Chapter 9

Koi mil gya,
Mera dil gya,
Kya btau yaaro,
Mai to hil gya,
Koi mil gyaaaaaa.
｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

Rathore Haweli, jaipur

He was brushing my hair when suddenly he grabbed a handful and pulled it backward.

“Ahhhhh!” I shouted.

“Please leave me,” I begged.

But he showed no mercy. He threw me on his bed and tied my hands to the headboard with his belt.

“Please don’t, I don’t want this…” I pleaded.

He hovered over me, removed his t-shirt, then lit a cigarette and took a few puffs.

And then

He pressed the burning cigarette on my arm. With his other hand, he grabbed my throat.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Please, please, I beg you… it hurts,” I whispered, tears welling up in my red eyes.

He tore my clothes and started touching me… mercilessly. He raped me.

I was like a living dead, numb. He touched me again, slapped me, and was about to do more

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” I woke up, shouting.

Tears streamed down my face as I curled up, burying my head in my knees. I cried silently, not a sound  because I didn’t want my parents to know about my nightmares.

This is my past… I’ll never let it come into my present or ruin my future. Never ever.

I got up and went to the washroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, I spoke to myself:

“Vani Rathore, you know your parents love you. You are their only support in old age. If you break down, what will happen to them? You have a little sister to support. So don’t be weal. Be strong. Take deep breaths.”

Inhale… pause… exhale.
Repeat.
Inhale… pause… exhale.

After a few minutes, I felt a bit relaxed.

I took a warm shower to calm myself. This is my routine.

NIGHTMARES.
NIGHTMARES.
AND MORE NIGHTMARES.

I’ve visited psychiatrists, but nothing helps.

I guess I have to live with this. I can’t escape.

✧

I got ready and went downstairs.

“Mom, where’s my breakfast?”

“Here, my child.”

“And the tiffin?”

“Yes, here’s yours and here’s the girl’s tiffin. Don’t forget to give it to her.”

“What did you make for her?”

“Rabdi Ghevar.”

(My favorite Rajasthani sweet!)

“Where’s mine?”

“Here. I know it’s your favorite, so I made extra.”

“I love you, Mumma.”

“I love you too, beta. And listen  bring that girl home today. I want to meet her.”

“Why? Leave it, she must be busy.”

“Vani.”

“I don’t even know her. How can she trust me and come to my house?”

“She will. Just tell her my mom wants to meet her. And you’re a girl, why would another girl hesitate to come to a girl’s house?”

“Girls should hesitate, Mom. They shouldn’t go to their best friend’s house without knowing what might happen.”

“What are you saying? What do you mean? I’m not going to chop her up! Bring her today, or you won’t get entry into our house. Got it?”

“Hmm,” I said.

“Did you do pooja today?”

“Yes, and yesterday evening too.”

“When is Ayanshi coming?”

“Maybe day after tomorrow. I’m getting late, Mom. I should go now.”

“Okay, bye.”

✧

Needing that bold feeling again, I drove my black Ford Mustang GT to college.

There was hustle and bustle, maybe someone important was coming. Oh, right, the seminar was today.

I waited for her,  that bullied girl. I didn’t even know her stream, but I had her tiffin and wanted to eat more ghevar…

Twenty-five minutes passed. Where is she?

Out of nowhere, she appeared. Thank God.

“Good morning, jangli billi,” she said. I raised my eyebrows in anger. She was annoying.

“How dare you call me jangli billi?” I snapped, annoyed. Only she gave me that nickname, even though I didn’t like it.

“Just kidding,” she said and stepped toward the seminar hall.

“Suno…” I said.

“Ji?” she replied calmly.

“Your tiffin.” I handed it over.

She took it and turned to enter the seminar. But gathering courage, I called out again.

“Actually, my mom wants to meet you.”

“Oh, when?” she asked.

“Today.” I said.

She nodded.

“Okay, I’ll go with you.”

