#raghuvan

"Because I love her" Ram realized he didn't get to answer Sita. "I love her and i dont care what her job was. No one who speaks ill of her has ever sat with her and heard her voice, listened what she said, see what she likes to do and what goes on in her mind. No one knew how she loves and how true it is. No one knows that she was ready to sacrifice her love for the sake of my happiness. For your happiness. So no one gets to speak things that are not true. I am going to marry Sita, and Adikavya's family should have known before betrothing her to me. And if they knew and didn't care, then they don't love their daughter"

Babai's anger shot through the sky. Despite Ram's attempts, he hastily grabbed Sita by her arm, dragging her out of Ram's room. "I don't care what magic you have done on my son, but I ask you to leave. Now". Sita held her sore arm, crying softly. Ram didn't like the treatment his lover was getting by his own uncle. He stepped forward, gently pulling Sita towards him. Babai let out a exasperated sigh.

The commotion has gotten enough attention now- the groom enveloping another woman! Hushed voices and giggles were audible by the seekers, and amongst them stood the only well wisher who came to bid goodbye to the groom.

Akhtar made his way to Adikavya's home. The decoration was up to par, the wedding ceremony ready to be unfolded in a sacred space adorned with flowers and traditional symbols. The fragrance of incense wafted through the air as everyone was busy. He hurried through the steps, hiding and making his way to Adikavya's room. As he wouldn't be allowed to enter, he picked up a flower vase nearby, asking girls where the bride's room was- the vase must be kept there. Finally finding her room, he barged in, scaring the lonely bride. He quickly kept the vase down, and Adikavya was confused once she saw Akhtar. "What are you doing here?" she whisper yelled, scared he will be caught. Akhtar couldn't help but rake his eyes. Her red lehenga with gold embroidery, the jewellery and simple makeup, it all matched up. She looked like a princess.

"Akhtar?!" He snapped back to reality

"Sita, she came back to Ram and Ram is determined to marry her. Pack your bags and leave, this is the perfect opportunity" Akhtar said, to a lost Adikavya. He sighed. "Adi, this is your chance. This wedding will be broken because Ram isn't going to marry you. You deserve better."

"You deserve me", Akhtar thought, "You need to leave, now, and you will have a better life."

"But what about my parents? My family?" She looked tired.

"Do you think you will be able to become someone they will be proud of?" Adikavya was taken aback. She wanted to complete her studies, get a job, be in a good position and earn a lot. She wanted to be a change. Adikavya nodded.

"Then go". Akhtar handed her a bus ticket to Delhi. "My mother and sister will be waiting, just tell them your name"

A sudden uproar outside made her anxious. Adikavya stood there, looking at the ticket in her hands. The strings of her life were in her hands now. She went to grab her packed bags, Akhtar helping her carry them. They silently made their way out, but a bride never goes unseen. Her chachi, who looked nervous, came running in her pink saree, when she spotted adikavya out of her room.

"Adi" she started. but before she could say something. the bags and Akhtar caught her sight. "Please" Adikavya muttered. "I'll be fine" her chachi, looked down, back where the mandap was set. She opened her pouch, giving her a bundle of currency notes. Adikavya gave her a teary smile and hug, when they escaped from the back gate, unknowing of the hassle unfolding downstairs.

In the meantime, Ram was tired of Babai disrespecting his going to be wife. Ram took Sita's hand, and pulled her with him, Babai and Jangu running after them. "Ram-" Sita tried, but Ram's eyes only glinted at her. "Don't worry. I am here". Ram stopped in front of Adikavya's home, when he spotted the mandap set.

Sita's heart beat faster and louder than the dhol, which stopped. The fire provided a warmth to her cold, shivering fingers. The anxiety never calming down. When Adikavya's family witnessed Ram holding a dressed up woman, they stared in horror. Her brothers stepped up, holding Ram's collar. "Do you think this is a game?" Ram freed himself from the grip by force, giving a dead stare to her brothers. Adikavya's chachi slipped away. "You think this is a game" he pointed at them, "marrying your sister to someone who already has rumors to his name. Is she a burden to you?"

