Sahil ki kuch khabar mili?"

(Any news about Sahil?)

Sanjay asked, carefully placing his tea plate on the table. His man, Naath-who had been with him for years, loyal and dependable though a few years younger than him -shook his head slowly in denial.

"Pata nahi bhai, shaadi ke baad se woh kahi nazar hi nahi aaraha..."

(Don't know, brother. Ever since the wedding, he hasn't been seen anywhere.)

Sanjay exhaled heavily, the frustration clear in his gravelly voice. "Yeh ladka kab sudherega... kab samjhega ki hum sab uske dushman nahi hai..."

(When will this boy straighten up... when will he realize we're not his enemies?)

A bitter silence followed before Sanjay's tone hardened again. "Guru ko phone karo... aur use bolo Sahil ko dhoondhne. Kal subah hone se pehle woh mere saamne chahiye."

(Call Guru... and tell him to find Sahil. I want him in front of me before sunrise tomorrow.)

"Ji bhai..."

(Yes, brother.)

Naath responded instantly, bowing his head as he reached for his phone.

A call reached Guru. Without wasting a second, he grabbed his jeep keys and stepped out. While starting the engine, he dialed Soori. And ordered him to reach his house it's not safe to leave her alone at night, especially after that incident.

With that order secured, he turned the jeep in a different direction-towards the old hospital in the village. A place that always seemed strangely crowded despite its broken walls and fading paint.

Stopping the jeep near the half-broken gate, Guru jumped out and walked briskly toward a narrow alley between two crumbling buildings. His boots echoed against the damp ground as he slipped into the passage and emerged at a half-hidden door.

He pushed it open and stepped inside. Dust immediately rose, stinging his throat. Guru coughed, waved his hand to clear the stale air, and kept moving deeper. After a short walk through the dim corridor, he stopped at another door-this one locked. Fishing out a small key, he twisted it open.

The hinges groaned before the room revealed its secret.

A man sat tied to a chair, head slumped but very much alive. The sight drew a sinful, dangerous smile across Guru's face. Closing the door behind him with deliberate calm, he stepped into the room, his eyes fixed on the captive.

Sahil.

Guru stepped closer and tore the tape from Sahil's mouth. Sahil sucked in air, coughed, exhaled shakily and blinked up at him with drowsy, weak eyes.

Guru's gaze flicked to the other body slumped by the wall - a man finished by a bullet, already cold. He moved over and pressed his boot down on the dead man's leg where the wound gaped; there was nothing to feel back, because torture had already taken that away.

"Mar gaya hai woh."

(He's dead),

Sahil rasped, voice thick with pain and spite. "Us ladki ko haath lagaya toh tune uske haath kaat diye..."

(You touched that girl so you cut off his hands...)

Guru looked at Sahil's arm - the hand was gone, severed; he had only taken the hand, though inside he wanted to tear the traitor to pieces for daring to touch his wife. Still, he had promised the old woman he would let her see her son one last time.

He turned to meet Sahil's bloodshot, hate-filled stare. "Pehli baar teri madad kar raha tha aur tune mujhe yahan laake fek diya... jo mahino mein nahi kar paya main woh ek din mein kar deta par..."

(I was helping you for the first time and you brought me here and dumped me... what I couldn't do in months I could do in a day, but...)

Sahil spat through clenched teeth, fury and pain twisting his voice. "Namard hai tu, Guru - dushman tere ghar pe thi, sundar si, aur tune haath tak nahi lagaya. Sale, mere paas hoti toh aaj- AAAAAHHHHHHH!"

(You're a coward, Guru - the enemy was in your house, a beautiful one, and you didn't even touch her. If she were with me today- AAAAAHHHHHHH!)

He screamed as Guru pressed his boot down harder.

Guru held that pressure like a promise, then clamped his fingers around Sahil's jaw and squeezed until the man ground his teeth, daring him to open his mouth again. The room smelled of blood and dust, and the silence that fell afterward felt heavier than any sentence.

Guru's voice came out low, steady, but burning with restrained fury.

"Itne saal tujhe jhela tha aur kuch waqt aur jhel leta... par tune is baar galat jagah dimag lagaya apna. Apun ne kaha tha na tujhse door reh..."

(I tolerated you for so many years, I could have tolerated you a little longer... but this time you used your brain in the wrong place. Didn't I tell you to stay away?)

He looked as if he could kill him in a heartbeat - and he had the power to do it. Sahil was planted in a place where no one would think to look, cut off from the world; even if someone did notice he was missing, no one would ever put two and two together and name Guru as the hand that brought him here.

Sahil stared at Guru, fear finally settling into his bones. In that cold instant he understood why people trembled at the name: when Guru lost his temper, there was no saving anyone - and here, alone in the dark, Sahil knew there would be no one to save him at all.

Guru's tone was sharp and cutting, every word like a blade.

"Bhai, tujhe dhoondh rahe hain. Toh abhi tu chupchap ready hokar waha jaane ka, aur acche bacche ki tarah rehne ka, theek hai? Aur agar aaj ke baad apun ne tujhe uske aaspaas dekha bhi, toh apun tujhe narg pocha dega."

