Today I tell you what happen after I born. Not just after I born, but whole life. My life. It is long story. Full of pain, full of love, full of things you not believe. But it is true. Every word. I am Raju. From small village. Name I not tell. Too many bad memory there. Too many eyes watching even now.

My village, it was like any other village. Mud houses. Narrow lanes. Dust everywhere when sun hot. Mud everywhere when rain come. People work hard. In field. With buffalo. From morning till night. They sweat. They pray. They fight. And they talk. Oh, how they talk. About everything. About everyone. No secret stay secret long in my village. That is what I learn early. And that is what make my life… different.

My family, we were not rich. Not poor also. Just… in middle. My Baba, he was good man. Strong hands. Work hard in our small land. He not talk much. Always quiet. Always serious. He love me, I know. But he not show. Not like my Ma. My Ma… she was different woman. Very different.

From start, I remember her face. Like moon. So bright. So soft. Her eyes, like deep river. You can drown in them. All village men look at her. All village women talk about her. Some with jealousy. Some with respect. But all talk. She was beautiful. Too beautiful for our small village, some say. Too beautiful for my Baba, some whisper. But she was my Ma. And she was everything to me.

I was small boy. Always follow her. Like shadow. She go to well, I go. She cook, I sit near. She sing, I listen. Her voice, like bird. So sweet. She always smile at me. Always touch my head. Always hold my hand. My Baba, he never do that. He just pat my shoulder. Sometimes. My Ma, she was my world. My whole world.

Other boys, they play cricket. They run in field. They climb tree. I also play sometimes. But mostly, I want to be with my Ma. She teach me small things. How to count. How to draw sun. How to make chapati. She tell me stories. About old kings. About brave warriors. About gods and goddesses. Her stories, they make my heart fly. My Baba, he just tell me to work hard. To be man. To not cry.

Our house was small. Two rooms. One for sleeping. One for cooking and living. We eat on floor. Sleep on charpai. Simple life. But with my Ma, it feel like palace. She make everything beautiful. Even small mud house. She put fresh flower in corner. She draw rangoli on floor. She sing while working. Her presence fill whole house with light.

I remember one time. I was maybe five or six. I fall from tree. My knee bleed. I cry loud. My Baba, he just say, “Boys don’t cry. Get up.” But my Ma, she run. She pick me up. She hold me tight. She kiss my forehead. She clean my wound with warm water. She put some herb. She sing lullaby till I sleep. That day, I feel her love so strong. Like warm blanket. I never want to leave that blanket.

In village, people live close. Too close. Everyone know everyone’s business. If someone fight, whole village know. If someone sick, whole village know. If someone… love, whole village know. Or they think they know. My Ma, she was always polite to everyone. Always help. But she keep distance. Like a queen. She not mix much with other women. They gossip. She just smile. And walk away. I see that. I learn that. My Ma was different. She was special. And I was her special boy. Or so I thought. That was before things change. Before darkness come. Before I understand what kind of love can grow in shadow. That day change my life. Many days change my life. But that day… it was beginning of end. Or beginning of something else. I not know yet. I just know, it start with her. Always with her.

Chapter 2: My Ma, My Devi

My Ma, her name was Sita. But for me, she was not just Sita. She was my Devi. My goddess. I know, all boys love their mother. But my love was… different. It was like worship. From small age, I see her not just as mother, but as something more. Something pure. Something untouchable. For others, at least.

She was not from our village. My Baba, he bring her from far away. From a big town, they say. Nobody know her family. Nobody know her past. She was a mystery. A beautiful mystery. And that make her more special. More desirable. And more dangerous.

I remember how she walk. Straight. Proud. Like she own the land. Her sari always clean. Her hair always tied in a neat bun. She wear small bindi on her forehead. Red. Like a drop of blood. It make her face glow. Other women in village, they wear colorful sari. They laugh loud. They shout. My Ma, she wear simple sari. Mostly white or light color. She talk soft. She smile slow. But her eyes… her eyes talk more than her mouth. They see everything. They know everything. Or so I feel.

When she go to temple, all men stop and stare. They look at her with hunger. I see their eyes. I was small, but I understand. I feel anger. I want to stand in front of her. Protect her. From their dirty looks. But I was just a boy. What I can do? I just hold her hand tight. And she, she just walk. Like she not see anyone. Like she is in her own world. A world where only she and I exist.

One day, I ask her. “Ma, why you not talk to other women? Why you always quiet?”

She look at me. Her eyes sad. For a moment. Then she smile. “Raju, my son, some people are like empty vessels. They make too much noise. I like silence. Silence has more meaning.”

I not understand then. But I remember her words. Always. Empty vessels. Too much noise. My village was full of them.

My Baba, he was proud of her. I can see it in his eyes. When she bring him food in field. When she stand next to him in festival. He look at her like she is his most precious possession. But he was also… afraid. Afraid of losing her. Afraid of other men. I see him sometimes. Watching her from a distance. His face full of love. And fear. And something else. Something I not understand then. Maybe it was… doubt.

As I grow, I start to see more. Hear more. The whispers. The gossip. “She is too fair for him.” “She look like a city whore.” “She has cast a spell on him.” I hear these things. From behind the walls. From the women at the well. My blood boil. I want to scream at them. To tell them my Ma is a Devi. But I was scared. And my Ma, she teach me to be quiet. To observe. To not react.

One evening, I was coming home from school. I see Thakur’s son, Vikram, standing near our house. He was leaning against the wall. Staring at our door. Vikram was a bad man. Everyone know. He drink. He fight. He trouble girls. I hide behind a tree. I watch him. He just stand there. For long time. Just looking. Like a wolf. Waiting for the prey.

When my Ma come out to throw water, he smile at her. A dirty smile. “Sita-ji, you are like a flower in this desert. Wasting your beauty in this mud.”

My Ma, she not say anything. She just look at him. Her eyes cold. Like ice. Then she turn and go inside. Without a word. Vikram, he laugh. A loud, ugly laugh. And then he spit on the ground and walk away.

That night, I was very disturbed. I could not sleep. I go to my Ma. She was sitting on the charpai. Looking at the moon. I sit next to her. I put my head on her lap. She stroke my hair. Softly.

“What happen, Raju? Why you not sleep?” she ask.

I tell her about Vikram. About his words. About his dirty smile. I expect her to be angry. Or scared. But she was calm. Too calm.

She look at me. Her eyes full of… something. Not fear. Not anger. Something else. “Raju, this world is full of dogs. They bark at the moon. But the moon does not care. It just keeps shining. You be like the moon. My moon.”

She pull me closer. Her body was warm. Her smell… like jasmine. I feel safe in her arms. Like nothing can touch me. Nothing can harm me. I was her moon. And she was my sky. My everything. That night, I sleep in her arms. For the first time. It feel… right. Like I belong there. Always. I not know then, that this was the first step. Towards a path from where there is no return. A path of love. And sin. And darkness. But at that moment, it was just… peace. Pure, simple peace. In the arms of my Devi.

Chapter 3: The Shadow Grows

Time pass. I grow older. My legs become strong. My voice become deep. But my heart, it stay with my Ma. More and more. My Baba, he was busy with land. With harvest. With village meeting. He come home tired. Eat. Sleep. Wake up. Go again. He not notice. Or maybe he notice, but he not say. He was man of few words. And many burdens.

