Rani Maa had aged in the last one week and Rajjo noticed the tell-tale signs of stress and despair around her eyes and face. She had lost her divine charm and there was a dangerous gleam in her eye. Rajjo suspected it was the calm before the storm as Rani Maa had not reacted at all to Sukhmani and Mehtaab’s liaisons becoming public knowledge. In fact, Rajjo had reacted more to this news than Rani Maa as fear, insecurity and rejection had made her stop thinking and plotting for a couple of days.

‘I am going to get her thrown from where she came, that Sukhmani. She will not know what hit her…’ The sudden savagery in Rani Maa’s voice made Rajjo shiver.

And then what came next was something that Rajjo would never forget. Its colour, shape, texture; a thing called opportunity. For she dressed in silvery robes, hopped with a fickle gait, smiled and then she was gone. The lucky ones who grabbed her in time had the silvery ashes whisking their palms leaving fortune lines in their wake. Rani Maa’s voice rang in her ear again.

‘Are you listening? Next sermon, you take her place! I dismiss her from my service with immediate effect.’

‘Me?’ Rajjo repeated with a shocked look on her face. Recovering fast enough she added, ‘I am speechless and honoured…’

‘Don’t be, I would have made a donkey sit there as Chhoti Maa, anyone but Sukhmani. I will show her…’

Rani Maa was angry. The red had taken over her brain and the green of envy added another coat – trapping her in a psychedelic prism of emotion.

Rajjo asked hesitantly, ‘Why not Kuljeet? I thought she would be your obvious choice.’

‘She has a limp’. It was an uncomfortable question, but her answer was simple enough, Rani Maa was clearly annoyed that Rajjo had asked such a question.

‘Get ready for the evening sermon, I will introduce you as Chhoti Maa directly on stage.’

‘You won’t wait for Mehtaab?’ Rajjo was surprised at the speed in which things were progressing.

‘Does the sun wait for Mehtaab to arrive before it rises or sets?’

Rajjo rolled her eyes as Rani Maa walked away with a song crooning in the background. She had a victorious expression on her face.

In turn, Rajjo saw the silvery waif-like thing, sitting on a tree branch as the phosphoroescent cinders around it lit up the grove like a shimmery bride.

Rajjo felt surreal all dressed up. Rani Maa made her sit in Sukhmani’s place on stage, and addressed her as Chhoti Maa Durga. The sermon had begun and she just sat there, floating through time.