(Brother, they're looking for you. So now you'll quietly get ready, go there, and behave like a good boy, alright? And if after today I even see you near her, I'll wipe you out completely.)

.

Guru slowly pushed open the door of Avni's room, just wanting to check on her once before sleeping. The door wasn't locked, the light wasn't off, but she wasn't on the bed either. His eyes narrowed when he noticed something - a bloodstain spread across the bedsheet. Something inside him shifted, a weight sinking in his chest.

He looked around quickly, then walked toward the washroom and knocked, his voice edged with concern. "Tu andar hai kya? Kuch hua hai?" (Are you inside? Did something happen?) He knocked again, impatience breaking through his tone.

The door opened slowly, and Avni stepped out. She didn't look at him, didn't say a word. She simply walked past, holding her stomach with careful, weak hands.

Guru turned, his eyes following her every slow step. She reached the bed, pulled the sheet aside, and lowered herself down. Curling into the mattress, she dragged a pillow between her arms and stomach, clutching it as if it could shield her from the pain.

Guru stood still, watching her, his jaw tightening. That stain on the sheet, her silence, her frailty - it twisted something deep inside him, something he didn't even want to name.

Guru's gaze dropped back to the blood on the bedsheet, the question slipping out before he could stop himself. "Ye khoon ka nishan-" (This blood stain-).

He fell silent when Avni raised her hand sharply, gesturing him to shut up. Her voice came out tight with pain and irritation.

"Mere periods start ho gaye hain, Guru. Muh band karo aur chup chap so jao. Ye bedsheet main subah dho dungi... use haath mat lagana."

(My periods have started, Guru. Shut your mouth and just go to sleep quietly. I'll wash this bedsheet in the morning... don't touch it.)

She curled deeper into herself, clutching the pillow, her body stiff against the waves of pain.

Guru opened his mouth again as if to say something, but no words came. He shut it just as quickly, his jaw working, eyes lingering on her before he turned away in silence.

In the morning, Guru pushed the door open just enough to glance inside. Avni was still in bed, fast asleep, her face turned toward the pillow. For a moment, he stood there in silence. He didn't feel like waking her.

"Periods?" The word circled in his mind. He didn't know much about it, nothing at all really, except the blood on the bedsheet had stirred something buried deep in memory. He had seen it before, long ago, when he was young - with his mother. That faint reminder pressed at him now, unsettling and strange, as he quietly closed the door again.

Guru stopped near the medical store and asked the shopkeeper for a painkiller for women. The man handed him a strip casually, his words careless.

“Woh sab humari jaane ki baat nahi hai bhai. Aurton ko har mahine aata rehta hai, aur jab ruk jaye matlab pet se hai…”

(That’s not really our business, brother. Women get it every month, and if it stops, that means they’re pregnant…)

Guru handed over the money and took the medicine, but something about the shopkeeper’s words stuck in his mind. If he remembered correctly, Avni had been with him since last month… but she hadn’t gotten her period last month. He froze for a moment, about to turn back.

Just then, a girl walked out of the shop, clutching something wrapped in brown paper. Guru’s eyes caught the packet immediately. Pads. She hurried away, face flushed in embarrassment after hearing the shopkeeper so casually talk about women’s periods.

The man behind the counter shook his head. “Woh ladki jo abhi gayi, uska bhi wahi chal raha hai. Ab toh yeh sab use karne lagi hai, pehle humare yahan auratein kapda leti thi…”

(That girl who just left, she’s going through the same. Nowadays they use these, otherwise in our times women used cloth.)

Guru ignored him. Something tugged inside, and without thinking, he followed the girl. He caught up with her midway and stopped her. “Ye kya hai?”

(What is this?)

he asked, pointing at the packet. Startled, she quickly hid it against herself.

“Ayeee…” Guru started again, but his voice came out heavy, harsh — the kind of tone that scared people. He realized with a jolt that he sounded more like a kidnapper than a man asking a question.

He raised his hand slightly, softening his tone. “Bas apun ko kuch jaana hai… waise tu kitne saal ki hai?”

(I just want to know something… by the way, how old are you?)

“Solah…” (Sixteen…), she whispered.

Guru held out the painkiller strip he had just bought for Avni. She shook her head quickly. “Mujhe dard nahi hota. Sabko nahi hota. Aur meri teacher kehti hai ki yeh dawai hamesha nahi leni chahiye. Kabhi-kabhi chalti hai, par har baar nahi…” (I don’t get pain. Not everyone does. And my teacher says this medicine shouldn’t be taken all the time. Once in a while is fine, but not always…)

Guru frowned, listening carefully. “Accha? Aur kya kehti hai woh?” (Really? And what else does she say?)

The girl shifted the packet nervously but answered.

“Yahi ki periods nahi aaye toh iska matlab yeh nahi ki ladki pregnant hai. Kabhi-kabhi jab hum bohot stress mein hote hain, ya dukh zyada hota hai… usse bhi periods ruk jaate hain.”

(That just because periods don’t come doesn’t always mean a girl is pregnant. Sometimes when we’re under a lot of stress, or when we’re going through deep sadness… even that can stop them.)

