Inside, there was a huge hall on the entrance and marbled stairs leading up on the other end. There were corridors on both sides and the man stood on the left, blocking the corridor.

Mannat exhaled and approached him. He was expecting a confrontation, but the man glared but didn’t try to physically stop him.

There were two rooms on either sides of the corridor, and cold lanterns hung from scones beside each wide-wooden door. There was another hall with large open windows at the end of the corridor and the old man was inside. He was sitting on a couch opposite the Village Sarpanch (a title given to the village head), and his attendant. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table between them, besides a few plates of snacks. The Sarpanch had a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of him and was speaking with a mouth full of one or another thing.

That shrewd man had no lower limit. His father thought so, so did Gande and Pandit. Don’t underestimate Pandit; the boy had another place in the village other than that of a hunter. He had a very good ear. Mannat had never asked after the man, as their paths had never collided, but listening to him trying to take advantage of the old man, Mannat believed his father was right. This man indeed had the nose of a shrew.

Sarpanch wasn’t a fat man, but he had a big belly, a round face riddled with pot marks, and small-soft hands. He had probably never done a day of hard work in his life. He wore sparkling white cotton clothes and a black vest. He wasn’t wearing silk, but in a village where everyone wore either dull grey or dark colors because of their physically intense livelihoods, his white clothes were indeed a show of his wealth and ego.

The old man was in a bad mood. He was squinting, cold and silent, while the Sarpanch opposite him was jovial, happy, and energetic.

Perhaps, he had come at the wrong time.

Suddenly, the Sarpanch slapped his thigh and spoke with exaggerated hand gestures and loudness of voice, “Sardar ji, I’ll do whatever you say.” He took a sip of the whiskey, then shook his head in pleasure and continued, “You only have to provide us the necessary funds, I’ll make sure your problem is solved within a few days. You see, no one wants to work free. The worker needs money. Their leaders need money. And I--”

“Listen,” The old man interrupted. He seemed to have heard enough of the man. “I won’t pay you money,” The Sarpanch frowned, but the old man didn’t seem to care but the middle-aged man’s expressions, or emotions. “I’ll give everyone man who helps, a barrel worth of grains at harvest.” Mannat was surprised. That was a Quintal of grains. A barrel is enough to last a family of four half a year! Anyone who heard that would be motivated – everyone except the Sarpanch. The Man’s face had scrunched up as if the old man was forcing him to drink pure lemon juice.

Mannat was going to wait for the Sarpanch to leave, only for the old man to notice him. The way his eyes lit up Mannat knew he was going to have a tough time there.

The old man twirled his mustache and said, “Come here,” He beckoned him at the same time and Mannat earnestly fulfilled his request. The Sarpanch looked over his shoulder to see what was happening.

“Who are you?” He kindly asked. His voice was calm, but Mannat heard the threat behind his words. What do you want and why are you barging into my parade? His eyes were saying. The man might not know Mannat, but his attendant, who was a thin wiry man with a set of round goggles over his eyes, definitely did. The man whispered his identity in Sarpanch's ears and there was a response. His eyes opened wide, his mouth closed and his body pulled away.

He looked across at the old man, trying to see what he had in mind, before turning back to Mannat.

“What do you want?” The old man said. The words might not look good, but there was goodwill behind them. Even the Sarpanch sat straight and showed interest. He might not know the relation between the two, but he was going to find out later anyway. For now, he wanted to hear what the boy had to say. It had to be important enough for the old man to stop their meeting.

”I want to fill the infected land with water. Can you do it?” Mannat said and all the people present had some sort of reaction. The word infected land got the Sarpanch's attention, as the idea did of the Sardar’s.

The old man understood what Mannat wanted to do.

“You want to drag it out of the burrows?”

“Do you think it’s possible?

“Why not?” The old man glanced at Sarpanch, continuing, “At least it won’t cost me anything.”

The Sarpanch was instantly on his feet, shouting, “Old man, this kind of attitude won’t take you far! You have to think about the whole community!”

The old man didn’t stay quiet either. He bit back with the same intensity. “If I’m to look out for the community then what are you, the village head, going to do? Anyways, you can leave since you are already standing. I won’t see you out.”

The sparks that flew around in the room were surprising for Mannat. They were like a keg full of fire powder and he was the match that lit them. His stomach churned when the Sarpanch looked at him with murderous eyes. The message was clear as the day. He had dug himself a pit and now the man was going to bury him alive.

The two officials didn’t stay there for long. They left without making much noise, leaving Mannat and Sardar to have a conversation.

