Night fall gently over Champa like a mother cover her child with blanket.
The hut was quiet. Arun slept better than before. His breathing was still rough, but no longer desperate. Jibon and Sabuj sat near the door, guarding him like small soldiers.
Dhrubo stood at a distance.
Arun's fever had not broken. Jibon had tried to act brave, but his hands shook when he thought no one was watching. Sabuj kept counting breaths, as if numbers could keep death away.
They had nothing left other then each others.
Dhrubo stood up.
"I'm going into the city," he said.
Jibon frowned. "Why? It's night."
"To bring food," Dhrubo replied with a small smile.
The lamps along the main roads burned bright, fed by endless oil. The Vishnu temple glowed like a small sun at the heart of the city. Bells rang even after the last prayer, not to call the hungry, but to reassure the comfortable.
Dhrubo looked at the temple again.
"This place has more food than faith," he thought.
He remembered the afternoon clearly.The priests smiling when fruits were offered.The priests recoiling when pocks were mentioned.The way kindness vanished the moment fear appeared.
"This is not ignorance or dharma," he thought.
"This is their choice using dharma as shield."
In Malaka, hunger had been shared. Here, righteousness was guarded.
He took a slow breath.
"If dharma protects only the safe," he whispered, "then what use is it to the dying?"
Dhrubo walked toward the temple.
Not like a thief.
Like someone walking toward judgment.
The back courtyard was quieter. A single guard leaned against a pillar, eyes heavy with sleep. The storeroom doors were sealed, marked with symbols of protection.
Dhrubo paused before them.
"O Lord Vishnu," he said softly, "if you truly uphold the world, then forgive me. If you do not, then I will carry this sin alone."
He opened the door. Inside, the air was cool and rich with smell. Rice stacked in sacks. Fruits piled in baskets. Jars of ghee sealed carefully. Food meant for ritual. Food never meant to feel hunger.
"This is not Vishnu's hunger," Dhrubo said softly.
"This is hoarding."
Dhrubo's hands trembled—not with fear, but with restraint.
"I will not take more than needed," he told himself.
"I will not pretend this is righteous."
He filled one basket. Rice. Fruits. A little ghee.As he turned to leave, a sharp voice cut the silence.
"Stop right there!"
Dhrubo stopped.
He did not drop the basket.
He turned slowly.The guard stood wide awake now, staff raised, eyes burning with anger and disbelief.
"Did you try to steal from Lord Vishnu's temple?" the guard demanded.
"Yes, I took the food," Dhrubo said, his voice steady. "I did steal from the temple."
The certainty in his tone unsettled the guard.
"You admit it so easily? Have you no fear of sin?" the guard demanded.
"I fear hunger more," Dhrubo replied without hesitation.
The guard let out a short, mocking laugh. "You dare place your empty stomach above the gods?"
"No," Dhrubo said. "I compare excess to absence. And absence kills faster than sin."
The guard shouted, and others came running. Two more guards. Then priests. Then citizens drawn by noise and promise of spectacle.
A senior priest arrived, face calm but eyes sharp.
"What is this disturbance?" the priest asked.
"He stole from the temple," the guard said. "He confessed."
The priest looked at Dhrubo. Slowly. With slight anger.
"Child," the priest said voice deep, "did you attempt to steal offerings meant for the Preserver of the universe?"
"Yes," Dhrubo said. "I took the food. I stole it. And I did so knowingly."
A murmur spread through the crowd. The priest raised an eyebrow. "And why would you commit such adharma?"
"For three hungry children," Dhrubo said. "One of them is dying."
The priest's expression hardened. "Disease?"
"Yes."
"Speak clearly."
"Pocks," Dhrubo said.
The crowd recoiled as one.
The priest stepped back without thinking.
"Then you are worse than a thief," the priest said. "You are a defiler."
Dhrubo met his gaze. "You smiled when they brought fruit. You turned away when they asked for shelter. Tell me, who defiled compassion first?"
"Enough," the priest said, discomfort flickering across his face. "Dharma cannot be carried by all. We protect the many, so those capable of bearing dharma may endure."
"From what?" Dhrubo asked. "From hungry children who prayed for your god?"
The priest clenched his jaw. "You question sacred order."
"I question silence," Dhrubo said.
The crowd grew restless.
A merchant shouted, "Punish him!"
A woman whispered, "He insults the gods."
The priest raised his hand. "You will be punished here. Let Champa learn what happens to adharmis."
Dhrubo bowed his head.
"Do it," he said loudly. "But let them see why."
The guards dragged him forward.
The first strike landed on his back.
Pain exploded.
The second strike hit his shoulder.
His knees buckled, but he did not fall.
"Confess your wrongdoing!" a guard shouted.
"I stole from the temple," Dhrubo said through clenched teeth. "Because the temple refused to see a child's prayer ."
Another strike.
Blood soaked his cloth.
"Beg forgiveness," the priest commanded.
"I will beg only from those I wronged," Dhrubo said. "And they are not here."
The crowd fell silent.
The beating continued.
Each strike burned, but Dhrubo's mind stayed with the children.
"This pain feeds them."
"This pain keeps Arun alive."
"This pain is lighter than their hunger."
Finally, the priest raised his hand.
"Enough," he said. "Let this be a lesson."
Dhrubo was thrown aside.
"Leave," the guard snarled. "Before your body defiles this ground further."
Dhrubo stood slowly.
His legs shook. His vision blurred.
But his hands still held the basket.
He walked away.
No one stopped him.
That night, the garbage field smelled different.
Rice cooked over a weak fire. Fruits cut carefully. Ghee used sparingly.
Jibon stared at the food. "Where did this come from?"
"From a place that forgot why it existed," Dhrubo said quality.
Sabuj looked at his wounds. "They hurt you."
"Yes," Dhrubo said.
"Because of us?" Arun asked weakly.
"No" Dhrubo said gently.
Arun smiled faintly. "Then… stay."
Dhrubo closed his eyes.
"I can't stay," he said. "But I can stand besides you."
Outside the field, Champa whispered.
"Adharmi."
"Blasphemer."
"Dangerous."
Dhrubo watched the sunrise.
"If this is adharma," he thought, "then I will walk it till i find dharma."
Far away, on Kailash,Mahadeva watched. Also watched Lord Vishnu from Vaikuntha.
"He chose responsibility over dharma-adharma." said lord Vishnu.
Chapter End.