She was born the third child of five in 573 AD in India to a craftsman, Patoj. Her name was Reshma. Like her older, only sister Ada she was of little use. She could not learn a trade like brothers. Being peasants they were not rich. Patoj could only afford education for his oldest son, to better bolster his chances. Girls were a nuisance. Sons could accumulate money, help his business. But girls, what good were they except for cooking, cleaning and marriage? They cost a dowry, taking more than they gave. Sometimes daughter could establish good connections through marriage. Patoj was not a bad man, just a poor one. He did not want many daughters, perhaps one or two, and he did plan to use them as bargaining chips. Yet life did not work out as he wanted.

Ada was a model daughter. Obedient, attractive, strong, skilled. She was a tad more hot-tempered than Patoj would have liked but he figured her husband could soften it. Her abilities for cooking and talent at the loom made up for it he assured himself. Surely Ada would find an excellent husband from Swayamvara*.

Reshma was different. Different from her siblings. Different from everyone. She was generally as obedient as Ada, if not more so, because she was so eager to please. She was almost as attractive as her sister and just as strong. She was perfectly adequate at womanly tasks and nearly Ada's and their mother's equal at weaving. However, there were times when Reshma did not hear, so caught up in her own mind. Reshma experimented with food if not paid attention to and weaved strange, unpredictable images into cloth that were impracticable and time consuming. The hours Reshma wasted were spent staring at nothing, often babbling to herself. Patoj believed it to be a phase of childhood. That was until she was of marrying age and the problem got no better. His second daughter was wrong in the head.

Thus, though but a few years separated the sisters, Ada was married and Reshma was not. Ada's husband was quite well off, for a peasant, and altogether a good man for Patoj's good daughter. Reshma's parents never deluded themselves following Ada's wedding that Reshma would ever marry. Though it was dharma, sacred responsibility, to do so unless Reshma chose a life of renunciation Patoj they knew it would not be possible. What parents would willing accept Reshma into their son's life? She was kept home to help where she could but ultimately be a burden on the family and family name. Thankfully Ada's husband and parents-in-law did not realise until after the wedding that one of their children was abnormal. But by then Ada had proven herself a dutiful wife untouched by her sister's peculiarity.

It was not long after Ada left that Patoj's eldest of his three son's married. It was as if Ada had never gone. The girl was meeker than his own two daughters and not quite as capable as Ada but she was good for his boy Rajiv. Her parents had not minded about Reshma nor had it affected the dowry received, since their family had many daughters and only one son. It almost made up for the dowry Patoj had paid for Ada.

Chhavi, Rajiv's wife, was frequently tasked with Reshma's care when her mother was busy. Over time the two became friends. Chhavi had no one familiar in her new surroundings. There was awkwardness with Rajiv as they got to know one another and she had to respect her elders, unable to open up to them. The youngest two sons were either absorbed in their learning or playing. They were male and too young. They would not understand. But Reshma was unlike anyone Chhavi had ever met. Though prone to episodes in which she was unresponsive to what was in front of her or incoherent, Chhavi did not fear Reshma. She was kind and her strangeness oddly refreshing. Most of Reshma's thoughts were unfathomable to Chhavi but Reshma provided companionship. At first Chhavi was wary to confide in Reshma, frightened that any shared secrets would spill out. Surprisingly, given that her curious thoughts slipped out into her words and actions, she could be trusted to keep of the darkest of things hidden.

Reshma approached eighteen, unmarried, and Patoj began to contemplate sending his daughter to lead a religious life. There she would be looked after, the strain of her incapable work and hungry mouth would be lifted and their family would not be judged for allowing her to go on unbound to a man. Yet one day, some of Reshma's bizarre weavings took the interest of a rich family. They saw her extraordinary images as art, not knowing 'that odd girl' made them. Some were purchased and more were requested, as well as finer material provided to work with. What she produced sold for a fairly large sum of money, nothing too astronomical but impressive nonetheless. Reshma could now earn her keep and was there to stay. Perhaps Patoj could even get her a husband.

A few richer families brought Reshma's unique work to show off in their homes but the trend did not catch on at a too large scale. The maker of the remarkable weavings remained a secret. For if the public became aware who made them sales would drop to obscurity. Reshma was content to make them but Patoj was a little disappointed her anonymity would mean no bids for her hand.

The profit and success earned from her work aided the household tremendously. It overshadowed their reputation as the family with 'that odd girl' and increased their wealth to a more comfortable state. Had this been a story of prosperity it may have ended with Reshma married to a well-off, educated man who cared for her despite her weirdness and their family happy and thriving with three sons married to beautiful, rich, skilful brides in fruitful jobs with many children. Alas, this is what truly happened.

Chhavi was looking after Reshma and getting water for the family, leaving her very young twins and toddler with her mother-in-law. Something about Reshma seemed unusual, besides her regular unusualness. Maybe she is becoming sick, worried Chhavi, I do hope she feels better quickly. On their way back from the river, carrying the water carefully, Reshma halted abruptly. The air smelt of bread burning and charring in a fire.

