As the sun dipped at the background of the massive Roy Choudhary haweli, casting a warm glow over the tranquil landscape, slowly brushing everything around in darker shades, a pair of anticipating dark eyes stood at the terrace, overlooking the red mud stretch that had formed a path towards her.

"Boudidimoni, how long would you stand here?" Koeli's warm concern had made Bondita sigh, but she hadn't taken her eyes off the road for once.

"For as long as it takes." She had muttered unmindfully.

"But eat something at least, you haven't eaten since... "

Bondita raised her hand, gesturing Koeli to stop, as her eyes furrowed up at an orange cloud of dust forming at the horizon, playing hide and seek with the dark green prying branches.

"Koeli Didi... Is that...?" Bondita didn't complete her words, her heart was pounding uncontrollably, and as Koeli narrowed her eyes to take a good look, Bondita picked up her pocket binoculars and fixed it to her eyes.

The dust was clearing at a distance, and a sight of a black jeep became cognizant, she knew the jeep, it's theirs!

"Didi... They are coming... Go... Go down, ask Badrinath Darowan to open the gate, ask Kumud to heat water for bath, ask Monir Maa to oversee the kitchen." She breathed the instructions at once and took a deep breath as her eyes now fell on another familiar sight.

"Koeli Di... Is that...?" She gasped this time. "Barrister Babu is riding the bike!" She further narrowed her gaze through the binoculars for a clearer view as Koeli too joined her.

"Isn't that Choto Babu's Bhotbhoti which Nakul Dada took?" Koeli asked, a little confused.
"Then why is Barrister Babu riding it? Why isn't he inside the car?"

Koeli asked, and Bondita listened.

"Boudidimoni, do you think Choto dadababu is un... "

Bondita took her eyes off the binoculars and looked at Koeli, the unpleasant thoughts had already hardened her gaze, now fixated coldly on Koeli, and fearing the cold gaze, Koeli quickly nodded her head and dashed out of the terrace, readily carrying out each and every order that her young Thakurani malkin gave her.

Bondita saw Koeli leave, and then she fixed the binoculars to the bridge of her sharp nose once again. The sight had changed this time. The motor bike had taken a sharp turn towards the outer road of the village, heading towards the Sadar Hospital, or perhaps the Post office, she couldn't tell. She saw her husband seated tall and straight, his shoulders skillfully flexing with each turn he took. His backbrushed hair was swaying in the cutting wind, and Bondita thought he looked a little weary.
But weary or not, he's home, and that's all she needed to see to ease her throbbing thoughts.
But why was he riding?
'Is Batuk really sick then?' The thought aloud was now suddenly churning her insides in an unknown fear. She sighed and looked at the Jeep again, heading right towards her.
A group of small village children had also gathered around the slow moving vehicle, and now they were dancing and clapping their hands in some unfathomable happiness, and from their gestures Bondita somehow knew it can't be as bad as she thought.

'Why would those children be happy then?'
She questioned herself.

The jeep was nearing and suddenly Bondita was filled with an immediate urgency. The urgency to climb down those fleet of stairs, grab the silver puja thali from the in-house temple, and to greet his dear brother-in-law.
Mira too would be there, wouldn't she?

Bondita rushed down the stairs at once.

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

Tulsipur wasn't just a village but an emotion, the pathway winds through earthy red mud, flanked by majestic trees that sway in whispered harmony with the breeze. The sleek black jeep, like an elegant shadow, meanders along the road, its deliberate pace capturing the attention of the village's exuberant children. These little ones were dancing with unbridled joy, a whirlwind of youthful enthusiasm encircling the vehicle, as if welcoming a long-lost hero.

From the confines of the glistening glass, Batakrishna's outstretched arm, akin to a benevolent gesture from a regal sovereign, bestows upon these children the gift of coins, not merely as a material offering, but as a shared currency of bliss. A cascade of giggles and grateful smiles illuminates the scene, as the fortunate children rush back to their humble homes, to tell their mothers, eager messengers of the impending wonder.

"Maa Maa... Choto Zamindar Babu has brought a wife... And she looks like Maa Durga!"

Within moments, the entire village gathers, an eager throng congregating before the gates of the majestic Roy Choudhary haweli, the curiosity palpable, like a crescendoing symphony of intrigue. The reason for this wondrous mirth becomes apparent: Batakrishna, the prodigal son, their beloved Choto Zamindar Babu, has returned, and beside him stands a bride, a vision worthy of royal courts, a woman whose allure transcends the unassailable aura of celestial goddesses.

"New bride... Yes... Yes... That's her... "

"O maa... I can't believe my eyes... "

The jeep had come to a sudden halt at the iron gate of the Zamindar haweli, and a billowing cloud of fiery red dust danced in the air before slowly descending like a scarlet curtain.
Batakrishna got down first from the backseat, a stark contrast to his customary immaculate self. His attire, once a symbol of refinement, now bore the marks of untamed adventure, bearing the undeniable stains of his journey. A white bandage, a badge of his recent skirmishes, graced his head, standing as a testament to the trials he had faced.
"Maa Durga... What's wrong with him?"

"He looks sick... The bandages!!"

"But he looks happy too!!"

