Siblings who had solace in the presence of each other, get trapped in the web of fate and luck, embark on their saga how they battle through the game of destiny called life, shielding each other from any problem hurled towards them.
This twenty seve...
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"Agar Isme aur apni wife me choose karna hoga toh main isko hi chunuga," Series of words ran in her mind again and again.
(If I were to prioritise between my sister and wife, I'd choose my sister.")
"Toh chunn lete na Agastya Sahab sabke saamne kehne ki kya zarurat thi ki main aapke liye koi maainey nahi rakhti hui," Niharika mumbled to herself, she rubbed the back of She gazed into her vermillion filled partition, a stray tear rolled down her eyes. If she hadn't smiled to the older ladies that day, her life would have been different perhaps, even better. She thanked the universe that her family had left before hearing their daughter might be wedded in to a hell of place.
(Should have prioritised your sister, Agastya, why did you say it in front of everyone that I am nothing to you.")
The day of engagement, she understood her mother in law wasn't a pleasant woman, she picked on poor girl, she was glad she wouldn't be living here. But the little girl who apparently was the heart and soul of her husband, wouldn't leave them easily. She didn't want her to leave, each bone in her body suspected she wasn't a saint either, perhaps she might have kept her lips sealed and tears down, when she knew it was her brother's big day instead of tataleing him.
She looked herself one last time before sitting down on the bed. She twisted and turned her neck around the guest room, she stayed in last night. Each aspect of the room screamed expensive and elegant, from the congested paints in the gold framed painted to the hollow beige vases. The people residing were the same, hollow hearts congested with the bitterness for others.
They were a lie.
Hushed knocks on the door, she wished person other side leaves quietly. Repeat of tappings on the door, a hope sparked in her heart. What if it were her husband outside, came her to reason and apologise with her. She twisted the door knob open, Roshni dropped her hand down, horrified at the state of bride, pulled away her gaze, makeup smeared, mascara spread, hair messed up, red rimmed eyes.
She didn't like it either, "Can I please come in, I just needed to talk," the older lady stepped away. Younger one sat on a sofa, she sat facing her on the bed, only to not look at her. Cognac eyes ran through the work on her heavy saree. "Niharika, main aapka zyada waqt nahi lugi," Roshni licked her lips. Her heart hurt looking at the bride's state. "He is not wrong, please don't misjudge bhai, Niharika," Newly wedded smiled, shook her head, "main jaanti hui, unko aisa nahi karna tha bas ek baar aap unke nazariye se dekhiyega isko," she figitted with her fingers.
("Niharika, I won't take much of your time." "I know, he should not have done it, just for once look through his point of view.")
"Behenien bauth pyaar karti hain na apne bhaiyon se unko galat hone pe bhi galat nahi therati hain," voice quivered, rain poured down her eyes, "why did he insult me like that Roshni? Lean fingers cupped her face, head leaned on bed of knees, sobs echoed in the room. Roshni sauntered to her, she didn't know how to console a crying person, if she supposed to offer them water or tissues? Her hand reached over back, she soothingly rubbed her it, her arm quivered if the bride shoves her away. At times her sobs higher than the others, breaths ragged, breaths normal. She sat back straight, Roshni pulled back her hand, offered her some paper napkins.