Adikavya's family was furious. They approached Babai, who were already tired with the drama. "What about our Adikavya?" They hollered, when her chachi came back, whispering something in her husband's ear. He shot her a look, and then looked at Ram. "What do you wish?" he stepped forward.

Sita's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she listened to Ram. "I wish to marry Sita, and I wish that your Adikavya lives a life she wants." Adikavya's family has understood their own situation by now rather quickly. When they don't have a bride themselves, how can they stop the groom marrying someone else? They hung their head in shame, knowing well that they can't let any relative know that Adikavya has run away. But her mother decided to have an upper hand.

"Do what you wish, because we are not letting our daughter to marry someone like you. Better heartbroken than insulted" she said, then disappearing in the crowd. Ram looked at Sita, and the tears that rolled down her cheeks. He softly wiped them away.

Amidst the lively chaos, the Ram's eyes sought his bride. The moment of their glance was magical, as their eyes locked, sharing a silent promise of a lifetime together. The pheras, each step resonating with promises of love and understanding, added a solemn and spiritual dimension to the festivities. The exchange of vows, the tying of the mangalsutra, and the application of sindoor marked the beginning of a sacred union.

Sita only remembered being tired in that golden look of hers, but she never expected that to be her bridal clothes. Hell, she never expected to be a bride. Ram and Sita knew they will not be getting any blessing from any elder anytime soon, but they also knew that Babai will come around. Sita remembered the first time she saw Ram- a wet newspaper packet in his hand with two paans, his eyes curious and clothes neat. Something struck in her mind, giving him a golden shadow whenever she looked at him. Sita remembered losing herself to live life, but Ram was the first time she thought about herself.

Adikavya took a deep breath. No news have been received from Ram's house in past some days. Did he finally manage to call the wedding off? She slowed her steps down, didn't want to go home so soon. Her friends in college had nothing but sympathy for her when they got to know about the whole Ram and the brothel ordeal. Which was annoying- very annoying. Good thing college was ending soon, it was already hard enough for her to attend it with her family's permission. The more she stays away from the idea of marriage, the more she can study.

Adikavya huffed, turning the corner, almost knocking into someone. She looked up to find Akhtar there. Akhtar was a friend she made before college even started. He lived alone, away from his home in another state. Akhtar gave a long look to her and disappeared in the narrow street between two buildings. Adikavya sighed and followed him, knowing where they were heading to.

Akhtar was a tall man with curly head of hair and a beige kurta as his trademark. On a rather special moment, you might catch him wearing his septum ring. His demeanor was bold, strong, intimidating. But he was still as innocent and shy as a child. Although, he sure was a born leader.

Adikavya and Akhtar sat together, a boiled corn cob in their hands, swinging their legs as her anklets jingled in the eastern winds. "Why do you hate Ram?"

Adikavya looked at him in an awestruck confusion. This was way too out of ordinary.

"I don't"

"Don't lie"

"I don't hate him. I hate how it will be impossible to live my life how I want it to be if I get married to him"

"Why"

"Because first, I don't want to get married. And he is in love with someone else"

"Isn't that Sita from the mahal across the river?"

"Yeah"

"Wasn't she your friend?"

Adikavya froze on spot. She could feel the winds passing through her hair, her palms on the rough surface of the stone they sat on. She could feel the glowing fire in her heart of anxiety and hiding the truths. Akhtar promised to never utter this relationship in the world. Ever. Wordlessly, she got up and walked back home, leaving a hesitant Akhtar behind.

============================================

Ram remembered when Sita laid by the banks of Ganga, drinking her sorrow away. Her hair like strands of gold woven with leaves of tulsi. Eyes keen like wide leaves of peepal, her bindi brighter than the moon. Ram wanted to touch her white saree, her scent after she has just taken a bath. The voice of sita's ghungroo chiming through the courtyard, mingling with chirps of maina on the railing of balcony.

Ram slowly smiled at the faint memory of his time in Sita Mahal, the ends of his lips tugged up by string of sadness. It's been two days since he left the Sita Mahal but was still finding his way home. Did he even have a home at this point? The only golden palace to call his home was the shining sandalwood arms of sita. Why does all the pleasure comes to an end? But she was just not a pleasure anyways. Never was.