The assembled crowd, a sea of wide-eyed onlookers, couldn't help but gasp and collectively sigh at the sight of his disheveled state. Sympathy and concern rippled through the air, mingling with the palpable astonishment. Yet, amidst the external evidence of struggle, there remained an undeterred smile, a vibrant ray of light that broke through the clouds of worry.

"Yes... See how happy he is!"

This smile, though bruised, conveyed a narrative that defied the mere surface of appearances, a story etched with the ink of profound happiness and inner triumph. It was a tale of resilience, a saga of conquering adversity, and the unwavering spirit that had guided him through the storm. Batakrishna's radiant smile whispered of battles fought and won, of challenges that had transformed into stepping stones, leading him towards a newfound sense of contentment and fulfillment.

"Badrinath... Putiraam... Open the gate wide, call your Malkin from inside, tell her I've returned... " Batakrishna announced proudly to the two gatekeepers, before turning back to the Jeep.

Nakul had held the door open, and the crowd once again held its collective breath, a symphony of astonishment, as two women descended from the vehicle, one after the other.
All eyes converged upon one of them, the woman adorned with a scarlet vermilion band, a symbol of union, resting gracefully upon her parted hairline.

"New bride... Oh maa... How pretty...", a wave of exuberant cheers erupted from the assembled onlookers, a jubilant welcome for the lady who now stood at the center of this momentous scene.

Fatigue was etched upon her countenance, and it bore witness to a journey through tempestuous seas, a storm that had bestowed upon her a unique ethereal charm. She was draped in the opulence of a rich Benarasi saree, its intricate weaves glimmering like tales woven in gold threads. Elaborate ornaments of gold adorned her, a regal touch that illuminated her hazel eyes, framed with the smudged remnants of stale dark kohl.
Her long wavy hair, like a cascade of untamed dreams, coiled in a charmingly messy bun, the end of her saree, pulled up to elegantly veil her shoulder, hinted at an intriguing allure, a graceful mystique that captivated all who beheld her. However, a sense of unfathomable sorrow seemed to embrace her features, adding layers of complexity to her beauty. It was a poignant melancholy, an enigmatic grace within her sadness that rendered her even more captivating.

"Maa Durga indeed!" Someone from the crowd murmured.
"Na na... Maa Lokkhi... "

The lady got down and stood beside Batakrishna, the crowd hushed its praises, a reverent silence that underscored the significance of this moment. Beside her, however, stood another woman, clad in the simplicity of a white saree, a widow's attire. Her beauty, though adorned with a quiet charm, bore the tapestry of plainness and simplicity. Her gaze, a mixture of confusion and fear, mirrored in her fluttering eyelids, as her trembling hands clutched a small potli, a poignant symbol of her vulnerability.

Batakrishna turned to her and smiled warmly.

"Come Mira... Let's enter this gates together."

The crowd fell silent for a moment as leaving the elegant beauty behind with respect, Batakrishna held the widow by her arm and walked towards the gate.
Behind them, walked Nakul, guarding his mentor and the two women. At last was old Bihari.

"Oh Bihari kaka... Which one is the bride?"
A woman dared to let the confusion slip from her tongue, and everyone around her waited with rapt attention for an answer.

Bihari didn't reply. He couldn't somehow.

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

"Oh Boudidimoni... They're saying Choto babu is bringing a wife!!"
The whispers of anticipation echoed through the air, tinged with Monir maa's hurried breaths. Bondita, her fingers embracing the brass puja plate, felt a subtle quiver, akin to the tremble of fragile wings, as she absorbed the news.

"Who brings this tale to our door, Monir maa?" Bondita inquired, her grasp on the brass plate revealing the depth of her emotions.

"Everyone outside... She's wearing a full head Vermilion... And... Oh God... Come... Come now..."

Monir maa shared with fervor, her own enthusiasm lifting her, a cascade of saree flowing like a river in full tide, as she raced towards the door.

"Koeli di..." Bondita called out loud, but as she turned around she saw her uncle-in-law standing by the staircase.

"What happened Bouma?"
Trilochan's figure bore a fragility, an unspoken weight upon his shoulders, with Bhargavi, steadfast as ever, shielding him.

"Umm... It's good news actually..." Bondita hesitated for a moment, and then she let her face plaster a broad smile.
"Batuk has returned... I'll get him to you at once."

"And Anirudh?"

"He too." Bondita confirmed with a nod, her heart entwining both names with equal tenderness.

"And what are they saying Boumoni? Choto zamindar Babu has brought a wife home?" Bhargavi opened her mouth, her words were laced with trepidation, a dance of fear that began before Bondita could respond. Trilochan, exhaling a deep sigh, turned away.

"I wished to walk to the door to welcome him, but not with this new idiocy of his... Wife or not, no one will be a part of my Roy Choudhary family without my consent. And last I remembered, I didn't give any."

Trilochan's declaration was firm, resolute in his authority over the sanctity of their lineage. Bondita's nod was a delicate acknowledgment, a bridge between her and Trilochan's understanding, as she observed his departure. She gathered her saree, drawing it protectively around her, and hastened toward the door, carrying a weight in her heart that pleaded for Anirudh's return.

"Barrister babu... Where are you... I can't do this alone.. I need you... Come back fast... " she whispered the words to herself, a prayer to bring solace and strength to her restless soul.