My Ma, she was always there. Like sun. Like air. She teach me everything. Not just school book things. But life things. How to understand people. How to see truth behind lies. How to be strong inside. She tell me stories of her childhood. Not much. Just small small things. About a big house. About many servants. About a garden with many flowers. It was like a dream. So different from our village.

As I become teenager, things start to change. Not big change. Small change. Like shadow growing longer in evening. My friends, they talk about girls. About going to town. About movies. I listen. I laugh with them. But inside, my mind always go back to my Ma. Her face. Her voice. Her touch.

When I come home from field, tired and dirty, she always wait for me. With a glass of cool water. With a warm smile. She would wipe sweat from my forehead. Her fingers, so soft. So gentle. I feel electric current. From her touch. It was strange. Not like a mother’s touch. More… something else. Something I not understand. But I like it. I want more.

Sometimes, in evening, when Baba sleep, Ma and I sit outside. On charpai. Under stars. She tell me about stars. About moon. About how big world is. I just listen. And look at her. In moonlight, her face look even more beautiful. Like a goddess. Her eyes, they shine. And sometimes, she look at me. For long time. Her eyes, they hold something. Something deep. Something sad. Something… longing. I feel it. In my chest. A strange ache.

One night, I was sick. Fever. My head burn. My body ache. My Ma, she sit by my side whole night. She put wet cloth on my forehead. She sing soft song. She hold my hand. Her hand was cool. And strong. I open my eyes. She was looking at me. So close. Her breath on my face. Her hair fall on my cheek. I can smell her. Like earth after rain. Like fresh flower. I want to reach out. To touch her face. To pull her closer. But I was weak. And scared. Scared of what I feel. Scared of what she might feel.

She lean closer. Her lips touch my forehead. A kiss. But it was not just a mother’s kiss. It was long. It was soft. It was… different. My whole body shiver. Not from fever. From something else. Something new. Something forbidden. I close my eyes. And I wish that moment never end. I wish I can stay sick forever. Just to feel her so close. Just to feel that kiss again.

Next morning, fever gone. But that feeling stay. In my heart. In my mind. I look at her differently. She look at me differently. There was a new silence between us. A heavy silence. Full of unspoken words. Full of hidden desires. We both know. Something change. Something break. Something new begin. And it was scary. And exciting. All at same time.

My Baba, he still not notice. Or he pretend not to notice. He was busy with village politics now. With land dispute. Thakur, the big landlord, he want our land. Small piece. But important. Near river. Baba fight him. Day and night. He go to panchayat. He go to court. He forget about home. He forget about us. And that make Ma and me… closer. More closer than ever. The shadow was growing. And we were walking into it. Hand in hand. Without knowing where it will lead. But we were not afraid. Not yet. We were just… together. In our own secret world. Away from all eyes. Away from all rules.

Chapter 4: Unspoken Words, Unseen Bonds

My Baba, he was lost in his fight. The land dispute with Thakur. It was like a fire in his belly. It burn everything else. His sleep. His peace. His family. He talk only about land. About court. About injustice. He not see me. He not see Ma. We were like ghost in our own house. And that… that was good for us. For our secret. For our growing closeness.

Ma and I, we spend more time together. In field. In house. In quiet corner of courtyard. We not talk much. But our eyes talk. Our hands talk. Our silence talk. We understand each other without words. A look. A small gesture. It was enough. More than enough.

I start to feel things I never feel before. When she walk past me, my skin tingle. When she touch my arm, my heart beat fast. When she laugh, my whole world light up. It was not just love. It was… obsession. I want to be near her always. I want to breathe same air. I want to know her every thought. Every feeling.

She also change. Her eyes, they hold a new light. A new softness. When she look at me, it was like she see something special. Something only she can see. She start to lean on me. For small things. For big things. “Raju, can you help me lift this pot?” “Raju, can you sit with me? I feel lonely.” And I was always there. Always ready. Always wanting to help. To be her strength. Her support.

One afternoon, sun was very hot. Ma was working in kitchen. Making roti. Fire was burning. Sweat on her forehead. I go to her. “Ma, let me help.”

She smile. “No, Raju. You rest. You work hard in field.”

But I insist. I take cloth. I wipe sweat from her face. Slowly. Gently. My fingers brush her skin. So soft. So warm. She close her eyes for a moment. A small sigh escape her lips. I feel her breath on my hand. My heart pound like drum. I want to stay there. Forever. Just wiping her sweat. Just touching her face.

She open her eyes. She look at me. Her eyes, they were deep. Like ocean. I feel like I am drowning. But I don’t want to be saved. I want to drown in her. She reach out. Her hand touch my cheek. Her thumb stroke my skin. Slowly. Softly. My whole body shiver. A wave of heat pass through me. We just stand there. Looking at each other. For long time. No words. Just eyes. And touch. And unspoken understanding.

Then, she pull back. Slowly. Her hand drop. She turn to roti. “Go, Raju. Go rest.” Her voice was soft. Almost a whisper. But I hear it. I feel it. Every word. I go. But my mind stay. With her. With that moment. With that touch.

Our secret, it was like a delicate flower. Growing in shadow. We protect it. From everyone. From Baba. From villagers. From ourselves. We learn to hide. To pretend. To act normal. But inside, we were not normal. We were changing. We were becoming something else. Something forbidden. Something dangerous.

Sometimes, when we were alone, she would tell me about her past. Not in full. Just hints. “My life was not easy, Raju. I saw many things. Bad things.” Her voice would be sad. Her eyes distant. I want to ask. To know everything. But I also scared. Scared of what I might hear. Scared of what it might mean for us.

She tell me about a man. Not my Baba. Another man. From her past. He was cruel. He hurt her. She not say how. But I see pain in her eyes. And anger. Deep anger. “Men are like wild animals, Raju. They take what they want. They don’t care about heart.” She say. But then she look at me. Her eyes soften. “But you… you are different. You are good. You are kind.”

Her words, they fill me with pride. And fear. I want to be different. I want to be good. For her. Only for her. But I also feel the wild animal inside me. The one that want to take. The one that want her. Only her.

The nights were hardest. When Baba was sleeping. When whole village was sleeping. I would lie on my charpai. Listening to her breath. So close. Just across the room. I imagine her. Her face. Her body. My mind was full of her. And my body… it was full of longing. A burning longing. I know it was wrong. I know it was sin. But I cannot stop. I cannot control. It was like a river. Flowing. Faster and faster. Towards a waterfall. And I was just a small boat. With no control. Just going with the flow. Towards her. Towards the forbidden. Towards the unknown. And I was ready. Ready for anything. Just to be with her. Just to be hers. Completely. Forever.

Chapter 5: The Unspoken Touch

My Baba’s fight with Thakur, it was getting worse. Thakur was powerful man. He had money. He had connections. He had muscle. My Baba, he only had truth. And truth, in our village, was not always strong enough. He was losing. I can see it in his eyes. The light was going out. He was tired. So tired.

He stop eating properly. He stop sleeping. He just sit. Staring at wall. Sometimes, he cough. A dry, hacking cough. Ma try to give him medicine. Try to make him eat. But he push her away. “Leave me alone, Sita. This is my fight. My destiny.”