Ram struggled to stand on his own legs at this point. He has been searching for his Sita throughout the roads of Banaras, but always gets tired remembering she is nowhere but the place he will never step a foot again. He could make out the road that led to Adikavya's home. Adikavya. The woman never loved him, never wanted to marry him. But she had the need to escape her family, to find a chance good enough to leave everything behind. Ram also saw the terrace of his own- Babai's house from a distance in blurriness. It was quarter to twelve, the streets empty with warmth of streetlights being Ram's only comfort. He slumped down by the pole, the excess amount of alcohol finally getting to his head.

-

Adikavya hurried to close the windows in a hurry with all the mosquitos following the sweet scent in her house. It was way too late but she was desperate to get rid of them. The constant whirring and biting has been a disaster for her sleep.

In the distant streetlamp light, she could figure out an unconscious shadow by the pole. Must be a drunkard, she thought. Her bangles jingled lightly when she reached for the window gate. As she shut the wooden window gently as to not awaken anyone in the house, a fleeting thought of the drunkard being Ram passed her mind. It was true that no one knew where Ram had been from past two days. Although Adikavya and her family assumed that 'he must be lying in a ditch somewhere', she was, if not equally, but a little worried- for the sake of humanity.

Covering her face with a shawl, her hurried footsteps were the only sound of life in the dead street at night. Adikavya wished it was not Ram. That would be a lot less burden on her. Even if it was Ram, what would she do? Who would she call for help? And most importantly, why would she call anyone for help? Ram was no one related to her or was not going to be related to her anytime soon. Adikavya's steps only quicken at the sight of a body as muscular as Ram. If it was Ram, she would have to drag him his own house and leave him there. No other options.

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“I told you not to go there”

“People are being insufferable to me”

“Look what happened now”

“Let’s break off the rishta”

“I feel insulted”

“Don’t come back until you’ve talked to her”

“Ramayan will come between us”

“We saw your son with that whor-”

“SHE’S NOT WHAT THEY THINK HER OF” Ram sat up, his mind finally overwhelming him so much that he couldn’t help what left his mouth. Jangu, in the corner, was scared. Ram looked at him, and Jangu could count the stress line on Ram’s forehead. 

“She’s not, she’s not what people believe. At least she made a life for herself, fed herself and so many young girls. Saved them from abuse, gave them life. How does it matter if her body is tainted if her mind is cleaner than the water of Ganga? She is happy how she is, how does it matter what she does? It’s not a crime. She’s earning for herself, right?” Ram’s train of thought stopped when he sensed another presence in the room. Babai. 

Ram got up, grabbing his coat. 

“Where are you going?”

Ram pushed past him.

“Ram if you go there then-” 

“THEN WHAT?” Ram screamed from the verandah at Babai standing in the hall.

“Don’t come back,” Babai said and left the room. 

-

Ram took the backway this time. He opened the gates, barging straight in the aangan. Ram could hear Sita’s voice from the backway itself with the jingle of multiple ghungru on the same beat. 

“Holi toh khele, mahadev khele, khelat, ganpat gauri” she sang, as the girls danced on the beats of pakhawaj being played by a young boy there. Ram hurried in and grabbed Sita by her arm, turning her to face him. The class stopped abruptly, with the unsync ghungru audible mimicking the confused mind of everyone. Sita smiled. “You took the backway. Has the gossip finally reached your ea-” Ram grabbed both her arms and pulled her flush against his chest. Sita smirked. “Haala” she said. “Teental karwa, mai aati hun”Practice teentaal, I am coming in a while Haala nodded and stood up. Ram dragged Sita to her  room. 

Sita closed the door as soon as they entered. She opened the window for ventilation. Ram sat where he did that day, and many after that. She kneeled in front of him, peering up her eyelashes. Ram’s breath got stuck. “What happened?” Ram sighed and raised Sita up. “I am sorry for barging in like that” he sat her next to him. She rubbed his arm. “The girl I was getting married with, her parents saw me leaving Mahal. They want to call off the wedding. I talked to the girl, even though she doesn’t want to marry me. I don’t understand. If I call off the wedding, she will be insulted. If I don’t call off her wedding, our life will be ruined.” Ram laid back on her bed, his legs dangling off the bed. 

