She wiped her face with a dried cloth and hurriedly hid it in a bundle under her shirt lest the milkman on his return would find it soiled.

‘Don’t tell mother about this.’ Rajjo looked at her sister with her deeply haunting eyes. Rikki simply nodded.

Just then the milkman returned with their utensil filled with milk. He sniffed around at the weird odour, and before he could ask the girls, both of them scooted away. Rikki was petrified that he was going to call after them and scream. Her legs moving fast; her little hands holding her sister’s, both to comfort her and be comforted. The snowy fresh milk dripping as they walked on unsteady legs.

Just then the angry black clouds came rushing in and covered the green fields, followed by thunder. Rikki wanted to rush home, but Rajjo took the longer route home. Rikki knew she was going to the little Shani Temple. These days she visited the temple three times a day, sometimes four. Sheru had whispered to Rikki that their sister was losing it or perhaps a ghost had possessed her.

As she watched her elder sister light a lamp, she could see a tear trickle down her face. Just then the heavy black clouds burst on the fields, drenching one and all, including Rajjo’s little lamp that could not bear the torrent of rain. Rikki stood there, watching her sister pray to the little black deity as rainwater mingled in the white pristine milk and made it salty.

Rajjo lay on her back in the middle of the fields. She could smell the earth. She could see the sky. She could feel something crawl up her hands. She could smell the milk of the grass blades. She thought of the black deity across the road, which she had been worshipping since she was a child. He was not going to let her down.

She sat day in and day out outside the tea shop, waiting for some news about Kashi’s call. She worshipped the black deity, spoke to him, cajoled him, challenged him, showered him with her love, declared her devotion – anything for him to have mercy and forgive her. She asked God to reveal himself if he was anywhere around, and then vowed to never bow to him if he did not pay heed to her prayers this time. She hoped he was listening, but that was all she could do.

Saroj, worried for her daughter, had been reading prayers from the little prayer books sold outside the temple in the house. She would take a bath, cleanse a corner of the house and call Rajjo to sit next to her as she recited the prayers loudly. Usually she did it once a day, but the past week it had increased to three or four times a day. Saroj did it when she was overwrought and Rajjo felt guilty that she was in a state. Her hair where streaked with white, her beauty fading with time and her eyes filled with worry.