His words, they cut her. I see it. Her face become sad. Her eyes, they lose their shine. She was hurting. And I… I want to make her happy. I want to take her pain away. I want to be her strength. More than Baba ever was.

One night, rain was falling heavy. Thunder roar. Lightning flash. Baba was coughing badly. He was restless. Ma was sitting by his side. Trying to comfort him. I was in my charpai. Watching them. My heart ache for her. For her pain. For her loneliness.

Suddenly, a loud thunder. Lightning strike very close. Whole house shake. Lights go out. Darkness. Complete darkness. Ma scream. A small, scared sound. I jump up. “Ma!”

I run to her. In darkness, I cannot see. I just feel. I reach out. My hand find her arm. Her skin was cold. Shivering. I pull her close. “Ma, it’s okay. I am here.”

She cling to me. Her face buried in my chest. Her body tremble. I can feel her heart beating fast. Against my own. Her hair, wet from rain, brush my face. Her smell, stronger now. More intoxicating. I hold her tight. So tight. Like I never want to let her go. And she… she not push me away. She just hold me back. Just as tight.

We stand there. In darkness. For long time. Rain outside. Thunder far away now. Only sound was our breathing. And our heartbeats. Together. I can feel her soft body against mine. Her breast pressing against my chest. Her leg touching my leg. It was not just comfort. It was… something else. Something hot. Something electric. A current pass through my body. My blood rush. My mind spin.

I lower my head. My lips brush her hair. So soft. So fragrant. I want to kiss her. On her forehead. On her cheek. On her lips. But I was scared. Scared of breaking this moment. Scared of what it might mean. Scared of what she might do. Or say.

She stir. Slowly. She lift her head. Her face was close to mine. So close. I can feel her breath. Warm. Sweet. Her eyes, they were wide. Looking at me. In darkness, I cannot see them clearly. But I feel their intensity. Their longing. Their fear. And their… desire. Yes. I feel it. It was there. Unspoken. But present.

My hand, it was still on her back. I move it. Slowly. Up her spine. To her neck. To her hair. I tangle my fingers in her wet hair. She shiver again. A small, soft sound escape her lips. Like a moan. My heart jump. I lean closer. My nose touch her nose. My lips almost touch her lips. Just a breath away.

Then, a small light. Baba light the oil lamp. The flame flicker. And suddenly, we were visible. To each other. To Baba. We jump apart. Like we were burned. My face hot. Her face red. We look away. From each other. From Baba. Baba, he just look at us. His eyes tired. His face blank. He not say anything. He just cough. And turn away.

That moment. In darkness. It was like a dream. A forbidden dream. But it was real. I feel her. She feel me. And we both know. Something change. Something cross. A line. A dangerous line. And there was no going back. Not now. Not ever. The unspoken touch. It spoke volumes. It spoke of a future. A dark future. Full of secrets. Full of sin. Full of us. Together. In shadow. Always. And I was ready. Ready to walk that path. With her. For her. Forever.

Chapter 6: The Line Blurs

After that night, everything change. Not on outside. But inside. Between Ma and me. The air was thick with unspoken things. With hidden desires. We avoid each other’s eyes sometimes. Too much truth there. Too much fire. But then, our eyes meet. And the fire burn hotter. We were walking on a thin rope. High above a deep valley. One wrong step… everything fall.

Baba, he was getting weaker. His cough become constant. His body thin like stick. He not eat. He not talk. He just lie on charpai. Staring at ceiling. Ma, she try her best. She bring him food. She give him medicine. But he refuse. He just want to die. I see it in his eyes. He was tired of fighting. Tired of living.

His illness, it was like a shield for us. A reason to be close. A reason to touch. Ma would ask me to help her lift him. To change his clothes. To give him water. And in those moments, our bodies touch. Our hands brush. Our eyes meet. And the unspoken desire grow. Stronger. More urgent.

One afternoon, Baba was sleeping. Or pretending to sleep. Ma was sitting by his side. Her hand on his forehead. Her face sad. I come in. I sit on floor near her. She look at me. Her eyes full of pain. And something else. Something I recognize now. Loneliness. Deep, aching loneliness.

I reach out. My hand cover her hand. On Baba’s forehead. Her fingers intertwine with mine. Slowly. Gently. Like they belong there. Her skin was soft. Warm. I feel a jolt. A familiar current. She not pull away. She just squeeze my hand. A small, silent plea. For comfort. For connection. For something more.

I move closer. My shoulder touch her shoulder. My head lean on her head. We sit there. In silence. Holding hands. Leaning on each other. While Baba breathe heavily. Unaware. Or uncaring. The world outside was busy. But our world was still. Just us. And our secret.

Later that evening, Ma was washing clothes near the well. I go to help her. She was bending down. Her sari wet. Clinging to her body. I see the curve of her back. The soft skin of her neck. My breath catch in my throat. My body ache with longing. I want to touch her. To feel her. To taste her.

I pick up a bucket. I fill it with water. I bring it to her. She turn. Her eyes meet mine. For a moment, time stop. Her lips were slightly parted. Her chest rise and fall. I can see the outline of her breasts through her wet sari. My gaze linger. She not look away. Her eyes hold mine. A silent invitation. Or a challenge.

I put the bucket down. My hand reach out. Slowly. Hesitantly. My fingers touch her arm. Just above the elbow. Her skin was cool from water. But my touch burn. She shiver. A small, almost imperceptible shiver. I move my hand up. To her shoulder. To her neck. My thumb stroke her jawline. Her eyes close. A soft sigh escape her lips.

“Raju…” she whisper. My name. But it sound different. Full of longing. Full of surrender. My heart pound. I lean closer. My lips touch her neck. Just below her ear. Her skin was soft. Like silk. She gasp. A small, sharp gasp. My tongue taste her skin. Salty. Sweet. I feel her body tremble against mine. She lean into my touch. Her hands come up. They rest on my waist. Her fingers dig into my skin. Holding me close.

I kiss her again. And again. On her neck. On her shoulder. My hands move down her back. Pulling her closer. Her body press against mine. I can feel her curves. Her softness. My body respond. Hard. Urgent. She was breathing fast. Her head thrown back. Her eyes still closed. Lost in the moment. Lost in us.

Then, a sound. A distant voice. Someone coming. We pull apart. Fast. Like we were caught in fire. Our faces red. Our breathing heavy. We look at each other. Eyes wide with fear. And exhilaration. The line was not just blurred. It was gone. Erased. We had crossed it. Together. And there was no turning back. Not now. Not ever. The forbidden fruit. It was sweet. And we had tasted it. And we want more. Much more. The shadow was not just growing. It was consuming us. And we were letting it. Willingly. Eagerly. Towards a destiny unknown. But shared. Always shared. With her. My Ma. My forbidden love.

Chapter 7: The Village Watches

My Baba, he die soon after. Not with a bang. But with a whimper. Like a candle burning out. Slowly. Painfully. The village come for funeral. They offer condolences. They whisper. About his long illness. About his fight with Thakur. About his beautiful wife. And his quiet son. I hear them. Ma hear them. But we just stand there. Like stone. Our grief was real. But our secret was heavier. It was like a shroud. Covering everything.

