Falling Into Oblivion

Chapter 16: 18 years ago

This chapter needs heavy editing. But i'm still uploading since i had a few demands so enjoy :)

The front yard was crammed with boxes, furniture, and shiny appliances, all precariously stacked, while more items spilled out of an open truck. The midday sun blazed down, intensifying the tension. Banhi, Dhriti, Anala, and Meeta stood to one side, visibly distressed, their faces pale with worry.

Amid the chaos, voices clashed in a heated argument. Nishant stood at the center, his posture rigid, his voice cutting through the air like steel.

"Main apni betiyon ke ghar mein yeh dahej ka saaman nahi aane dunga! Yeh ghinona aur galat hai!"

His words carried an edge that silenced even the chirping of the sparrows in the neem tree.

Meeta's mother, Meena, stepped forward hesitantly, wringing her hands. "Nishant, shaant ho jao. Ghar mein jagah nahi hai, isliye tumhare yahan rakhne ki baat ki thi. Tum itna react kyun kar rahe ho?"

Nishant's eyes flashed with a storm of emotions—anger, pain, and something deeper, something older. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if fighting to hold back a memory threatening to surface. He turned sharply toward Meeta's father, his voice rising.

"Jagah nahi hai? Toh phir yeh saara nonsense laane ki zarurat kya thi? Tumhe sharam nahi aati apni beti ke liye yeh sab karte hue? Yeh dahej hai, Meena! Tum log apni beti ko bech rahe ho!"

Meeta stepped forward cautiously, her voice trembling. "Uncle, please samajhne ki koshish karo. Dowry toh humare culture ka ek part hai. Yeh sab toh normal hai."

A bitter laugh escaped Nishant, sharp and cutting. He took a step closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. "Normal? Tum normal ke naam pe apni zindagi barbaad kar rahi ho, Meeta! Kya tum jaanti ho, yeh sab ek aurat ki zindagi mein kya kar sakta hai?"

His words hung in the air like a storm cloud, charged with unspoken weight. Banhi noticed how his hands trembled slightly now, and how his jaw tightened as if to choke back words he dared not utter. She glanced at Dhriti, who gave her a worried look. They had seen this side of their father before—a man haunted by shadows they didn't fully understand.

Meeta's father attempted to intervene, his tone placating. "Nishant bhai, bas ek rasam hai. Sab karte hain. Tum kyun itna badi baat bana rahe ho?"

Nishant whirled around, his voice like thunder. "Rasam? Jab ek beti ki izzat bechi ja rahi ho, toh rasam kaise ho sakti hai? Tum log apne compromise ke naam pe har beti ki zindagi kharaab karte ho. Maine khud dekha hai, yeh sab kahan le jata hai. Aur meri betiyan is ghinone kaam mein ek kadam bhi nahi uthayengi!"

The girls stood frozen, Banhi clutching Dhriti's arm, her heart pounding. His words carried a force beyond the immediate argument, a conviction born of something deeply personal, a wound left unhealed.

Danish appeared on the stairway, arms crossed, observing the scene with detached indifference. He leaned casually against the wall, smirking. "Yaar, itna tamasha kyun kar rahe ho, uncle?"

Nishant shot him a glare that could have set fire to stone. Danish, unfazed, shrugged and turned to Meeta. "Meeta, main tumhare bhai ke paas jaa raha hoon. Chal, Pranav. Ranveer bhi wahin hain."

His nonchalance cut through the tension like a dull blade, irritating and oddly out of place. But Nishant had no time for him.

Turning back to the others, his fury reignited. "Aur meri baat dhyan se sun lo. Agar kisi ne meri betiyon ko is maamle mein kheenchne ki koshish ki, toh main yahan se saara sambandh tod dunga!"