It is the heart that keeps the search lights on, the heart that is the lit harbour day and night. It is love that is able to stretch through space and time, into any reality, any existence. And, it was that same love that kept Anirudh and Raimoti going... searching for the ones they loved, relentlessly, their mind tired and their body numb.

"What's the time?" Raimoti asked, her voice sounded mechanical, as she could feel none of it anymore. The bodily sufferings had long gave away, and it was the mechanical mind that kept her going, clutching onto Anirudh's arm, and Anirudh looked forward, his eyes alert and searching, his legs tearing up, and his heart beating the final drums in hope and anticipation

"It's 1:30."
Anirudh rolled his sleeve and checked the time on his radium Rolex wristwatch.

It was 1:30 midnight, and amidst the hooting of distant owls and seizeless chirping of crickets, Anirudh and Raimoti walked on, crossing the border of Mymensing district, entering Rajshahi through the forest road.
They had walked on, the entire day, without rest, and the inhuman strength wasn't bodily, but was conjured from their mind, both determined, both fiesty, and both had learnt never to give up.

"There is an inn." Anirudh had suddenly stopped, and Raimoti felt an old ache rising up her feet, making it almost impossible for her to stand. Walking was fine, the motion made all her mind channelize and concentrate the energy to the graduating footsteps, but stopping was what felt like death.

"Let's walk." She clenched her jaws, continuing to move forward, and Anirudh held her wrist and pulled her back.

"No. Let's rest."
His voice was strained yet assertive, and in no time, he guided them both at the half opened door of the rest inn, standing at the side of the dark deserted road like a forsaken promise. There was a large tree standing proud beside the establishment, and although its identity was enveloped by the black night, a loud hooting of an owl came from it, adding a sense of eerieness to the forlorn ambience of the night.

Anirudh pushed the door open, and a quaint cracking noise reverberated through the walls, escaped from the door, and echoing at a distance.
Raimoti gasped and held the wooden door frame for support, following him inside.

"Is anyone here? We're travellers." Anirudh called out, twice, and a little later, a middle-aged man came out from behind the greasy wall of the counter, his sleepy eyes immediately alert at their presence, eyeing Raimoti's unveiled face, especially her forehead.

"Muslims?" He asked, coldly, and Anirudh nodded his head in negation.

"No."

"What's your name?"
The innkeeper asked again, with a frown and Anirudh sighed at his inquisition.

"I'm Anirudh Roy Chowdhury, and she is Raimoti Mukherjee."
His unpretentious heart made his mouth speak out their names in a heartbeat.

"Mukherjee? Not your wife?" The man promptly asked, as another form of frown had created ripples on his already creased forehead.

"No, she's not." Anirudh answered, with a polite firmness, and the sharp honestly made the unaccustomed man frown again.

"Sorry, no rooms then." He huffed.
"Only for family."

"She is family." Anirudh tried to reason, and then sighed sharply,
"Well, give us two rooms."

The man nodded his head vehemently
"Sorry. Not happening..." He looked away, unhappy about this abrupt nightly disturbance.
"First, she isn't wearing Sindoor, I don't even know for sure if you're a Hindu, and then, you yourself admitted that you aren't a married couple." The man slammed on the narrow grimy table infront as if to seal his words, a sharp displeasure had tainted his wrinkled face.

"Why is us being Hindu suddenly so important?"

Anirudh was listening to him patiently, trying to reason, but, Raimoti wasn't prepared for all these, she simply pushed Anirudh and walked infront, snapping at the man, pulling Anirudh's collar, and drawing out the long white sacred thread from his shoulder.

"See... Can you see this Poite?" She held the thread infront of the man, and he stirred.
"He isn't lying. We are Hindu... And about your second question, I'm his sister."

The man coughed up awkwardly at this sudden intervention from the beautiful woman, that too without the strain of vermillion on her forehead, as he frowned at Raimoti and smirked at once.

"We're cousins, hence different surnames... Etcetera etcetera... I've heard  that, many a times..." He waved his hands at them disdainfully and turned to leave.
"I haven't greyed my hair in the sun... Go... Go away, I'm not letting you stay here and sin."