After Baba gone, life change. We were alone. Just Ma and me. The land was ours. But Thakur, he still want it. He send his men. To threaten. To intimidate. “Sell the land, Sita. Or you will regret.” They say. Ma, she was strong. She not scare. “This land is my husband’s. It is my son’s. It is not for sale.” She say. Her voice firm. Her eyes like fire. I was proud of her. So proud.

But inside, I was scared. Thakur was powerful. He can do anything. He can take our land. He can hurt us. I tell Ma. “Ma, maybe we should sell. We can go to city. Start new life.”

She look at me. Her eyes sad. “Raju, this land is our root. If we cut root, we die. We fight. We stay.” Her words were like command. And I obey. Always.

Our secret, it grow with our loneliness. With our fear. With our defiance. When sun go down, and village sleep, we were together. In our small house. In darkness. Our bodies find each other. Like magnets. Her touch. My touch. It was like breathing. Necessary. Essential. We cannot live without it. We cannot live without each other.

She teach me things. About pleasure. About desire. Things no mother teach her son. Things no son should know about his mother. But it was not just body. It was soul. Our souls intertwine. Our hearts beat as one. We were two halves of same whole. And the world outside… it was just a blur. A distant noise.

But village, it was not blind. Eyes were watching. Ears were listening. Old women, they sit on their charpais. Chewing paan. Gossiping. “Sita, she too beautiful. Too proud. Something not right.” “Her son, Raju, he always with her. Like a shadow. Not like other boys.” “They live alone now. No man in house. Who will protect them?”

I hear these whispers. When I go to market. When I go to well. They look at me. With suspicion. With curiosity. With… knowing. My blood run cold. I want to hide. To run. But I cannot. I have to be strong. For Ma. For us.

One day, I was coming back from field. I see a group of men. Standing near our house. Thakur’s men. Led by Vikram. He was still there. Still watching. Still wanting. He see me. He smile. A cruel smile.

“Look, the little man is back. Come to protect his mother? Or to share her?” he say. His words were like poison. They burn my ears. My blood boil. I drop my hoe. I run towards him. My fist clenched.

“Don’t you dare talk about my Ma!” I shout. My voice crack. But my anger was real.

Vikram laugh. His men laugh. “Oh, the little bird has sharp beak. But can it fight a hawk?” He step forward. His hand reach out. To grab my collar. I was ready to fight. To die. For her honor. For our secret.

Then, Ma come out. She was standing at door. Her eyes, they were like fire. Burning. She look at Vikram. And her gaze… it was like a sword. It cut through him. He stop. His hand drop. His smile vanish.

“Get out of my sight, you dog. Before I call the whole village. And tell them what kind of man you are.” Her voice was calm. But full of power. Full of threat. Vikram, he hesitate. He look at his men. They look at ground. He was shamed. He was defeated. He turn. And walk away. His men follow. Like beaten dogs.

Ma look at me. Her eyes soften. She come to me. She put her hand on my cheek. “You are brave, Raju. My brave boy.” She say. Her words were like balm. They heal my anger. They fill me with pride. I was her brave boy. Her protector. Her man. And she was my woman. My everything. The village may watch. They may whisper. But they cannot break us. Not yet. We were strong. Together. In our secret world. Against the world. And we were ready for anything. Anything at all. To keep our love. Our forbidden love. Alive. In shadow. Always. And the shadow was getting deeper. And darker. And more beautiful. For us. Only for us.

Chapter 8: Blood on the Land

Thakur, he was not man to forget insult. Not man to give up. Especially not on land. Our small piece of land. It was like thorn in his eye. He want it. And he will get it. One way or another. I know this. Ma know this. We just wait. For his next move. Like prey waiting for predator.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. The tension in village was thick. Like monsoon air. Everyone feel it. The silent war between Thakur and us. Some villagers, they side with Thakur. They think he is powerful. They think he will win. Some, they side with us. They remember Baba. They remember justice. But most… most just watch. From distance. Waiting to see who fall.

Our secret love, it was like a fire. Burning brighter in darkness. We find solace in each other. Comfort. Escape. When we were together, nothing else matter. No Thakur. No village. No fear. Just us. Our bodies. Our souls. Entwined. In a dance of forbidden pleasure. We were reckless. We were desperate. We were in love. A love that defy all rules. All norms. All humanity.

One night, I was coming back from town. I went to sell some vegetables. It was late. Moon was hidden behind clouds. Darkness was complete. I walk fast. My heart beat fast. Not from fear. From excitement. Soon, I will be home. Soon, I will be with her.

As I near our house, I hear sound. Not normal sound. Like struggle. Like muffled cry. My blood run cold. I drop my bag. I run. Towards the sound. Towards our house. My heart pound in my chest. Like a hammer.

I reach the back of house. Near the well. I see figures. Two men. Big men. They were struggling with someone. Someone small. Someone… familiar. My Ma. My Ma! They were trying to drag her away. Her mouth was covered. Her eyes wide with terror. My blood turn to ice. Then it boil. With rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.

I grab a big stick. From ground. I run towards them. Like a madman. “Leave her! Leave my Ma!” I scream. My voice was raw. Full of hatred. I swing the stick. With all my might. It hit one man. On his head. A sickening thud. He fall. Like a sack of rice. Unmoving.

The other man, he turn. He was big. Strong. He had a knife. It glint in faint moonlight. He lunge at me. I dodge. Just in time. The knife cut air. Near my face. I swing again. He block with his arm. I hit him again. And again. He was strong. But I was mad. Mad with fear. Mad with love. Mad with rage. I fight like a wild animal. For my Ma. For our life.

He stumble. I see my chance. I hit him on his leg. He cry out in pain. He fall to one knee. I raise the stick. For final blow. Then, I hear her voice. “Raju! No! Don’t!”

I stop. I look at her. She was on ground. Her clothes torn. Her face pale. Her eyes full of fear. Not for herself. For me. I look at the man. He was groaning. Trying to get up. I look at the other man. He was still. Too still. My mind was a blur. What I have done?

Then, I hear footsteps. Many footsteps. Villagers. Coming. Drawn by noise. By screams. By fight. I look at Ma. Her eyes tell me. Run. Run now. I hesitate. I want to stay. To protect her. But she shake her head. “Go, Raju! Go!”

I look at the dead man. At the injured man. At my Ma. My heart break. But I obey. I run. Into darkness. Into jungle. Leaving her behind. Leaving our secret. Leaving our crime. Leaving everything.

I hide in jungle. For days. Eating wild fruit. Drinking river water. My mind was full of images. Her face. The dead man. The blood. My hands. They were stained. With blood. With sin. I was a murderer. For her. Only for her.

When I come back to village, after many days, everything was different. The dead man, he was Thakur’s cousin. A bad man. But still. A man. The other man, he was also Thakur’s man. He was injured. But he live. He tell story. About two men. Trying to kidnap Ma. About me. Coming like a ghost. Killing one. Injuring other. Saving Ma.

Villagers, they were divided. Some say I am hero. Some say I am murderer. Thakur, he was furious. He want my head. He want revenge. But Ma… Ma was strong. She stand in front of panchayat. She tell her story. About self-defense. About protecting her home. Her son. She cry. She plead. She was a mother. Protecting her child. And villagers… they believe her. They always believe her. She was Devi. Even in sin.

