Begusarai

020

The day after Diwali dawned earlier than any of them would have liked, especially after the whirlwind of festivities. Raghuveer, Roopa, Ranveer, Maithili, and Radha were all bundled up in the soft glow of the early morning, shuffling around groggily, gathering their bags, and making sure nothing essential was forgotten. With half-closed eyes and yawns that seemed never-ending, Maithili and Ranveer stumbled their way out the door, still more asleep than awake. Radha muttered under her breath about their sluggishness, her tone softened by the lingering joy of the Diwali celebrations, even if she was more awake than the rest of them.

As the auto finally disappeared down the street, Shivangi and Niyati shared a secretive, triumphant look before practically sprinting back inside. As soon as the door was locked, they collapsed onto the make-shift bed in the living room, relishing the silence that came with an empty house. It was as if all the energy they’d poured into the festival had finally caught up with them. They wrapped themselves in blankets and surrendered to sleep, not even bothering to stir until late morning. Only the sight of neighbors carrying fresh Prasad reminded them that they, too, had responsibilities to attend to.

Roopa and Radha, ever prepared, had left behind carefully packed boxes of sweets and Prasad, ensuring the neighborhood customs would carry on smoothly. Once freshened up, Shivangi and Niyati welcomed the guests that trickled in, exchanging pleasantries, passing along Prasad, and bowing for blessings. But even as they greeted each visitor with warm smiles, both of them felt the quiet comfort of knowing they could spend the rest of the day without the usual clamor that filled their home.

As evening set in, Niyati headed to the temple to light the evening lamp and offer prayers. Raghuveer had informed everyone that the temple would remain closed for two days following Diwali, allowing for some much-needed rest and a sense of privacy in their worship.

Shivangi, meanwhile, stayed back, preparing tea and snacks for a group of older neighborhood ladies who had come to visit, led by Manorama. It was meant to be a simple social call, but Shivangi soon found herself trapped in a web of marital advice—one-sided and endlessly overwhelming.

The older women leaned in with eager eyes and knowing smiles, each eager to impart their wisdom, and Shivangi couldn’t help but feel as if she were drowning in an ocean of "dos" and "don’ts." She tried to remain polite, but her mind wandered, already planning her escape.

“Whatever your mother-in-law says, do it without question. A daughter-in-law’s duty is obedience.”

“Your husband is next to God, so fulfill every demand with grace and respect—no questions, no hesitations.”

“Be modest, don’t laugh too loudly in front of guests, keep your voice soft, and only speak when spoken to.”

“Rise before the sun and don’t let yourself rest until everyone else is settled.”

Each piece of advice made Shivangi’s skin itch, as if the very words were confining her. The idea of fulfilling these expectations seemed suffocating, and with every passing minute, she felt her patience waning. When Niyati had spotted the group coming and fled to the temple, Shivangi had only rolled her eyes, but now she found herself wishing she’d done the same.

The moment the tea and snacks were served, she excused herself with the explanation of wanting to visit the temple, leaving the women to their discussion. She made her way down the familiar path, feeling a sense of freedom returning as the evening breeze brushed against her face. The thought of Niyati hiding out at the temple made her chuckle, though she couldn’t deny a pang of envy—Niyati had evaded the lecture entirely, leaving Shivangi alone to fend off the soul-sucking marital advice brigade.