•♥︎•

I placed the thari in front of Om, who was sitting on the Chowki, eyes on me all the time. I placed the pyala on the floor, rather forcefully, causing it to make a loud thud. I served him his dinner.

"Eat," I said and went inside to deal with some stuff there.

I came back to see if he needed anything, but he hadn't even started yet. "What? Why didn't you start eating?" I asked, placing my hands on my hip.

I pouted, looking down, and then looked up at me. "Baba ke bina kaise khao? Hum sab toh saath mein khate hai na?" He mumbled, fiddling with his shirt's button.

[How can I eat without Baba? We all eat together, right?]

I exhaled sharply. "Accha? Aur agar tumhare Baba raat bhar nahi aaye toh kya bhuke rahoge? Chup-chap khana shuru karo warna kaan ke niche ek kantap laga denge abhi hum, bata rahe hai tumko." I snapped, widening my eyes.

[Well? And if your father doesn't come home the whole night, will you remain hungry? Start eating. Otherwise, I will give you a tight slap, I am telling you]

He gulped and nodded. But I could tell he wasn't in the mood to actually eat. I huffed and sat beside him, taking his thari in my hand. I tore a morsel and brought it to his mouth. "Open up," I ordered and fed him as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Arre, koi jaldi aaye na aaye, unki wajah se tum kyu bhuke rahoge, huh?" I muttered, under my breath, feeding him another morsel.

[So what if someone didn't come home soon? Why should you remain hungry because of them, huh?]

He kept eating without saying anything, not wanting to piss me off when I was already in a horrible mood. "Ek din. Bas ek din jaldi aane kaha tha humne." I mumbled, huffing, dipping the roti in the curry.

[Just this once. Just once, I asked him to cone early]

I was feeling so annoyed right now. How could he? I scoffed. "Arre nhi aana tha, nhi aa sakte the, toh bata dete na. Humne konsa unki gardan mein churi pakad rakhi thi. Mana kar dete. Hum jabardasti thodi hi karte." I said to Om, who nodded at everything I said.

[If he didn't want to come or couldn't come, he should've told me, right? Did I threaten him to say yes? He should've just said no. I wouldn't have forced him]

"Lekin nhi, hume toh vada karke thodne ka shauk hai." I mumbled, feeding another bite to Om. It was literally 8:45, and that man still wasn't home. He could've just refused. At least then I would'nt have waited like a fool for him for four hours sitting on the doorstep.

[But no, he had to make a promise and then break it]

Just then, I heard his car's sound outside. My jaw clenched as I continued feeding Om. He removed his shoes at the doorstep and came inside. His eyes fell on us. He came towards us. "Wow, um, looks like you already started eating." He said sheepishly.

"Baba," Om looked up at him.

I felt his eyes on mine when I never once looked up from the moment he arrived. I tore the last morsel. "Hmm, here." I fed it to him and left towards the kitchen without once glancing at him.

I was doing my work in the kitchen when I felt footsteps aaproach. I didn't need to turn behind and see to know who it was.

"Gauri," He called out. His voice was soft, hesitant, and cautious. I hummed in reply, not bothering to look at him like I usually would've.

"Um, kya kar rahi ho?" He asked, standing beside him, looking at what I was doing.

[What are you doing?]

I bit my inner cheek. "Aapko nhi dekhra? Aankh ke chikitsak ke pass le jane ki jarurat hai aapko?" I countered.

[Can't you see? Do we have to take you to an eye specialist?]

He winced at my words, opening his mouth, then closing it, and repeating the same a few times. He finally gulped and looked at me. "Naraz ho humse?" He asked earnestly.

[Are you angry at me?]

I kept the utensil in my hand on the counter. He flinched slightly. I turned to finally look at him. I flashed him, a sweet smile. "Hum kyu naraz honge bhala? Aapne kuch kiya hai kya?" I taunted, ever-so-casually turning back to the work in my hand.

[Why would I be angry? Did you do something?]

