Untitled - Katha

48 ◆
on the Britishers’ lips. What were they up to? New faces had
appeared at the Swargadwar and the Hanumandwar. He had
noticed some suspicious characters climbing up the path from
the bank. Would they harm her? He wasn’t sure. Ratnadhar took
a silent oath to protect this English woman with his life.
Such soft eyes. Such beauty and grace. He was overcome with a
wave of tenderness.
Ratnadhar gathered his things. But he wanted to stay under
the huge gamble tree on the Amrajuli bank and watch the boats
come in. Today he would count the boats one by one.
Bidhibala might come.
He had been counting boats for the past six months. She had
promised to come at festival time. So many festivals had gone by.
Durga Puja, Nabanna, Madan Chaturali, Rajeshwari Puja, the
fast of Sath Deodhwani. Bidhibala had not returned. Her hair
must have grown longer. Her braid would hiss like a poisonous
snake when she bathed in the river. She would not be permitted
to worship at the Chinnamasta temple.
As Ratnadhar walked towards the water, memories of
Bidhibala came flooding back. The first time he met her was at
the Kumari Puja.
As she sat on the dais, Shambhu priest argued with a couple
of devotees. “The girl seems to have crossed her twelfth birthday.
Let’s check her hands, feet and chest.”
“She has breasts!”
“She must have reached puberty.”
“It’s just greed.” The kumaris were offered gifts of saris, money,
mirrors and sendur.
Hai – a heinous sin!
The Man from Chinnamasta