Appearing in the world unclad and later concealing yourself, will it be easy for them to uncover the layers? When one forfeits hope, the other carries them; that's what love is. A saga that revolves around two individuals whose worlds revolve around...
She replied, smiling and hiding her tears. She was getting mature now!
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"What a weird creature!" Shyama remarked dramatically throwing his hands in the air. The girls chuckled.
"Well, indeed a weird one" Anurag nodded raking his gaze on Shyama.
"No one asked for your opinion, you brat" Shyama muttered.
"No one asked for both of your opinions boys. Keep quiet, my brain hurts" Bondita murmured.
"Still a weirdo. But a good man, though. He helped your Sakha Babu a lot when he was crying," Celicia shrugged.
"Wait, what? Sakha Babu was crying?" Bondita furrowed in dismay.
"Yes, for you. He even scolded Anurag. He got a donor for you. He cried a lot. A lot means a lot. He even said that you are someone. Someone who came into my life quietly, slowly, bringing with her a... a ... uh!" Shyama scratched his forehead.
"Bringing with her a magnificent bouquet of innocence. Someone who transformed my existence with the tenderness of her presence," Anurag drew everyone's attention as he feebly continued.
"That girl, she may hold no significance to others in this vast world, but for me, she is the very meaning of my existence. She is irreplaceable. She... is BONDITA. My Bondita," A tear poured out of Bondita's eyes, which Anurag was quick to wipe.
"He... immensely cares for you, Bondita. He doesn't have to put that in words. Anyone can see that truth naked in his eyes, in the volumes of his action," Shyama said, pursing his lips. Bondita nodded.
"I guess your Sakha Babu Loves you too," Anurag emphasized.
Bondita glanced at him wearily. "Only if it were true. But it isn't." She turned sad.
"It is."
She inhaled deeply, looking nowhere. "You know, being married to him, I always thought whatever we had between us was Love. That twelve-year-old girl wished to live in dreamland. Just food, clothes, loved ones, and lots of freedom... no restrictions; that's the only thing she ever wanted. But was naive to realize the struggle behind each of them. The struggle behind each breath. Until she realized it was all a mirage. That she had forgotten the limitations of her boundaries. The truth was the struggle." she looked at him in tragedy.
"There was nothing like marriage. It was all a swaang. A facade." . . . . . .
"Tch Tch Tch. Dugga Maa, save me. My dear PatiBabu keeps so many books but never cleans this shelf on his own, let alone glances at the dirt in the study," the twelve-year-old Bondita, draped in a blue Banarasi saree with a hairline filled with Sindoor, kept her hands at her tiny waist and gawked at the high bookshelves.