He looked at me with a pleading look. "Yes, I told you I won't make you wait, but I still did it. I swear it wasn't intentional, Gauri. Thana mein kuch zaroori kaam aa gya tha." He explained urgently, trying to make me understand.

[Some urgent work came up in the station]

"Okay, fine. Did I say something to you? No, right? Then why are you telling me all this?" I said, without turning around. My tone was calm, but the cold edge in it was unmistakable.

I took an onion from the basket, my hands briskly chopping vegetables, the knife hitting the board a little too sharply. I don't even know why I was chopping onions right now.

"Because it's so obvious that you're mad at me." He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded, watching me movements closely. His voice was gentle, trying to test the waters, but his brow furrowed with concern.

"Nhi, hum aapse kyu naraz honge?" I let out a soft, humorless chuckle under my breath, I wiped my tears with my saree and continued chopping. They were the tears due to these stupid onions. My back was still to him. My avoidance was louder than my words.

[No, why would I be mad at you?]

"Kyuki humne galti ki hai." He stepped forward slightly, voice softer now, guilt evident in his eyes. [Because I made a mistake]

"Hum aapse naraz nhi hai. Humara koi haq nhi banta ki hum aapse naraz ho." I mumbled. For a moment, the kitchen fell silent except for the gentle simmering on the stove.

[I am not mad at you. I don't have any right to be]

A muscle ticked in his jaw, fists clenched. He took a step closer to me, holding my forearms, turning me to face him. I let him without any process. My eyes were on the ground, but I could still feel his gaze boring into my skull.

"Kya kaha tumne?" He gritted out. "Ki tumhara koi haq nhi banta? Gauri," I called my name firmly, forcing me to look at him. "Agar kisi ka haq banta hai to wo sirf tumhara hai. Humne galti ki, hume saza dene ka bhi pura haq tumhara hai." He spoke intensely, trying to get his words through my head.

[What did you say?/ That you have no right? Gauri,/ If anyone deserves that right, then it's only you. I made a mistake. You have the right to punish me]

I blinked, his gaze softened. "You made this house a home. A home I look after to come back to every day. You handled my world so perfectly that there isn't a single imperfection left in it." He spoke, reassuring me like gentle caress.

"You, Gauri, you have all the right over us. Over this house, over every single thing, over Om, over... me." He said it in such a sincere and geniune way that I believed it right away.

That was him. Never making me feel like I didn't belong. With him, I always, always felt belonged. I could stay on the sideway of a road with him and still feel home.

All of a sudden, those ugly feeling anger, irritation, frustration, annoyance, and passive-aggressiveness were gone, replaced by something lighter.

"Bhook lagi hogi," I spoke suddenly. [Must be hungry,]

His brows knitted in confusion. "Huh?"

"You must be hungry. Go freshen up, I'll serve you food with your favorite garlic chutney and roasted papad." I mumbled softly, biting back a smile.

He stared at me for a good while, then chuckled heartily. My lips formed a soft smile as well. He looked at me fondly, then shook his head. "Tum bhot pyari ho, pata hai tumko?" He spoke, and my cheeks flushed.

[You're so adorable, you know that?]

"Jaiye bhi," I promted from him to leave. He nodded, smiling widely as he went upstairs.

[Go now]

I took out the silbatta to grind the garlic and spices together to make chutney. While doing so, there was a petant smile on my face that would probably stay on my face the whole night.

A week later,

It was like any other usual sunday morning. Mild sunlight peeking through the windows, birds chirping in their nests on the trees in our garden, the sound of Shankh (conch) ringing through the nearby Shiv Temple. 

I was in my room, drying my hair. The morning was busy like all sunday mornings are. After drying my hair, I wore a purple saree with light golden embroidery at the end, small golden earrings, bindi, a few bangles, and braided my long hip-lengthed hair.

Today, we were finally going to get things that we couldn't get that day. Yeah, he finally got the time today, a week later. He did explain to me the reason for getting late. Anyway, I can't stay angry for long with anyone, and not at all after hearing this.

