Maya was a stubborn girl and it frequently took all of my patience to deal with her. I loved her of course, as a Grandfather should. In fact, I could wager all my worldly goods that never was a grand daughter so cherished as her.

Still, she was a very wearisome girl.

'But Grandfather, 'she said plaintively, squinting at me in the midday sun, 'Can't you see that nothing good will come from him keeping company with this woman.

'Maya, my child,'� I replied morosely, watching the way her ebony hair glinted in the sun, 'He is a mature man now. Let him act the way he wants and leave him to live with the outcome of his own actions.'�

Maya pouted. 'But what will people think of us? He is disgracing the family name. What would our parents think if they could see the kind of company he keeps? You know they say that she worked the streets in Delhi.'�

I grasped her resolutely by the shoulders. 'Maya, you should know better than to listen to idle gossip. Who are 'they'� anyway? I tell you, it is best to leave them alone. Concentrate on your studies and leave others be.'�

But Maya was observing her brother and the woman who had scandalised her so much.

My son and his wife had died five years previously, leaving their two children orphaned with only me to care for them. As a result of this, they were fiercely devoted to each other, possibly accounting for why Maya was so protective of her older brother. However, I had my suspicions that there were other reasons for Maya's desire to keep her brother away from this woman. My son had been a successful local businessman and when their parents died, Maya and her brother had been left a substantial fortune. Not an enormous amount, you understand, but enough to pay for the children's schooling, to buy admirable clothes and keep them comfortable. The residents of the village had respected their parents and that, combined with their money, meant that the local people held the family name in moderately high regard. Moreover, I am well respected myself. The thought would not be banished from my mind that Maya was determined to safeguard the family's position and if that meant ensuring that her brother did not associate with anyone she deemed 'undesirable'� than she would do it.

'Why does he insist on talking to her like that? In public? Doesn't he realise that people will think less of him if he is seen with her?'�

'Maybe he believes that people will think more of her if she is seen with him. Anyway, my child, you must return to the house. It is time for you to study.'�

Maya did not dispute any more, but stood on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek and sulkily left me. I watched her go and then turned my attention to the lovers.

For all my words to Maya, I felt myself feel wary of Rakhi, for that was her name. Possibly it was the way she sauntered, the way she tossed her hair. Maybe it was the way she looked at others, declining to cast her eyes downward in deference to her social betters. In a way that what was lay at the foundation of the villagers' collective disapproval of her for she refused to accept her position in life.

But I told myself not to be so narrow-minded. Anyway nothing was going to come of it, so why worry, I reasoned to myself.

As the weeks passed, the sight of my grandson and Rakhi together became commonplace around the town. Surprisingly, Maya's venom towards the woman had abated. I was happy to believe that Maya had learned to control her temper and that maybe she was learning not to be so prejudiced in her worldview. I thought, but perhaps I was wrong.

It was a balmy night when my grandson came home and announced his intention to introduce Rakhi to the villagers as his future wife in a bid to integrate her into the community. He stood, beaming as he awaited our response.

Maya said nothing. She merely shot her brother a malevolent glance and rising, left the table. A disconsolate look hung on my grandson's face as he watched his sister go. I was silent, only shaking my head dolefully as my grandson turned to me for consolation.

Maya refused to speak to her brother after that. Nothing I did could reconcile the siblings and so I decided to leave them to it.

Other matters occupied my mind and it was on these that I was pondering when I entered the house a couple of nights later.

'Oh Grandfather, grandfather.'� Maya dressed in a white night dress ran towards me, tears streaming down her face.

'What is it my Maya?'� I asked, enfolding her in my arms. 'Are you sick?'�

'Grandfather. Have you heard the news? Tungha Girish has been murdered.'� I reeled backwards, unable to take in the news. Tungha Girish was one of our oldest and most prominent members of the community. Who would kill him?

And so the news spread throughout the village. One of our most respected citizens had been murdered. Brutally, it seemed, his throat slashed. A young market trader found him. He had seen the silhouette of a woman in the darkness he said.