I was not punished. Not by law. But by my own heart. By my own mind. I was a killer. For her. And she… she was my accomplice. My partner in crime. Our secret was not just love now. It was blood. It was death. It was a bond that cannot be broken. Not by man. Not by God. We were bound. Forever. In sin. In love. In blood. And the village… it was watching. Always watching. Waiting for our fall. But we will not fall. Not easily. We will fight. We will survive. For each other. Always. And the darkness… it was now part of us. Part of our love. Part of our destiny.

Chapter 9: The Walls Close In

Life after that night was like walking on broken glass. Every step was painful. Every sound was a threat. Thakur, he not forget. He not forgive. He was like a wounded tiger. More dangerous now. He use his power. His money. To make our life hell. He stop our water supply. He send his men to destroy our crops. He spread rumors. Ugly rumors. About Ma. About me. About our family. The village, it was watching. Some with pity. Some with fear. Some with… knowing.

Our secret, it was not just ours anymore. It was like a shadow. Following us everywhere. In every gaze. In every whisper. We feel it. The weight of it. The danger of it. But it also bind us. Tighter than ever. We were all each other had. Against the world. Against the darkness.

Ma, she was strong. She fight back. She go to panchayat. She go to police. She use her words. Her charm. Her tears. She was a master of deception. A queen of lies. For me. For us. She make them believe. That we were victims. That Thakur was evil. And they believe her. Most of them. But not all.

Some women, they start to avoid Ma. They pull their children away from me. They look at us with disgust. With fear. They know. Or they suspect. The truth was like a poison. Slowly spreading. In the air. In the minds of people.

I was always with her. Like her shadow. Her protector. Her lover. We cannot be apart. Not for long. The longing was too strong. The need was too deep. We find small moments. Hidden corners. In the field. In the abandoned temple. In the dead of night. Our stolen moments. They were our lifeblood. Our only escape from the harsh reality.

One evening, we were sitting by the river. Sun was setting. Sky was red. Beautiful. But my heart was heavy. I look at Ma. Her face was tired. Her eyes, they hold so much pain. So much fear. And so much love. For me. Only for me.

“Ma,” I say. My voice was small. “What if they find out? What if they know?”

She look at me. Her hand reach out. She touch my cheek. Softly. “Then we fight, Raju. We fight till last breath. For our love. For our life. We have nothing to lose. Only each other.”

Her words, they fill me with courage. And with fear. I know she was right. We have nothing to lose. But everything to gain. A life together. A life of forbidden love. A life of constant danger. But it was our life. And we will fight for it.

Suddenly, we hear voices. Coming closer. From the path. My heart jump. We look at each other. Eyes wide. Fear. Cold fear. We stand up. Ready to run. To hide. But it was too late. They were already there.

Thakur. And his men. And with them… the village headman. And the police inspector. My blood run cold. They know. They know everything. My mind race. What to do? Where to go? There was no escape.

Thakur smile. A cruel, triumphant smile. “So, the pious mother and her innocent son. Caught in the act. What will the village say now, Sita? What will your gods say?” His words were like daggers. They pierce my heart. My Ma, she stand tall. Her face pale. But her eyes… they were still fire. Defiant. Unbroken.

“You have no proof, Thakur. You are just a jealous dog. Barking at the moon.” She say. Her voice was steady. Strong. Even in face of doom.

“Proof? Oh, I have proof, Sita. Many proofs. And many witnesses.” He say. He point to the police inspector. “The law will decide now. Not your sweet words. Not your innocent face.”

The inspector step forward. His face grim. “Sita-ji, Raju. We have received serious allegations. We need you to come to the station. For questioning.”

My heart sink. This was it. The end. The walls were closing in. The secret was out. Or about to be out. I look at Ma. Her eyes meet mine. A silent message pass between us. Love. Fear. Desperation. And a promise. A promise to fight. To never surrender. To never betray each other. No matter what. No matter how much pain. No matter how much shame.

I reach for her hand. She grasp mine. Tight. Her fingers intertwine with mine. Our last act of defiance. Our last moment of togetherness. Before the world come crashing down. Before the truth expose us. Before our forbidden love become a public spectacle. A scandal. A sin. In the eyes of all. But in our eyes… it was still love. Pure. Intense. And worth fighting for. Even if it meant losing everything. Even if it meant losing our lives. For each other. Always. And the darkness… it was now complete. Consuming us. But we were together. In it. Forever.

Chapter 10: The Reckoning

The police station was not like our village. It was cold. Hard. Full of strange smell. Of fear. Of dust. They separate us. Ma in one room. Me in another. They ask questions. Many questions. About Baba’s death. About the man I kill. About our land. About our life. I tell them nothing. Only what Ma tell me to say. “Self-defense. Thakur’s men attack us. We were scared.”

They try to break me. They shout. They threaten. They show me pictures. Of the dead man. Of his family crying. My heart ache. But I keep my face blank. Like stone. I was my Ma’s son. I will not break. Not for them. Not for anyone.

After long hours, they bring Ma. Her face was tired. Her eyes red. But her spirit was unbroken. She look at me. A small, almost invisible nod. “We are together, Raju. Always.” Her eyes say. And I believe her. More than anything.

Thakur, he was there. Smiling. Like a hyena. He think he win. He think he expose us. He think he destroy us. But he not know. Our love was stronger than his hatred. Our secret was deeper than his lies.

They bring witnesses. Villagers. Some speak against us. Some speak for us. The village headman, he was scared. He try to be neutral. But his eyes betray him. He know. He suspect. But he cannot prove.

Then, the injured man. Thakur’s man. He come. His arm in sling. His face full of anger. He tell his story. About how I attack them. How I kill his friend. How Ma was involved. His words were like fire. Burning. But Ma… she was ready.

She stand up. Her voice clear. Strong. “He is lying, Inspector. They attack us. They try to kidnap me. My son, he just protect his mother. Like any good son would do.” She look at the injured man. Her eyes full of contempt. “You were sent by Thakur. To scare us. To take our land. To destroy our family. But you fail. And now you lie.”

The inspector, he was confused. He look at Thakur. He look at Ma. He look at me. He not know who to believe. Thakur was powerful. But Ma… she was convincing. She was a force of nature. A goddess. Even in police station.

Then, a twist. A big twist. The injured man, he suddenly change his story. He say, “No, Inspector. She is right. We were sent by Thakur. To scare them. To make them sell the land. The boy… he just protect his mother. It was accident. My friend… he fall on his own knife.”

Everyone was shocked. Thakur. The inspector. Even Ma and me. Why he change his story? I look at him. His eyes were full of fear. Not for me. Not for Ma. For Thakur. Thakur’s face was red. With rage. He shout. He scream. “He is lying! He is a traitor!”

But it was too late. The inspector, he had heard enough. He look at Thakur. “Thakur-saab, it seems your men are not very loyal. And your story… it has too many holes.”

They let us go. Ma and me. We walk out of police station. Into sunlight. Free. For now. Thakur, he was furious. He swear revenge. But his power was broken. His lies exposed. The village, it was watching. And they had seen. They had heard. The truth. Or what they believe was truth.