“Did you meet me first or her?” Sita turned to sit near his chest, her hand on his abs. Ram looked up at Sita. “Her. But I only got to know about her when I was leaving to meet you” he said and sighed. Ram tried to figure out Sita’s logic. “Is she thinking that if I met her first, I belong to her? I hope I do.” he thought. 

On the other hand, Sita was thinking about something else. If Ram hadn’t known about her first, he’d be drawn to the girl. He wouldn’t mind the feelings of the main dancer of a brothel house down the ghats of Ganga. If he could spend time with the girl, she would want to marry him too. 

Sita looked up at the sleepy Ram. Did he ever want her? Why was she so conscious about that? “Can you close the window?” he snapped Sita out of her thoughts. “The sunlight is annoying,” Ram said. She got up and shut the window. “Ram” Sita muttered and he peaked his eyes open. “You should marry her” she said and Ram tucked his arms under his head, raising his shirt enough for Sita to see his happy trail. She breathed in, never before has she felt this for a man. 

“And why would that be?” Ram asked. “What if you never come here ever again?” She asked out of the blue. The sarcastic smile faded from Ram’s face and a gloomy shadow took over. “Did you ever want me Ram?” Sita asked and Ram sat up. “Where is this coming from?” he asked. “You said I was your last wish” she smiled, a tear slipping down her face. “Fulfill it.”

…

“Ram” Sita moaned as he bit her collar bone, his hands digging in her hip bones. His bare chest rubbed against her breast, the heat of their bodies making them sweaty. Ram nuzzled his head in her neck and peppered it with kisses as his right hand slid down between her legs. He shut her moans by kissing her, his fingers working like charm. She arched her back at her clit being abused by his middle finger going in circles. “Ram” she drew out another moan, tugging at his hair. Ram kissed the corner of her mouth, raising her hips by his other hand. Her legs folded around his waist, as he supported himself on his knees and left elbow. Ram kissed down her neck, between her breast and down her stomach. He kissed Sita’s naval, after laying her down flat on the bed and sliding down her body. At the site of her core, he raised her knees up and latched onto it like a hungry soul. 

Their hands roamed all over each other, tugging whatever they could find. Pillows, sheets, hair, skin. Nails dragging and leaving marks, marks of bites and dipping of tongues. It looked sinful. Yet it was a devotion for Sita. For the first time she felt good, she felt loved. She felt like she wasn’t doing her work, but finally, her work became her relief. Sita filled her stomach manier times by doing this work, but her heart was filled for the first time. She moaned how she wanted, moved how she wanted, made love how she wanted. No worries of money or survival touched her mind as she gave herself in Ram’s fire. And she knew that this fire would burn her. That her physical exhaustion of the usual work didn’t touch her soul, but this physical relief of Ram being with her will burn her heart. Not in a good way.

-

Sita laid undercover beside Ram as he clutched on her body like fire for frostbitten. She caressed his hair softly, occasionally kissing his skin. The sun had started to set and the chatter was rising in Sita Mahal. Visitors, hungry to eye strip sita, have started to fill in. But how does it matter who she physically strips for, when she has only shown herself to her Ram. To Ram. The soft snores of Ram gave her a sense of home in the empty cold blue room. The warmth she has to put water on for the sake of reality. Sita needed to get ready for tonight. 

She tried to break away from his grasp when the sudden startle woke her up. She felt bad to break his way back in his disaster life. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing his Sita sit there with a soft smile. Oh if he could wake up to this everyday. He pulled her close to his bare chest again, caressing her shoulders loosely. “Ram” Sita broke the silence and he let out a raspy hum. 

“Once you step out of Sita Mahal tonight, don’t come back”

Ram’s movements slowed down and he could feel a tear pricking in his eye. He chuckled darkly. 

“Babai na kaha ghar chhodh do. Adikavya ne kaha uska rasta chhodh dun. Tum keh rahi ho Sita Mahal chhodh dun. Jaau kahan fir mai? Ganga maa mein doob jaau-” Babai asked me to leave the house, Adikavya asked me to leave her path, you are telling me to leave Sita Mahal. Where should I go? Drown in Ganga?

