Soliloquy

Rebecca smiled.

Behind her veil at the Salar Jung, she rarely noticed the changes that the Musi was being subjected to, but she could not have missed the women – dressed in their Sunday best and bedecked with jewels they had last seen on their wedding day – carrying the Bonam, or floral offering to the goddess Mahakali, on their heads. Many of these women had come far, with several availing themselves of the free bus service that the chief of the nobles had bestowed as a mark of his exaggerated largesse, albeit paid for from the state coffers.

Marked ostensibly to thank the goddess for keeping evil at bay and blessing their families with good health, these women would walk barefoot from Afzal Gunj to three destinations of their choice – the Bhagyalaxmi shrine at the foot of the Charminar, the enormity of Lal Darwaza or the one in Shah Ali Banda bequeathed by the brothers Akkanna and Madanna, who were ministers during the reign of Tana Shah, the last Sultan of Golkonda.

The ministrations to the offerings on their head would require endurance far beyond the ordinary from these women. Rebecca hardly understood how they were any different from her, being birds of merely different gilded cages. And yet, these women were accorded the freedom to laugh with abandon before being obscured by the penury of a joyless life, while she could hardly turn her head sideways before being veiled once again.

If you like my work, consider visiting my website to get in touch with more of my writing. You can follow me on X as well. Also, sign up for the newsletter to get regular updates coming your way. I would love to talk to you!