Apart from running a printing press, her husband was a worker in a local political party and specialized in organizing crowds for political rallies. She had seen him through three of those and Seth-ji went ballistic when he was in the thick of organizing a political rally. Rajjo dreaded another rally soon.

She knew Seth-ji was nervous about his upcoming political rally for two young politicians; pulling the crowds in for young politicians was going to be tougher. The local astrologer had warned him that as Shani in his charts was not favourable there could be problems.

They arrived at the vegetable market as Rajjo took in the familiar sights. The entire area was covered in green, purple and reds. Beans, brinjals and tomatoes. She moved further ahead to see piles of potatoes. Since dusk had already set in, each seller had a bulb hanging above his stock of vegetables.

Rajjo had a sudden urge to throw everything away and scream. She wanted to cut herself and see the blood spill on the tomatoes she carried in the white plastic bags.

On their way back it was time to finish the chores and offer the oil in the Shani temple to remove any impediments in Seth-ji’s work. Kesar quietly slipped off his slippers and ran in with the oil to hand over to the temple priest. Rajjo waited outside, staring at her shopping bags and thinking about going home and starting to cook for dinner. And then she saw a little chemist shop around the corner. She simply walked over and bought a blade. Sharp enough to slice a wrist.

She waited outside the temple, with the metal blade tucked safely in her brassiere. The temple bells started ringing in a giant roar indicating the evening prayers had begun. The sound reminded her of her recent life experiences. It rose like a wave of nausea and threatened to drown her. Rajjo tried to break away as she focused on a field ahead of her. She wanted to use the metal blade and end it all.

‘Apples, bananas, cabbage, capsicum, cauliflower,’ she muttered the names of the fruits and vegetables in her bag to quell this fearsome urge. However, in the middle of it all, she could taste Seth-ji’s tobacco on her mouth and skin. She wanted to throw up and wash it away. She wanted to drown in the smells of the vegetable market.

‘Corn, cucumber, ginger, curry leaves, garlic, green mustard, green peas…’ The ringing of the bells stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Thankfully it passed. She saw Kesar bobbing down the temple steps carrying some sweets to share with Rajjo.

Rajjo knew she was drowning. She had to find a way to keep her head up. Her only solace was during the times she spent reading her red diary. One particular thought had completely engulfed her mind lately. ‘Aristotle said the faculty of desire was responsible for all motion.’

Why was she standing outside this temple? Why was she frying onions in the kitchen? Why was she here at all? Nothing made sense, because she was bereft of any desire stirring her soul, because she was living from sunrise to sunset without any desire to exist.