Confluence.

The rippling of the river sent a thrill across her spine. Wasn't it the river that had so many memories about her childhood? Wasn't she a child anymore, considering that the memories don't trace back to more than three years ago? Or has she grown up much more than her body suggests? Whatever the case may be, she no longer is the same little village girl who used to carry a bag of roasted peanuts to the banks of river Ganga and sit on a log, throwing pebbles in it. It was her favourite time of the day. Away from home, the swampy slum that she always pictured in her mind when someone mentioned the word "home", where the running water with its gushing sound engulfed her soul and all she could think at that moment was how it felt to be swimming upstream.

She is scared of water. That is the reason why she finds peace when she is near it. Isn't it always this way that the thing that causes anxiety and fear in you also attracts you towards itself more strongly than something that you are usually more inclined to? Well, the phrase 'more inclined to' can be subjective though! Fear has this ability in it. It creates an aura of its own from which you cannot remain untouched, unaware and unplugged. Fear to cause change, fear to become the reason behind that change, fear to face something which may not be as fearful to anybody else as it is to you but to you it can mean the end of the world, fear to actually realize that it is significantly the most expected and unattainable thing to happen at that moment and still you cannot stop it and the fear to know that you're not afraid, you are just devoid of faith.

The ripples of the river water send a thrill across her spine......
There is no bag of peanuts in her hands. Neither is she searching and collecting smooth and round pebbles to toss in the water and nor is she sitting on her favourite spot in the bank with the pebbles wrapped in her dupatta. She is naked today, her clothes hanging from a nearby branch of a tree. The nakedness does not intimidate her shame anymore. Hasn't she been naked on many occasions, being scrutinized by the vulture-gaze of the Zamindars, to satisfy their lust in the name of service to the Gods? Yes, 'Gods' and not 'The God'. There are 36 crore Gods and Goddesses in this land. No wonder why a prayer of a Devdasi takes so long to reach any one of them in particular!!!

The nakedness is blurred. It may be because of the fact that the focus is not on her bare skin but on her soul. Her soul is naked, precisely. Misused, sold, exploited and yet sacred. She is a Devdasi. A maiden who had been married off to a deity in a ceremony which signified the beginning of a life where she can be a servant to the temple Gods, a courtesan, a dancer, a singer and also an artifice for sexual pleasures to the rich men in the village, role-playing differently at the same time. Where has the daughter, the sister and most importantly, the lady disappeared? Isn't it included in the role-playing? No. That will be preposterous and ludicrous! People would laugh if they hear that a Devdasi can also play other characters in real life! She has always been there for the benefit of the public. Good in an ironical manner.

It has been long since she left "home". It doesn't mean that the swampy slum does not come in the back of her head when she talks about it. It has always been there. It is a part of her. The place where she grew up for the first fifteen years of her life. The clay pots, the kerosene stove in the corner of the single-roomed hut, the dilapidated cot at the rear end and the small money plant in a plastic water bottle hanging from a wall supported by a couple of rusty nails. She was ten when she brought it from Kanai Mashi's place. She thought  money grew on it and one day they would be rich and Mother would not have to go to different homes at the darkest hour of the night. What chores are supposed to be done away with at that time, she never understood. The vessels, the stove, the cot, the money plant and Mother. That comprised of "home". Now, she lives in the temple grounds at the outskirts of the village, near the river bank. She no more has a home. Home is gone. Burnt down to ashes.

Today she is thinking of her husband. The one she was married to? Yes, that one! He had always been with her. Why didn't he come for her rescue when he was within her reach, she doesn't know. Was he even reachable? Or is it the orthodox doctrine which instilled in her the thought that he is divine and resides in her and not outside? "Embrace yourself and you will attain peace". Didn't they say embrace yourself and not all the other men? Invigorating indeed!

"Will I see him, meet him, embrace him, today?", thought she.

One step in the water and she knew she will find peace today. Peace, that will surround her with an aplomb light and lead her to her beloved. The rise in the rate of her heartbeat suggests fear but she is not afraid today. Nor is she devoid of faith. In fact faith is the most prominent emotion roving inside her guts. When the water reaches her lungs, she sees it. The most magnificent vision of all. A chiaroscuro! It is the manner in which the light strikes upon a picture, only highlighting the objects upon which the light is supposed to fall, illuminating the outlines of his divine body. For that instance, it looked like a painting in the shades of grey imitating the effect of relief. A relief that today she has not been disappointed by him, in him. The only colorful hues that are reflected are from the peacock feather on his crown. She hears a faint tune leading her to a tunnel of light. Is that a Baansuri? It is enchanting! She is truly a Devdasi now, in form and in being. She is in peace.