War For Love

~Seven~

The officials did everything they had in their power and authority to find the woman, Officer Dankworth had seen near the river. The royals first thought that Dankworth must be hallucinating but when they found a piece of torn printed clothe, which very much resembled like a women's ghagra (skirt), they knew Dankworth wasn't hallucinating. There was a woman. They could've simply walked in the village and forced them to reveal the name of the first woman who had dared to go against the officers and royals. Who dared to go against His Majesty, His Heirs. And letting that woman roam openly would mean more women to protest in the future.

They couldn't have risked that, especially after a bunch of men already revolting against them. They couldn't have afford any more people. But misbehaving with their women would induce more anger and more of protest, so they decided to inspect on the office level only. They couldn't simply extort information from women. Officer Woollard looked at the small piece of clothe in hand, before he called one of the villager who was employed as the local cop. They treated these local cops with disrespect, not giving them the job as per their position. The royals were given special treatment. While the locals were humiliated everywhere.

"You called me, Sir?" The local cop— Shankar asked, looking at his superior with slight hesitation. He wasn't much aware of what was cooking inside the headquarters and now being called upon suddenly, made him feel scared.

"For how long have been in this village?" Officer Woollard asked and Shankar licked his lips, shrugging his shoulders, forgetting that Officer Woollard wanted a verbal answer. But one stern glance from his superior and he remembered the rules they had beat in him. He still had scars on his body.

"All my life, Sir."

"Then you must be knowing about the women of your village, right?" Shankar's eyes jerked up, into Officer Woollard's eyes. His fingers clenched and his lips pulled in a thin line. When he gave no response— neither verbal, nor any nod or shaking of head, Officer Woollard glared at him angrily.

"Pardon, Sir?"

"Do you or do you not know about the women of your village! Are you really dense or you simply wish to enrage me early in the morning!?" Shankar felt the humiliation seeping in him. Anger surfacing his face but he had no option but to drain all his anger out and bow down in submission.

Shankar was the only working man of his family. He had the responsibility of his three younger sister and one older sister, who was yet to get married. They once had a hector of land but even that got out of their hand due to no clearance of debt to the royals. Now they only had one option left— Shankar. And so many people had their hopes invested in him that he can't even risk to break them.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I just got....... startled that why are we talking about our women in the station?" Shankar asked, softly but with a strict gaze that made Officer Woollard to almost shoot him. He never liked the villagers and now, bearing one as his junior gave him some— more power to harass them. And he wasn't letting go of it, anytime soon.

"Why, would you like if we extort the information from your women by calling them in the police station, hm? We can do that. Atleast they won't defy my orders. And you very well know, why." Officer Woollard threatened Shankar, making him gulp. How would it look if the women would be called to the police stations for interrogation. Would they even live with the trauma of getting harassed by the foreign royals! What if one of those women is his sister? Will he live by the fact that his sister was a suspect?

"Of course not, Sir. Please forgive me. How can I help you, Sir Woollard?"

"Look at this piece of clothe. Which class of women wear this kind of clothing? They don't look like the dress elite women would wear." Officer Woollard said, handing him over the piece of skirt.

Shankar looked at the piece of skirt and knew it neither belonged to the elite class, who often loved to wear the silks and heavily embroidered sarees, nor his sisters. His sisters wore the boarded sarees and not the printed skirts.

"Well?" Officer Woollard asked, raising his brow as he adjusted his hat.

"You're correct, they don't belong to the elite class. May I ask, with your permission, of course, why are we searching for the owner of this skirt?"

"I am searching for the owner, Shankar, not you. Please forbid yourself from including me in your group in future. Anyway, this piece of skirt was found in the office those scoundrels bombed. And I suspect there was a woman involved in the attack."

Shankar's eyes widened at the information his superior just gave him. A woman? In the attack? That seemed not only a lie but also immoral to him. It was unusual and unheard of that women engage in the protests and fights. Especially the ones which involve grenades and murder. And were women even made to be this savage as to kill? For Shankar, women had always been fragile, someone who needs protection. Not someone who would fight in the battlefield.

"That's..... that's impossible, Sir Woollard!"

"We're not talking about your people's independence, Shankar! There was a woman. And you'll tell me what kind of women in your village wears this type of skirts. Am I clear?"

Shankar looked hesitant but nodded his head, nonetheless. He felt defeated. He felt like a betrayer. Who pushed off the reputation of their village women into vain to save their job? Shankar. He nodded his head in defeat. Guilt stabbing him right in the chest.

"Crystal clear, Sir."

"Good. Now tell me, who wears these skirts in your village?"

