The garden behind Thakur haveli had turned into a full village arena. Almost a hundred villagers — men, women, young and old — sat on the ground in a huge circle, eyes glued to the centre. Bamboo poles were already fixed in the middle like a stage for sacrifice. Neha’s heart stopped when Swati and the men dragged her there. She had thought it would be only Adwik, Kamal, Swati, Lokesh, Sidharth, their wives Monika and Sonal, and the ten old panchayat members. But her own father, Somal, was sitting right in the front row, staring at his daughter with the same hungry eyes as the rest. The entire village had come to watch the new Thakur bride get publicly broken.

“Arre… yeh sab log…? Bapu bhi…?” Neha whispered in shock, trying to hide behind Swati.