He felt a warm hand over his lips before he could finish the sentence. Sita stared at him with moist eyes, and then nodded her head. Seeing the closeness of the situation she turned around, and got up from the bed. Ram’s eyes followed her, then his body did. Sita wore her skirt and blouse, then grabbed the matchstick  to light the diyas in her room. 

Silently, Ram wore his shirt and trousers. 

From that distance he saw her skin glowing in the yellow light, just like it did the first time he saw her. He wanted to drink in her presence for the last time, savor her like a paan. Just like the first time. Ram saw how her bangles jingled when she struck the matchstick, how they slid back when she raised the diya. He wanted to take her home and keep her with his side forever. There were only two people in the room. Him and her. Not Alluri Ramaraju who was soon to be wedded, not Sita of Sita Mahal whose heart was stabbed the first time she showed it to someone. Social personality, cardinal traits, everything was out of the window. It was only a young man with golden eyes staring lovingly at the girl with fire. For someone close to earth, she looked good with fire. Fire like him. 

Until the knock on the door.

And the ghungru in the distance.

The chatter of men. 

Babai’s words.

Everything broke Ram back in reality. 

Ram stood up and moved forward to cross the threshold. Sita held back his hand. Ram looked forward. Sita closed something in the background and turned Ram. Ram turned around. Sita licked the paan in her hand and probed it at Ram’s lips. 

Ram parted his lips and took it in. It was sweet. 

Ram felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“Adikavya?” she asked. Ram nodded in yes. “Do you know the meaning?” Sita smiled. Ram nodded in no.

“Ramayan”

          “Ramayan will come between us”

Ram laid on the jhoola in his verandah, swinging with an apple in his teeth. Jangu sliced them, one by one, and handed Ram the piece. His meeting did not end abruptly, neither did he was unfulfilled. Yet the desire to be more with her was not leaving his heart. He heard a few women of the village enter the verandah, asking for babai. “He asked us to drop some sarees by, for adikavya,” Ram sighed, frustratingly taking a huge bite of an apple piece- until his gaze fell on a blue saree. 

-

“Didi upar hai, kamre mein” Didi is upstairs in her room, Haala said, closing the curtains behind Ram. She kept a vision like a hawk on the saree as long as he stood there. Ram walked down the hall, hallways, and then up the stairs in aangan.

 There were several rooms in the corridor, yet he immediately knew which one belonged to her. The one with betel leaves growing in a pot beside the door. As her room was just beside the balcony, roses grew along the balcony railing, with a few carnations and some aloe vera. There was a drying watermelon climber, holding on to the pillar under the balcony railing with dear life. The doors were blue- darkest shade of the blue he was holding. A photograph of lord shiva hung beside her door on the wall. Her slippers were on the other side of the door. Entering her room felt like entering a temple. 

Ram could hear the faint music from the door of her room. He smiled, and knocked a few times. When he didn’t get a reply, he knocked louder. Sound of bangles jingling alerted her presence in the room and his heart sped up, the hair on his arms standing up. “Khula hai” she said loudly and Ram creaked the gates open. 

The room smelled of mogra and camphor. On the left was her bathing area, closed with a curtain. In front of the door were two small sofas and a table. On the right was her bed with net curtains, the window closed behind it. A huge mirror stood beside the door. 

Ram swore he was in heaven as soon as he saw sita. She laid on the bed on her back with an English book in her hand. The camphor dhoop dried her long hair which was cascading down the edge of the bed on the dhoop on the floor. She wore a black blouse and white skirt, her white dupatta on the back of the chair. There was a record playing beside her bed. Her hands were red from aalta, leaving fine pink print on the pages. Ram forgot the purpose of his presence. He cleared his throat and Sita arched her back, tilting her head back to see the visitor. Ram really tried to stop staring, to look away from her posture but he really couldn’t help himself.

