Episode 2 — Day One

by brewingdusktales

No one spoke on the way to the destination which was still unknown to them. They were blindfolded - no one dared to peek through the fold.

The corridor was too narrow, the air smelled of something older no one knew. They were made to walk barefoot. One by one, they stepped into the room. They stood upon a cold stone floor speaking of a history no one dared to speak about. A single pedestal fan moving like it had lost the will.

There was no beds , only taped squares on the ground marked by white tapes- total 20 squares.

Each girl took a space. Quiet. Unsure. Aru walked to the far end. She just sat down. Cross-legged. Back straight.

Midday, someone came in.

Not a trainer. Just a man in a black kurta. No expression. He carried a cane basket and dropped it at the center of the room. “Sort these. You’ll know what to do" and he left not waiting for any reply or questions.

Inside the basket were odd things —

fresh green peas in pods.

a bundle of rough jute thread.

a pile of old folded newspapers.

a few sindoor boxes.

and empty matchstick cases.

No one said what they were supposed to do. But everyone started doing something after initial hesitation.

One girl began peeling the peas into her dupatta corner. Another started folding the papers into pouches. Someone picked up the sindoor and tried arranging them in rows.

Aru sat still. Hands on her knees. For a long while, she didn’t touch anything.

Then, she reached out and picked a newspaper sheet, tore it cleanly with precision and started folding. Not like a pouch. Not like anyone else.

She folded it diagonally, then again — small, tight folds. Then she slipped a pea pod inside, tied it with jute, and placed it next to her. She repeated the same twelve times. Someone beside her leaned in “Why are you doing that?” No reply. Aru didn’t even glance. She was in her own world.

Evening came. The fan had slowed down.

The room smelled of heat and dry peas and everyone’s breath. The men came back. They walked past most. Took notes. Checked hands. When they reached Aru’s packets, they stopped. One of them squatted, picked up a folded piece, turned it over in his hand.

Paused.

“Who asked you to do this?”

Aru didn't care to answer. She just sat there. The man stared for a second longer. Then slipped the packet into his shirt pocket and walked off.

Night fell quiet and early. Lights out by ten. No switch, just a power cut that everyone knew was scheduled. Most girls lay down being tired. Aru was still sitting.

She took another newspaper scrap. Folded one more. No one had told her to stop.

And something told her someone was still watching.

To be continued