He inhaled a long drag of smoke, stroking his ankle, and stated,“If she’s trying too hard to appear happy, smiling excessively, making you feel like she’s doing just fine without you, she isn’t. She wants you to take a stand for her, to do something.”
Rudra Bhai-sa placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I agree.”
I lowered my gaze, knowing he was speaking from experience.
“Whatever happens,” Ranvijay Bhai-sa said lightly,“what ends well is always well.”
We talked late into the night until the women remained awake, preparing for the ceremonies. I tried calling Eklavya to join us, but he was busy with someone.
After a brief nap, I woke before everyone else. I usually slept face-down, hands tucked beneath my cheek, but the potent scent of henna made my stomach churn.
No matter how many times I washed my hands, the smell only intensified.
After bathing, Bhabhi-sa tied a thread tightly around my wrist, knot after knot. I didn’t question it, because perhaps it was meant to protect me.
Stupid thought, yeah, definitely the effects of getting married.
I felt nervous. Restless. I wanted to run away.
What if she’d scold me? What if she didn’t like staying with me? Such questions kept racing through my head.
Urgh.
First, no sleep. Then, these thoughts.
I might actually go mad before tonight.
My eyes drifted to Rudra Bhai-sa and Ranvijay Bhai-sa, walking in laughing, carrying my wedding clothes and placing them on the table.
Suddenly, my stomach twisted. I began pacing, back and forth in the chamber.
“What happened?” Rudra Bhai-sa asked.
I gulped and shook my head, looking at him.“Nothing,”
Suddenly, Rudraja yelled excitedly.
She was in Ranvijay Bhai-sa’s arms, and I smiled at the sight of her. She scrunched her face as if she were about to cry, then leaned forward, reaching for me.
I took her into my arms and gently moved her tiny palm, smiling at both of them.
“Taaattaaaa…” she babbled, saying something incomprehensible even to Rudra Bhai-sa.
He nodded with a smile.
“Yes, pumpkin. Taaatttaaa,”
She laughed, squealing happily, then turned toward Ranvijay Bhai-sa.
“Raattaa!” she yelled, leaning forward again, wanting to be passed back.
That was her favourite game, switching arms every few moments.
Ranvijay Bhai-sa took her from me and placed her gently on the couch. Rudra Bhai-sa handed her his small sheathed knife to play with.
“Just sit here,” he said.
