In the bustling city of Mumbai, lived a restaurateur named Advay Malhotra. With a humble beginning, born into a poor family, Advay had always harbored a burning desire to work hard and earn enough money to fulfill his requirements. He was not a man...
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"Namaste, Bua," Advay greeted warmly as we stepped into the living room. His Bua rose from her seat, her expression softening as she hugged him tightly.
"Kitne saal baad dekh rahi hoon isko," she said with a fond smile, though something in her eyes hinted at a deeper scrutiny. "Aur ab dekho, shaadi bhi kar li," she added with a light laugh, but there was an undertone that made me feel like I was being carefully observed.
"Bua, this is Idika, my wife," Advay introduced, his voice carrying warmth and respect. "Idika, this is Anita Bua."
"Namaste, Bua Ji," I greeted her politely, joining my hands together and bending to touch her feet for blessings, hoping to make a good impression.
"Khush raho, beta," she said sweetly, offering her blessings with a smile that seemed genuine. Yet, there was a flicker of something in her gaze-almost like she was weighing every move and word. Despite her kind words, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more behind her pleasant demeanor.
"Beta, you sit. Advay, come here," Mumma called from outside. Advay squeezed my hand gently, giving me a reassuring smile before he stepped out of the room.
An awkward silence settled between Anita Bua and me. I could feel her eyes on me, and when I glanced her way, she offered a tight-lipped smile.
"Beta, kitne saal ki ho tum?" she asked, her tone polite but carrying an underlying edge.
"Ji, I'm 26," I replied, feeling a bit on edge as she continued to study me.
She nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed on me. "Aur tumhari education aur family?"
I answered her questions about my background, trying to keep the conversation flowing. Then, her next question came. "Do you work?"
"Yes, I'm a makeup artist," I said, smiling. "I run my own studio."
Her expression faltered for a moment, her frown subtle but noticeable. She nodded, though her reaction made it clear she wasn't exactly thrilled with my answer. Her smile remained tight, and I couldn't shake the feeling that she was silently judging every word I said.
"How much do you earn in a month?" she asked again, her eyes narrowing slightly as she waited for my response. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat but kept my composure. "Ji, I earn around 30-40 lakhs a month," I replied, trying to sound casual.
Her eyes widened in disbelief as she nodded slowly, clearly taken aback. I suppressed a smile, knowing full well that people often underestimate professions like mine. They see them as trivial until they realize how much money you can actually make.
Just then, Mumma walked in, saving me from more uncomfortable questions. "Didi, aap kya loge khaane mein?" she asked, her tone warm and welcoming.
I released a breath of relief, smiling at Mumma, grateful for the distraction. But then, Bua spoke again, "Mein toh nayi bahu ke haath ka hi khaungi," she announced.
