Married For Three Nights (Complete)

Part 29

No distance of place
Or lapse of time
Can lessen the
Love
Of those
Who are thoroughly
persuaded
Of each other's worth.
-Robert Southey

"Excuse me, is this Amanda Ashram?" Nair dismounted his horse to look at the modest building built out of clay and hay. His question directed at the man cleaning the yard outside.

"Yes" That was all he said, without looking up. Not that Nair cared about small talks or greetings anymore. No! His sanity was about to be split into two, if the physical exhaustion of this long journey wasn't enough already.

He had charged through miles without rest or water, searched every known hermitage of every small town and city between Kashi, Mathura, Gwaliyor but there was absolutely nothing.

When he had left Bundi in search of Meena, his lone hope was fate, that it had bought him and his wife together once, it would do so again.
But all of it seems quite vain now. He should have waited at Bundi, to ask his father, to gather more tit-bits about where they were taking Meena or at least to formulate a plan but all that was holding him now was the sheer strength of his character and will power.

"Can I please see the manager?" He asked.
"Sure!" The man lead him inside.
And just like every other time, he was refuted empty handed.
Forget about any young woman being bought here, recently there were only four women living in the quarters of this Ashram and they were all well over sixty years of age.

The evening sun shone bright upon his head as he strode into the sarai, a small inn for a bit of food and rest. The tables were filled with men of every kind and class. From a nomadic group in one corner to the rich business men on the other.
Nair kept his head low and his oversized shawl covering most of his face, though after covering three thousand miles from Bundi, there was next to zero chance for someone to recognize him here, in a small town called Ramnagar on the opposite shore of Ganges facing Banaras.
But still it was better to be safe than sorry.

He slung off his saddle bag in a corner of the carvansari (Restaurant for travellers) and laid on his back upon the wall that was mostly shadowed from the other travellers for he was quite sure his father must be raging mad by now and men must have been sent around to locate him.

He laid there immobile for sometime and then some more but then the delicious smell of spicy curries and the sights of hot chapattis and breads made his stomach rumble aloud, thus forced he went to wash his face and hands in the large cauldron of water placed near the entrance, before ordering a plate of full wheat bread with curry and a bowl full of hot broth.