[DISCLAIMER: This chapter contains religious and cultural references. If you cannot handle that respectfully, I'd suggest you to leave-kindly and promptly.]

E p i l o g u e

(part 1)

93 days later in Kolkata, India

If her mother hadn't urged her to leave the house, Mira would have never stepped out today. It was the biggest festival of the year-the whirling colors, spinning wheels, clouds of red color floating through the air were all really enchanting.

Momentarily, Mira forgot all her worries.

Had the streets of Calcutta always been this exciting? Mira had forgotten what it had felt like – to be standing with a feverish crowd, in-front of the poised, regal statue of Goddess Durga, chanting along the crowd– the glories of Durga. Letting herself drift away in the crowd's vigor, letting her bloodstream absorb every ounce of positivity, letting her mind, soul free itself- unwind deeper and deeper.

The past twenty-one days had been hurdle to get past- her mother was growing frailer by the day, the doctors were doing their best. They were staying in their old home- which brought too many unpleasant memories that she squelched painfully. Though her mother had been kinder, gentler- cleaning the house even when Mira told her not to, staring at her father's photograph endlessly, cooking meals for Mira- Mira couldn't forget the past.

It hurt immensely. The guilt-ridden expression of her mother, her worrying for Mira, her endlessly effort-even in her frail state- to make Mira feel better.

Running her hands through her always knotted curly hair, Mira found herself crying. No-one paid heed to her desperate sobs because she wasn't the only one. It was easier here- to be free, to grant all your worries to the glimmering statue of the goddess.

She would take care of her. She always did. She was a mother to her when the world called her an orphan. Though her blessing weren't apparent, Mira felt them- in her heart, keeping the fear at bay.

When she had lost hope, she brought Yudishter into her life. She watching over her and had granted the loveliest gift life could offer- love.

Yudishter.

Mira hadn't heard his voice, not a single phone-call or message had been exchanged. She didn't know that love could make you feel desperate- so hopelessly desperate yet strangely happy.

She missed him.

And somewhere in her heart, she knew that he missed her too.

Wiping her tears with back of her hand, she hummed the prayer with priests.

"ROGAAN SHOSHAAN PAHANSITUSHTARUSHTATU KAAMAAN SAKLAAN BHISHTAAN, TVAAM AASHRITAANAAM NA VIPANNARAANAM. TVAAMAASHRITAAHYA SHRAYTAAM PRAYAANTI."

"Oh Goddess, when you are pleased, you remove all ailments and when you are angry, you destroy everything that a person desires for. However, those, who come to you for sanctuary never have to confront any catastrophes. Instead, such people secure enough merit to provide shelter to others."

The crowd cheered as the group of priests showered flowers and rose water throughout the busy street. Mira felt the droplets brisk her shoulders and cheeks- her eyelids automatically fell to a close. The fragrant smell of flowers intermingled with the smoke from the incense sticks.

There was a strong feeling her stomach- as the crowd began pushing forward- her breaths seemed to becoming shallower. Like cool water washing over her legs, Mira felt as though there was force pulling her away from the people- towards the back. The lightness in her head told her otherwise- if any moment now- all the lights of the world disappear- vanish into thin air.

Watercolors, acrylics would be sucked out of the world.

Her vision was distorted- swaying, pulsing from red to golden. The breath halting statue of the Goddess was glimmering- the oil filled lamps would burst into embers any minute now. The Goddess would – any minute now- come to life and hold her hands. The sword in one of her numerous hands would slay all the darkness in the world- leaving a glorious bright streak behind.

She stumbled several times- the white and red saree she had draped over her shoulder in haste began slipping away. The lady next to her in the plain gold saree steadied her by the elbow.

She began speaking very fast Bengali and Mira could not understand a single word of it. She felt tears prickle her eyes as the red dust from the excited crowd shifted over her.

"Kya aap Hindi bolte hai?" – Do you speak Hindi? Mira asked her finally – when her limbs no longer seemed to be working in her command.

"Belkul" –absolutely. The kind lady caressed her forehead gently and instead of her mother, Mira was reminded of Mrs. Chandra- how she had once upon time caressed her forehead in a similar manner. "beta, aap theek to ho?" – are you okay, child?

"mujhe chakkar aa rahe hai" –I'm feeling dizzy.

"are nahi, tum shaadi shuda ho?" –oh no, are you married?

Mira stared at the woman with a peculiar expression- what did her feeling dizzy and suffocated have to do with her being married. The bindi (red dot) at the center of the woman's forehead which was creased with wrinkles- stared back at her.

Before Mira could reply, another pair of hands fell over her left arm. The person to whom the hand's belonged to- stole her breath- even in her dismantled state.

It was him.

Who else?

The heaven's seemed to have parted, the night's lights glaring at her- the flowers, simmering red powder fell from the stage where Durga sat smiling on her fearless tiger.

"Yudishter." Mira could cry and she did. "Yudishter."

He smiled-the mesmerizing light honey-hued eyes that were too enthralling to be ignored. The oil lamps made his skin appear a coppery gold- like a demi-god. She wondered for a foolish second if the real Yudishter from the fabled tale Mahabharata resembled him.

But it wasn't what made her breath halt.

No.

Every girl has a dream- that a man would look at her like she was the center of the universe- all the stars, constellations, comets, asteroids were enveloped in her eyes.

Maybe that's how he looked at her. Maybe even more than that.

He turned to the lady- his arms protectively wound her waist. "Yeh meri patni hai." – she's my wife.

The lady grinned and thumped Yiddisher's back loudly. "Badhaee ho, yeh maa bane wali hai." – Congratulations, she's pregnant.

Wide-eyed, Mira stared at the woman. The words barely registering in her mind. Yudishter gripped her feverish warm hands, his lips drawn into a forced smile. "Mujhe pata hai. Aapake aasheervaad ke lie dhanyavaad." – I already knew. Thank you for your blessings though.

"Maa Durga ke kripa barse hai tum duno pe" – the Goddess has showered her blessing on you two.

"Wo bahut dayalu hai" – She's very gracious.

The lady smiled- in hidden humor. She smoothed Mira' s sari before disappearing into the crowd. Mira swore the lady disappeared faster than it was humanely possible. A nagging feeling in her heart told her that she wasn't just an old lady.

Or maybe it was her mind playing tricks. Because seconds later, her mind faded into black.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Note: Yudishter <3

Sorry for being MIA ... I usually don't miss a week without posting on Wattpad but I've been sick. I'm better now.

Anyways, I hope all of you are better. On the requests of many, many readers, I decided to not be a b*tch and give Mira and Yudishter a nice ending. They deserve it. You deserve it. Even though – I fail to see the light, I still won't shed that kind of darkness on these characters.

.... And I'm probably not making sense.

........I should leave now...

Until the next update.

-Tallara.