Remarriage

Brinda's mother glanced between her daughter and Adhiraj's mother, both sharing a look of compassion for Brinda. They recognized that her loss today was greater than anyone else's presence here could measure.

Two women from the neighborhood arrived, wiping away her vermilion and removing her mangalsutra, yet Brinda remained seated as if frozen. Her mother's eyes brimmed with tears upon witnessing her daughter in such despair.

One of the women gently took Brinda's hands and shattered her bangles, while Brinda sat there like a lifeless soul. Her mother grasped her hands and spoke softly.

"Brinda, my child, please don’t be like this. I know how you must be feeling, but you have to hold on, if only for the baby in your womb. Look at him, Brinda. Adhiraj is no longer with us. Just look, Brinda."

Still, there was no response. Observing this, Adhiraj's grandmother rose and sat beside Brinda, stroking her head. She took Brinda's hand and placed it on her belly, speaking soothingly.

"Brinda, bacche, think about your child. Your baby needs you. If you remain like this, what will happen to this innocent? Don’t do this to this innocent soul, my dear....
I know the pain that courses through your veins, but you must find strength for the child within you. Adhiraj is gone, but a part of him still lives on, don’t take away his last connection to us."

A sudden, tiny kick jolted Brinda. A flicker of life, a spark of maternal instinct, momentarily pierced the numbness. She looked down at her belly, a glimmer of recognition crossing her face. Then, the crushing reality hit her.

"Adhiraj has left us, he is no more, Brinda."

These words a cruel hammer blow.  Brinda turned and saw him and her entire world collapsed, her husband lay there, his eyes shut—the same eyes that once gazed upon her with such love, care, and respect were now closed. The radiance of his face was marred by the scars of the accident. His hands, which once held her securely and brought her comfort, lay lifeless. The familiar warmth replaced by the chilling stillness of death.

The gravity of the situation began to settle in on her. Her hands trembled, her eyes filled with tears.

A guttural scream tore from her throat, a sound raw and primal, as her eyes landed on Adhiraj.

"Sarpanchhhh jiiii!"

She rose and approached his still form, gripping his shoulders and shaking him.

"Sarpanch ji, open your eyes! You can’t do this to me. You promised you would never leave me! You promised you would come back to me healthy."

"You can't broke your promise!"

She shook his body and sobbed, feeling her heart constrict when she touched his once warm hands, which now felt icy cold—hands she had always melted into.

"Brinda," her mother called, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Maa, tell him to open his eyes! He isn’t listening to me!"

Turning back to him, she pleaded, "Sarpanch ji, have I done something wrong? Please tell me—I’ll accept any punishment. If I’ve ever upset you in any way, I’m ready to face any consequences, but I beg you, don’t give me this punishment. Please don’t leave me! What about our child?"

She looked at his face, tears cascading like a river. Adhiraj’s warm smile, the way he used to gently placed his hand on her belly, whispering promises of love and dreams they had yet to fulfill, were now memories that seemed to scatter like ashes in the wind.

"What about our dreams? Our family? What about our child—the dream that we wove together? I can’t accept this, Sarpanch ji!"

As she laid her head on his chest, crying uncontrollably, her mother held her close.