"Almost everyone who can't afford good clothes, Sir. Excluding the elites, some landlord's wives and daughter, almost every woman of our village wear clothes of such prints. Either plain or with some print patterns. But even elites can wear them, if they wish to fool the royals."

"Can you go in the village and get us the name of the woman whose skirt is slightly torn?" Shankar looked at his superior with wide eyes, filled with horror.

"But Sir, I can't go around to asking women if they have torn skirts! That would be...... sinful! Against my morals! I can't ask women about this!" Already the villagers were against Shankar working for the royals and now this would make everyone hate him.

"You can't but I'm sure your sisters can. Either you work for the wage we provide you or I suspend you now and interrogate women in my office, starting with your sister. Last decision shall always be yours, of course."

Shankar never wished to kill them as much he wanted to now. But he nodded his head, knowing he had no other option but to comply.

~~~~~~~

"What are you exactly doing, Siya?" Vedika asked, sitting beside her sister who was sewing a white clothe. Siya looked up, shrugging her shoulders as she moved continuing to sew the clothe which looked more like a kurta (long shirt reaching until the knees with only three buttons on the top).

"Sewing a kurta." Was her simple answer.

"You just made a kurta for Baba, yesterday, Siya. You're making another one and we didn't even had any material left. Where did you get this?" Vedika asked, touching the half made kurta, and she knew this type of clothe wasn't there in their house. It looked expensive. Expensive, looking at their family income.

"This is not for, Baba. And no, this wasn't in our house either, I bought it from the market."

"You bought from the market and it's not for Baba, either. Who are you making this for, then?"

Siya didn't say anything for a few seconds. Her heart curling inside her chest. The answer to her question made a thousand new questions to rise in her mind. She licked her lips, her grip on the clothe increasing as she turned to look at her sister. She was the only one, who knew everything about Siya and never judged her for any of her actions. So, she finally admitted who she was sewing. Even if, she wouldn't have, Vedika would've known.

"Sahib."  Vedika knew the answer already.

"Wait. You had saved those money to buy yourself a new set of skirt and blouse. You don't have any more clothes left, Siya. And the one you wore in the protest also got torn."

"It's always, jiji, I atleast have clothes to wear. It's getting cold now and he doesn't have anything other than a dhoti. How would he survive in such condition?"

She wanted to smile and her lips twitched a bit, making Siya to narrow her eyes at her.

"What are you smiling for?" Siya growled, her cheeks flushing pink, which made Vedika to laugh even more. Siya was now glaring at her elder sister, her lower lip almost out in a pout.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Carry on, Sahib must be waiting for you." Siya looked away from her sister, carrying on with her sewing. Her heart kept beating loudly in her chest as she bit her lips.

"He doesn't know about this." Siya admitted softly and Vedika rose her brows, her smile widening even more.

"Jiji," Siya called after a long pause of silence, making Vedika to look at her sister, nodding her head, asking her silently to continue. "Am I doing something wrong? Immoral, maybe?"

Vedika was stunned at her sister's words. Siya wasn't the one to swim in the ocean of anxiety and self doubts. She never cared about people and their opinion before. She always believed human mind works independent of what others think. People may work according to the norms of the society but their mind, it doesn't always accepts the rules.

"Does it feel immoral to you, Siya?"

Siya thought for a moment before shaking her head. "No."

"We all think differently, Siya. What would be right to me, would maybe wrong for you. Unless and until, you don't feel the guilt of what you're doing. It's not wrong." Siya pressed her lips together, nodding her head.

"You know, Jiji, Sahib saw my hair open today. I— I let him see me so raw. And like, Ma always says, that a stranger's gaze makes you uncomfortable, I felt nothing of that sort. I don't know him, he doesn't know me and yet when his gaze took me in, it didn't felt wrong. Even when I went in his house, this morning, I applied ointment on his wounds. I touched him, Jiji. My— my fingers brushed his naked back. And all of what happened today would a sin in everyone's eyes and yet it felt no wrong to me."

Vedika looked shocked. She looked at her sister for a minute in silence, not knowing what to say as she has never been into such situations before.

"Many years back and even now, Siya, women lived in veil. They still do after their marriages. First, people used to kill girl child and the widows used to jump in the fire while cremating their husbands. These all were the norms and unwritten rules of our culture but slowly these things are getting wiped out. Nothing is wrong and nothing is right, Siya. What is legal today, may become illegal tomorrow. Unless and until no-one's getting harmed, everything is alright. Hm?"

"You're not ashamed of me?" Siya asked and Vedika laughed at her words.

"Siya, trust me, you are the woman many aspire to be but they're too coward to be you. I am one of them. You inspire me, Siya. And one day, this world will understand your courage, respect your courage. They will accept your courage. But until then, you'll always be the woman, we all can't be."