𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-35

Baba = Father in Marathi

Raksha Bandhan = A celebration of sibling love and bond, where sisters tie a sacred thread, Rakhi, around their brothers' wrists, symbolizing protection and eternal love.

-*-*-

The white LED mercury tube cast a harsh glare, illuminating every corner of the living room. The pale yellow walls reflected the light back with an almost sterile sharpness. The TV's blinking red and white lights flickered, showcasing the newsroom's frantic energy. A lady anchor, her face twisted with exaggerated outrage, shouted the breaking news at the top of her lungs:

"The wife who killed her husband with her boyfriend has been arrested by the state police!" she screamed. "Before this, another case surfaced where a wife, along with her boyfriend, murdered her husband and then chopped his body into pieces! Where is our society heading?! Is this the feminism we are promoting?! Is this the women empowerment we talk about?!"

Nakul lounged in a brown plastic chair, one leg crossed over the other, and chuckled. "Feminism is in the air," he quipped, eyes flicking toward Ira.

Ira sat at the edge of the bed, dressed in a full-sleeved white woollen T-shirt and trousers. Her expression remained unreadable, her eyes fixed on the portrait she was sketching on the A4 sheet. Her pencil moved steadily, unbothered, as though the noise from the TV and the jab from her brother didn't reach her.

As the anchor continued her rant, Nakul's grin widened. He leaned back, the chair creaking under him, eyes refusing to leave Ira's face. "Guess some women are taking feminism a bit too literally."

Ira set her pencil aside and lifted her head, pinning him with a cold stare. "Why are you saying this while looking at me?"

Nakul shrugged lazily. "Equality."

Ira held his gaze for a second before returning to her drawing. Her fingers blended the shades with soft, practiced strokes, the motion calm in contrast to the rising tension.

"I didn't talk about this kind of equality." She traced the outline of Lord Buddha's face, the scent of graphite thick in the air. Her jaw was tight, though her voice stayed flat. "And anyway, men have been harassing women for ages. So take it as nature's call. The tables have turned. Now, enjoy."

Nakul raised his eyebrows, adjusting himself in the chair. "So, you're supporting this?"

Ira's gaze snapped back to him. "No. Not supporting, just surprised."

The anchor's voice droned on in the background, but Nakul's focus stayed on Ira. She could feel the heat of his stare even without looking up.

"Meaning?" he pressed.

Ira exhaled long and slow, blinking as if weighing her words carefully. A small crease formed between her eyebrows.

"Okay," she said. "I'll say it. But let me finish before you start arguing. And don't you dare scream or curse if you can't find a decent point to counter." She pointed a finger at him, nose scrunching up.

Nakul scoffed, lips twisting into a wicked grin. "So, are we debating men versus women again?"

"Kind of," Ira said with a subtle pout.

His smirk stretched wider. "Alright. What do you have to say this time?"

"My point is simple. For a very, very long time, wives have been killed by their husbands and in-laws. Burned alive, poisoned, beaten, tortured. And those cases barely make headlines. I'm not saying it's right," she added quickly, raising her palm. "But these few cases where men are being killed by wives suddenly have the entire male community trembling. They're reconsidering marriage. But not once have these men or their precious patriarchal system thought about how women have been suffering with sealed lips for centuries."