The private bus halted yet again, jerking slightly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Great,” he muttered. “At this rate, we’ll reach tomorrow afternoon instead of morning.”

The driver seemed to stop wherever he pleased—tea stall, tree, shadow, imagination—no guarantee.

He was just about to scold the driver when he noticed new passengers boarding. His irritation evaporated like steam from a hot dosa, replaced by an involuntary smile.

Because she walked in.

A girl with long hair, a mask covering half her face, but even that couldn’t hide the elegance in her posture or the softness in her movements. Her silhouette alone screamed elite beauty. She struggled adorably with her bag, trying to hoist it up the steps.

Before he could blink, some young fellow—looking like he desperately wanted to be the hero of her story—jumped forward and placed her bag on top.

He scoffed internally.

Ah, look at that. Show a pretty girl and suddenly men turn into bodybuilders.

Still… he smiled.

“Sir, seat number six?” Her voice floated to him—soft, melodic.

He straightened slightly. “Seat number six? That’s my—”

Before he could finish the happy little movie that flashed in his head—where she would chase away the snoring man beside him and take that seat—the driver pointed elsewhere. She walked past him and sat beside an old woman two rows ahead.

His imaginary romantic movie ended in the first scene.

“Beautiful,” he sighed dramatically to himself. “She walks in like a dream—and I’m stuck with the snoring machine.”

He stuffed cotton into his ears and stared out the window. The night was deep, fields stretching endlessly on both sides. The clock struck 2 AM.

A while later, the bus stopped near a tiny roadside stall, hidden between fields like some secret checkpoint.

The driver called, “Tea! Anyone?”

He stepped out—part to stretch, part to breathe, part because he couldn’t take the snoring anymore. The stall was dimly lit, surrounded by wide fields whispering with the night breeze. “This isn’t even a proper road. Why am I here?” he thought

He lit a cigarette and exhaled, the smoke curling lazily into the darkness.

As he finished one and lit another, a voice came—soft, hesitant, unmistakably hers.

“Sir… sir?”

He turned, startled for a moment. She stood there, mask still on, eyes gentle, expression polite.

“Sir… if you don’t mind… could you please help me? Can you bring me some juice or fruit?” she asked, almost apologetically.

His mouth responded faster than his brain.

“What? Don’t you have a mouth or legs? Go get it yourself!”

She froze—hurt, startled. She looked at the crowd of men around the stall and explained quietly, “Sir… there are many men there. You’re taller… you can reach more easily. That’s why I asked. Sorry.”

She turned away to ask someone else.

He felt a tiny stab of guilt.

“Alright, I’ll get it,” he grumbled, grabbing the money from her hand like she owed him rent.

He walked to the stall, thinking, Which stall sells fruits at 2 AM? She’s asking like this is a supermarket.

Surprisingly, he found bottled juices.

“Hey!” he called out. “Local brands. Will you drink these?”

“No fruits?” she asked hopefully.

He blinked at her. “What? This is a roadside stall! Be grateful they even have bottles!”

She hesitated. “Does the juice taste good?”

He stared. Did this girl think I did a PhD in juice tasting?

“Do I look like their loyal customer?”

“Sorry sir, I mean… is it really juice or—”

“Do you think I work in the factory packing these bottles?”

She sighed. “Please just bring whatever they have.”

Before they could finish, two more buses arrived, crowding the already tiny stall.

The stall owner listed the options politely, “Orange, mixed fruit, guava…”

He turned to her again.

She asked, “Which one is good?”

He was ready to snap, so she quickly added, “Just pick one.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” he muttered, ordering mixed fruit juice.

He paid, waved away the change, and rushed back to hand her the bottle—because the bus might leave any second.

Except…

It already had.

He froze. Two steps. Empty road.

“What happened to the bus!?” he shouted.

She looked up, mid-struggle with the juice cap. “Eh? Where’s the bus?” she gasped.

“You were right there! Didn’t you see it?” he barked.

“What do you mean, sir? I didn’t see anything… oh god… did it really leave?”

He tried calling. No signal.

“Check your phone!” he insisted.

She opened her bag in slow-motion heroine mode, making him want to pull his hair out. He grabbed her phone—no signal.

