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Gauri, a young village girl ho...
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Mayur Palace
Silence greets the once joyous atmosphere. The music stopped as females focused more on the troubled whispers emitting from the big hall. Their minds jump from one conclusion to another. None of them were positive. Kishan Singh squirmed under the onslaught of judgmental looks. Wiping the sweat beads from his forehead for the nth time, he stares at the door where a doctor just disappeared.
They found her in a terrible condition. His daughter. When she didn't return or respond to any of her mother's calls, a troubled Rukmani rushed to him. The bathroom door was locked from inside. He tried to break it, but alas, it didn't budge as if was glued to the wall. Banging the door with his fists, he has shouted Gauri's name catching the attention of guests. Sumitra arrived at the site with three bulky guards and using all their strength, they threw themselves against the door, still, it didn't move. It is when Rukmani started crying. Sumitra encouraged the guards to go again, worry lines made her look frailer. But the door didn't open.
The family was shocked and terrified to the core.
"I told you, forcing her into this relation isn't going to bring any good. What if my daughter hurt herself? Kishan, if something happens to Gauri, I will never forgive you!" the mother exclaimed angrily, unable to find a solution for this sudden chaos that tackled the happiness. Kishan could only gulp and squeeze his chest to soothe a buckling heart. His knees felt weak at the thought of his little girl getting hurt. All of them were contemplating ways of breaking the door open when the knob twisted on its own from inside and a swaying Gauri steps out. No one spoke. No one moved. The perspiration coating her skin like a glove and disheveled hair punctuated a different tale. White as a ghost, she stepped out of the bathroom on unsteady feet. Her lips trembled like a leaf on a wintry night. Her head was too heavy to stand straight on the shuddering spine. When Rukmani touched her elbows, flinched. She was burning.
Guiding Gauri towards the bed, Rukmani covers her with a quilt. A frozen audience scrunches their nose at the rotten smell that wafted from the bathroom heavily. Sumitra gagged, her hold on the wooden cane tightening. The experienced eyes of the old woman scanned the interior of the polished bathroom thoroughly, finding nothing out of place until her eyes fell on the cracked mirror.
Despite Kishan's protests, she steps inside to gauge the cause. The mirror was intact an hour ago, she knew. She was here to freshen up while the girls were enjoying the ceremony. The bathroom didn't reek with awful stench before. From the talks of old, she reached a dangerous conclusion. To test her theories further, she exhaled heavily, and as suspected transparent fog accumulated near her mouth.
Gritting her teeth at the lies of the palace, she walks out and asks Rukmani to call for a doctor. Taking Gauri's hand in hers, she watched the henna. The color was dull. Impossible.
She has witnessed how Gauri's friends teased her about the dark shade of brown appearing at her fingertips. It was as if someone stole the whole color rendering her painted hands a blank canvas of unfathomable future. Again, it wasn't possible considering how the artists mix special oils to bring color to their beautiful designs.
