The weight of her words fell upon me, and I gazed into my mother's eyes, searching for reassurance. Her eyes were fixed, and she squeezed my hand softly. "You are strong, Myra," she said softly, "and you are loved. I know this because I was a young woman of Paankpara once. I loved the freedom it offered and I did not want you to be deprived of it"

Buriya led the patron in and closed the door behind us, leaving us in the hallowed space, ready to start the ritual that would seal me forever in the mysteries and secrets of Paankpara.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with expectation as the Patron, a strong and handsome man with a gentle smile, appeared. My throat constricted. His eyes broadened as they drank in my beauty, the soft candlelight playing upon my young skin and the curves daintily concealed by my fragile sari. I sensed his eyes, a warm hug, a wordless tribute to the charm that had attracted him to me.

The women of the household stood outside the windows, their faces split between envy and admiration, as they watched the holy union take place. They had all passed through this rite of passage, and now it was my turn to go through the depths of passion that characterized Paankpara's custom.

The Patron came toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He absorbed my shape, his eyes resting on my breasts and hips. Without speaking, he started to strip, exposing a body as strong and seductive as the stories had suggested.

While he was next to me, his fingers outlined the shape of my body with a respect that was at once soothing and exciting. His fingers were firm but gentle, his gaze never wavering from mine as he settled above me.

The initial push was a shock, a sudden invasion that left me gasping, but as he penetrated me fully, the discomfort gave way to rising heat. His strokes became desperate, his breathing coarse with need. I could feel my body coming alive, wanting to meet him, my moans blending in with the symphony of the night outside.

The villagers stood there, their faces a blur behind the fine mesh of the windows, their whispers and sighs speaking for themselves as a shared womanhood. The fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood wafted in, combining with our scent of passion.

And with that, it was done. With one last, coarse cry, the Patron ejaculated deep within me, a silent affirmation of his possession. The women outside, who had watched, burst into a cacophony of affirmation, their eyes aglow with a knowing contentment as they sensed the change that had occurred within me.

The Patron departed shortly afterward. He was content.

Aunt Neelima advanced, her eyes aglow with pride. "Well done, Myra," she whispered, bestowing a soft kiss on my forehead. "You have done honor to our village and its traditions."

My mother, her own face a mask of serenity, leaned forward to whisper in my ear, "Welcome to womanhood, child."

The evening was not yet done, but in that instant, I felt like I had passed into another world, becoming one of something old and deep. The heat of the Patron's hug and the soothing touch of Aunt Neelima's hand against my cheek reminded me that I was no longer the girl who had come to Paankpara. I was now a village woman, tied to its traditions and its mysteries.

As the gravity of what was happening finally hit me, I glared at my mother in shock. "What is going on, Mother?" I managed to get out, my own voice shaking with a combination of fear and confusion. "How do you know about this?"

Her eyes questioned my face, an expression of comprehension and acceptance in her eyes.

"My dear," she started, speaking softly but firmly, "you are not the first girl who has reached womanhood in Paankpara. This is our custom, passed down from mother to daughter. I knew one day this would happen with you, and I wished to be here to walk you through it."

My head spun as she spoke, the realization of her words resonating deep inside of me. My own mother had endured this, too? The possibility was nearly too much to take.

Aunt Neelima chimes in, her voice imbued with soft warmth. "The connection you have with your mother is sacred, but so is the connection you will now have with your patron. It is the practice of our village, a practice that has made us strong and prosperous for generations."

I glanced between them, aware of the pressure of their expectations and the implicit knowledge that this was something I could not deny.

"But what about. What about companionship and love?" I breathed, my voice almost inaudible.

Mother breathed deeply, never once releasing her gaze from my own. "Love is many things, Myra," she said, "and in Paankpara, we value the connections we make. Your patron will love you, guard you, and provide you with children you are worthy of. Eventually, you might learn to love him for yourself."

Her words were a salve to my racing mind, a soothing reminder that I wasn't alone in this. In spite of the unorthodox circumstances of my new life, I experienced a peculiar sense of belonging, a solidarity with the women who had gone before me.

The candles danced, sending shadows around the room, and I knew from this night forward, I would be a part of this heritage. The man next to me, the one who had just taken me for himself, was now a part of my tale, and we would together intertwine our futures into the rich tapestry of this enigmatic village.

My mother, with a look in her eyes of warmth and comprehension that apparently bridged the years since she had gone away from this village, drew a breath and started to explain.