He walked into the trees, holding both phones up like antennas. Meanwhile, the other two buses left as well.

He shouted, “Stop! Stop those buses!”

She blinked innocently. “Sir… those are not our buses… why would they stop?”

He stared at her like she said the Earth was flat.

“Do you have any idea where we are!? Look around—there is nothing but darkness and this stall light! At least if we boarded some bus, we would have reached civilization. You—are—utterly—useless.”

He said it while still trying to catch a signal, breath heavy with frustration.

"Hey, from where did you even come? Brainless girl," he fumed. "If we had just boarded those buses, we could have caught ours or at least gotten off somewhere else. Look around! It's like a jungle! There's no light anywhere except this stall, and no village nearby. You're utterly useless!" he muttered, still checking his phone, wishing for a signal. As he had described, it truly felt like a wilderness; only the stall's dim light pierced the encroaching darkness.

The girl shivered, her fear palpable as she scanned the surroundings.

Her eyes widened with fear, scanning the dark surroundings. She trembled.

He paused.

“Hey… what happened? Feeling dizzy?” he asked gently, holding her wrist and checking her pulse.

“Yes…” she whispered.

“Did you eat anything?”

“I’m fasting…” she said.

He stared at her .

"Even if you feel dizzy, collapse of unconsciousness, fast shouldn't be broken? Who told you such nonsense!?" he shouted at her foolishness.

He gently took the bottle from her, opened it, and offered it back. She took a sip, her face twisting in distaste.

"Is it bad?”he asked.

He asked her to remove the mask so she could breathe more easily. She removed and he finally saw her beautiful face in awe.’She truly an elite beauty’ ,he smiled to himself

“ It tastes awful. Is there another flavour?" she asked, her voice faltering.

"Everything here tastes the same; these are all local brands. Just drink something, you look like you're about to collapse," he grumbled, though his concern was evident. As she considered discarding the juice bottle, his words made her pause, fearing his reaction. "Drink it," he insisted gently, and she reluctantly took another gulp.

Taking her hand, he led her to the stall owner. "Sir, we missed our bus. Are there any vehicles available here, even just to take us to the next bus stop?" he asked.

The stall owner replied, "Sir, this isn't even a highway. Look, it's just a dirt track. Buses come this way to avoid two toll booths to save money. These are the last buses for tonight; no more will come until the same time tomorrow". The stall owner began to pack up his belongings, preparing to close the small, ten-foot square shack.

They exchanged worried glances, wondering what to do next. He felt a surge of anger, but before he could utter a word, a distant jeep was approaching them, blaring loud disco music and boisterous shouts.As he suspected the jeep is filled with rouges who are drunk, and they all scream danger. Instinctively, he grabbed the girl's hand and swiftly pulled her inside the small stall, hiding her behind the door before the jeep's occupants could see them. "Shh," he whispered, gesturing for her to stay silent.

The men in the jeep looked like troublemakers, alcohol bottles in hand. "Hey, give us some cigarettes!" one of them demanded.

"How many do you want, brother? four and put it on my tab," the man shouted, replied the stall owner.

The men smoked and drank alcohol there for about an hour, while he and the girl huddled silently, their hearts pounding.

The stall owner, oblivious to their presence inside, locked up his shop. "Hey, did you see anyone around here?" he asked the men.

"What? Are you drunk? No one's here but you. Come on, let's go," one of them said, and they took the stall owner with them, driving away.

The moment the jeep full of drunk rogues finally roared away into the darkness, silence fell like a heavy curtain. He immediately rushed to the door of the tiny ten-foot stall and tried to open it.

Clunk.

Locked.

He jerked the handle harder. Nothing. He pushed, kicked, shook it—pointlessly.

“Oh no…” she whispered, sinking straight into the corner like a wilted flower. “What do we do now?” Her voice trembled exactly like her hands.

He spun toward her, frustration exploding out of him like a match thrown into oil.

“WHAT do we do?” he repeated mockingly. “Shouldn’t you have checked whether the bus was leaving? All this—ALL OF THIS—is because of you! I tried helping someone like you and look what happened. My luggage is gone! Do you even know how valuable it was, you foolish girl?”