He is such a savior.

I went out to see Rudvik ji sitting on the cot, reading a newspaper all ready to go in a white shirt and black work pants. Why was he wearing a white shirt?

I walked towards him, sensing my presence he looked up and passed me a brief smile. "Ready?" He asked, folding the newspaper back as it was.

I nodded. "Haa, par ye batayiye aapne ye safed kameez kyu pehni?" I asked, frowning slightly and raising an eyebrow.

[Why did you wear this white shirt?]

He looked down at his attire before looking up at me in confusion. "Kyu? Isme kya kharabi hai? Acche nhi lagre kya hum?" He asked expectantly, as if he was waiting for a compliment.

[Why? What's wrong with this? Am I not looking good?]

I clicked my tongue at his obliviousness. "Acche-bure ka nhi hai, Rudvik ji. Lekin hum bazaar ja rahe hai, aapko pata bhi hai ye safed kapde kitne gande ho jate hai aisi jagaho par? Jayiye kuch gehre rang ka pehenkar aayiye."

[It's not about good or bad, Rudvik ji. But we’re going to the market—do you even realize how dirty these white clothes get in such places? Go and wear something in a darker color]

He pressed his lips in a thin line, blinking as if he didn’t know what to say. He just stared at me for a good 10 seconds, then shook his head with a soft smile. "Alright, I'll change into something else. But only if you pick it out for me." He quipped.

I frowned. Why does he want me to choose what he'll wear? Isn't that a personal preference? Isn't he getting too lazy nowadays? "Why should I?" I mused.

"Because I may not know what will be suitable, you know. Even in darker colors." He said with a smirk, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

What kind of weird logic is that? He's way smarter and wiser than me. Shouldn't he know better? Anyway, why am I dwelling so much over selecting a shirt. We are already getting late. I nodded and walked towards his room.

I opened his almira and pulled out a plain maroon kurta. Perfect. I had to wash it anyway, so this is the best choice even if it got stained. I walked back towards the living  room and gave it to him.

"Here, wear this."

He nodded and started unbuttoning his shirt there itself. My eyes widened as I quickly turned around and covered my eyes. I yelped, flatering. "W-Why are you changing here?" I exclaimed in disbelief.

He chuckled in amusement. "Why can't I change here?" He quipped playfully. Was he having fun in this? What's with him nowadays? He wasn't this shameless before.

"Aap itne nirlajj kaise ho sakte hai? Aap kuch aisa-waisa toh nhi lene lag gaye hai na aaj-kal? Baikhi-baikhi baat karte rehte hai." I asked in disbelief without turning around.

[How can you be so shameless? Are you, like, taking something wrong that you shouldn't be taking? You're talking nonsense]

"Tum kehna chahti ho ki hum nashe karne lage hai?" He commented, feigning offense. But I could tell there wasn't any actual bite to it.

[Are you maybe implying that I'm drowing in intoxication?]

I faltered. "No, I mean, not in a literal sense, but.. um, you know, you're..."

He laughed. The sound was soft, hearty, and hoarse. "I get it. You can turn around. I'm done." He said. I turned around to see him standing there in the maroon kurta, smiling—more like trying hard not to smile but failing miserably.

I gave him an exaggerated look. He returned the look and held his hand, gesturing towards the door. "Chaliye Shrimatiji warna hume deri ho jayegi. And don't act like you haven't seen me before in just a vest, without a shirt on."

[Let’s go, Miss, or else we'll be late]

Right. He had his vest underneath. God, I feel so stupid for reacting like that. But it was a pure impulse. Why am I so dumb? Shivji jab aap buddhi pradan kar rahe the tab hume kya sabse piche khada rakhke bhul gaye the?

[Lord Shiva, when you were distributing intelligence, by any chance, did you forget about me placing me at the very end of the queue?]

We reached his jeep and he opened the door for me. He got in and started driving. That small smile was still present on his face, while I was all crimson with embarrassment.

