Chattagram Main Hospital was a nightmare when compared to Calcutta Medical College. The building, although fairly new, had unfinished railings, windows, and corridors, where the moans and groans of patients filled the air. In one corner, Batakrishna sat on a weathered wooden stool beside a small, tattered bed. With tender care, his left hand caressed Mira's fevered forehead as she floated in and out of consciousness. Each time she fluttered her heavy eyelids, struggling to grasp reality, Batakrishna would whisper gentle words to soothe her.

Bearing the marks of his recent ordeal, Batakrishna's face displayed bruises, clear signs of his struggle, his eyes and lower lip swollen and discolored. A white bandage adorned his head, while his right hand remained in a sling. Despite the visiting doctor's strict orders to stay in bed, Batakrishna couldn't bear to be away from Mira's side. He had ignored the nurse's pleas, limping to the bed next to his. Mira's physical injuries paled in comparison to the trauma that had taken its toll on her fragile health.

For the past 36 hours, Batakrishna had been a constant presence by Mira's side, never leaving her. And finally, with his unwavering care, Mira's eyes fluttered open fully, revealing a glimmer of recognition when she saw Batakrishna's eager face leaning over her.

"Bata... Batakrishna..." She struggled to spell his name, and a tear rolled down his cheek, wetting his lashes.

"Yes, Mira, I'm here," he replied, his voice filled with tenderness.

"You... alright?" Mira gasped, her trembling hand reaching up to cup his bruised face, and despite the physical discomfort, he managed a smile.

"Now, I am." He kissed her knuckles softly.

"And those men?" Mira inquired, her concern evident.

"They are in jail," Batakrishna smiled, planting another gentle kiss.
"They won't hurt us, or anyone else, ever again."

Mira heard his words, taking a deep breath. Her eyes closed once more, and Batakrishna leaned closer, stealing another kiss from her.

"You would not leave me? Ever?" Mira asked, her lips trembled at his touch, and as she slowly opened her eyes, they revealed a depth of emotion that Batakrishna vowed to unravel for the rest of his life.

"How could I ever leave you? You are my wife, Mira, my life, and I am bound to you forever," he whispered, his finger tracing a line along her bare hairline. "I will fill your life with colors once again Mira, and no one will dare to wash them away."

Their gazes locked intensely, and a glistening tear formed in the corner of Mira's eye. In that moment, unspoken warmth enveloped them, transforming the sterile hospital hall into their personal paradise- her Baikuntha, where she once wished to worship her Krishna forever!

"I love you, Mira," Batakrishna confessed once more.

"Ahem, Ahem! Batuk?" Anirudh's voice interrupted their romantic reverie. Batakrishna turned, his brother's presence jolting him back to reality.

"Dada... We are ready to go home," Batakrishna replied, smiling warmly. Anirudh returned the smile, his heart aching at the sight of his bruised and battered younger brother, perched precariously on the stool. Anirudh's gaze then shifted to Mira.

"You both are still weak. You need rest," Anirudh paused, hesitating for a moment.

"What is it, Dada?" Batakrishna asked, concern etched on his face.

"May I have a moment with you alone, Batuk?" Anirudh extended his hand, and Batakrishna immediately grasped it for support, rising slowly to his feet.

"I'll be back in a short while, Mira... Close your eyes and try to rest. I'll come and love you again," Batuk crutched on his brother's shoulder, his eyes reluctantly leaving her sight, and Anirudh sighed at how lovesick his brother appeared.

The hospital corridor teemed with activity. Lower caste patients had settled on the floor, forming a line to receive treatment from the compounders at their leisure. Anirudh guided his brother to a quieter section of the corridor, away from the two police constables and Officer Davidson, who was engrossed in a conversation with his second officer.

"What is it, Dada? If it's about Mira, then let me tell you it's all my fault... I was the one who..." Batuk tried to continue, but Anirudh raised his index finger, silencing him.

"Dwarakadesh, his Radha, and everyone else from Vrindavan are in Chattagram now," Anirudh's voice turned grave, his eyes scanned their surroundings once again, and Batuk's expression transformed into a somber one. Batuk pulled his brother to a more secluded spot by his shoulder, his brow furrowed, urging him to speak.

