Binodini lives in 4 Kalicharan Datta Road.
An innocuous lane in Notunpara. Behala.

She is beautiful.
Large round eyes. Kohl-lined.
A small bindi on forehead. Red.
Draped in a cotton saree. Goddess.

Today she is coming back from her
weekly routine of ‘career’.
11.30 PM. Dim lights light the road.
Dogs stand guard as she walks
past them in brisk pace.
She is the oldest and the youngest of her home.
So she has the full right to herself.
Yet, she quickens the pace.
She thinks of the bucket of cold water.
And her body laden with dust and sweat.
And the distance between the two.
Distractions help on such lonely nights.

Binodini hears some voices few strides away.
Strangers and their noises.
She has to decide between speeding up and
speeding up.
With luck maybe she will know a face or two.
Their sound gets louder.
She nears them. None familiar. A beat skips.
She hears some rushed whispers. Or is it the wind.
The sound of a distant dog howling.
Or is it just one of them?
And all this while the moonlight is casting melancholy shadows upon the road.
Binodini rushes past.
Her sweat trickles down her face, onto her neck and
into her breast-folds.
Breasts filled with pride and fear.
She sees few head turn.
She senses it. Like always.
A quick glance through the corner of her eye;

Sigh!
Mental check-mark done.
Cold bucket is back in the picture.
Landscapes transition out of the metaphor.
Sleep shall be safe and sound.
Binodini saves the day.