His words hit her like slaps.

She stared at him, deeply hurt.

How can he speak without a single ounce of respect? I was dizzy, scared, confused… and this brute talks like I ruined his whole life?

She folded her arms, watching him rant, wondering how long he would continue.

He noticed her staring.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Are you planning to hit me?” he challenged.

She immediately looked away.

“Oh, so NOW you have attitude after doing all this? Unbelievable. Stupid girl…” he grumbled.

“Excuse me,” she snapped softly, “Mind your words.”

“Oh really?” His irritation rose—

Then suddenly he stopped. His eyes narrowed at her.

“What? You’re dizzy again?”

“…Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.

He exhaled sharply. “Drink the juice.”

“I won’t,” she muttered. “It’s awful.”

“You’re fasting and you refuse juice? Great. Perfect.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Just drink it. What choice do we have? There’s not even water.”

She scanned the dirty, dark little stall—bare walls, no fan, no windowpanes, a broken rug in the corner—and hugged herself. The creeping darkness, the distant chirping of crickets, and the cold air made her feel smaller and more alone.

“Drink,” he repeated.

She shook her head desperately. “I’ll throw up.”

“Fine.” He stood, walked around the stall searching for anything—and returned with vegetables.

A cucumber. A bottle gourd. Two tomatoes. Two carrots.

He placed them in front of her. “Eat.”

She blinked. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

“These are all we have. If you don’t eat, your BP will drop. Then what? Eat whatever you like.”

Reluctantly, she wiped a tomato with her shawl and bit into it.

He watched—a little too intently.

“Are you hungry too?” she offered innocently, not noticing the why he staring at her lips. “You can eat if you want…”

He instantly turned away.

After she reached for a second tomato, he stopped her.

“No. Don’t eat the tomato. Eat something else.”

“What? Now you’ll tell me WHAT to eat too?” she asked, annoyed.

He leaned closer. His voice dropped, low and rough.

“Do. Not. Eat. The tomato. Eat something else. Trust me. If you don’t, then don’t blame me for my actions later.”

Their eyes locked—

A strange, warm tension flickered between them.

For some reason she couldn’t explain, she obeyed, picking up a carrot instead. She ate slowly, and for the first time tonight, a small smile touched her lips ‘Thank god now she doesn’t feel dizzy anymore’.

He went back to the door, kicking it high and hard.

The stall shook.

She gasped. “What if it breaks?!”

“I WANT it to break!” he snapped. “Otherwise,  \ what do you want us to do? Sit here and meditate with no water?”

He kept kicking, trying everything—hands, legs, shoulders—but the door stayed stubborn.

Frustrated, he sank beside her.

She pushed the remaining vegetables toward him. “You eat. I don’t need them.”

She shivered violently. Cold air blew through the broken window frame.

He watched her for a moment—then silently got up, dusted the rug he was sitting on, and handed it to her.

“Cover yourself. You’re freezing.”

“Ugh. No… isn’t there anything else?” she asked with a childlike frown.

He stared at her. Then smirked.

“Oh sure. Just wait—I’ll call room service and ask for a blanket, a heater, maybe even hot chocolate?”

“Why are you so sarcastic?” she snapped.

He spread his hands. “Do you SEE this place? What exactly do you expect me to give you?”

She finally wrapped herself—shawl first, then rug—and curled up like a scared kitten. Exhaustion dragged her under, and she fell asleep.

He didn’t sleep for a long time.

He watched the moonlight through the window… then watched her.

“So beautiful…” he murmured to himself.

Hours passed.

She woke up at dawn to find him asleep, head resting against the wall.

Peaceful. Quiet.

Shockingly handsome.

“He looks so innocent when he’s not shouting…” she thought.

Weakness overwhelmed her again, and she drifted back to sleep.

When she woke next, it was 11.

“Oh no—it’s eleven already?! Did someone come?”

He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Oh yes,” he said dryly, “Trump and Modi came. Asked if we needed anything. I told them the hospitality is five-star, so they left.”

“Why are you like this?” she asked, irritated. “I asked a normal question.”