Anirudh proceeded, "I know all about Mahamaya and how you helped her meet the team."

"Girish Da is her uncle," Batakrishna whisperee, "he came to receive her at the station."

"Yes, I figured, and do you know who the Raybahadur here at Chattagram is?" Anirudh asked.
Batakrishna thought for a second and then exclaimed, "Shashi Chandra Chakraborty!"
Anirudh nodded in agreement.

"It means Neelmoni Mukherjee could also be here?" Batakrishna added, astounded by his own deduction.

Anirudh's expression grew serious. "Listen, Paul is determined to capture Satya tonight, dead or alive, and I can't allow that to happen. So, I'll be going with him."

"How? Why would he let you?" Batakrishna exclaimed.

"Leave that to me, but if the time comes, I'll need you to act independently... Do you understand?"

"Of course, Dada."

"Your Boudidi will send Bihari Kaka and Nakul here. They should be here by tonight. Anirudh spoke thoughtfully.

Batakrishna nodded in silence and then paused for a moment. "I want to come with you too."

Anirudh looked up at his brother's words.
"This is bigger than you and me, Batuk, and I would have gladly taken you with me. However, no. You're not fit to join me, and it seems you have other priorities now."

"But my country comes first, Dada, that's always my topmost priority... No matter what," Batuk asserted, but Anirudh shook his head sideways, not letting his brother finish.
"It's not words but actions that speak louder, Batuk. Remember that. I never doubted your patriotism, but now I understand why Satya excluded you from the plan."

Batakrishna lowered his gaze.
"Is love a crime?"

"No, absolutely not." Anirudh took a deep breath. "But using love as a shield to ignore everything around you is certainly a crime."

"Isn't Boudi your foremost priority, Dada?" Batuk suddenly inquired, prompting Anirudh to meet his brother's gaze and offer a faint smile.

"Bondita and my priorities align, Batuk. Love should never hinder us; it should propel us forward, together... It should never obstruct our path, but instead set us free."

Batakrishna sighed, contemplating his brother's words.
"Mira isn't as fortunate as Bondita Boudi... You know what... "

Anirudh halted his brother once more, his eyes filled with concern.
"Now is not the right moment to discuss all these, Batuk. I must leave with Paul at once. If all goes well, we shall depart for home together come tomorrow's dawn." Anirudh looked away.
"And if not... You shall leave with Bihari and Nakul."

Batuk gulped at his brother's words, and then obediently nodded his head.
"Take care, Dada," he urged, his voice filled with worry.
"Any instructions for me in your absence?"

Anirudh sighed, his gaze turning distant. "Do not sit vigilantly by her bedside throughout the night. It shall not heal her, nor will it mend your own wounds. Rest, Batuk. You would be needed in the upcoming battle. Our motherland won't get her independence from you being sick." He paused.
"Also, Tulsipur isn't near either."

"I understand, Dada." Batuk murmured.

Anirudh left, leaving his younger brother standing alone in the corridor. Batakrishna slowly retraced his steps, returning to his previous position.

"You came back?" Mira's feeble smile greeted him.

"Why would I ever leave?" Batakrishna settled back onto the stool, his hand tenderly caressing her forehead, the sling on his right hand straining to pain.

"Is he upset?" she inquired once more, searching Batakrishna's eyes for reassurance. He gently shook his head, denying her fear.

"No one is angry, Mira. Your recovery is our sole concern," he assured her.

"Why?" Mira's innocent question elicited a chuckle from Batakrishna, appreciating her pure curiosity.

"So that I may return and tell everyone who you truly are," he replied, his words carrying the weight of revelation.

"Who am I?" Mira's eyes widened with confusion, and Batakrishna smiled tenderly at her.

"Mira Batakrishna Roy Choudhary... My beloved wife," he whispered, planting another gentle kiss upon her brow.

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

The clocked perhaps ticked a little faster that night, and by midnight, two pairs of eyes intertwined, their paths crossing on the grand staircase of Raybahadur Palace. One pair possessed a mesmerizing hazel brown hue, while the other shimmered with the brilliance of emerald green. Each set of eyes exuded determination and courage, silently exchanging a profound pledge for mutual well-being. A single plea resonated within their depths: "Just don't die!" Such a sentiment sparkled brightly in their gaze.

