Drabbles: 30. Episode XXXI- Return of the Jallad (Pg 95) [Note Pg 98] - Page 10

wow - very griping story you have going here; love the emotional write-ups of both R/P.

It was awesome... I just loved it.

loved this chapter..so she finally got to know about the fate that awaited her had not rudra shot her husband...but when will she get to know what happened to rudra?...or better still when will rudra get to know that she hasn't left?...do update soon...

Originally posted by: dreamwinner

Nice update

Originally posted by: Hunnybunny3

Wow. These drabbles are fantastic. You've portrayed both Paro and Rudra's emotion to a T. Beautifully written. Can't wait to read more.

Originally posted by: shree10

So Sunaina is your creation and she proved to Khushi that Major was not lying.

Arrey Tattles tell na you next drabbles...m waiting and my break is near over...

Originally posted by: CravingKhana

Arrey Tattles tell na you next drabbles...m waiting and my break is near over...

The Merits and Demerits of Salt

The dal was distinctly tasteless and more water than dal. Despite that, it had a slightly ashy flavor-- which was a miracle in itself. How did anyone burn water?

Nonetheless, Rudra uncomplainingly ate whatever the surly looking man plonked down in front of him, day after day.

It had been two weeks since he had been captured. He had been informed of the date by the same surly looking man in one of his more loquacious moments-- of course, Rudra was too proud to ask. What he had ventured to ask had earned him a few more knocks and livid looking bruises-- why was he being kept alive at all?

Two weeks and Rudra was finally figuring out the bearings of his prison. His world had shrunk to a dank room of no more than 12 sq. feet, with one tiny window, a broken commode, a bucket of water, some threadbare and musty blankets, and a door that stayed locked. The first week he'd been largely unconscious, delirious with pain and dehydration. He had vaguely been aware of someone coming in and splashing water onto his face and his wounds, dabbing some sort of an antiseptic on them and trickling more water down his throat. He hadn't been given any solid food for five days. It was only after that period that he'd been able to sit up and slowly ingest some of the weak porridge or dal-roti left for him anyway. It had been another three of four days before he'd been able to get up and hobble a few steps. Even now, while able to walk around the room, he knew he didn't stand a chance of overpowering whoever came in with his food and water. There was nothing he could do except wait-- wait for his wounds to heal, wait to recover his strength.

His guess was that Tejawat's men had kept him alive to use as a bargaining chip with the BSD.

Too bad they didn't know that the BSD didn't negotiate with terrorists-- especially not in order to free one of its own officers. He still didn't know anything about any of his men, and he'd be damned if he'd ask his jailer.

For the millionth time, he cursed his stubbornness and prejudice that had blinded him and led him to this. Grimacing, he dipped a morsel of the rubbery roti into the bowl of dal and put it into his mouth.

He was no stranger to indifferent cooking, and even unpalatable food. But that didn't mean he didn't miss the soft rotis and delicately spiced dal that his wife used to plate up.

His wife.

It tasted alien on his tongue. He had never really thought of her as his wife. She had been his responsibility, a witness, a liability, a roommate-- but never really a wife or companion.

He smiled bitterly, wincing as the action stung his chapped and broken lower lip.

Wasn't Parvati another glaring example of his foolishness and rigid beliefs?

THank You