The door burst open, and his mother rushed in, her face etched with concern. "Bhanumati! What happened, beta? Are you alright?"
He – she – recoiled. "Ma? What are you saying? I'm Bhanu! Your son!"
His mother frowned, her brow furrowing. "Bhanu? Who is Bhanu? You're Bhanumati, my dear girl. Are you feeling feverish? Come, let me check your temperature."
The world tilted on its axis. He frantically grabbed his phone, fumbling with the unfamiliar weight of it in his smaller hands. He needed to call Madhu, to tell him about this nightmare, to find a way to undo whatever sorcery had been unleashed last night. He scrolled through his contacts, looking for Madhu's familiar name, but it wasn't there. Instead, his eyes landed on 'Madhumati'.
A cold dread seeped into his bones. Had he misremembered? Had the alcohol blurred his memory? He tapped the name, his heart pounding against his ribcage. The phone rang, each tone amplifying the growing sense of unease. Finally, a voice answered, a melodious voice that sent shivers down his spine.
It was Madhu’s voice, or what he remembered of it. Softer, higher, undeniably feminine.
“M-Madhu?” he stammered, the name feeling foreign on his tongue.
A pause. “Madhu? Who’s this? This is Madhumati.”
He stammered an apology, his mind reeling. “I… I think I have the wrong number.”
“Wait!” Madhumati’s voice was suddenly sharper, laced with curiosity. “The voice sounds familiar… who is this?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s… it’s Bhanumati.”
A moment of silence, then a gasp. “Bhanumati! Oh my gosh, it’s been ages! How are you? I’m so glad you called!”
They fell into easy conversation, chatting about village gossip, the annoying heat, and the upcoming festival. Madhumati mentioned her studies in the city, her excitement at being back home, and the joy of seeing everyone again. He cautiously probed, asking about their memories of growing up together, of the river, of the party. But Madhumati remembered everything the same way his mother did. He was Bhanumati, and Madhumati had always been Madhumati.
Then, Madhumati said, “You know, Krishna is coming home today! I’m so nervous. I’ve had such a huge crush on him since we were kids.”
Krishna. The village heartthrob. The object of Madhumati’s unspoken affection. The affection he, Bhanumati, always teased him about. Krishna who used to be krishvenni before the pact.
He gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles white. The world tilted on its axis. Maya, the seducer, hadn’t just changed his body. She’d rewritten their entire reality. Madhu didn’t remember being a boy, only having a crush on Krishna, now returning to the village.
"That's... great, Madhumati," he managed to say, his voice trembling. "I... I'm happy for you."
As he hung up, he looked back at his reflection. Bhanumati stared back, trapped in a world where everything he knew, everything he was, had been erased. He had to find Maya. He had to undo this. But how could he fight a power that could rewrite reality itself? And what would become of Madhu… Madhumati… who, oblivious to the darkness surrounding her, was preparing for the arrival of Krishna, her childhood dream about to potentially come true? His quest was no longer about just reclaiming his own life, but about saving Madhu, or Madhumati, from a fate neither of them truly understood.