Painted White

◆ Chapter 3 ◆

*unedited*

Medhabika had nowhere to go. It was evening, and she had spent most the day venturing around Manikya and staying out of the attention of the people. But her adventure had come to an end with the sudden realisation that she did not have any place to stay.

Guest houses would not let an unmarried woman stay alone, neither could she afford them. She could not go to any ashrams, as again, she'd be questioned. Medha sighed and sat at the edge of the beautiful pond she had reached. A row of tall trees surrounded the pond along with a path. The dark water reflected the beautiful sunset. Not many people were there, just workers going to their houses and officers doing the same. Only a shop or two could be seen nearby.

She heard the sound of a motor car on the road behind. She kept staring at the pond when another impulsive thought came to her mind. If she could somehow act like an injured person, the people in the motor car might help. Hoping that they would and without giving the idea any more thought, Medhabika stood up. She began walking around the pebbled pathway in the oncoming direction of the car. When she saw that the motor car was fairly near, she purposely slipped. She did not have to act, because the pebbles scratched her elbows, quite deeply for that matter. Through her pain, she also acted like her right foot had twisted.

Her plan worked when the motor car suddenly stopped. "Is everything alright?" She heard. It was probably the driver of the car. She responded by shaking her head, but not looking at them. Medha had contoured her face to look like she was in unbelievable pain.

The sound of people stepping down from the car reached her ears. She finally looked at two aged people, one woman and a man, coming towards her. "Oh God! It seems like the girl has twisted her ankle. I also see blood on her elbows!" She heard the woman whisper lowly to her husband.

Medhabika tried to get up, but she couldn't. The old man urged his driver to help her up. The man bent forward and picked her up by the elbows, to which she grunted in response. She got up and started limping as the man held her. She was sure that he would have never touched her if it hadn't been for her condition.

"Are you alone child?" The old man askes. He had a thick, bushy white mustache below his nose which matched his hair. He wore fine clothing and so did his wife. Both seemed to belong to a rich family. Just her luck.

Medhabika nodded. The woman's eyes widened, "Why? Where do you live?"

Through her fake, only sightly real pain, she just shook her paid. In a broken voice, she said, "I have no family. My parents died when I was a small child." She sniffled. When she looked up, the faces of the pair held looks that meant that they were expecting more."-And I lived with my chacha ji, but they threw me out of their house when my bhabi spread a false rumour about me." Medhabika inwardly marveled at the smoothness of the lies that slid from her tongue. She also asked for forgiveness to God for saying that her parents were no more.

The pair did not ask further. The old woman nodded sadly to her and whispered something to her husband. The man nodded. "We shall take you to our home. Our servants will treat you."

Medhabika just looked down to her feet. The driver helped Medhabika get seated in the car with the pair. The old woman, who was wrapped in expensive silks and adorned quite a large bindi on her forehand said,"You don't look like you're from here, are you?"

"No. I took a long journey from home." Medhabika felt a tug at her heart at the thought of home. But she didn't have time to think about it. For now, she had to work on looking for a shelter. "I have no place to go. I do not know what to do." She covered her eyes with her hands.

The woman bent forward and grasped her hands, "Do not cry child. We shall help you." The man suddenly  looked at his wife, but did not say anything. He was suspicious or reluctant, she did not know.