14 - Sacred Confessions

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Maisha woke up with a pounding head, she was tied to a stone pillar, hands at the back with feet tied in a crouched position. A dirty rag had been smashed into her mouth to prevent her from speaking, she could smell and taste the sand. She looked around the opulently illuminated room to find that it was some sort of a seating area, maybe a living room that looked better than modest and she was the centerpiece of the huge room as if being mocked as a show piece, an artefact on display. She fidgeted about trying hard to loosen the ropes but to no avail, they were secured rather stringently.

She observed her surroundings keenly to figure out where she might've been hidden and how she should escape. Surprisingly enough, she wasn't panicking at all but given the fact that her job was rather dangerous in her other life, it was pretty obvious. Chloroform, she concluded, the reason of her unconsciousness as soon as she woke up.

There was only a single door, no window or balcony. But it was brightly lit with torches and lamps. So it was either an underground hiding or maybe a secluded hut on plinth level. A few minutes later, a man clad in dhoti and wasket jacket came in, gamchha tied on the waist. He was definitely a local.

Reference of clothes

(This is a wasket jacket

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(This is a wasket jacket. Similar to. Just imagine the jacket a bit short and with no buttons and no kurta underneath.)

( That is a traditional dhoti

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( That is a traditional dhoti. A gamchha is a sort of cotton scarf. It can be tied to waist, used as a bandana or just hung on the shoulder. It's a sort of multipurpose cloth)

"You up?" The young man cocked an eyebrow and crouched down in front of her taking the cloth out of her mouth. Maisha wanted to speak but her throat felt so dry, she couldn't utter anything. She just glared at the man in front of her as he just laughed tucking an unwilling strand of her hair behind her ear. She turned her head to the other side in defiance and disgust, cringing at the stranger's touch. "Eyes that spit fire! No wonder our Vikramaditya takes a fancy in an orphan like you," he chuckled getting up. "It's sad I find you ugly." He stated making himself comfortable on the shaiya nearby and continued his rant as Maisha just focused on untying the knots, one by one.

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