Without a word, mouth hanging open as if screaming, Reshma collapsed to the ground. Chhavi shrieked in panic and knelt over her friend and sister-in-law. Blood trickled from Reshma's nostrils and ears in brilliant red streams, rapidly drying as the blood flow stopped moments later. Reshma grew still and unseeing. Chhavi grabbed Reshma's shoulders, shaking them and screaming her name but she did not awaken.

Abandoning the water, Chhavi ran to the house thanking all the gods and goddesses it was not far. When her mother-in-law came to see what all the fuss was she wailed about what had happened before falling to her knees sobbing. Bipasha was a caring but rational woman. She gathered everyone else except Chhavi and Rajiv's children, grateful they were all home that day, and recounted Chhavi's tale. She sent her middle son to fetch the physician and the priest and left her youngest son, Ashish, with her three grandchildren.

Once she had done so she asked Chhavi to show them where Reshma was. Still in tears, Chhavi led them to Reshma's fallen body. When they came in sight of the body Chhavi began bawling uncontrollably. Rajiv attempted to console his wife as Reshma's parents examined their daughter. It was an obvious conclusion. Reshma was dead.

Bipasha took Chhavi to the kitchen as Patoj and Rajiv carried the body back. The physician was sent away with apologies and offerings of food for his trouble. Ashish went to the river, for the water for the funeral. Once the body was placed down it remained untouched until approaching dusk as the priest began to prepare. Mantras were chanted, purified water placed in her mouth, her head moved to face southwards and a flame lit.

Dusk arrived and the body was washed by the family, reciting mantras as they did so. Sufficiently cleaned, her big toes were tied together, hands placed in a position of prayer and she was swathed in a plain white sheet.

The family mumbled hymns over Reshma. Chhavi sniffled, clutching one of the twins close to her chest, as she watched her friend lie there, forehead smeared with turmeric and a colourful garland of flowers around her neck. Chhavi focused on the mismatched, garish flowers during the wake, comforted that Reshma would have liked them. Patoj was startled by his daughter's sudden death, though in hindsight it seemed probable. Reshma was merely in her early twenties but had been showing signs of decline. The last few years Reshma had grown worse, prone to more frequent and violent episodes. Her weaving grew even more outlandish and had she not brought in the profit she did Patoj would have sent her away long ago as she became less helpful in daily life.

It was not unexpected, Reshma's death. Patoj was sad, yes, that his remaining daughter died so young. Yet, underneath that was something akin to relief. The burden Reshma placed on the family is gone. If only the funeral was not so expensive. Now Patoj had to find his middle son, Bhaskar, a bride.

Reshma was brought on a stretcher to the sight of cremation. Women could not attend the cremation and the children were too young to go so they left once the pyre was built. Patoj, as karta**, circled the body three times counter-clockwise and sprinkled holy water. At last the pyre was set alight with a roar, the burning of Reshma witnessed by Patoj, Rajiv, Bhaskar and Ashish. When at last Reshma was nothing but ash the four men returned home.

Bathing and changing of clothes took place in the household that night. The family gathered for a meal, eating and thinking of Reshma. Her final weaving, just finished that morning, depicted a wild scene of images no one recognised and what appeared to be a spirit woman rising from the chaos. What she was trying to portray was lost on them, save the woman blossoming from the cloth. The message was clear, or so they believed.

Had this been a story of tragedy it may have ended here, with the shocking death of strange young woman. Or maybe further death and despair would have ensued. Alas, this is what truly happened.

Rajiv went on to become a reasonably successful merchant and left home with Chhavi and their three children a few months following the funeral. Bhaskar took to his father's craft, had several children and was left the house after his parent's death. He became especially apt at sculpting. Ashish chose a life of renunciation, leaving the village to apprentice as a priest. Ada was happy with her husband and new life. Motherhood suited her, but all her children knew better than to misbehave. Bipasha died three years after Reshma because of illness and Patoj followed a couple of months later. That long ago people died much younger than they do now, so they were considered to have lived long lives.

The proud parents left Earth pleased with their children's futures. However, they did not join Reshma in death. Reshma had died the moment there were multiple ruptures in her brain, inevitable for weeks and unseen until she dropped dead. It was only seconds, her transition from living to not. The pain she experienced in those seconds was all-consuming, searing. In a lightning fast final thought Reshma knew it would be fatal, the pain she felt. Then she knew nothing.

But she was not dead anymore.

*Swayamvara in ancient India was the practice of choosing a husband, from among a list of suitors, by a girl of marriageable age.

**karta is the eldest male relative (at the time in vague terms)

A/N: For those hoping for Guardians, hold on. They will all be present next chapter. This will probably be the longest of all the chapters. The next is definitely shorter. I apologise if I mangled Indian culture and history. It's my first attempt at it. Please tell me if any of my facts are off or offensive.

Thanks, and review