“Oh, please. You think I’m as dumb as YOU? Of course, I’d wake you if someone came.” He started again, “Why didn’t you stop those buses? No common sense. God forgot to give you a brain—did you escape from a mental hospital?”

She clenched her jaw. He kept going like a machine.

She forced herself to stay calm. “Can I… eat something now?” she asked in a tiny voice—mostly so he would stop yelling.

He turned away. “Whatever.”

She ate the last carrot. Then stared helplessly at the bottle gourd and cucumber.

“What do I do with these?”

“Eat them.”

“How?!”

He picked up the big round cucumber, squeezed—

CRACK.

It split cleanly in two.

She froze.

“Oh my god… if he got angry and crushed my head like that, I’d be DEAD.”

He smirked. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it.

They shared the cucumber, both thirsty to the point of agony.

She looked out the window and whispered dramatically, “The water pot… it’s right there. Just two steps away…”

He looked into her eyes.

“Yes. Thirst is within reach… but unattainable.”

She nodded sadly. “Right…”

He smirked at her dumbness, or should we call it innocence.

Time crawled.

Her dizziness returned.

Silence settled.

And then—

VROOOOM.

Three vehicles approached.

They both shot up.

He pulled her behind him instantly. “Hide. Stay behind me.”

Her heart fluttered strangely.

He might insult her like a demon, but in danger… this man stood like a shield.

The men who arrived were old, rugged villagers—nothing like the previous rogues. The stall owner was with them.

She nearly cried from relief.

“Oh god, I’m not this happy even when I see Lord Venkateswara in Tirupati! Open the door, please!” she begged.

The stall owner opened it.

They BURST out and ran to the water pot like two people escaping desert punishment.

She gulped glass after glass.

He picked up the whole pot and drank directly.

Water dripped down their faces, clothes soaked.

They looked at each other and laughed breathlessly.

Nothing tastes as heavenly as water.

Then… silence.

Twenty stern old men stared at them.

He straightened awkwardly. “Hello… we missed our bus yesterday. Can you arrange a vehicle? Or maybe drop us off at the bus stand in your vehicles?”

What followed next

…turned their lives upside down.

The moment they finished drowning themselves in water like two newly released desert prisoners, they looked up—and froze.

Twenty-plus elderly men, all built like retired wrestlers, stood in a semi-circle, glaring at them like “caught red-handed criminals.”

The girl clutched her shawl.

The boy fixed his shirt.

He cleared his throat. “So… we missed our bus last night. Can you help us reach the bus stand?”

The elders exchanged looks so dramatic, it felt like a TV serial close-up montage was about to start.

The leader—a massive man with the aura of a whole Panchayat (LEADER)—turned to the stall owner and thundered:

“What is THIS, boy?! Did you think this shop is a lodge?!”

And raised his hand to slap him.

“Hello, boss! Why are you hitting HIM?” the young man jumped forward like a very irritated bodyguard.

“Shut up! You look educated, but your morals are ZERO!” the elder snapped.

Both of them blinked, confused.

“What did we even DO?” their expressions screamed, even though words didn’t.

“You two are UNMARRIED!” the elder growled.

“You stayed in this shed together ALL NIGHT! Do you think we were born yesterday?!”

The girl stared.

The boy stared.

Life stared back.

He tried to explain, "Hello, boss, you're misunderstanding. Yesterday, we missed our bus. Last night, some men came in a jeep, similar to yours. Fearing them, I hid the girl, and we both stayed in that room. He locked us in without realising we were there. We've been inside for twelve hours without water. Nothing happened as you're implying. But could you please arrange a vehicle for us? There's no signal here either," he explained earnestly

The villagers shook their heads like disappointed school teachers.

One man scoffed loudly, “So you’re saying NOTHING happened? A handsome young man and a beautiful girl stayed alone all night… and NOTHING? Even the scarecrow in the next field won’t believe that!”

The boy lost it.

“Stop talking nonsense! Use your brain, old man!”

The gang of more than 20 men shouted at him in anger and raised their sticks.

“ Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?" he began to challenge, stepping forward, but then stopped.

 There were twenty-five men, most of them carrying sticks or sickles, and she whispered, "Why are you angry at them?".