A burnished crimson headscarf was found at the scene of the crime. Through talk with the other elders in the village, it had been identified as the one that Rakhi always wore.

And so on the heels of this news a rumour extended through the village. Rakhi had been sighted near the place of the murder just before it had happened. Well that's how the story was told anyway. After repeated re-tellings it was conveniently forgotten that only the shadow of a woman resembling Rakhi had been detected and it was taken as fact that she was seen.

It was whispered at street corners, murmured whilst collecting water. I observed Maya standing round-eyed as she embellished the details of the story for her friends. She had a vitriolic look of triumph on her face as she savagely talked about the women with the girls. In their eyes, and indeed in the eyes of many villagers, she was guilty and should be condemned and forced to take account for her crimes.

It became harder for Rakhi to walk down the street as accusing eyes followed her every step. The women drew their veils over their faces as if to avoid making eye contact with her. And they turned away. Everyone turned away from her.

But she refused to hide away. Though she was now openly hated, even though some villagers spat at her as she went about her daily business, she did not conceal her face and boldly looked in the direction of some of her accusers.

The police decided that they now had enough evidence to arrest Rakhi for Tungha Girish's murder. I, along with my neighbours watched as she was led from her house. Her eyes flickered over the spectators but she said nothing. I heard mutterings as I stood in the scorching afternoon heat. There was a collective feeling that justice has been done. But despite the warmth of the day, the blood that ran through my veins was ice-cold.

As I reached my house, I felt a hand on my arm. I turned and found myself gazing into the pallid eyes of the local doctor's son, Harshal.

'Can I speak to you alone, sir?'� he asked courteously. I found myself nodding and leading him into my home.

I sat him on my porch with a cool drink. Sitting opposite him, I asked, 'What is it that you wish to discuss with me.'�

Harshal looked tense and answered; 'It is about Maya.'�

A thousand thoughts conflicted inside my head, but I replied plainly, 'Go ahead.'�

What he told me should have shocked me but what bewildered me most was that it didn't. He told me that he and Maya had been having an affair for several months. During that time, Maya had spoken to him many times about her abhorrence for Rakhi and her plans to destroy her. He had seen her with a richly coloured scarf similar to the one found at the scene of the crime. When he had heard about the scarf, he dismissed any thoughts because he believed the Maya who he adored was not capable of such a crime. But when Maya dumped him cruelly, he realised that she was all too capable. Seeing Rakhi being taken away had been the last straw. He brought what he knew to me so that I could make a decision what to do.

He stood and said, 'I am sorry to have to tell you this.'� I shook my head in response, and said, 'It was not your doing.'�

He looked at me for several seconds before asking, 'What are you going to do now?'�

I sighed, 'I confess, I do not know.'�

And then he left me.

Hearing him leave, I sunk my face into my hands. Maya and Rakhi had the same figure and seen as a silhouette could be mistaken for each other. The woman was engaged to Maya's brother and so it was entirely possible that Maya had been able to get her hands on her clothes and execute the scheme to frame her.

But, I reasoned to myself, why would she do it? The answer was evident. To halt Rakhi from marrying her brother and therefore protect her interests. But Maya, surely not my gentle little Maya. I would refuse to contemplate it. But the notion had taken root inside me.

A great deal of time has passed and Maya is at Bombay University now. She writes to me, jaunty bouncy letters full of her studies and friends. I wonder if she realises that I have guessed her secret. It seems not and therefore I am left to shoulder it on my own.

But I won't divulge what I know to others. To do so would implicate my own granddaughter. And I'm confident she was only doing what she thought was necessary to preserve the family interests. It is a secret I will carry to my grave.

And perchance it will work out all for the better. After all Rakhi will not get an opportunity to ruin the family reputation. At least she has a dry place to rest at night. This is what I tell myself to help me sleep at night.

I made the right decision. Didn't I?

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