Sunrise. Twelve hours ago.

Satya opened her eyes to the first rays of sunlight from the overhead ventilator, and the delicious aroma of Aunt Sulochana’s cooking.

Worried that she had overslept, she jumped out of bed. A dull, throbbing ache in her lower abdomen made her winch. She wrapped both her hands over her stomach, waiting for the pain to subside. Yesterday, her time of the month had come without warning. It had never been regular before, skipping at least one month at a time. Hence, the unexpected punctuality of her menstrual cycle had surprised her.

Luckily, it began after dinner the previous night, not during her afternoon lectures at the university. Being entitled to a day of rest every fortnight, she informed her aunt and uncle that she would need to sleep in the next morning. 

Acharya always advocated complete rest on cycle days, though Satya knew many women who continued their duties regardless of the pain and discomfort. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated after a good night’s sleep, despite the ache, Satya didn’t want to stay idle all day either. 

As she hoisted herself off the bed, she could hear Aunt Sulochana bustling about in the kitchen downstairs. 

Not sure if I can eat anything this morning.

Packing a change of clothes in a straw basket, she opened the window curtain, below the ventilator, in the back of the loft she shared as a bedroom space with her aunt, and climbed down the rickety ladder into the backyard of their hut. 

Compared to the front courtyard, it was a tiny space, just enough for three or four people to stand in. A line of shrubs served as a make-shift fence. Jumping over the low bushes, Satya made her way through a muddy trail towards a public well in a sheltered grove. 

At this time of the morning, it looked packed with young women and sleepy children from the hamlet who used it as an exclusive area for bathing, sanitation, and washing clothes. The older women had already left, having completed their activities long before sunrise. The hamlet men used the nearby river instead, being forbidden from this part of the forest at all times.

Having washed up and chatted with the other women, Satya returned home down the same path and up the ladder into the loft. By then, her pain had somewhat receded, and she prepared for another day at the university. 

Dressed in her saffron-coloured uniform, she picked up her basket of books and descended the wooden stairs to the room below. Twice as large as the loft and minimally furnished, the main room was an undivided space, used as a kitchen and a living area. Uncle Madhava also used it as a sleeping space at night.

To her surprise, she found Aunt Sulochana and Uncle Madhava sitting on the floor in the centre of space, silent and pensive. Three plates of breakfast, tumblers of buttermilk, and a vacant straw floor mat next to the third plate lay before them. 

The old woman stared into space, frowning deeper than usual. The old man ate his food with little interest. Seeing their dejected attitude, Satya had a sudden urge to rush out of the hut.

She stepped towards to the front door. “Aunt Sulochana,” she said, “I don’t need breakfast. See you in the evening.”

“Satya, please sit down. I need to speak with you.”

It was a polite but firm command. Satya rolled her eyes, knowing well what her aunt was going to say.

“I can’t be late for school,” she reasoned in vain.

“You won’t be. Sit down and have some breakfast.”

Defeated, Satya complied, set down her basket on the floor and squatted on the third floor mat. A sip of the buttermilk refreshed her. Two pairs of eyes watched her, yet she remained silent. 

Breakfast was a couple of flat-breads steeped in home-made, clarified butter, a bowl of lentil soup, and vegetables pickled in spices and salt. Satya nibbled at a morsel of flat-bread, unable to swallow under the severe scrutiny.

“Satya,” Aunt Sulochana began, “it’s been a week now. Will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Are you sure? You’ve been moping for days; ever since the store inspection. I’ve been patient, but this can’t go on forever. Something happened that day.”

Satya raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t know?”

Hurt at the insinuation, Aunt Sulochana turned to her brother. “Madhava, what is she talking about? Am I supposed to know what happened?”

Uncle Madhava said nothing, still chewing his food.

“I know you two are hiding something from me. You’ve been acting strange these days. I just can’t stand it anymore. You must tell me everything right now.”

The stomach cramps returned in full force, coupled with memories of Veerata’s sudden confession in the storage room. Over the last week, she had tried hard to forget without success. His burning amber-coloured eyes, his invigorating scent, his breath on her face, and his soft kiss still reigned fresh in her mind.

“It’s all my fault,” she cried, bursting into tears. “I never should’ve healed him.”

Her aunt rose and rushed to her side. Kneeling, she wrapped her arms around Satya in a warm embrace. Hungry for comfort, Satya clung to her aunt’s shoulder and wept silent tears.

“Are you talking about Senapati Veerata?” her aunt asked.

“Satya,” her uncle said, “it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong. I don’t know what happened at the store that day, but don’t blame yourself for it.”

Aunt Sulochana’s eyes widened in alarm. “Did he do anything to you? Did Senapati—”

“No!” Satya shook her head, wiping her eyes on the loose end of her upper garment. “It’s not what you think.” She hung her head in embarrassment. “He asked me to marry him and I refused.”