The Unfaithful Hour

There are two ways to silence a goddess:Praise her until she forgets her fire…OrBurn her before she ignites the city.

The raid came just past midnight.

Twelve officers.One woman in plainclothes.A camera crew waiting in the shadows.

No sirens.No warning.

Just boots on red velvet.Flashlights cutting through incense smoke.

Rekha was on her knees.Mouth between Archa's thighs.The room drenched in moans.

Witness sat beside them, writing furiously.

Then came the voice:

"Rekha. You are under arrest for public obscenity, sexual exploitation, and running a cult."

The moans stopped.Breath caught.

Rekha…Did not flinch.

She raised her head.Her mouth still wet.Her fingers inside Archa.

And said softly:

"Then take me as I am.I've always been naked before power."

They dragged her out.

No saree.No dupatta.

Just sweat, ash, and the scent of surrender.

Someone threw a shawl over her.She let it fall.

Cameras flashed.

One constable whispered:

"Amma… idi devi kaadu, pagulaina stri."(This isn't a goddess. She's a madwoman.)

Another said:

"Oka sari choosaava? Valla lo unnadi devudu matrame."(But did you see her eyes? That's a god inside her.)

Outside, a crowd had gathered.

Some chanted her name.Some spat.One threw a slipper.

Rekha caught it mid-air.

Laughed.

Held it up and shouted:

"This is your worship!You've been hitting your gods since childhood!"

They stuffed her into the jeep.Hands cuffed.Thighs open.

She sat like a queen.Eyes closed.

Whispering a mantra only she understood.

Back at 302A, chaos.

Padma screamed.Witness collapsed.Archa stood frozen.

Then… she spoke.

Softly.

"If they've taken her… then we become her."

She stood on the ritual mat.Naked.Blood still glistening on her inner thigh.

And declared:

"They burned the Devi.So the flame spreads."

The flat became a fortress.

Not of bricks.Of orgasms, chants, and resistance.

Every moan was now a bullet.

In Jail

The cell was cold.Rekha sat on the floor.Legs folded.

Two other women stared at her — prostitutes.One older.One barely twenty.

The elder asked:

"Yevvaramma nuvvu?"(Who are you, woman?)

Rekha opened her eyes.Smiled.

"Nee gurinchi artham chesukuntunna stri."(A woman trying to understand you.)

They watched her all night.

Not for madness.For peace.

Because Rekha, in her silence, had more power than anyone they had ever known.

At 3:33 AM, a female officer entered.

Pulled Rekha up.

Slapped her.

Hard.

"Who do you think you are?" she hissed.

Rekha bled from the lip.Didn't speak.

The officer struck again.

This time, Rekha whispered:

"I am the ache in your cunt you never dared name."

Silence.

Then a tear.

The officer dropped her baton.

And walked out.

Outside

The media war began.

One channel showed Rekha's blurred nudity and screamed:

"HYDERABAD'S WHORE CULT"

Another posted anonymous testimonies:

"She healed me through touch.""I saw god between her legs.""She told me to cry until my thighs shivered."

Hashtags trended:#FreeRekha#ArrestTheCult#GoddessInChains#TouchIsPrayer

Archa took over 302A.

Led rituals.

Declared new rules:

No worship without consent

Every moan is sacred

Devotion must never ask for silence

Witness, once passive, now wrote like a man possessed.

He carved Rekha's verses into his skin.

"If she burns…I'll carry her ash to every temple.And I'll mix it with kumkum."

On Day 3, Rekha was brought to court.

Still naked.

Still unbroken.

The judge tried to avoid her eyes.

She stared straight at him and said:

"If justice is blind, let her at least be wet."

The courtroom gasped.

The judge adjourned.

In jail, the women now touched her feet before sleep.

They didn't ask why.

They just did.

That night, Rekha whispered to the wall:

"You can chain my body.

But the orgasm…Already escaped."