The girl, dizzy again, tugged his shirt in fear.

"What! Do you know what they're thinking?" he muttered, glancing at her.

 "What are they thinking? “she asked, unable to focus

“How the hell am I stuck with a dumb, foolish girl like you?" he thought.

He sighed, already regretting life choices.

“I swear you’re the CEO of brainless moments.”

He noticed her wobbling and immediately panicked.

“Does anyone have chocolate? Salt? Sugar? Anything?! She’s going to faint again!”

One elder gasped dramatically.

“Oh my god! She’s ALREADY fainting! How many months pregnant is she?!”

Both of them:

“WHAT?!”

He yelled, “I DON’T EVEN KNOW THIS GIRL! I MET HER YESTERDAY!”

“Ohh these modern youngsters!” one elder clutched his head.

“They celebrate Feb 14th and sleep anywhere they get privacy!”

The gods of misunderstanding were working overtime today.

The elder didn’t waste a single second.

“BRING THE BAG!”

A man rushed to the jeep and returned with:

✨ a silk saree

✨ wedding dress for men

✨ a mangalsutra

The girl blinked.

The boy’s soul left his body.

The elder declared:

“Put on these clothes. Tie the mangalsutra. Correct your mistake.”

The boy’s brain short-circuited.

“WHAT PLANET ARE YOU FROM?! Have you lost it?!”

Twenty-five villagers raised their sticks again, ready for Season 2.

She clutched his arm, dizzy and terrified.

“Please… salt… chocolate…” he begged.

The men finally gave her both with some packed cold breakfast. She revived like a mobile phone plugged into a charger.

"Are you okay now?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yes," she replied, looking around and finally noticing the crowd of people surrounding them and their furious demeanour. With her dizziness, she couldn’t understand their serious arguments till now. As she is finally able to focus, she turned towards him, who is clenching his fist, controlling his anger and shooting daggers at the folks who look equally angry at them.

"What is all this commotion about?" she asked, bewildered.

"Perfect, you silly girl, we are really landed in serious trouble!" he muttered.

 "What's going on?" she asked.

 "They all want to marry us off," he explained.

She shot up like a burnt popcorn kernel.

“What MARRIAGE?!”

“You tell them,” he said, fed up with existence.

She tried explaining.

The elders didn’t budge.

"Stop it, girl! Do you have no sense, or mortals? You look like a cultured young woman, like Goddess Mahalakshmi. Why are you involved in such immoral acts? What will your parents do if they find out about you like this? Can you imagine the shame they feel? Can they show their faces in society? You young people don’t care about anything. All you care about is enjoying. How many months along are you?" one of the angry elders questioned.

At his harsh words, tears filled her eyes, but she had to be strong in this situation. She swallowed her tears and looked at the young man, bewildered.

 "You fainted, right? So they're thinking you're pregnant," he whispered to her.

"What?!" she exclaimed, turning to the crowd. "Sir, it's not what you think. I don't even know this man!".

 "See, brother? This is what happens. Spending the whole night with strangers.They don’t care who they are unless they are man and woman," another sneered, HIS anger flaring again as he advanced towards people.

 "Stop, stop!" she pleaded, grabbing the young man's shirt and pulling him back. "Sir, please listen to me.” She started to explain again.

Main Elder shook his head in disappointment “Young lady, I'm telling you politely, both of you, please change out of those wet clothes in that room. Then come out. We'll talk later," he instructed.

He looked at the leader and all the folks around hi. he understands how seriously stubborn they are.

 "Alright, our clothes are indeed wet," he conceded, going in to change. After he returned, the girl went in. She didn't come out for a long time.

 "Hey, how long is she going to take?" they called, knocking on the door from outside.

 He didn't know what to do. He feared that if he didn't cooperate, they would surely force a marriage or beat them to death with their sticks. "Oh, what kind of place is this? This wretched bus dropped us in the middle of a forest," he cursed under his breath. Almost an hour passed, and still, she hadn't opened the door. "How will we survive here until the next bus comes? Will they even let us leave?" he worried.

They continued to bang loudly on the door. "Just a little longer, please; I don't know how to wear a saree," she called out.

