The next morning, Rudra stepped out into the village street, the crisp Rajasthani air brushing past him like a whisper of secrets.
The sun was still mellow, casting long shadows on the cobbled path. He didn't want to linger. He wanted to be back in Dehradun, back with Abhimanyu, whose laughter had become the only music in his quiet life.
He needed to clear his head, so he walked toward the village pond. The same one where, a few days earlier, he had stepped in to help a young boy being bullied by older kids. And a girl thanked him for being kind.. She was a very silent girl.. She didn't even talk much..
Today, the pond was quiet and only a few women gathered near the steps, filling brass pots and gossiping in low tones. As Rudra passed by, the voices hushed slightly. Eyes followed him. A few whispers broke free, fluttering like restless pigeons.
"Yeh toh wahi sheher ka ladka hai na...?"
(Isn't he the guy from the city..?)
"Haan... jo Aadhvita bitiya ke saath dekha gaya tha..."
(Yes... The one who had been seen with Aadhvita)
Rudra frowned. He wasn't new to judgment. Back home, he had dealt with far worse relatives who shunned him for raising his sister's child, friends who quietly distanced themselves once the baby came into the picture.
But this was different. This wasn't disapproval. It was curiosity.
And curiosity bred fire faster than hate.
By the time he returned to his homestay which is at the outskirt of the haveli, even the servants had started behaving slightly differently. Not rude, just... overly polite. Too cautious.
Suraj Singh, Aadhvita's father, called him into the inner courtyard of the haveli later that day. The man had the kind of presence that came not from volume but from stillness like a mountain watching over its people. But Rudra could see the strain on his face. The twitch in his jaw. The conflict in his eyes.
"They're talking," he said simply, without looking at Rudra.
Rudra remained quiet.
"They've been talking ever since you helped that boy near the pond... ever since they saw you and Aadhvita walking together back that evening."
"We weren't..." Rudra stopped himself.
"We didn't do anything wrong."
"I know that," Suraj Singh said. "You know that. But here..." He gave a long breath, then turned to face Rudra. "They don't need facts. They only need stories."
Rudra looked away, jaw tightening.
"Some of the elders approached me this morning," Suraj Singh continued. "They're saying it looks bad... a girl of this village, still unmarried at twenty-one, spending time around a city boy."
"I never..."
"I know," Suraj interrupted, gently. "I've watched you. You're not that kind of man."
There was a silence between them.
"But they are pushing for marriage," he said finally.
Rudra looked up, stunned. "Marriage?"
"They say it's the only way to preserve her dignity. Your dignity. And mine."
Something inside Rudra snapped. "This is absurd. We talked once. Once. And that too in public. We helped someone. That's all."
Suraj Singh placed a hand on Rudra's shoulder. "You're not wrong. But I am the village head. My silence will be seen as bias. And I have stayed silent too long already."
"And Your daughter?" Rudra asked, voice quiet now. "What does she want?"
Suraj Singh's hand dropped away.
That evening, Rudra stood alone near the well, watching the sunset bleed into the desert sky. Aadhvita passed by once, her dupatta fluttering gently in the breeze. Their eyes met for a moment. She paused, then looked away.
She had heard the rumors too.
He wanted to say something. Ask her how she felt. Tell her this was madness. But his voice faltered. And hers, as always, remained silent.
That night, as he lay in bed, a strange fear gripped him...not for himself, but for her. Aadhvita, the girl with soft eyes and softer words, was being painted into someone else's story. He had seen enough of the world to know
how cruel narratives could be when the wrong people write them.
And right now, the whole village was writing theirs.
---
Give reviews...♡
Write a comment ...