We walk back to our village. Hand in hand. Our hearts full of relief. And fear. And a strange triumph. We had won. For now. But the battle was not over. Not yet. Thakur will not give up. And our secret… it was still there. Lurking. Waiting.

Life return to normal. Or what pass for normal. We work our land. We live our life. But nothing was same. The villagers, they look at us differently. With respect. With awe. And with a new kind of fear. They know we were dangerous. We were survivors. We were unbreakable. Because we had each other.

Our love, it grow stronger. Deeper. More intense. With every passing day. Every stolen moment. Every shared secret. We were two souls. Bound by destiny. By sin. By blood. We were living on edge. Every day was a risk. Every night was a gamble. But we were together. And that was all that matter.

Sometimes, I look at Ma. Her face. Her eyes. And I see it. The darkness. The pain. The love. The longing. And I know. We are two sides of same coin. Two halves of same soul. We were meant to be. In this life. In this sin. In this love. Forever.

And the story… it continues. In shadows. In whispers. In the beating of our hearts. It is a story of love. Of hatred. Of betrayal. Of murder. Of family. Of forbidden desire. It is our story. And it is far from over. For as long as we breathe. As long as we live. Our story will continue. In the heart of the village. In the heart of darkness. In the heart of our forbidden love. Always. And I, Raju, will be here. To tell it. To you. To anyone who will listen. For this is my truth. My life. My sin. My love. My Ma. My everything. And I regret nothing. Nothing at all. For she is mine. And I am hers. Forever. In this life. And beyond.

Chapter 11: The Web of Lies

Our victory at the police station, it was like a temporary truce. Not a lasting peace. Thakur, he was like a wounded snake. He retreat. But he was still there. Hissing. Waiting for his chance. And the village… it was still watching. Their eyes, they follow us everywhere. Some with respect. Some with fear. Some with… a knowing look. Like they see through our facade. See the truth beneath.

Ma, she was a master of appearances. She play the role of grieving widow. Of strong, independent woman. Of protective mother. And she play it well. Too well. Sometimes, I wonder if even she believe her own lies. But then, her eyes meet mine. And I see the truth. The raw, desperate truth of our forbidden love. And I know. We were in this together. Forever.

Our stolen moments, they become more frequent. More daring. The fear of being caught, it was like a spice. It add flavor to our intimacy. Every touch. Every kiss. Every whispered word. It was heightened by the danger. By the thrill of the forbidden. We were living on the edge. And we thrive on it.

We find new places. Hidden places. In the old, crumbling temple on the outskirts of village. In the dense mango grove, far from prying eyes. In the dead of night, when whole village sleep. Our bodies learn each other. Every curve. Every hollow. Every secret place. We explore. We discover. We surrender. To each other. To our desire. To our sin.

Ma, she was like a different woman in those moments. Not the strong, defiant Sita. But a vulnerable, passionate woman. Full of fire. Full of longing. She whisper my name. “Raju… my Raju…” Her voice, it was like music. It make my heart sing. And my body ache. For her. Only for her.

I learn her secrets. Her fears. Her past. She tell me about her childhood. About a cruel uncle. About a forced marriage. About a life she never wanted. She was trapped. Until my Baba come. He save her. But he also trap her. In a different way. In a life of quiet desperation. And then… I come. Her son. Her salvation. Her damnation.

“You are my freedom, Raju,” she whisper one night. Her fingers trace my jawline. “My only freedom.” Her words, they fill me with pride. And with a heavy burden. I was her freedom. And I will protect it. With my life.

But the village, it was a small place. And secrets, they have a way of leaking out. Like water from a cracked pot. Small things. A late night walk. A lingering gaze. A sudden blush. People notice. They talk. They speculate. The whispers grow louder. More insistent.

Old Man Ramu, the village elder, he was a wise man. He see things. He know things. He come to our house one day. He sit on our charpai. He drink tea. He talk about weather. About crops. About old times. But his eyes… they were watching. Observing. Like a hawk.

“Sita, my child,” he say. His voice was soft. But firm. “You are a strong woman. And Raju, he is a good boy. But the world… it is a cruel place. And people… they have sharp tongues. Be careful. For your sake. For his sake.”

Ma, she just smile. Her usual calm smile. “Thank you, Ramu Kaka. We are always careful.” But her hand, it tremble slightly. I see it. She was scared. For the first time, I see real fear in her eyes. Not for Thakur. But for us. For our secret.

That night, we talk. For long time. About Ramu Kaka’s words. About the whispers. About the danger. “We have to be more careful, Raju,” she say. Her voice was low. Urgent. “We cannot let them find out. It will destroy us. It will destroy everything.”

I hold her close. “We will be careful, Ma. We will be smarter. We will not let them win.” But inside, a cold dread settle in my heart. The web of lies, it was getting tighter. And we were caught in it. Deeper and deeper. With every passing day. Every stolen moment. Every whispered secret. The walls were closing in. And we were running out of time. But we will not give up. Not yet. Not ever. For our love. For our life. For our freedom. We will fight. Till the very end. Whatever that end may be.

Chapter 12: The Serpent in the Garden

Thakur, he was not idle. He was like a serpent. Hiding in grass. Waiting for right moment to strike. He could not fight us openly now. Not after the police station incident. But he had other ways. More subtle. More venomous. He start to spread rumors. Not just about our land. But about our character. About our relationship. He use his money. His influence. To turn people against us. Slowly. Insidiously.

He find a new ally. Sarpanch’s wife, Lakshmi. She was a bitter woman. Full of jealousy. She always envy Ma’s beauty. Her grace. Her strength. Thakur, he feed her poison. He tell her lies. He make her believe that Ma was a witch. That she had cast a spell on me. That we were living in sin. Lakshmi, she was a loud woman. A gossipy woman. Her words, they spread like wildfire. Through the village. Burning everything in their path.

“Have you seen how Raju looks at his mother?” she would whisper to other women at the well. “Like a hungry dog. And Sita… she encourages him. Shameless woman!”

“They are too close,” another would add. “Not natural. Not right.”

I hear these whispers. They sting. Like a thousand needles. I want to confront them. To shout. To tell them to mind their own business. But Ma, she hold me back. “Let them talk, Raju. Empty vessels make most noise. Our truth is our own.”

But their words, they start to affect us. People avoid our gaze. Shopkeepers give us stale goods. Children run away when they see us. We were becoming outcasts. Pariahs. In our own village. But in our isolation, our bond grow stronger. More desperate. We were each other’s refuge. Each other’s world.

Our nights, they become our sanctuary. When the village sleep, we were awake. Exploring the depths of our forbidden love. Her body, it was a temple. And I was her devoted worshipper. Every touch was a prayer. Every kiss was a sacrament. We were lost in each other. In a world of our own making. A world where rules did not exist. Where only desire reign.

She teach me about her body. About my body. About pleasure. About ecstasy. She was not just my mother. She was my lover. My teacher. My guide. My everything. And I… I was hers. Completely. Without reservation. Without shame. The fear of being caught, it was always there. Like a shadow. But it was a distant shadow. Fading in the light of our passion.

