Chapter 6: Punishment and Pain

The spring rain fell like silk, painting blood on the Singh family haveli steps. Kaveripur’s old city lay shrouded in monsoon mist, the air heavy with wet mitti and pain. Thunder rumbled, shaking the tin roofs. Kabir knelt, head bowed, kurta soaked in blood. Crimson drops clung to his eyelashes, mixing with the rain—like sindoor on a widow’s forehead.

The barbed whip cut the air, lashing his back. The sound echoed off the haveli’s stone. Even the peepal tree shuddered, its leaves trembling. Kabir stayed upright, face pale but proud. His sister’s bangles jingled as she ran to her father, crying, "Papa, bas karo! Bhaiya maan jaayega!"

"Papa, please, stop! Bhaiya knows his mistake!" Her voice pierced the rain, desperate. Father Singh’s mustache bristled. Neighbours shuffled in chappals behind curtains, watching but silent. "Now you still refuse to marry Third Princess? You want to join the army?"

Kabir lifted his head, voice steady despite the blood. "Yes, I want to join the army. I want to see how Kaveripur, once crawling at Rajpur’s feet, became so bold. Why must we trade a weak, innocent woman for peace?"

"You ungrateful child!" Father Singh roared, kicking Kabir in the chest. Kabir fell, cheek pressed to cold stone. Rain blurred the world. In that moment, he saw a little girl smiling, holding kaju katli, saying thank you. She understood nothing—a sweet could win her heart. Such an innocent girl, no name, no title—why must she, who struggled so hard to live, be sent to die?

The memory burned. Kabir closed his eyes, the rain and pain becoming one. Somewhere, a temple bell tolled, drowned by the storm.