Fire Soul

“May be the sacred book says I cannot punish you when you are ill but it says nothing about not pleasing your husband,” said Pachan as he pinned Kalyani down. He had a fairly rewarding day, having been able to earn a few coins in a bridge construction work in the neighbouring village. He had been tired when he got home but was not very pleased to learn the deceit of his wife from his son. However, he deserved a night of pleasure after a day’s work and the news of her illness just felt convenient to postpone the punishment to another day. Of course, for Kalyani, this had become a mechanical process that she subjected herself to every other night. She however detested his smell, his putrid breath on her neck, his animal grunts to her innermost core. She often imagined herself getting out of her physical body and strangling him. She knew the rhythm so well and presently she knew it was going to be over any moment. However, the unexpected sound of the midnight bugle jolted him an

Kalyani watched as Paru beat her wet clothes against the rocks with a vengeance. Her drunken womanizer of a husband, Koran, had just tried to pawn her to his imbecile friends in return for a few tolas the previous day. She had given a fitting reply by splashing cow dung water on the delinquents and rubbing her husband’s loin clothes with the itchy nettle leaves. Koran was heard screaming the whole night after his daily evening ablutions. Paru was definitely a fiery one but Kalyani worried for her friend’s life. This time it surely felt like there would be severe consequences. Paru was Kalyani’s only solace in this godforsaken village, the one who tried to cast a silver lining amidst the horror of a life women like her lived every day. She was also the one to advise Kalyani to put Kanchi under Sambhu Asan’s tutelage. “Your Kesu is incorrigible, Kalyani. However, you should be glad you have your Kanchi. That girl is brave” assured Paru, as she continued to beat her cloth

“My lord, a messenger has come from the east,” announced Makaran Sambhu Asan, looked up from the book he was reading. It certainly seemed like an odd hour for a messenger to arrive and then again, he had been waiting on for a response from a certain someone from the east for months now. Sambhu Asan signaled Makran to bring in the messenger There were few routes into Madera that escaped the eyes of the village guardsmen. Sambhu Asan who was well aware of the protected boundaries had sent specific instructions to his acquaintance to enter via one of the many forest routes that connected to Madera through an underground tunnel. The tunnel itself was a well-protected secret and built on months of hard work of Makaran and his men under Sambhu Asan’s guidance. The opening to the tunnel was covered with a strong double wooden door, well camouflaged by leaves and could be opened only from the village end by one of Makaran’s men who stayed always on guard. Presently the messen

“Mother don’t worry. Sambhu Asan taught us today that the sacred text says a husband must not harm his sick and hungry wife. He must wait for her fever to go away before she may be punished. You go to the room and lie down. I will tell father you are ill. In a few days from now he will forget” consoled Kanchi. Kalyani was pleasantly surprised by her daughter’s quick thinking.  Sambhu Asan’s training was indeed doing her a world of good, she herself wouldn’t have known to come up with an excuse like that. Sambu Asan was the revered advisor of Madera. It was alleged that since he was half man and woman, he possessed twice the strength, intelligence and fury than everyone else. Even so, Sambhu Asan perhaps was the only person that showed some concern for the women folk in Madera. They could meet him with his woes and he would lend his ears with empathy, offering guidance and solace as he deemed fit. He was the mediator that had saved many a woman from the cruel punishments of