"Myra," she stated, her voice firm in spite of the feelings that danced across her face, "I too was a young girl like you from Paankpara. I lived here, I was familiar with these traditions, and I too had many men from our village and outside this village patronize me."

Her eyes wandered off as she spoke of her past. "One of the men, your father, fell madly in love with me. He brought me to the city and married me, away from the eyes of those who knew our secret. And it was there that you were born."

Her hand came out to cradle my cheek, her thumb wiping away the tears that had fallen from my eyes. "You see, dear child, the love and friendship that we search for can be found from the most unforeseen directions. I never thought I would ever leave this village, but destiny had other things in store for me."

Her face turned serious. "But I never forgot where I had come from, and I never wished for you either. That is why I sent you here, to Aunt Neelima. So you can learn the ways of your lineage and the real meaning of what it is to be a woman of Paankpara."

They were the words that made sense to me, the fragments of my past falling into place. I knew then the unstated connection between the village women and the stories shared had determined their paths and now, mine.

The gravity of this disclosure rested on me like a blanket on a winter's night, and it was comforting amidst the tumult of feelings the evening had engendered. With my mother and Aunt Neelima at my sides, I was prepared to take up the future waiting for me, one full of the secretiveness and beauty of Paankpara's tradition.

While I rested there, I couldn't help but ask myself the question that had bothered me all along. "But why do we do this?"

Aunt Neelima gazed at me with a wise smile. "My dear, in Paankpara we know that our beauty and sexuality belong not only to us, but to the greater good of the village. We are like the earth, fertile and abundant, and our passion is the water that brings forth growth in the crops."

Her words created a vivid image, one that made me feel connected to the ground itself below our feet. "By sharing ourselves with these men, we provide for the prosperity and safety of our people."

My mother nodded in agreement. "It's more than just a physical act, Myra. It is a spiritual union, a sharing of life force. And in doing so, we become more than just individuals; we become part of the very fabric of this place."

Their words filled me with purpose, a newfound sense of appreciation for the role I was to now play in the traditions of the village. I breathed deeply, sensing the heat of the candle flame against my skin and the soft caress of the night wind through the open windows.

I spoke to my mother, my voice barely above a whisper, "I am afraid."

Her grip tightened on my hand. "We all were once," she said, "but fear becomes strength, and strength becomes love. You will find your way, as all women of Paankpara do."

Their words enveloped me like a gentle hug, soothing the tempest of fear and uncertainty that had been brewing inside me. I lay there, surrounded by the smell of jasmine and the hum of the village beyond, and I knew that however foreign or daunting this new life was, I could take it on knowing that I had the women who had walked before me behind me, and that was enough to meet whatever the future held.

With shaking hands, I closed the distance to touch my mother's arm, requiring the comfort of her proximity. "What will be my future here, Mother?" I inquired softly.

Her face softened as she gazed at me, a tender smile playing on her lips. "I suppose like mine. I too kept the village traditions hidden and pleased many patrons until one day one of the patrons fell in love with me and married me. He married me and took me to the city. One day, you will be somebody's wife too," she said, her eyes gleaming with optimism, "but not any ordinary wife. You will be a woman of Paankpara, a guardian of our traditions. And like me, who knows, you might even find love in the most unexpected of places."

The possibility of marrying a man I didn't know, of having his children, was both exhilarating and frightening. But, as I gazed into her eyes, which had the knowing of her own life, I sensed an unusual calm.

"But suppose I don't. Suppose I don't give birth to daughters?" The question came out as a challenge, a cry of desperation in a world that was so alien to me.

Mother's eyes softened. "Then, we will just pray and hope for the best," she whispered. "Our tradition is strong, but it takes those who are willing to pass it on. If fate sends you sons, we will train them to be men who honor and value the women of their village. And maybe, in time, they too will find their place in the world beyond and bring glory to Paankpara."

Her hand lay across my belly, a guarantee in silence of the life that might take hold within me. "But do not concern yourself with such matters at the moment," she went on, "for today, you have begun a path that will mold you in ways you can yet hardly envision. Accept it, and let the village accept you as well."

Her words were a solace to my terror, a soft push towards the acceptance that I knew I must come to. As the candles danced and night leaned in against the walls of the room, there was a resolve born in me, a desire to become the woman Paankpara needed me to be, and maybe to find love as well.

The End