“Come sit down,” The old man pat on the single-seat couch beside him. Mannat did shy either.

“I have to apologize to you. The man might give you a tough time because of me.”

Mannat considered the idea and denied the supposed consequence. “No, he won’t.” He said and explained. “My father is the only blacksmith of the village. Even if the Sarpanch doesn’t care about that, he still won’t dare go against the Witch.”

“The witch…” The old man groaned at the name. “Say, are the rumors about her true?”

“I can’t say.”

“Forget, I asked.” Sardar sighed. “Let’s get back to the topic--”

Suddenly, footsteps rang in the corridor, interrupting him. A few seconds later –surprisingly-- Sharmilla entered the room, biting her lips, holding a plate with two cups, a teapot, and cookies on top. She put the plate on the table without meeting Mannat’s eyes. A fresh flowery fragrance touched Mannat’s face and entered his heart when he breathed. She smelled of lilies, of pure, calm freshness. Her neck and face were burning red, eyes watery.

She put a steaming cup of tea in front of the old man, but her hands shook like a button dangling from a single thread. Their eyes met and the blush hanging around her cheeks climbed to her ears. That was enough excitement for her, as she sprung away from the table like a deer scared by a sudden noise. She saw Mannat’s concerned gaze. His green eyes could really make her calm down no matter what the situation. However, a smug ‘I know what you are thinking’ snort by her ‘Bauji’ sent her heart on another wild spree and she ran back the way she had come.

Mannat looked after her in confusion before the old man called him back. “Drink the tea before it gets cold.”

The boy followed the advice, picked the cup, took a sip and squinted.

“It’s too sweet.” He commented.

Beside him, the old man sipped from his cup and frowned. “It’s bland,”

The two looked at eachother and the old man laughed aloud. “The foolish girl put all the sugar in your cup,” He mocked, shoulders shaking. This time even Mannat couldn’t hold back from smiling. The girl really was electric.

There was a pause in the conversation before the old man started speaking. “I am not a heartless man.” He said. “I might be old but I believe in love.”

Mannat’s ears perked at the mention of love. He stared directly at the old man. He was no longer smiling, but his eyes were still glittering with compassion. He put the cup down and sat straight to hear what the man had to say.

“I am a simple man.” He continued. “People like him think I’m rich, but I don’t have much to my name. The land is not mine. The count leased it to my great grandfather a few generations ago, and we have been cultivating it ever since. They have been generous, but you never know about the future. I heard his children are not down to earth and have high ambitions. It is possible they will take the land from me. The girl’s father,” The old man paused. He exhaled a deep sorrowful breath, before solemnly continuing where he’d left off. “My youngest son asked me to marry her to an artisan. He was a soldier and had seen that life. Young, calm, down to earth, and clever, you looked fine to me. I know your father is a caring man and blacksmiths don’t need to risk their lives to put food on the table. I thought I made the right choice. What do you think? I heard you are wise beyond your age. Do you understand why I broke our engagement?”

Mannat didn’t have to think about it. He had seen and heard enough in one day to scar anyone for life. Even strangers knew who he was and called him a freak. People didn’t want to stay in the same place he was. Just a few minutes ago, the Sarpanch was ready to take him down before his assistants whispered something into his ears and they quietly left. Unless he completely tore his connection with the Witch, his situation wouldn’t change. However, that was impossible.

“I understand,” Mannat said solemnly. He tightly clenched his fist. A fire burned in his chest and it made his legs to shake.

He changed the topic. “How long will it take you to fill the land with water?”

“We’ll have to draw water from the pond. It will at least take all day tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll visit the fields tomorrow night.”

“It’s good.”

Mannat stood up to leave, when the old man spoke again, “Are you going to tell Sharmilla?”

“Some other time.”

“I hope you won’t dally her for too long.” The old man said. “A young heart in love is a dangerous thing. It can make people do things they normally wouldn’t do. I hope you consider it carefully.”

Mannat nodded and quickly left. He couldn’t stand the scent of lilies that was flowing around the couch.

He wanted to run away without meeting Sharmilla but found her standing in the corridor. She had definitely heard them. Her face was pale and there were tears streaming down from her burning red eyes. She saw him, gritted her teeth, and ran away without looking back. Mannat didn’t know how he came out of the manor.

Outside, he raised his head and looked at the sky. As a child, he used to believe he could catch the stars. That day he raised a hand to touch the sky, only to realize, it was endlessly far away from him.