The girl told him her story. She was from the village below the ruined fort. One of the elder man in the photo was her husband. She was married off to him when she had turned fifteen. It was common in their tribe she said but she didn’t wanted this fate for herself. She rebelled and it was during those days that she met Nathu, the young man in the photo. They fell in love. He was from the other village at the top. Their path never crossed and nobody came to know. They started to meet secretly. The husband used to go to the city on Saturday to get the weeks household shopping. He also used to spend a night in the village on the path at his uncle’s home. It was all a routine. In those nights she used to sneak away and come to the pond to find Nathu invariably waiting for her. They used to spend time talking, making vows, repeating the promises and then return to their homes with new dreams for the night. Those few hours filled their lives with immense happiness and hope. They spent the rest of the days and nights waiting for next Saturday when they would be together again.
P.S. After a long long time, I’ve written a story this long. Actually I started for a small one, originally the first part only. But then I went on. I thought about it a very much, so much that when I woke up next day, the first thing that came to my mind was the story. I wondered if I was thinking about it in my sleep too.
I have tried to write the story differently, in all passive tone. I don’t know how much justice I have given to the story this way. But I feel strongly and honestly that the last part could have been better. But with passive tone, I was not able to come up with better way to write it. But maybe when I come back again to this story after some days or months, maybe I have improved and could think how good this story was and what could have been better. Happy writing and Happy reading.