His words were curt, and Anirudh couldn't contain himself anymore. He could take a roofless night, he could take starvation, but what he couldn't bare was dishonor, that too for the woman who had stood by him in this difficulty, amazing him with her indomitable courage at every step.

"How dare you!!" He raised his voice at the indecency, and Raimoti caught hold of his wrist at once.

"Dada... Let him be. He don't know how much he is sinning by refusing shelter to a pious Kulin Brahmin widow." She sighed dramatically and covered her head, pulling the loose end of the plain white saree that she had worn.

Anirudh's expression had changed at once, so did the man's, his mouth falling and eyes widening at once.

"Kulin Brahmin widow? Who?"

"Me!" Raimoti sighed again, turning her face away.
"How else do you think I'm Mukherjee and my only dear elder brother is a Roy Chowdhury?" She paused for a brief riveting effect. "I'm a child widow, god forbid, from a very respectable Kulin family of Chattagram, and my brother is taking me back to my in-laws."

The man gasped at her words, and swallowing a lump he quickly lowered his gaze from her face and folded his hands.
"I... I beg your pardon Maa Thakrun... But Chattagram is very far from here." He turned towards Anirudh and smiled apologitically.

"Which place is this then?"
Anirudh asked, exhaling at Raimoti's exceptional theatrical skills.

"Mymensing border." The man replied.
"Beyond is Rajshahi, and behind is Murshidabad."

"Oh... " Anirudh nodded, looking down, and and the man held his palm in a plea.

"Please stay... Atithi is god... that too Kulin Brahmin Atithi." He smiled at them both, before turning to Anirudh awkwardly once again.
"But, but I have only one room livable. Rest all were burnt during the riot last week."

Anirudh was about to say something, but before he could, Raimoti grabbed the small brass key from the innkeeper's hand and smiled brightly.
"Thank you so much. We'll need only one room." She chuckled softly, "how else do you think this hapless little widow can possibly stay alone at night in this unknown place!"
She smiled again, rolling her eyes at Anirudh, and Anirudh looked down and nodded, desparately hiding a visible crack on his tired dry lips.

"Sure, let's go... Sister." He forced on the word sister and Raimoti held his arm at once, crutching on it, and limping slowly, as they both followed the innkeeper inside a small dimly lit room, with burnt marks on the wall, and a black greasy floor.

"Just the bed." The innkeeper tried to smile, and Raimoti dropped on the bed, letting her body slither down the hard mattress in no time.

"This is perfect." She buried her face in the freshly washed pillow and waved at the man.
"Good night."
The man stood for a few seconds with an embarassed look on his face, and Raimoti spoke up again.
"I'm sleepy. Close the door Dada, will you."
Her voice was muffled.

..........................................................

It was drizzling, slight winter drizzles, and the stone roof tiles greeted the rain as an old friend, channelling the rain into perfectly aligned rivers through the cracks. Mira was seated on the wet tiles of the terrace, her knees hurled to her bosom. Away from everyone she had found her refuge in this seclusion, in the rain, drenching the pain that she bore in her heart.
She wasn't crying anymore, and the dried tear strains were washed by the freshly poured water droplets from the night sky. The stars too were sad, she thought, her eyes sky-bound, as the droplets drenched her eyelids, turning them pink.

"Don't sit there alone."
A voice had startled her from her lonely thoughts, as she quickly pulled the saree to cover her head.

"Why do you have to be so difficult Mira?"
Batuk had climbed up the stairs, perhaps in search of some seclusion, when his eyes had fell on the woman.
"They just asked your Gottra... It was that simple!"
He was now standing on the ledge, under the shade of the attic, sheathing himself from the sprinkling shower, and Mira sat a little away, under the open sky, her face white in the moonlight, her eyes closed.

"It's... It's not simple for everyone, Choto Zamindar Babu." She had murmured, and Batuk raised an eyebrow in question.

"How so?"

"Do you know who your parents are?" She sighed, turning her face towards him, and Batuk felt a little sting in his heart.
"Because, I don't." She paused, and looked away once again, her lips pressed together, the silvery water droplets sparkling on them in the moonlight.

"Why?" Batuk gulped, and ditching the protective sheath of the sunshade, he walked towards her, leaning against the edge of the terrace, his face turned towards her, admiring her forlorn beauty in that moon-drenched night.

