The Red Thread

She soaked her feet in the holy river and rubbed the slippery stones underneath the water with her toes. The sunrays penetrated deep down the waters and the sounds of hymns from the ashrams penetrated deep down her soul at the same time. For quite long, she kept looking at the red thread tied on her wrist. It was moist, losing color but still clutching her wrist tightly within the knots, which the temple priest had tied. Again and again, this thread appeared like her marriage, which had dampened with time and had lost its essence but was still clutching her existence because the society has tied it so tight to her life. For years, she had been living in the empty-shell marriage where she had been mindlessly laboring for the sake of a societal compulsion. Exhausted with the weight of her own thoughts, she tried to look elsewhere. A group of people were rowing a boat in the river. They appeared extremely audacious to her at first, for they had dared to venture into the dee...