"Women certainly have their advantages," he mused. "Well, it's for my own good, isn't it? Otherwise, who would tie the mangalsutra to a girl, marrying her, I don't even know," he thought," If she drags it out for another couple of hours, a bus might come, and we can escape".

But those people aren’t fools "Hey, call your wife out!" they demanded.

"My wife? I don't even know who that girl is!" he protested.

"Listen, are you going to ask her to come out, or should we break down the door?" they threatened.

"Hello, excuse me! You're going too far!" he retorted. "Do you even know who my father is? If I make one phone call..." He trailed off, remembering there was no signal here.

“oh, then call” one said sarcastically

“There is no signal” he ground his teeth

"Shut up and sit down! This is useless, “one shouted, holding his stick.

“You!  I  should call the police!" he declared.

"Oh police, In this village, we are the police, we are the leaders! Just listen to what we say," the elder cut him off decisively. "Brother, the girl still isn't coming out," some of the men informed the elder.

 "Alright, boy, go get your bride out. She says she doesn't know how to wear a saree. Go help her, tie it or whatever, just bring her out," the elder instructed.

Suddenly, the girl had an idea. "Excuse me, could you please come and help me?" she called out.

Unsure what else to do, he reluctantly went to her. The girl let him inside, then swiftly locked the door. He expected to find her still struggling with her blouse half-nude, but she was elegantly standing, perfectly draped in a saree; even in this situation, he was stuck with her beauty and elegance.  he asked in surprised. "What?You are ready? Then why don't you come out?" he asked.

"NO, why come out? If I do, they'll marry us off. That's why I'm sitting here," she explained. "Let's think of something.”

“Like what?” he thought

She offered Solution #1:

“Let’s say I’m married!”

He: “They’ll make you my SECOND wife.”

.‘Ugh, second wife’

She died internally.

Solution #2:

“Let’s say YOU are married!”

He: “They’ll STILL marry YOU to me.”

After a decade of serious thinking, she came up with another idea.

Solution #3 (her masterpiece):

“Say we are brother and sister.”

He recoiled like she threw acid at him.

“I WILL NOT say that.”

“Why not?! It’s EASY!”

“I don’t have sisters. And I don’t consider you my sister.”

“Why NOT?! We have no relation!”

He took a deep breath “What if we just say we're not strangers, but brother and sister?" she proposed gently.

"Nonsense! I'm not saying that," he retorted.

"No, please, consider it. Otherwise, they'll definitely make us marry. Do you know how scared I am of their sticks?" she pleaded.

 "Oh, so you were scared then, that's why you were dizzy?" he enquired.

 "Yes, please, just say you're my elder brother," she begged.

"I will not say I'm your brother. If you have any other ideas, tell me," he stated firmly.

"Why won't you say it? It's easy!" she insisted.

"What's easy? I don't have any sisters, and I don't consider you my sister. Tell me another idea," he declared.

 "Why wouldn't you consider it? Do we have any real connection?We are complete strangers. You could just say, 'Sir, This girl is my sister I can not marry her' and they would send us away gracefully," she argued.

 "Look, we already told them there's no relation between us, and a complete strangers. If I suddenly say you're my sister now, do you think they'll believe it?”

“ Even if they don't believe, they might calm down a bit, right? Meanwhile, we can convince them of something else," she reasoned.

"I am absolutely not saying you're my sister," he firmly replied.

"Why wouldn't you say it? “

“I'm telling you this because you're pushing me to say," he began, his voice taking on a different tone. "I saw you when you boarded the bus. You have such a captivating figure; you're absolutely stunning. Would any man ever see you as a sister? I certainly wouldn't. “

He looked at her lips and continued, “If I were to tell you just one of the thoughts I had about you last night, you'd be more terrified of me than of that whole crowd outside, whom you feared earlier. My thoughts were so intense,  potent, so ADULT-rated. So with those thoughts in my mind, I can't call you as sister. So, no 'brother' idea. If you have any other suggestion, let's try it," he declared.

The girl was suddenly stunned by his words. She had always thought he was a good person, that even with the opportunity, he hadn't misbehaved or even tried to touch her, imagining him to be noble. Hearing such words from him now, she was utterly shocked.