I glanced out to see the view out the window. Warm wind hit my face, making my cheek more flushed. From my peripheral vision, I saw him stealing glances at me. Was there something stuck on my face?

I chose to dismiss his glances. Maybe it was nothing as such as I was projecting it to be. He was just making sure I was... there? Argh, who was I making the excuses for? Him or me?

Honestly, my cheeks were growing warmer, each passing second, and I wasn't quite sure if it was the lingering embarrassment, the warm wind... or the twisted feeling his every glance was igniting in me. It took every inch of the very thing I have in me to not melt then and there.

It wasn't always like this before. So, why was it happening now? I inhaled a sharp breath, subtly touching my warm cheeks. Should I... Should I confront him about it? No. No. He has the power to turn it all on me. He's very cunning in that department. At it, in every department.

"The weather is, um, quite pleasant, isn't it?" Before I could process what in what, I found myself uttering those words. I bit my inner cheek. Why did I just say that? At this rate, I should just die out of embarrassment. But if I do that, then who'll look after these two?

"It is," He hummed, agreeing. He had a slight smirk on his lips, eyes on the path ahead, hands on the wheel. His voice was a velvety, deep murmur that sent a chill down my spine.

I hummed myself, nodding before looking back the window again. That was utterly, utterly... argh, I don't know what it was.

We finally reached the market.

Thank you, Shivji.

He got down first, walked around the bonnett, and opened the door for me. I looked around the market, contemplating what to get first.

"Where do you want to go first?" He asked, slipping beside me.

"Um, I think," I thought for a while before coming to a conclusion. "Let's buy some clothes for Om first." I said, turning to him.

He nodded and led us to a small shop. The shop had a modest yet vibrant look. Apart from us, there were a few more customers sitting there discussing prices and bargaining. The wooden shelves were stacked with neatly folded clothings.

The man sitting behind the cash counter passed Rudvik ji a polite smile with a knowing nod and called out one of the men to attend us. On his call, a boy, barely in his early twenties, came towards us and led us to a quiet corner. We both settled down on the padded mattress, removing our footwear.

"Bataiye Sahab, Memsahab, kya dekhau aapko?" The boy asked, his voice sharp yet polite, laced with experience.

[Sir, Mam, what can I show you?]

Rudvik ji looked at me, waiting for me to answer him. "Ji, saat saal ke bache ke kapde dikhaiye. Cotton mein dekhayiga aur jyada chamkila nhi." I said. Om doesn't like wearing clothes that are too flashy or prickly fabric. He'd just throw a fit and refuse to wear it.

[Yes, show me clothes for a seven-year-old boy. Cotton ones, and not too shiny]

The boy nodded and went to pick a few boxes. He came back and started presenting the clothes. "Ye dekhiye memsahab, ye naya design hai. Shudh cotton, bilkul thanda kapda hai."

[Look, madam, this is a new design. It’s pure cotton, very light and cool fabric]

Just like that, we selected a few shirts and pants for him and came out of the shop. We bought a few more essential household stuff. As we were walking by looking at shops, I noticed an orange kurta hanging outside a shop.

"You should buy that for yourself." I said, pointing towards it.

He blinked in amusement. "Me? But I don't need one. I have plenty already." He said, dismissing it with a shake of his head.

"Pata hai hume, par ye aap par aacha lage ja, rang bhi bohot sundar hai, aap par jachega bhi." I said, glancing between him and the cloth. Orange would definitely compliment his dusky brown skin.

[I know, but this will look good on you, and the color is also very beautiful — it will suit you well]

"Jaisa tum kaho," He agreed, cracking a brief smile, giving in, knowing he couldn't win against me in matters as such. Wise choice. His fashion is literally nonexistent.

[As you say,]

We went to the shop and bought that for him. I held it over his chest and grinned appreciatively. "Jach toh raha hai," I remarked.

[It suits you]

"Bilkull. Pasand kiski hai?" He said, teasing me. I bit my inner cheek. He was too much at times.

[Of course. Whose choice is it?]

"Humari."

[Mine]

•♥︎•