divya

[కుమార్]

Divya walked back from Beedaa’s empty house. Her light blue saree moved softly with each step. Heart still fast. Mind full of questions.

‎
‎On the way home, near the slum edge, she saw the rickshaw puller.
‎His name was Hamee. He was the man who daily took Monu to convent scho.ol in his cycle rickshaw.
‎
‎Today he sat outside his small house. Face tired. One eye little swollen. Shirt torn at shoulder.
‎
‎Divya stopped. She felt little surprise.
‎
‎She asked softly, “Hamee bhaiya, why you not come today to take Monu?”
‎
‎Hamee looked up. His eyes went to her face first.
‎ Then slowly down — to her saree, her fair skin, the way pallu hugged her curves. He stared a second too long at her beauty.
‎Then looked away fast.
‎
‎He spoke in low voice, “Memsab… this is my house. Last night my wife beaten me. She got angry for nothing. Called polic.e. They came. Arrested me. Kept me in lockup whole night. Released only this evening.”
‎
‎Divya felt little sad. She said, “Oho… that is bad. Hope everything okay now.”
‎
‎Hamee nodded slowly. Looked at ground.
‎
‎When Divya turned to go home, he called after her.
‎
‎“Memsab… please give me hundred rupees. I want to drink cheap liquor. Just to forget this day.”
‎
‎Divya stopped.
‎
‎She said gently, “Sorry Hamee bhaiya. Today I don’t have cash. I will give you tomorrow. Okay?”
‎
‎Hamee looked at her again — eyes tired but still hungry for something. He nodded.
‎
‎“haa memsab. "
‎
‎Divya walked away fast. Head down. Pallu tight.
‎
‎Inside house, she closed door. Leaned against it.
‎
‎Monu still watching TV.
‎
‎She felt more shame now. First beggar last night. Now Hamee staring at her like that. Asking for money to drink.
‎
‎She thought: “I am married woman. Mother. Teach.er. Why everyone sees me like this now?”
‎
‎She went to kitchen. Made juice. Sat with Monu.
‎
‎But mind not peaceful.