Marriage In The Pink City

Chapter 26

Namaste
Chapter 26

Tanushree sat by the window, her knees drawn to her chest as her eyes wandered outside. The laughter of schoolchildren echoed through the street, and nearby, a group of mothers chatted animatedly. Their voices carried easily through the crisp morning air, reaching her ears. 

"These days, having a kid is so expensive," one woman said, shaking her head. She adjusted the dupatta draped over her shoulder. "My daughter is preparing for competitive exams next year. I had to mortgage my jewelry just to pay for her coaching fees—two lakh rupees! And that’s just the beginning." 

Another mother nodded in agreement, her expression weary. "Don’t even get me started. My son is in kindergarten, and his monthly school fees are six thousand. Three thousand more for the school bus. And the books this year—another six thousand. It’s like having a child is a never-ending expense!" 

The woman with a newborn in her arms shifted the baby gently and chimed in. "Tell me about it! I went shopping for laado's clothes and diapers yesterday—just those two things alone burned a hole in my pocket. And the formula milk? My husband’s salary feels like it disappears just buying her formula every month. Almost one-fourth of it, gone." 

Her voice dropped to a somber tone. "When she was born, I had to have a C-section. The hospital charged us two lakh rupees. Two lakh! Can you believe it? Having a baby these days is like signing up for a lifetime of debt." 

The first woman sighed. "That’s true. My neighbor recently had her second child, and now they’re planning to sell their bike to make ends meet. It’s crazy how much you have to give up just to provide the basics." 

Tanushree's gaze stayed fixed on them.  Their words echoed in her mind, each one tightening the grip of doubt and worry around her heart. She touched her belly softly, a thousand questions swirling in her head. Could she do this on her own? How would she give her child a good life? 

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away. Somewhere deep inside, she wanted to find a way. For her baby. For herself.

“Laado, chal beta,” her mother’s voice called out, breaking through Tanushree’s thoughts. “I’ve fixed an appointment with the gynecologist. We need to reach by 8:30. Come on, get ready.” 

Tanushree sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—her parents’ sacrifices, the expenses of raising a child, and the broken marriage she wanted to leave behind. She felt a lump in her throat as tears silently slipped down her cheeks. 

“Tanushree!” Her mother’s voice was more insistent this time. 

Wiping her tears quickly, she got up, dressed simply, and joined her parents in the car. Her father drove in silence, while her mother occasionally glanced back at her with worried eyes. 

At the clinic, Tanushree sat in the waiting area, her stomach churning with anxiety. The muted sound of other patients chatting and nurses calling out names filled the room. She didn’t know what to expect, and that scared her. 

“Tanushree Singh,” a nurse called. 

Her mother nudged her gently. “Chal beta, andar chalte hain.” 

Tanushree followed her mother into the cabin, where Dr. Richa, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, greeted them. 

“Good morning, Tanushree. Please, have a seat,” Dr. Richa said, gesturing toward the chair opposite her desk. 

Tanushree sat down hesitantly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her mother sat beside her, watching closely. 

“So, Tanushree,” Dr. Richa began with a smile, “this is your first pregnancy, correct?”