Nitya

Standing in the kitchen, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed tea, I hum softly to myself.

After a long time, I am feeling a semblance of peace. After everything that happened a week back, I had thought Maaji would throw me out of the house. But Prathamji handled everything as he had promised me.

A small smile curves my lips as I think about my husband.

Things have been better between us lately. He still seems stiff and stern whenever we talk, but he is not as aloof as before. He had said he would try, and I can see him trying.

With this happening, I have allowed tiny hope to flutter within me. The hope of perhaps our relationship, not only being limited to us being cordial, but also our bond getting stronger with time.

I won't deny being attracted to him because I am. I had been taken by him since I saw him on our wedding night. But recently, the way he supported me and the way he is trying to understand my struggles, I can feel my attraction for him deepening.

Perhaps, I have even started to fal—

Maaji's shrill voice interrupts me before I can complete that thought.

"Why are you taking so long to bring tea?" She asks, glaring at me.

"It's almost done, Maaji. I will bring it out soon."

"Do it fast. And are you done frying the fritters too? Everyone is waiting outside."

I nod at her. "Yes. I have already friend onion fritters. Only paneer fritters are left to be fried now."

She sighs loudly. "You cannot do even one thing in time." She shakes her head. "But then, we can't even say anything to you, can we? Otherwise, you will start disrespecting us by talking back to us."

I know she said that because she is still miffed about the way I talked with Chachiji a week back. I had thought they would let it go in a few days, but I have been hearing their taunts about it every day since then.

Although I want to tell Maaji that my intention behind saying that to Chachiji was not to disrespect her, it was to stand up for myself, but I keep quiet, knowing that, no matter what I say, she won't understand me and the taunts won't stop too.

"What are you staring at? Are you thinking of disrespecting me too?" She asks.

"Why do you behave this way with me, Maaji?" I counter, unable to stop myself. "Since the time I have stepped inside this house, I have obeyed you. I have never talked with you in a loud voice. Every day, I have only tried to do my best to fulfill all my responsibilities. But still, you keep finding faults in me. You keep taunting me. Why, Maaji?"

She seems stunned for a moment, but then her face contorts in anger.

"Bohot jubaan chalne lagi hai teri. Agar ho sake, toh jubaan nahi haath chalana seekh aur apna kaam kar. Jaldi chai aur pakode bahaar le aa. Sab intezaar kar rahe hain."

("You have started running your mouth too much. If you can, instead of your mouth, try to run your hands and do your works. Bring the fritters out soon. Everyone is waiting.")

Saying that, she turns and walks out of the kitchen without letting me say anything else.

Sighing, I am about to fry the paneer fritters, when Dhritiji enters the kitchen.

"Do you need any help, Bhabhi?" She offers, glancing at the boiling tea over the gas.

I smile at her. "No, Dhritiji. Everything is almost done."

"Okay then. I will sit here. Let me know if you need any help."

"You had gone to the factory today, right?" I ask her as I fry the fritters.

She sits on one of the chairs at the center of the kitchen. "Yes. Pratham bhaiyya wants me to start working there alongside him. Daksh bhaiyya is thinking of doing his own business, so he has decided not to join factory. And with Naman bhaiyya not being here, Pratham bhaiyya said it would be a great help to him if I joined him."

"Oh, so you have decided to work in the factory? When will you start?"

"Maybe next week. I want to enjoy for a few days before diving into work," she replies.

A pang jolts me as I look at Dhritiji. She is educated, planning to work and be independent. I too want it, but I wonder if I will be allowed to work if I asked Prathamji about it. And even if he agreed, I am sure Maaji won't allow me.

Yet, I feel I need to do something about it.

I still remember how helpless I had been last week when Maaji had threatened to throw me out of the house.

The helplessness was mostly because I would have had nowhere to go if she had actually done that.

I either needed to depend on Prathamji to take me to my brother and then to rely on my brother to provide shelter for me.

That was what made me think. To work so I would not have to depend on anyone if the situation ever became dire for me.

"Bhabhi, fritters are burning," Dhritiji suddenly shouts and I immediately turn off the gas.

"I am sorry, I did not realize....," I trail off, looking at the burnt fritter pieces.

It's a relief that I had already made most of the fritters and this was the last batch.

"Are you fine? You seemed a little lost earlier," Dhritiji asks me with concern lacing her voice.

"I had been thinking about working too," I tell her hesitantly. "But I am not educated like you. So, I don't know what to do."

Reaching out, she puts her hand over my shoulder. "Do you know sewing work, Bhabhi?"

I immediately nod. "Yes. Maa has taught me how to sew. I even enjoy doing it."

