Brief
A world were poor are treated worse than pets. A society where women are not seen as goddess who give birth to new life but a tool to give birth for next generation. A society where women are always suppressed and doesn't have voice for themselves and agrees to every punishment even if it's death or worse. A community where any man can claim a disowned women but never happens. A society where fertility, and beauty is most important for women. Beauty determined by how fair she is, how slim she is, how flat chest she is how does she smell is the factors which determines how her life would be.
Sima is a 30 years old woman who has every trait which made her ugly, her brown skin, her curvy body, her heavy voluptuous chest, have a strong musky smell of sweat and ghee like thick sweat which makes her and undesirable.
But got married to a normal person but at the age of 29 but after an year and she not getting pregnant, made everyone realise that she is an infertile and cannot carry a child. So as a punishment she was hung on a tree and let the vultures eat her alive
Sima stood tied against the rough trunk of the old banyan tree at the edge of the village.
Her wrists were bound high above her head, the ropes digging into skin that had long since gone numb. Dust clung to her damp body. Strands of black hair stuck to her face and neck where her thick perspiration had gathered, glistening in the afternoon heat.
The villagers had left hours ago.
Some had spat at her feet.
Some had laughed.
Others had simply looked away.
None had spoken in her defense.
The verdict had been delivered, the punishment declared, and Sima had ceased expecting mercy long before that.
Disowned.
The word echoed inside her mind.
No family.
No husband.
No home.
No future.
She stared blankly at the dry earth beneath her feet. Even tears refused to come. She had cried too much already.
Perhaps this was what remained when a person finally broke.
Nothing.
Only emptiness.
A warm breeze drifted through the trees, carrying the scent of dust and distant cooking fires.
Sima barely noticed.
The world had become dull and distant, as if she were already a ghost watching her own body from far away.
Then she heard footsteps.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Approaching.
She assumed it was another villager.
Another curious spectator.
Another person coming to stare at the village failure.
She kept her eyes lowered.
The footsteps stopped directly in front of her.
Silence followed.
Long enough for her to feel uncomfortable.
Long enough for her to finally raise her head.
A young man stood before her.
Far younger than her husband had been.
Far younger than most men who had looked at her before.
He wasn't laughing.
He wasn't sneering.
He wasn't looking at her with disgust.
He was simply looking at her.
For a moment, Sima couldn't understand the expression on his face.
Pity?
Concern?
Confusion?
Nobody had ever looked at her that way before.
Instinctively, she lowered her gaze again.
"...You should go," she whispered hoarsely.
Her voice sounded broken from disuse.
"The villagers won't like seeing you here."
The young man didn't move.
Sima swallowed.
"...I'm not worth getting into trouble for."
The words came automatically.
The same words she had told herself her entire life.
A faint breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
For the first time that day, someone remained beside her after hearing them.
