Marriage In The Pink City

Chapter 24

Namaste
Chapter 24

Abhimaan gripped the steering wheel with one hand, his phone in the other, dialling Tanushree’s number for what felt like the hundredth time. Each time it rang out with no answer, his worry grew.

“Come on, Tanu, pick up… please,” he muttered, frustration and fear mixing in his voice. He could picture her out there, alone and vulnerable. “Just let me know you’re safe, that’s all I’m asking.”

He dialled again, each unanswered ring sending a pang of guilt through him. “Where are you?” he whispered to himself, rubbing his forehead. She was pregnant, and she was out there dealing with everything on her own, carrying who knows what thoughts and fears. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had pushed her to this.

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In the faint light of dawn, Tanushree arrived at her aunt’s village, Sukhdevpur, exhausted. It was almost 5 in the morning. She approached the small one-story house, her suitcase in hand, and knocked gently. After a moment, the door creaked open, and her aunt, Nirmala, peered out, looking bleary-eyed and slightly confused. It looked like her aunt had just woken up.

“Tanushree?” her aunt said, squinting at her. She quickly stepped aside, letting her niece in.

Inside, Tanushree sat down on the old sofa, looking around at the familiar but modest surroundings. Her aunt’s face was still full of questions, waiting for her to speak. Gathering her courage, she spoke softly.

“Mausi(Aunt), can I stay here for a few days? I’ll find a place to rent soon, I promise.” She sounded almost like she was pleading, knowing she had nowhere else to go.

Just then, her aunt’s husband, Bhuwan, walked in, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly. Nirmala filled him in on the situation, and he immediately saw an opportunity.

“Why go looking for a rental, Tanushree? Just stay in our old house down the road—nobody’s living there right now,” he said with a sly smile. “It has two rooms, nice and private. Only a few houses away.”

Tanushree hesitated, glancing down. She didn’t have much money, and she wasn’t sure she could afford anything long-term. But Bhuwan pressed on.

“Normally, we charge 5,000 rupees for rent, but since it’s you, I’ll give you a family discount. Just 3,000 rupees,” he added, crossing his arms.

She nodded, grateful but anxious. At least she had a place to stay, even if it came with a price.

Tanushree’s aunt walked her down the narrow road to the old house. It looked rough around the edges—cracks lined the outer walls, and a couple of windows were broken, letting a faint breeze whistle through. Her aunt fumbled with the key, finally pushing open the creaky door. Tanushree took a step inside, relieved to find the interior walls intact, though the place was sparse.

In the main room, there was a small, wobbly wooden cot, a dusty almirah, and a lone table with a chair beside it. The kitchen was bare except for a single-burner stove.

“I’ll arrange a gas cylinder for you, but you’ll have to pay for it, okay?” her aunt said, glancing around with a critical eye. Tanushree nodded. “I’ll send over food for today. But starting tomorrow, you’ll cook for yourself,” she added firmly.

Once her aunt left, Tanushree locked the door and sat down on the cot, feeling its shaky frame beneath her. She felt a lump form in her throat as she ran her hand gently over her belly, whispering to herself, "It’s just you and me now.” She knew her aunt would likely call her parents soon, but she also knew she couldn’t face them yet.

Looking around, she realised the place needed a thorough cleaning. She grabbed an old broom from the corner and started sweeping slowly, clearing out cobwebs from the ceilings and dust from the floor. She then mopped the floors, scrubbed down the bathroom, and set her few belongings in the almirah before covering the cot with a clean bed sheet.

Exhausted, she finally sat down, a dull headache creeping in. Her stomach growled, but there was nothing to eat, and she was waiting for her aunt to bring breakfast. It was nearly 11 a.m., and her hunger made her nausea worse. Suddenly, the queasiness hit hard—she barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting. As she leaned back, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her, and everything faded as she slumped to the bathroom floor, unconscious.

As soon as she’d left Tanushree at the old house, Nirmala reached for her phone, dialling her sister's number. She took a deep breath as it rang, preparing herself to break the news.

“Aree Jiji, it’s me, Nirmala.”

“Namaste, Nirmala. Sab theek?” Tanushree’s mother asked, her voice warm.

"Actually, I just wanted to let you know… Laado is here. She showed up early this morning, carrying a small suitcase.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by Tanushree’s mother's worried voice, "What? Tanu’s there? But she didn’t tell us anything about coming… everything’s fine with her, right?"

Nirmala clicked her tongue, trying to tread carefully. "I don’t know, Jiji… She seemed really quiet, didn’t say much. Just asked if she could stay here for a few days.”

There was silence on the other end before Tanushree’s mother finally responded. “Why? Did she say what’s wrong?”

“No, she didn’t say much,” Nirmala replied, lowering her voice a bit. “But, Jiji... the poor thing just got married two months ago. Do you think everything’s alright between her and Abhimaan?”

Tanushree’s mother’s tone turned worried. “It was all going well as far as I know... But I don’t understand why she’d just leave like that.”

“Something’s wrong… Kuch toh baat hai, Jiji. Why would she come here like this, without telling anyone? And alone, at that?"

There was a deep sigh from the other end. "I’ll talk to her… I don’t understand what’s going on. We trusted Abhimaan with our daughter. She’s hardly had time to adjust, and now she’s left?"

"Yes, Jiji. You should find out. I tried asking her, but she didn’t say much. Just looked so… lost.”

“I’ll call her right now," her mother replied, her voice trembling. "Thank you, Nirmala. Please keep an eye on her until we can come there.”

Nirmala nodded, satisfied she’d done her duty, yet feeling the thrill of having some insight into what was happening. “Of course, Jiji. Laado is like a daughter to me too. I just hope she’s alright.” She added, sugar coating her words.

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