Did she really agree that easily? I thought it would be difficult.

We entered the seminar. It was packed with students.

I found a seat

next to her. God, is this a sign? Or a joke?

The principal of our university and the chief guest, an older man wearing a turban, took the stage, with two younger men behind him.

We were in a university, for a seminar. Yash and me was sitting together and while bade papa, yash’s father sat the chair close to the principle

But Yash’s eyes were fixed on a specific girl in the crowd,  the one I couldn’t find but knew was Bhabhi.

He typed something on his phone, probably messaging her

“Saam savere ab mai joru joru kahu gaaa, mai joru ka gulammm ban ke rahu ga.”

(I’ll say ‘wife, wife’ morning and evening, I’ll be a slave to my wife.)

He laughed. He knew exactly what I meant. Like I know who you’ll be talking to at such an important event I’m your brother; I even know the color of your veins, bhai.

I scanned the crowd again for Bhabhi but instead found another girl.

We locked eyes for a second.

The principal called “Bade Papa” for his speech, and our attention turned to him.

Two hours later, the seminar ended.

✧

I leaned against the wall outside, waiting for her.

When she arrived, I said,

“Hey depressed girl, how are you? Didn’t try to commit suicide again, or was my motivation enough?”

“Oh God! How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t try to commit suicide. I was just standing there.”

“Depressed people don’t admit they’re depressed.”

She got silent for a moment. Her eyes softened, shifting from anger.

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“And you’re my crazy fan. You knew I was coming, so you showed up just to see me? Obsessed much?”

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

“Me? Huh.” She scoffed. “I’m not obsessed, Mr. It’s my university, so I have to attend the seminar. Besides, I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, so you want to know my name?”

“Your brain hasn’t developed right. Need a doctor? I can set up an appointment.”

“Why so rude? Did you eat bitter gourd for breakfast?” I pause and continued
“Kadvi kereli ho tum.” (You’re a bitter gourd, female version.)

“Me? Kereli? Hello, mister, if I’m kereli, you’re a langur.”

“You clearly need glasses. Don’t worry, I’ll tell your teachers to organize an eye camp.”

I patted her head and walked away.

“Idiot,” I heard her say.

(Oh God, I love teasing her.)

He is so annoying.

I hate him.

And he actually patted me? Seriously? Do i look like a dog to him.

Actually, Vani, you’re crazy.

When you first met him, you thought he was handsome, but he’s a burnt bitter gourd, langur kahika, a nonsense person.

My feelings are tangled. Sometimes I feel… I don’t even know how to express it. My thoughts were broken when,

I saw her waiting, so I went over.

“Let’s go.”

We left silently.

At my house, I told her to go inside first while I parked the car, but she waited.

When I came back, I said nothing and just signaled, “Let’s go in.”

Menali aunty opened the door.

We have two doors, one through the garden to park the car, and the other directly into the house.

Inside, I saw my mother standing. She hugged the girl warmly.

My mother is a sweet person, treating her like one of her own.

“How are you?” Mum asked, breaking the hug.

“Ji, fine,” she replied.

“What’s your name, dear?” Mum asked kindly.

I was bringing glasses of water, but I overheard.

“Inaiyat,” she said.

My hands shook. I lost my balance for a few seconds and stopped in the hall, not moving further.

Mom’s reaction was the same as mine.

“Sit here. I’ll get you something to drink,” she said.

A tear escaped my eye.

Mom saw me, took the tray from my hands, and hugged me.

“It’s okay. Don’t cry,” she said.

“I’m not crying, Mom. Maybe something got in my eye. I’ll wash it and come out. You go to her, she must be alone.”

I went to my room to process everything.

Memories from the past blurred and spun in my head, but there were memories of her too.

Is she the same?
Why are our lives so tangled?
______________________________________

Heellooo girlieess ✨

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Your Writer
Fanaa

Heading off!!!!