The girl hugged the packet closer, gathering a bit of courage when she noticed his genuine confusion. “Aisa nahi hai ki period miss ho toh ladki hamesha pregnant ho jaaye.” (It’s not like if a girl misses her period, she’s always pregnant.) She stressed each word, as if trying to erase the wrong belief he had just picked up from the shopkeeper.

“Kabhi stress ki wajah se, kabhi dukh ki wajah se, ya sharir mein weakness ho toh bhi ruk jaate hain. Yeh normal baat hai.”

(Sometimes because of stress, sometimes because of sadness, or even weakness in the body, periods can stop too. It’s normal.)

She lowered her voice, embarrassed but firm. “Humari teacher kehti hai, har cheez ka matlab pregnancy nahi hota.”

(Our teacher says, not everything means pregnancy.)

“Aur aise samay mein ladkiyon ko pyar se rakhna chahiye. Par yaha toh sab unhe asudh kehte hain. Unki care karni chahiye, unhe acchi cheezein khane ka man karta hai, jaise chocolates waghera. Kabhi unhe accha lagta hai, kabhi bura… kabhi rona aata hai, kabhi pyar.”

(And during such times, girls should be treated with love. But here, everyone calls them impure. They need care, they crave good things to eat, like chocolates and such. Sometimes they feel happy, sometimes sad… sometimes they cry, sometimes feel love.)

She spoke slowly, deliberately, trying to make him understand, while Guru simply nodded, absorbing every detail as if noting it down in his mind, committing it to memory.

“Aur kapda use nahi karte, yeh use karte hain.” (And they don’t use cloth, they use this.) She lifted the paper slightly to show him, then quickly hid it again, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Accha, thik hai…” (Alright, okay…) Guru nodded slowly and started to turn away, but then paused.

“Jo chahiye tujhe, woh sab le le. Aur apun ki biwi ke liye bhi le dena.”

(Take whatever you want, and get some for my wife too.) Guru said firmly, standing beside her.

The girl’s eyes widened as they roamed over the pile of chocolates, snacks, and little goodies in front of her. “Kuch bhi?” (Anything?) she asked hesitantly, still staring.

“Kuch bhi.” (Anything.) Guru nodded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Guru  knocked on avni door. Hearing a soft voice from inside, he pushed it open, only to find her sitting on the bed, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him carrying several bags. He gently set the bags down on the bed beside her.

“Yeh sab kya hai?” (What’s all this?) she asked, curiosity mixing with amazement.

“Yeh sab tere liye. Kuch aur chahiye ho toh bata dena, apun la dega.” (This is all for you. If you need anything else, just tell me — I’ll get it.) he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

She hesitated for a moment, then began pulling items out of the bags — one bag full of pads, another packed with chocolates and snacks, and a smaller one containing tees and pants. Her eyes sparkled a little as she carefully inspected each item.

Guru watched her as she started pulling things out of the bags — one filled with pads, another with chocolates and snacks. A smaller bag contained light tees and pants.

He had brought those specifically because the girl had told him earlier that during this time, they often use the washroom more frequently, so heavy clothes can feel uncomfortable. Guru had remembered that, and had carefully chosen the lighter clothes to make her feel a little more comfortable.

She examined each item slowly, her eyes softening as she realized the thoughtfulness behind even the smallest things he had brought.

“Woh ek aur cheez thi, woh ladki ne bataya tha—” Guru started, but she cut him off mid-sentence, her expression shifting instantly.

“KON ladki?” (Which girl?) Her voice was sharp, curious, yet tense.

“Woh raste mein, solah saal ki bacchi mili thi.” (A sixteen-year-old girl I met on the way.)

“Ohh… bachhi…” she whispered slowly, as if a heavy weight had lifted slightly from her chest.

Guru softened, his voice gentle yet steady. “Agar tujhe kisi pe gussa aaye, apun pe nikal lena. Rona aaye, toh apun yaha hai. Maarne ka man kare bhi, tu apun ko mar sakti hai. Aur pyaar aaye toh bhi…”

(If you feel angry at someone, take it out on me. If you feel like crying, I’m here. If you feel like hurting, you can hurt me. And if you feel love too…) He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging.

“Hmm, samjh gayi.” (Hmm, I understand.)

She looked down, then suddenly remembered something she had meant to ask but had forgotten in the moment. “Woh bedsheet kisne dhuli?”

(Who washed the bedsheet?)

Guru sighed deeply and pressed his lips together. Avni understood immediately. She shook her head with a small, knowing sigh, the unspoken answer settling between them.

“Thank you.” She didn’t feel like arguing. Instead, she thanked him — for understanding, for going out of his way to do all this for her. She hadn’t expected anyone to care so much, especially someone from the village, so thoughtful and precise.

Her period had been missed last month, probably because of the lingering trauma from her mother’s death and everything else she had endured. Normally, she didn’t feel much pain, but this… this was different. And the simple, caring act of his — remembering her needs, bringing her what she required, and respecting her — had made her words come out naturally, without overthinking.