One night, we were in the mango grove. Under the full moon. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and our desire. We were lost in each other. Our bodies entwined. Our breaths mingled. The world outside ceased to exist. Only us. Only this moment. Only this love.

Suddenly, a sound. A twig snap. Close by. My heart jump. I pull away. Fast. Ma also. Her eyes wide with fear. We look around. Nothing. Only shadows. Only trees. But the sound was real. We heard it. Someone was there. Watching. Listening.

We dress quickly. Our hands trembling. Our hearts pounding. We walk back to house. In silence. The fear was back. Stronger now. More immediate. The serpent in the garden. It was closer than we thought. It had seen us. It had heard us. And it was ready to strike.

We reach home. We lock the door. We sit in darkness. Holding each other. Our bodies still trembling. “Who was it, Ma?” I whisper. “Who saw us?”

She shake her head. Her face pale. “I don’t know, Raju. But we have to be careful. Very careful. They are watching. They are waiting.” Her voice was full of dread. And I feel it too. The cold grip of fear. The walls were closing in. Faster now. And our secret… it was about to be exposed. The serpent had found its prey. And it was ready to coil. And to squeeze. Until we break. Until we surrender. Until our forbidden love was crushed. Under the weight of village judgment. And the law. But we will not break. Not easily. We will fight. Till the very end. For our love. For our life. For our freedom. Whatever the cost. Whatever the consequence.

Chapter 13: The Whispers Turn to Roars

After that night in the mango grove, a new kind of fear settle in our house. A cold, creeping fear. It was not just the fear of being caught. It was the fear of being known. Of being exposed. Of our deepest, darkest secret being laid bare for all to see. Every shadow seem to hide an eye. Every whisper seem to carry our name. We were living in a cage. And the walls were closing in.

Ma, she was more quiet now. Her eyes, they constantly scan the surroundings. Like a hunted animal. She jump at every sound. Every knock on the door. She stop going to well alone. She stop going to market. She send me. And I go. My heart heavy. My mind full of dread. I feel the eyes on me. The judging eyes. The knowing eyes. They were talking. I know. But what they were saying? I not know. And that was worse.

Lakshmi, Sarpanch’s wife, she was more bold now. She walk past our house. Her nose in air. Her lips moving. Whispering to other women. They laugh. A cruel, mocking laugh. I want to run out. To grab her. To shake her. To make her stop. But Ma, she hold me back. “No, Raju. Not now. We cannot give them reason.”

But the reasons were already there. In their minds. In their twisted imaginations. The serpent, it had done its work. The poison was spreading. And we were helpless to stop it.

Our stolen moments, they become rare. And more desperate. We crave each other’s touch. Each other’s presence. Like addicts. But the fear was a constant companion. It was like a third person in our bed. Watching. Judging. Reminding us of the consequences.

One night, I could not sleep. The whispers in my head were too loud. I go to Ma’s charpai. She was awake. Staring at ceiling. Her eyes wide. Full of unshed tears. I lie down next to her. She turn. She pull me close. Her body was cold. Shivering. I hold her tight. Trying to warm her. Trying to comfort her. But who will comfort us?

“Raju,” she whisper. Her voice was broken. “I am scared. Very scared. For you. For us.”

I kiss her forehead. “Don’t be scared, Ma. I am here. We are together. We will face it. Whatever it is.” But my own voice was trembling. I was scared too. More than I ever admit.

Then, the next morning, the news spread like wildfire. Old Man Ramu. The wise man. The one who warn us. He was found dead. In his field. His throat slit. His eyes wide open. Staring at the sky. A message. A brutal message. From Thakur. Or from someone else?

Whole village was in shock. Ramu Kaka was respected man. He had no enemies. Or so we thought. Police come. They investigate. They ask questions. Many questions. They come to our house. They ask about Ramu Kaka. About his last days. About his visitors. Ma and I, we answer. Our faces blank. Our voices steady. We tell them nothing. Nothing about his visit. Nothing about his warning. Nothing about our fear.

But inside, my mind was racing. Ramu Kaka knew. He knew about us. He warn us. Was it Thakur? Did he kill Ramu Kaka because he suspect he knew something? Or was it… someone else? Someone who saw us in the mango grove? Someone who wanted to silence Ramu Kaka before he could speak?

The fear, it turn into paranoia. We trust no one. Not even our own shadows. Every face was a suspect. Every word was a threat. The village, it was no longer our home. It was a prison. And we were trapped. In a web of lies. Of secrets. Of blood. And the walls… they were closing in. Faster. Tighter. And there was no escape. Not now. Not ever. The reckoning was coming. And we were ready. Or so we thought. For the storm was just beginning. And its fury… it will consume everything. Everything we hold dear. Everything we are. Everything we have become. In this forbidden love. In this cursed life. Together. Always. Until the very end.

Chapter 14: The Shadow of Doubt

Ramu Kaka’s death, it cast a long shadow over the village. And over us. The police, they investigate. But they find nothing. No suspect. No motive. Just a dead old man. And a village full of whispers. Thakur, he was quiet. Too quiet. It make me suspicious. Was he really behind it? Or was it someone else? Someone who knew our secret? Someone who wanted to use it against us?

Ma, she was like a ghost now. Her eyes, they hold a constant fear. She jump at every sound. She see enemies everywhere. She stop eating. She stop sleeping. I try to comfort her. To reassure her. But my own heart was full of doubt. Full of fear. The world was closing in. And we were trapped.

Our forbidden love, it was our only solace. Our only escape. In the dead of night, when the village sleep, we find each other. Our bodies, they seek comfort. They seek oblivion. In each other’s arms. Her touch was like fire. It burn away the fear. It burn away the doubt. For a moment. For a fleeting moment. We were free. Free from the world. Free from our sin. Free from ourselves.

She whisper things to me. Things she never say before. About her past. About her dreams. About her regrets. “I wish I had met you earlier, Raju. Before all this. Before everything.” Her words, they pierce my heart. A sharp, painful truth. We were born into this. Into this sin. Into this forbidden love. There was no escape. No turning back.

I hold her tight. My lips on her hair. “We are together now, Ma. That is all that matters. We will face it. Whatever it is.” But even as I say the words, a cold dread settle in my stomach. What if “whatever it is” was too much? What if it destroy us? What if it break us?

One day, I was in the market. I see Lakshmi, Sarpanch’s wife. She was talking to a group of women. Her voice was low. Urgent. I try to pass by. But then I hear my name. And Ma’s name. I stop. I listen. My heart pound in my chest.

“I tell you, something is not right,” Lakshmi say. “Ramu Kaka, he was a good man. He knew too much. He was about to expose them. That mother and son. Their unholy relationship.”

My blood run cold. She knew. She knew everything. My hands clench into fists. I want to rush forward. To silence her. To make her pay for her lies. But then, another woman speak. “Lakshmi, you are talking nonsense. Raju is a good boy. And Sita… she is a respectable woman. You are just jealous.”

Lakshmi laugh. A harsh, ugly laugh. “Jealous? Of what? Of a woman who sleeps with her own son? Of a boy who kills for his mother’s lust?”

That was it. I cannot take it anymore. I step forward. “Stop it, Lakshmi! Stop your lies!” My voice was loud. Full of rage. Everyone turn. They look at me. Their eyes wide. With shock. With fear. With… knowing.

