The haveli was in mourning.

Bhairav Ji's body had been blown into bits, and there was barely anything but charcoal left of him. His corpse was unidentifiable, and I couldn't even bring myself to look at it.

There was no sindoor on my forehead anymore. No colorful bangles on my hands or ghaghra in my hair. Dried tears stained my cheek as I leaned into Dadi's embrace. She hugged me tight, refusing to let go. Maa still hadn't stopped crying. All the neighbours and relatives tried to console her.

Aradhya stood in a corner, dabbing her eyes with the pallu. Even Payal was beside her. They often glanced at me, but I didn't know what to do anymore as I stared at the remains of my husband's body, covered with a white cloth.

Bhargav's eyes were red. He had gone out through the back door to cry by himself. Even Keshav had tears in his eyes as he squeezed Saarang's shoulder. My brother didn't understand what was happening.

How could it even be possible?

It was just yesterday morning that I had seen him. I had pushed him away because of his annoying, shameless antics.

His smell... The undertone of his voice... The softness of his hair... The way his beard pricked me whenever we made love... The warmth of his touch...

I knew everything. It was ingrained on my body, along with his name.

How could I possibly continue to live forward like this?

In fact, the only reason I had been left alone, instead of being compelled into performing sati, was for the sake of my children. Everyone in the family stood against the villagers. They wouldn't let me die as well, and I was grateful.

My children... My sweet, innocent babies... What had they done to deserve this?

How would they grow up without their father?

After Bhairav Ji's corpse was brought home in the morning, even a few police officers had come to the haveli. I heard them discuss with Bhargav and the others that it had been Naman's doing. The same caretaker of the factory who I thought adored my husband.

Naman had hung himself after the explosion so that nobody would punish him. And he had left a letter as well, in which he expressed his contempt towards my husband. I couldn't believe that he had done something like that over a trivial argument.

Raghu and Janu were upstairs with the maids. I didn't want them downstairs. I couldn't let them see the state their father was in.

As the arrangements for the funeral proceeded, the elders of the village made it clear that Raghav had to be present for lighting the pyre.

I couldn't allow it. He was just a baby.

Why did they want him to go through all that?

"Nahi... Raghu kahi nahi jaa raha..." I hugged him against my bosom firmly.

(No... Raghu is not going anywhere...)

"Bitiya, yahi niyam hai. Raghav ko lekar jaana chahiye, woh Thakur Ji ka waris hai," one of the elder women tried stealing him out of my arms.

(Child, this is the custom. Raghav needs to be there; he's Thakur Ji's heir.)

"N-nahi! Nahi! Mere bache ko nahi dunga... Mere saath rahega-"

(N-no! No! I won't give my child... He'll stay with me-)

I could hear the others whisper around me at that time. "Pati ko khone ke baad bawli ho gayi hai..."

(She's gone mad after losing her husband...)

"Shaant ho jaiye... Thakurain Ji... Bache ko jaane dijiye!" More women interfered and tried to stop me. When Raghav was finally snatched out of my arms, he whined and cried. He hated crowds. I knew that. Only I could console him now.

(Calm down, Thakurain Ji... Let go of the child!)

If Bhairav Ji had been there, he wouldn't have allowed it.

Tears streamed down my face, "Raghu...! Mat lekar jao! Mera beta-!"

(Raghu...! Don't take him! My son-!)

The women held me back, and I had to watch Raghu being held by some stranger. Bhargav and Keshav carried the byre silently. Women weren't even allowed to step out of the house. It ruined me entirely.

"Raghav sahi salaamat wapas aa jayega, Sanjana," Aradhya whispered in my ear and hugged me as I sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder.

(Raghav will be back safely, Sanjana.)

Why me?

Why was everything being snatched from me?

It all began with my father.

My mother took him away from me.

Phool was taken away by my stepfather.

And just when I thought God had been kind to me by giving me a husband like Bhairav Chaudhary, even that was stolen away.

What had I done to deserve this?

***

Later in the evening, when the men returned, I took Raghav into my arms immediately and went up to the bedroom to feed him. He had been crying all the way, and even his temperature was higher than usual. My baby calmed down finally as I fed him milk, but even then, I didn't have a moment's peace.

The villagers whispered among themselves, asking what was going to happen to the estates under my husband's name. Who would take care of it? Who would inherit it? They completely left Janaki out of the picture and said things like: until Raghav comes of age, it will anyway be managed by Bhargav and Keshav.

Some even discussed my life, as if I were invisible. I had become a widow at 20. And considering how cruel villagers were to widows, I'd have to be cautious at all times. There was no man left to protect me. And in a world like this, I desperately needed protecting.

I gulped, holding my children close and trying to ignore the cruel things the women whispered.

It was Bhairav Ji's dream to make me teach in the school. He wanted me to send Saarang there as well. I couldn't mourn and mope every day now. If I wanted to survive, I'd have to start planning my life from now on. I desperately didn't want to let my husband down.

If he wanted me to teach, then I would teach.

He was the one who had taught me that there was no greater wealth in this world than knowledge. I'd pass on the same values to our kids and make them scholars. Janaki wouldn't have to marry as a child; I'd make sure of it, even if I go through hell.

I was still Sanjana Bhairav Chaudhary. Not even gods could change it.

A/N - Double update incoming :)