Untold Tale of Indian Wife

•TWENTY-EIGHT°

I feel that you guys have finally happened to know how did it feel to be indian wife. Please be considerate that hardly any woman happen to tied a knot with men like shubhankar. So you must be wondering why am I writing this however the thing which I want to convey through this is not about a toxic husband and their actions.

In this book, I have shown that if woman fortunately got husband like him then even they have to suffered by something else if not by husband's crap !!

Mrinalini in the eager to cover remaining chores. Rapidly yet swiftly moved herself.  She carried herself in simplicity with subtle fragrance of elegance. Her timid demeanour slowly with time cracking.

She mentality made note of gestures, slip of tongue, way of handling when Manorma and suman are around. She now didn't keep guarded herself when she is with her husband. He is taciturn and often communication with her considerable moves.

Mrinalini adjusted her ghoonghat and stoop down to nestled radiating flames of diya in the corners.

The soft, warm glow of diya is belived to ward off darkness, evil spirits and negative energies.

Her brows shifted in curiosity when she heard unfamiliar voice of someone. In a quick walk, she marched inside as Manorama will pinned her peace if Mrinalini unplanned appeared infront of a stranger.

Her hand mid-freeze when she sense Manorama's presence, fidgeting with her pallu. Her voice barely above the whisper "ji ?" Manorma brush off her one word response instructed in distant tone, underlying alertness in her words
"Chotti bahu present yourself in decent way infront of guru ji."

Mrinalini containing even not so little awareness about her words however moved her head in short nod. Manorma stormed out leaving confused Mrinalini.

Jamuna prasad ojha  The guru's attire was a testament to his simplicity, discipline, and dedication to his craft. He wore a crisp, snow-white dhoti, its folds meticulously pleated and draped around his waist. A matching white kurta adorned his upper body, its fabric smooth and unadorned.

Around his neck, a delicate, hand-carved rudraksha mala glimmered softly, its dark, polished beads a symbol of his spiritual pursuits.

His feet were clad in a pair of worn, leather padukas, their simplicity a reflection of his detachment from worldly possessions.

A sprinkle of vermilion powder adorned his forehead, a subtle yet distinctive mark of his spiritual lineage.

His long, silver hair was neatly tied back, revealing a face that was both serene and stern, a testament to his years of spiritual practice and discipline.

The guru's gaze swept across the room, his eyes lingering on each face. He sensed the tension, the apprehension, and the fear that emanated from ladies. A sly smile spread across his face, his eyes glinting with a wicked intensity.

"Today," he began, his voice dripping with malice, "we will embark on a new journey. A journey that will test your resolve, your courage, and your devotion."

The ladies exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale with anxiety. They sensed that something was amiss, but they couldn't quite put their finger on it.

The guru's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "You see, i have sensed sinister energies from this home that's why I care to be here"
he continued, "I have been watching you. I have been studying your strengths and your weaknesses"

Manorma shifted uncomfortably, her hearts racing with anticipation. She in meek tone asked "How can we erase it Maharaj ji ?"

As the guru's words hung in the air, Mrinalini stepped forward, her eyes shining with a mix of fear and confusing.
She fidgeted with her saree, her face unrevealed. From out of corner of her eyes, she could sense his gaze on her.