Lakshmi, she was startled. But then, her eyes narrow. Her face twist into a sneer. “Oh, the little lover boy is here. Come to defend his mother’s honor? Or his own shame?”

I lunge at her. My hand reach for her throat. I want to choke her. To silence her forever. But then, strong hands grab me. It was the Sarpanch. Lakshmi’s husband. He pull me back. His face grim. “Raju! What are you doing? Have you gone mad?”

“She is lying! She is spreading rumors!” I shout. My voice was raw. Full of pain. Full of anger.

Lakshmi, she smile. A triumphant smile. “See? See how he reacts? The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Raju? The truth is out.”

The Sarpanch, he look at me. His eyes full of suspicion. Full of doubt. He had heard the rumors. He had seen our closeness. And now… my reaction. It confirm his worst fears. The seed of doubt, it was planted. And it was growing. Fast.

I was dragged away. By the Sarpanch. By other men. I fight. I struggle. But it was useless. My rage was consuming me. My shame was burning me. I had exposed us. By my own actions. By my own anger. I had confirmed their suspicions. I had given them the proof they needed.

When I return home, Ma was waiting. Her face pale. Her eyes full of dread. She had heard. The news travel fast in our small village. She look at me. Not with anger. But with sadness. Deep, profound sadness. “Raju… what have you done?” she whisper. Her voice was broken. Like a shattered glass.

I fall to my knees. My head in her lap. “I am sorry, Ma. I could not control. She was saying… ugly things.”

She stroke my hair. Her fingers tremble. “It is okay, Raju. It is okay. We will face it. Together. Always.” But her voice lack conviction. The walls were not just closing in. They were crumbling. And we were caught in the rubble. Our secret. Our love. Our life. It was all about to be exposed. To the world. To the judgment. To the shame. And there was no escape. Not now. Not ever. The shadow of doubt, it was now a monstrous beast. And it was devouring us. Slowly. Painfully. Until nothing was left. But ashes. And regret. But even in ashes, our love will burn. Forever. For we were bound. By sin. By blood. By destiny. And by a love that defy all reason. All morality. All humanity.

Chapter 15: The Village Divided

My outburst in the market, it was like throwing a stone in a still pond. The ripples spread. Fast. Wide. The whispers turn to open accusations. The knowing glances turn to outright stares. The village, it was no longer just watching. It was judging. And the judgment was harsh. Unforgiving.

Sarpanch, he was a powerful man. And now, his wife, Lakshmi, she had a weapon. My rage. My confession. She use it. To turn the village against us. She call for a panchayat. A village meeting. To discuss our “unholy relationship.” To decide our fate. My heart sink. This was it. The public trial. The ultimate shame.

Ma, she was calm. Too calm. Like a storm before it break. She prepare. She gather her strength. Her defiance. “We will face them, Raju,” she say. Her voice was steady. Her eyes, they hold a fierce determination. “We will not hide. We will not run. We will fight.”

I look at her. My Devi. My goddess. My lover. My heart swell with a mix of fear and admiration. She was truly unbreakable. And I… I will stand by her. To the very end. Whatever that end may be.

Thakur, he was smiling. He was behind all this. I know. He use Lakshmi. He use the villagers’ fear. Their prejudice. To destroy us. To take our land. To get his revenge. He was a master manipulator. A serpent in human form.

On the day of panchayat, whole village gather. Under the big banyan tree. Men on one side. Women on other. Children peeking from behind their parents. The air was thick with tension. With anticipation. With judgment. We walk in. Ma and me. Our heads held high. Our faces blank. Our hands not touching. But our souls… they were entwined. More than ever.

Sarpanch, he start the meeting. He talk about village honor. About tradition. About morality. His voice was grave. Full of false piety. Then, Lakshmi speak. Her voice was shrill. Full of venom. She tell her story. About Ramu Kaka’s death. About my outburst in market. About our “unnatural closeness.” She twist words. She distort facts. She paint a picture of sin. Of depravity. Of a mother and son, lost to lust. The villagers, they listen. Some with shock. Some with disgust. Some with… a strange fascination.

Then, it was Ma’s turn. She stand up. Her sari draped elegantly. Her face serene. She look at Lakshmi. Her eyes, they hold a silent challenge. “Lakshmi, you speak of honor. Of tradition. Of morality. But what about truth? What about justice? You accuse me. You accuse my son. But where is your proof? Where are your witnesses?”

Lakshmi, she falter. She point at me. “He confessed! In the market! He attacked me!”

Ma turn to me. Her eyes soft. “Raju, my son, tell them. Tell them what happen.”

I speak. My voice was clear. Strong. “She was spreading lies about my mother. About my dead father. About our family. I lost my temper. Any son would. Any son would protect his mother’s honor.” I look at the villagers. “Is it a crime to defend your mother? Is it a crime to love your family?”

Some villagers, they nod. They murmur. They remember my Baba. They remember Ma’s strength. They remember my loyalty. The tide was turning. Slowly. But surely.

Then, Thakur speak. His voice was loud. Authoritative. “This is all a distraction! This woman, she is a witch! She has cast a spell on her son! She killed her husband! She killed Ramu Kaka! She is a danger to this village!”

Ma turn to him. Her eyes blazing. “Thakur, you speak of murder? You speak of danger? What about your own crimes? What about your men who tried to kidnap me? What about your cousin, who died by his own hand? What about your greed? Your lust for our land? You are the real danger, Thakur. Not me. Not my son.”

The villagers, they look at Thakur. They remember his past. His cruelty. His greed. They remember the police station incident. The injured man’s confession. Doubt creep into their minds. The village was divided. Some still believe Lakshmi. Some believe Ma. The air was thick with tension. With uncertainty.

Sarpanch, he was sweating. He not know what to do. The situation was out of his control. He look at the sky. He look at the ground. He look at the villagers. He look at us. He was trapped. Between Thakur’s power. And Ma’s truth. Or what she made them believe was truth.

Then, a voice. From the back. An old woman. Known for her wisdom. Her honesty. “Enough! Enough of this mud-slinging! We are a village. We are family. We cannot let hatred divide us. We have seen Sita’s strength. We have seen Raju’s loyalty. And we have seen Thakur’s greed. Let the gods decide. Let time decide. But for now… let there be peace.”

Her words, they resonate. The villagers, they nod. They murmur. They were tired of the drama. Tired of the accusations. They want peace. Sarpanch, he seize the opportunity. “Yes! Yes! She is right! Let us not judge. Let us not condemn. Let us leave it to fate. To time. To the gods.”

The panchayat was over. No clear winner. No clear loser. But we were not condemned. We were not exiled. We were still in the village. Still on our land. Still together. For now. But the peace was fragile. Like a thin sheet of ice. And beneath it… the darkness still lurk. Waiting for its chance. To break through. To consume us. To expose us. To destroy us. But we were ready. Ready for anything. For our love. For our life. For our freedom. We will fight. Till the very end. Whatever that end may be. And the village… it was still watching. Always watching. Waiting for our fall. But we will not fall. Not easily. We will survive. For each other. Always. In the heart of darkness. In the heart of our forbidden love. Until the very end. Or beyond.