"That's great." Dhritiji beams. "There is a factory near ours where they do sewing and some embroider works. I will ask if they hiring. Perhaps you can join them?"

At her words, hope rises within me, but there is apprehension too. I still need to ask Prathamji about it. And along with him, Maaji also needs to agree for it.

"I will ask Prathamji about it and tell you tomorrow," I say to Dhritiji as we walk out of the kitchen with the trays of tea and fritters.

*****

I sit beside Prathamji on our bed, glancing at him as he reads his book. The silence it comforting, but I feel slightly nervous. Because I need to ask him about what Dhritiji told me earlier.

Do it, Nitya. Just do it.

"What are you reading, Prathamji?" I hesitantly ask.

"It's a book about history and its connection with mythology. I have always been fascinated by it."

I nod, intrigued. "It sounds interesting."

He glances up at me from his book. "It is," he says. "What about you? What kind of books do you like to read?"

A flush of embarrassment creeps up my cheeks. "I do not know how to read."

"Why not?"

"Babuji did not allow me to study," I tell him, my voice cracking as I recall the scolding I had gotten from my father when I had requested him to let me go to school. "He thinks educating girls is of no use."

He remains silent for a moment, his gaze scrutinizing me, and I wonder if he is angry.

"He thinks wrong," Prathamji finally says, his voice gentle. "Education is important for everyone. Be it boys or girls."

Before I can say anything to that, I feel Prathamji's hands covering mine. It is a simple, innocent touch, yet the suddenness of it causes my heart to skip a beat.

"Would you like to learn? I can arrange a tutor for you," he says.

A sense of warmth fills my chest, and I smile at him. "Thank you for saying that," I tell him, feeling a surge of strength rising within me.

If Prathamji can offer to arrange a tutor for me, he might also be fine with me working.

Encouraged by that thought, I begin speaking. "I wanted to talk with you regarding something."

"Yes, tell me," he says, withdrawing his hand, and I immediately miss his touch.

"Dhritiji told me earlier that there is a sewing factory nearby yours," I reticently begin. "I was thinking if I could work there."

Prathamji's eyebrows knit together in surprise. "You want to work?"

I nod, taking a deep breath, trying to calm my heart that is currently pounding furiously against my chest. "Yes. I, umm, I want to be independent."

He regards me thoughtfully, his gaze intense at me.

As the silence stretches between us, I nervously fidget with the blanket, worrying about him refusing me.

But then, to my surprise, he nods. "If that is what you want to do, I won't stop you."

A wave of relief washes over me, but it is quickly replaced by anxiety. "What about Maaji? What if she doesn't agree?"

"Do you want to work?" He asks me.

"Yes."

"Toh tum kaam karogi," he tells me. "Tumhe koi nahi rokega."

("Then you will work," he tells me. "No one will stop you.")

"Thank you." I smile at him, my heart swelling with gratitude.

As we finish our conversation, the night grows quieter, and we lie on the bed to retire for the night.

The warm glow from the lamp dimly lights the room, and I stare at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of Prathamji's presence beside me.

I wait, listening intently to the rhythm of his breaths. Soon it becomes steady, and I glance at him to make sure he is asleep.

Once I am absolutely certain, I slowly scoot closer to him, my movements careful so as not to wake him. Gently, I wrap my arm around him and close my eyes, savoring the comfort of his warmth against me.

A moment later, Prathamji suddenly makes a movement, and I freeze, feeling my heart leap into my throat.

Did I wake him?

I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction, worrying if he will be angry with me.

But his breathing settles again, and I relax.

My eyes trace the lines of his face in the dim light of the room. My hands itch to stroke his dark, slightly tousled hair, but I refrain myself, not wanting to risk waking him up. Instead, I focus on admiring the curve of his lips.

As my gaze travels further, I notice the sculpted muscles of his arms and chest, visible even under the thin fabric of his clothes.

Lying here beside him, I feel a fluttering in my stomach. Thinking back of our moment from earlier, I recall how he offered to arrange a tutor for me, the way he agreed to let me work because I want to, and he has also said that he will handle Maaji. That no one will stop me if I want to work.

I take a deep breath and slowly reach out to him, gently touching his arm, feeling the firmness of his muscles under my fingers.

In this quiet moment, I let myself indulge in my feelings. I feel that the attraction I have for him has grown into something more, something that is beyond the physical admiration.

Feeling overwhelmed by the rush of emotions swirling within me, I lean in slightly, careful not to wake him, and place a soft kiss on his forehead.

With a content sigh, I settle back into my pillow. I do not know what the future holds for us and what will become of our relationship, but in this moment, I am filled with a deep sense of peace and optimism, feeling everything will turn out for the better.