"I was married when I was three." She spoke softly, making him gasp.
"I never knew my parents, let alone be their Gottra." She sighed, and chuckled to herself.
"Then my in-laws... They never told me their's, even if they had any... And I didn't dare to ask a question." She lifted the hem of her saree a little from her foot and showed Batuk a blackened burn mark, just above her right ankle. "They'd burn me alive if I ask a question." She paused, letting go of the cloth, and the expression on Batuk's face changed from an unceremonious nonchalance to a sincere attentiveness.

Mira continued.
"Then I was married to Daktar Babu, I didn't wish for it, but everyone said it's what would be best for me... And, I was married to him for even less than an hour." She looked up and saw Batuk approaching her with gentle steps.
"I didn't ask his Gottra before he died Choto Zamindar Babu!" Her pink eyelids looked at him questioningly, her large eyelashes fluttered in a heartfelt urge.
"Tell me, tell me how am I to know my Gottra?"

Her lips were quivering, in pain and hurt, and Batuk felt her words nudging a soft corner in his heart.

"Mira..." He called softly, and Mira looked up, with tears in her eyes, threatening to fall down her red cheeks.

Batuk didn't speak any further. He couldn't find an appropriate word to console her, or to apologise, and hence, he sat down on the terrace floor infront of her, keeping the minimum decency of distance between them.

"I... I didn't know these Mira." He hushed, and Mira wiped her eyes with her knuckles, and looked away.

"I know how it feels." Batuk sighed, and looked up, gauging the stars.
"I know how it feels to be not loved, when you have so much love in yourself."

"I... I don't need to be loved... I just need my son, Choto Zamindar Babu."

"I'll help you find him... Once Dada comes... I'll..."

Mira's voice suddenly became restless, and she joined her hands at him.
"Please... Please make him come fast... Or else, or else Maa would take my Awni away, away from the village, away from me... And I'll never find him again." Her words had turned into sobs, her hands covering her face and Batuk held her joined hands and took them in his.

"Don't cry... Please... You've been crying since I've met you... Please Mira... I'll see what I can do."
He let go of her hands slowly and with a little hesitation touched her cheek instead, wiping the trail of tear, and the touch of her soft creamy skin made his heart race a bit faster.

"It's... It's cold in here Mira... " Batuk gulped and moved away.
"Come... Let's go inside."

Mira hadn't objected anymore.
She too had gotten up slowly, wiping her tears, and followed Batuk into the stairs, leaving wet blotches of watermark on them.

"You... You aren't like him." She murmured softly, making Batuk turn.

"Funny!"
He frowned and chuckled in contempt, suddenly recalling how Candice had touched him on the pretext of their unmissable similarity.
"Funny how someone just broke my heart, giving the exact same reason... that we aren't the same! And what's funnier is that she too loves him, just like you."

Mira didn't respond, as it was beyond her to understand the reference Batuk was making, but she didn't object either. She quietly followed him down the steps, holding the cemented railing, and Batuk stopped at the bottommost step, turning back to her once again.

"Why did you say I'm not like him?"
His eyes were narrowed, and Mira looked up to meet his eyes.

"Because, because he is he!"

"What do you mean by 'he's he?" He huffed, "You love him, don't you?" He asked her again, holding the railing and blocking her way, and Mira nodded silently, without a hint of inhibition in her.

"I do love him, a lot, Choto Zamindar Babu, and he's my God." She paused and smiled, "and, and there lies the difference."

"What difference?"

"Simple..." she smiled, "he is god, revered, unreachable... to be worshiped only, and you are a human, tangible, touchable, with flaws, just like the rest of us."
Mira smiled again, touching Batuk's wrist gently and moving it away.
Batuk felt an emptiness in his body, not just the heart, but the entire being, and as he stood there, in that dimly lit corridor, contemplating on her words, his eyes saw her walk away from him, little by little, going further... a little, and she'd fade away forever!

"Mira... " Batuk called her, and she turned, their eyes meeting in a silent acknowledgement, and Batuk lowered his gaze immediately.
"I'm sorry."
He murmured instead.

..........................................

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