination. Sundar fell defeated to the ground, crying and helpless, while Shekhar smiled as he yanked away Sahiba by the hand. Soon, Sahiba and Shekhar were inside the garbha griha. The crowd sprinkled water on Sundar's face and rubbed his hands and feet.