For the past week, the clouds had been building up their strength, gradually darkening from a light grey to a bold black and as their dark canopy overshadowed the earth below, they had relieved themselves at the expense of the poor, defenceless population below. Their unwanted generosity had transformed the landscape of the little village. A day before, the mustard and the wheat crops were standing tall in the fields ready to be harvested, and on the very night, an unexpected torrential rainfall had flattened the crops to the ground. The fields that didn’t have proper drainage stood water logged with the crops in their watery graves. The hustle and bustle of a busy agricultural village had come to a standstill, battling with the uncomfortable dip in temperature and unrelenting, unforgiving rains. No one dared come out of the security of their homes, feverishly praying and hoping that their humble abode won’t give away leaving them at the mercy of the brutal weather. The village alleys were totally empty save for a dog or two that whined unhappily at the gloomy weather. The wind howled moodily and the boughs of trees swung lugubriously to its eerie tune. The small houses around were lit with spirit lamps the flicker of which proved how feeble their only source of comfort was. Dirt roads wound their way into and out of the fields, slushy and dangerously slippery, covered in a combination of dung and mud. The onslaught of this terrible weather had forced every life to withdraw but for her.
She had run for miles on the narrow dirt road that opened from the back of her room. Her family had been asleep but not before securing and locking her door firmly from outside. But, she had escaped through the ventilator, sustaining only minor bruises at the hip. But what were these bruises compared to the one that was inflicted on her heart and that, too, by her own kith and kin? As her feet touched the sloppy ground, she had run steadily, cautiously, without once looking back.
Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. She knew that they would find her but not before she was done with her work. Her feet hurt and the slippery road was no comfort but there was no time to stop. She ignored the weather, the whining, rabid dogs, the puddles of mud water, the chilly sword of winds cutting deep into her flesh . . . everything but her object. Her destination loomed closer but her feet didn’t falter as she kept repeating to her—‘Today, I sow the seed of their downfall. They will not escape. . . . They will pay. . . . They will pay. . .’
As her feet hit their destination, she kneeled and started digging a hole in the soft mud. Her eyes blazed with a ferocity that could outshine the fieriness of the sun. Her hands worked with a feverish, manic energy. At a distance, it looked as if an exceptionally passionate rabbit was digging a hole for its shelter. Finally, she looked at her handiwork with a slow, lunatic smile playing on her lips. It was a wonder how it transformed her pretty face, twisting and perverting its beauty to an extent past all recognition. After finishing her work, she took out a small bottle from the inside of her wet jacket and emptied the contents in her mouth. She smacked her lips with a relish, as if it was some delicious drink. The ferocity was gone, the anger was gone, and the fever was gone. She just stood still with the faint smile still lurking about her lips and eyes shining with the satisfaction of a job well done. She let herself go, swaying gently with the wind, her wet clothes sticking to her bones. A second later, she had hit the ground and as she lay there, she could feel the sound of the rain hitting her body go fainter and fainter with every passing second. Her eyes started to dim as if she were going to drift into a sleep after a long period of exhaustion. Yes, a long peaceful sleep from which she would never awaken.