CHAPTER 7- PETALS OF THE ROSE

In the serene valley, a jarring noise disrupted the stillness—an old truck laboring up the steep slope, its engine growling as it fought for every inch. The sound of that truck was as if many large pieces of iron were colliding with one another. Amidst the discordant sounds, a voice that could hardly be called melodious droned on, repeating the lyrics of a song endlessly, coming from the driver at the wheel of the truck. His dark face was lit with cheerful expressions, and his deep black eyes spoke not in words but in beautiful dreams. One look at him revealed a man content with life, devoid of any complaints. Singing the lyrics of the song to his heart's content, he drove the truck toward a beautiful bungalow perched at the top of the slope, which was slowly coming into view.

He stopped both the song and the car as he approached the large, deep green gate of the bungalow, which stood slightly ajar. Glancing around, he moved his hands on the steering wheel before honking the horn loudly, producing a sound powerful enough to wake anyone from a deep sleep. Then he noticed a woman in a dark shawl approaching the gate from the other side. As she approached the gate, just a few steps away, he recognized the woman.

"Tamir bhaiya (brother), when did you return from Agra?" The woman spoke with a faint smile playing on her shawl-wrapped face.

"Just this morning. Jayanti di, when did you begin working at the bungalow?" He infused his question with a layer of excitement and curiosity.

"Are nhi nhi (no no), I had come for Bholi's father. He went to the old warehouse yesterday evening, saying he would be back soon, but he hasn't returned yet," The worry that had once been concealed by her smile was now unmistakably evident.

"I've just returned with goods from the old warehouse, but Manohar was nowhere to be seen." Tamir said as he adjusted a small amulet tied with a black thread around his neck over his shirt.

"He wasn't there," Jayanti's expression grew increasingly anxious, as if an old fear had resurfaced to haunt her once more. "As he stepped out of the house, he mentioned the old warehouse, and Girish had also arrived to pick him up." She spoke her words quickly and with a hint of anxiety.

"Girish's house was locked when I arrived. I had come alone to pick him up, hoping he would help me load the luggage into my truck.

In the end, I had to single-handedly load all the stuff into the truck and bring it here." He said, rubbing his nose with a hand.

Hearing this, her patience finally snapped. "I've warned him countless times not to set foot in that cursed land at night, but he refuses to listen. And now, of all times, he goes there—during the Aranya Puja." Anger and worry surged through Jayanti's voice, unmistakable in every word, and Tamir, sensing it, quickly interrupted her.

"Jayanti di, he's with Girish, and you know how he is—he can't even breathe without a bottle in hand. Don't let past fears come to life," He said, trying to reassure her. "They've probably just fallen asleep somewhere after drinking. Jaise hi mithe khwaab tutenge, jalim jamana phir yaad aa jayega unhe (As soon as their sweet dreams are shattered, they'll be forced to face the harshness of the world once again). Saying this, Tamir opened the driver's side door, rummaged inside for a moment, and pulled out a small black thread, a green amulet tied to it. "I brought this from Jama Masjid for Bholi," Tamir said softly, his fingers tightening around the amulet. "Make sure she wears it with remembrance. I've prayed deeply for her health and well-being—may Allah accept my prayers." He said, handing the thread to Jayanti with a quiet reverence.

"May my daughter's suffering come to an end," She murmured, her voice heavy with concern. "I must leave now, bhaiya. Bholi is alone at home. If he comes back drunk again today, I'll take her and go to my mother's house." Jayanti said, her troubled expression tinged with a hint of anger.

"Have some mercy on him, didi. He is your husband, after all." Tamir said this with a cheerful laugh, his voice bright and teasing, as he slammed the truck door shut. The sudden impact made something inside the truck clatter to the floor with a sharp, echoing thud.

"Oh..ho," Tamir said, his tone still playful, as he swung the door open again, "Along with the other goods in the warehouse, I also came across a lantern." He said, pulling out a lantern with burn marks still visible on its wicker.

Jayanti, passing by, paused mid-step and turned back. She quickly snatched the lantern from Tamir's grasp, tugging his hand slightly in the process. "This is the lantern from our house," she said, her voice shaking. "He took it with him last night. He always kept it close, never letting it out of his sight." Jayanti said, her fingers brushing over the lantern.

"Girish's company can corrupt anyone, didi." Tamir spoke as he made his way toward the gate. Jayanti murmured something softly, then turned and walked away without a word.

*

Amidst the cool breeze, the white rose petals seemed to slip through her soft hands like cool water cascading from a waterfall. The winds, sweeping down from the high mountains and through the dense forests, struck her face, leaving a soft flush of red that seemed to bloom on her cheeks, like the petals of a lotus. Her deep brown eyes, fixed on the rose petals, were clouded with a storm of thoughts, and she seemed lost within them. "A pity, but no amount of thought will shield you from the cold." A muffled voice broke through her whirlpool of thoughts, halting them in their tracks. She didn't need to see him to recognize the tone—it was enough to know who stood behind her. The sound of his voice stirred a mix of embarrassment and unease within Maithili. Those eyes, lingering behind her, had watched her scream into the night for no reason, and this morning, they had quietly observed her through the mirror, hidden in silence. But she refused to let a single trace of her troubled mind show on her face. "I have long made a habit of this kind of weather." She spoke without looking back, her words laced with a hint of quiet arrogance.

"Ah, the beauty of habits—most are hardly deserving of praise." This quick reply brought a smile to Maithili's lips, a smile that seemed to light up her entire face, as if the moment itself had softened her usually guarded expression. She turned slowly, her gaze once again falling on the man who stood there, his right hand resting casually in his pants pocket. He was staring out at the light fog that hovered just beyond the open corridor of the bungalow, its ethereal mist poised to vanish in the quiet magic of nature's embrace. Maithili waited, her gaze lingering on the proud, unmoving face, hoping for more words to break the silence. But all that met her was a heavy stillness, the kind that seemed to stretch endlessly between them. The image of men she had cultivated in her mind—shaped by the pages of books she had devoured and the characters she had crafted—was a little different from the man before her.

"My apologies for last night," She said, her voice softer now, laced with regret. "I shouldn't have behaved that way." Maithili fought to keep her gaze steady.

"I agree, you're a writer, but those words should have been mine. As for your behavior... it was justified. Your eyes weren't expecting me. It happens." He pulled a golden box of Red-and-White cigarettes from his pocket, extracted one with a practiced motion, and, with a flick of his wrist, lit it using a sleek black lighter before walking away, the smoke curling behind him.

Just then, an ear-shaking sound echoed through the air. Maithili turned toward the noise, her face clouded with a gloomy expression. A truck was being parked near the bungalow's storage room, its exhaust smoke disappearing into the light fog.