It was late in the day, and the stars were shining along with a half-moon in the dark sky. Many villagers sat outside their huts, upset.
Banjeet sat on the charpoy outside his hut, disturbed. His short, chubby wife, Maahi, sat beside him smiling, but he didn’t feel her presence.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, but no reply.
Maahi put her hand in his, where it rested in his lap. Banjeet flinched and looked at her, pulling his hand from her tender grip.
“What’s wrong?” she asked once more, dragging her hand away.
“I-I’m sorry.” His eyes shifted from side to side in embarrassment. Then he looked down at the sand.
Maahi slowly put her hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m your wife. Your troubles are my troubles. I’d be glad if you shared what’s troubling you.”
Banjeet pushed himself slightly