 "Hey, are you coming out or not?" they shouted, banging on the door again.

His anger flared at their relentless knocking. "Please, calm down and think for a moment," the girl pleaded with him.

 "What is there to think? If there were a signal here, they would all know who I am, Who my father is by now, they all would leave silently in fear," he retorted, full of frustration. The girl looked at him with surprise, thinking about his grand words and exaggerated demeanour.

‘What ! is he thinking he is a man with a great flashback and family background as king or what!He is feeling he is hero Basha in the Basha movie,’ she thought in frustration at his behaviour.

"This isn't the time for that. Please, let's think of what to do now," she urged.

Suddenly, the banging on the door intensified. "Look, there's no escaping this. It seems I'm going to tie the mangalsutra around your neck and marry you. Just take this lightly,ignore that this incident even happend," he said, a strange mix of resignation and defiance in his voice.

 "What are you saying?" she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

 "Look, now they put me in a fix. I have no other option. Do you?" he asked.

She began to sob . They started trying to break down the door. Annoyed, he opened the door and walked out. She continued to weep. "Hey, what did you do? The girl is crying!" they exclaimed.

"It's not because of me; she's crying because of you all," he retorted.

 "Girl, come here! We'll marry you off!" they insisted.

 She began to cry even harder. "If you had cried like this earlier and thought about being cultured and moral, you wouldn't have come to this," the elder chided.

"Soon your belly will show. How disgraced will you be without a mangalsutra around your neck then, girl?". The girl's sobs grew even louder.

 "Don't cry, don't cry! Hey, young man, come here and tie the mangalsutra!" the elder commanded.

He stood still, unmoving. "Are you going to tie it or not?" they demanded, surrounding him with their sticks. Approaching the girl, he whispered, "Just take it lightly . What else can we do?". And with that, he tied the three knots of the mangalsutra around her neck.

She was stunned at his words, looking at his face, then down at the thread hanging around her neck on her heart.

"Now, boy, put bindi with the Kumkum on her," they instructed.

 He took the Kumkum and applied it to her forehead at her bindi .

 "not only there put it here, in the hair parting?" one elder instructed.

 "There's a sacred stone here, our village deity. Walk around it seven times," they commanded.

"Seven times?" he questioned.

"Yes, seven times, that's right." all elders confirmed. As two of them began to walk around it once, one of the men stopped them.

"Wait, wait, not like that!". One old man took the towel from his own shoulder, draped it over the young man's shoulder, and tied it to the end of the girl's saree.

"How many knots should I tie? Two, I think," he muttered. "No, three. All wedding knots are three," another corrected.

"Really? Just three? Should I put anything inside?" elder asked.

"Coins and rice, throw them in!" someone replied.

"Alright," elder agreed, picking up some paddy from the field, and pulling out some change from his pocket, he tied them into the corner of her saree. This knot was then tied to the young man's towel. "Now, walk," they instructed. He controlled his anger, following their every command.

"Now, both of you sit side by side. Hey, take some photos!" someone ordered. Unsure what to do, one of the old men took pictures with his broken mobile.

"From today, you two are husband and wife. Don't do such foolish things; live happily together. Don't quarrel. By next year, bring a child to show our village deity, take her blessings," the elder leader proclaimed.

She sat there, still weeping. The men milled around for a while. Soon, a bus arrived. they both boarded the bus and sat down. They said nothing, remaining silent.

He felt bad looking at her crying state "Look, it's over now. Just ignore everything, take it lightly" he tried to reassure her.

"What do you mean, 'take it lightly'? You keep saying 'take it lightly,' but would you take this lightly? I certainly cannot!" she cried out, her voice filled with anguish. All the passengers on the bus turned to stare at them.

"Why are you shouting at me?" he snapped, frustrated. "They were the ones who did all this! Why come and yell at me?". Annoyed, the girl stood up beside him and moved to a seat far away. "Fine," he muttered, turning his face away. "Tickets, tickets!" They both disembarked at a nearby bus stop. From there, they boarded different buses, each heading to their respective towns. And so, they went their separate ways