The countryside harnessed a strange calm breeze that swept the produce of nature in the settling burnt orange sunset. They had been driving for hours, craving water they no longer took for granted in this relentless heat. There was a growing sense of uneasiness in the city, and their presence alone had made the servants resentful. The thought of a social unrest panicked Ruth’s mother, who began to predict their future troubles in a manner of certainty, and insisted they get out of the area for a while. They passed by dusty villages with healthy green trees and simple abodes. She didn’t have to look at her mother’s face to know that she was scrunching it up as if to do so would make the lack of extravagant decor disappear. Her father, on the other hand, was enthusiastically intrigued by rural living, peering out the window with wide eyes as he steered. Ruth would like to think he was marveling at this untouched piece of landscape, but she knew that look all too well, in a state of visualising rail tracks and tall buildings.

They stopped by a woman who seemed to have been waiting patiently, her pink sari so bright it imprinted a ghostly figure behind the eyelids. She welcomed the stone-faced little girl who clambered out of the car clutching luggage. And without a word, they drove off.

Ruth. Abandoned. Relieved.