As we waited for the bus to my husband's home, I was heartbroken. Just six months ago, we had been passionately in love and so full of hope. My husband Raju, a tribal man and me, Radha, an urban girl born and brought up in the city, were not exactly a great match on paper. But, stars crossed and I defied my family (who disowned me) and walked out to Raju with literally clothes on my back. Raju was an artist and we had hoped that his art could sell to sustain us. Unfortunately it was not to be so. As it happens in the art world, suddenly the winds had shifted and we had lost everything. We hadn't even eaten a decent meal in the last month. With all our savings gone, we were now headed back to Raju's tribal village to beg support of his father and to find a livelihood.

Raju seemed very tense throughout the bus ride. Many times I could see he wanted to tell me something but the words couldn't come out. I could even see some tears slipping out. I felt sorry for the man.