Raimoti embarked upon her fateful journey toward Shashi Chandra's chamber, cloaked in a disguise artfully crafted by Bhromor Bai. Satyakirth, on the other hand, was descending the spiral staircase with unwavering resolve, clasped a pistol in his firm grip. His skin, tar-stained and weathered, concealed his true identity, while a tightly-wrapped shawl encased his chest. Clad in a half-sleeved shirt and a pristine white dhoti, he exuded an aura of newfound confidence. Leading the way towards the basement, where the vaulted weaponry awaited, he was trailed by his loyal comrades.

Raimoti's searching gaze brushed against the scene, revealing Monoranjan and Mahamaya standing alongside Satyakirth. In a fleeting moment, their eyes met, and Raimoti discerned a subtle change in Mahamaya's countenance—a shift in focus toward her own abdomen. Satyakirth had already reached the foot of the staircase, while Mahamaya, with a swift gesture, tenderly touched Raimoti's taut belly, whispering in her ear, "Take care... You both!"

Overwhelmed with astonishment, Raimoti could barely form her question before Mahamaya gently pressed her arms and offered solace.
"I, too, was a mother once, though for but a fleeting moment," she revealed, drawing a deep breath.
"Yet, I understand the profound emotions you carry, Raimoti. I saw them reflected in your eyes."

Raimoti swallowed her tears, and with a warm smile upon her lips, Mahamaya descended the stairs to join the others, leaving Raimoti to cherish this unprecedented acknowledgment of her unborn child—a heartfelt prayer that evoked a solitary tear of joy.

Unable to contain the surge of emotions, Raimoti mustered her resolve and ascended the stairs with haste. Upon reaching the summit, her eyes were captivated by the sight of a grand mirror adorning the wall. Clad in a bright silk Benarasi, a crimson net veil cascading down her wavy tresses, adorned with opulent jewelry, her kohl-lined eyes piercing through the mesh, Raimoti beheld a transformed version of herself—a vision she had yearned for. A sly smile graced her lips as she gracefully approached the closed door of Shashi Chandra's bedchamber, akin to the mother goddess poised to vanquish a demon.

For a fleeting moment, Raimoti stood outside the door, inhaling deeply, preparing herself for the pivotal confrontation. Summoning her inner strength, she pushed the door open with both hands, revealing a partially-conscious, intoxicated figure. Shashi Chandra, the middle-aged excuse of a man, sat bare-chested upon a plush armchair, a wine glass slipping from his loose grasp. Smashed petals of rose and Rajanigandha were scattered all over the floor, and strings of half welted flowers hung from the wall. The bedchamber was a two roomed space, and the bed resided in the interior, away from Raimoti's sight, partitioned by a decorative arch from which hung white jasmine strings.

'Fulsojja!' Raimoti thought.

"Who?" Shashi Chandra's voice slurred, half-conscious, and Raimoti cautiously advanced toward him, her presence enveloping the room with an air of mystery and ethereal beauty.

"Me!" Raimoti hushed, her voice a nasal whisper that danced upon the air.

The wine glass slipped from his grasp, surrendering its precious contents to the unforgiving floor. Crimson liquid erupted, like the unleashed fury of a scarlet river, as if the very essence of the wine sought to stain the pristine surroundings. But the carpet, a loyal sentinel beneath the feet, absorbed the commotion with silent grace, drinking in every drop of sound and liquor. It cradled the chaos, its fibers becoming a receptacle for the shattered fragments of noise and inebriation.

Shashi Chandra's eyes widened, his pupils dilating like startled moons, while his quivering lips fought to find stability. He gazed upon the ethereal presence before him, a specter draped in enchantment and purpose.

"You... uuu...!" His voice faltered, as if attempting to navigate treacherous waters with trembling vocal chords. His hands instinctively found solace upon his chest, desperately seeking reassurance in the face of this unforeseen encounter.

"Yes... It's Me... Swami Thakur!"
She paused for a brief dramatic effect, and then burst out into whispered sinister laughter...