The day is as usual hot. I am not supposed to stop. This burning sun and hot sands can not cease my footsteps. I wish I had some water left in my bag. Thor never felt that much hot earlier. I am walking for around 2 hours and no oasis. I were expecting to reach mansalmir , the nearest village, within 1 hour. But I guess, I have lost the road. Hey, wait whats that....a small cottage I guess. Is it illusion or is it really there. okay ..now I am at the doorsteps. "hello, is anybody there?" Its seems like a haunted story...where a stranger ends up with a ghost. Well, I would be happy in that case. But in my story I am ended up with a dirty bed, a broken table and a diary and other useless things. After searching for another 1 hour at last I found mansalmir. I have the diary in my pocket. Though its really bad to posses someone's else's stuff, but I hardly care. The owner of the house where I am supposed to stay is really good. After finishing my dinner, I am at my room with the diary. I am Kriti Sharma, a sociology student from Delhi University. I came here to study the village life of Rajasthan for my project work. But I have read something in the diary..which have stunned me. I want to go back to the cottage tomorrow morning...and simply I am waiting for the morning like never before.
The warm kiss of the morning sun gave my sleep an end. I asked the house owner about that cottage in the desert. He was astonished. He never heard of something that before. Ok...now that is quite heartbreaking. I have to find someone who knows about that cottage and can lead me to. I have not given up. If no one can help then I have to make my way alone. Suddenly I felt a pull in hand. An old man, about 80, has hold my hand. Now what is that. He murmured....'mere sath aao.' 'aapko pata hai, mujhe kya chahiye?'. 'aao.' Ok..now this old fellow thinks that he knows what I wants...nice. This time I had to walk only 40 mins to reach that cottage again. How can this fellow know what I were searching for? That diary had a story which that old man retold me that morning. He was a school master in that village, who always used to give fight against child marriage. He was happy with his wife and daughter. Her daughter was really beautiful. A progressive father who wanted his daughter to be highly educated. But the fate has something else in its gloves. On her 16th birthday the brutal thakurs of that village took her away and raped her. Her mother were burnt with the accusation of being witch. The last page from the diary were - "Father I love you. Never put any burden on your heart. I am going to my mother. Someday we three will remain in peace. Father please keep my last wish. All my books should be given to another Parvati who wants to pursue higher education." Parvati's father weep for a long time that morning. I was there just to collect her books lying on the table. Parvati's father saw me last morning with the diary of her daughter. He did not need to guess what I were looking for....