“It’s you” she smiled, and got up from the bed. Ram raised his hand. “I got this for you” he said and Sita smiled, taking the saree from him. “Thank you” she muttered, immediately opening it. “Should I wear this right now?” The excitement in sita’s voice was faintly visible. Ram encouraged it, nodding at her. She dragged him to the bed and sat him down there, tucking the fall off the saree in her skirt. Ram picked up the book she was reading. “You can read english?” he asked, seeing how the shade of blue glowed on her skin. “A foreigner stayed here for 3 years” she said, making plates on the other end of the saree. “I didn’t ask him for money. He taught me English instead” Sita laughed and Ram smiled. 

“Do, do the men sleep in your room?” Ram felt like invading sita’s privacy. Why does he care? Why does it matter so much that the bed he sat on was tainted by bodies filled with lust and selfishness? “No” she beamed. “You’re the first man to join me in my room” she made the plates to tuck on the front of her saree. When she turned to look at him from the mirror, he swore he wanted to see that smile on her face forever.

Ram started visiting Sita more, and often he would catch her doing different activities all around the place- planting a new sapling, mending her jewelry, teaching dance, making gulkand and soaking betel leaves, and she would always smile and laugh with him. Ram shared his stories of Delhi training and hostel with her. And she would share the happiness hidden in her heart. But deep inside she knew that the cloud would burst and it would rain on her happiness. Sita knew the cost of this happiness Ram would pay. Hanging out with a whore? It could cost him his respect, relations, and reputation. So sita waited- waited for the cloud to come. Till then she allowed herself to bask in the bright sun of his presence, like an early afternoon of winters, picking out the guava seeds stuck in her teeth of selfishness. Sita allowed herself to be selfish for once.  

Ram visited Sita on an early evening. The clouds were turning pink and yellow and blue, bouncing off each other. The wind was soft and caressed his cheek, finding their way in his kurta. Ram’s frequent visit to Sita Mahal made Haala show him the backway of the building, so people don’t catch him shamelessly barging in a brothel. But he denied, he was not doing a crime. 

The earthen lamps just started lighting when he made his way in the aangan. Not finding Sita there, he searched for her in her room- which was empty. Probably in the kitchen? Ram skidded through the aangan, only to find some women there. Sita wasn’t in the Sita Mahal. But it was a saturday- there is no way she would go out right now. Ram came back in aangan, when he heard her faint voice from the staircase leading to ghats of ganga. Ram peaked down to see her, Sita’s locks flowing with the wind, sitting in a white saree with a red border. 

“Kaanton ko bhi galey se lagaya, aur phoolon se zakhm khaaya”

 Ram could hear her voice, the song from a distance, and decided to maintain it, to not break her bubble. “Ha magar dua mein jab ye haath uthaya, khuda se dua mein tumhe, maang daala, maang daala” Sita turned around and smiled at Ram. “Hamey maar daala, maar daala” she continued her song, and got up to sit with Ram on the steps. She hugged his arm, keeping her head on his shoulder. “What are you doing here?” Ram asked, keeping his chin on Sita’s head. “I come here before the dance every saturday. Ganga and I have both seen men who claim to be cleanest but still dip in us for salvation. We both relate to it.” Sita finished and looked at the brown eyes. “How are you here so late?” she asks. “I couldn’t find time today so came when I could” Ram said, keeping his hand on hers. 

Sita smiled. “You know, people come here for me. But you come for me” She said and Ram furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asked. Sita clutched him closer. “They come to find a release, but you, Ram, you are my release” she said and looked far away in the Ganga. 

Sita couldn’t bear to let anyone, even Ram, see her emotional intimacy. She was always so bare with her physical one, so shameless about it. But it was hard for her to let anyone see her mind. She was close about it. Like that was the only thing left pure about her. Sita found it easier to sleep with someone else than to talk about her feelings. And Ram often sensed that when she would divert the topics to her work related jokes.

 “I will always be your release” Ram sighed and Sita chuckled. "What?” Ram asked. “Sure, sure” Sita said sarcastically, snuggling her head back in ram’s neck. “Sita” ram said and his tone changed. There was a heaviness, a serious shadow in his voice. Sita raised her head to look at him.

“Hamare beech koi nahi aayega” No one will come between us, Ram said.

“Aayega, Ramayan aayegi” Someone will, Ramayan will, Sita smiled. 

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