By The Ellisbridge
It was a gloomy Sunday night. The moon peeked from behind the clouds, afraid to be seen too much. Two silhouetted figures sat on the paved riverfront with the cold waters of the Sabarmati reflecting the clouds. "Are you sure about this?" asked one of them. The speaker was a lady. "It is the only way, Aisha," returned the other in a dull baritone. Aisha's eyes were visibly sore; her kajal had smudged off giving her a fiery look. She trembled as she uncovered an infant dozing on her lap, silently running her fingers along his hair. A tear escaped her eyes. "Come now, it will be over soon," soothed her companion. "I know, Abha, I know. We are finally going to be happy and free," Aisha stuttered. Abha kissed her and wrapped Aisha in her arms. They both sobbed for a while. Abha spoke, "They won't miss us, love. You and me, we don't fit here. Maybe loving you was indeed a grave sin as they say it is, but one, at such, that I'm...
