I sway, singing the song with my hands in the air, feeling the music thump through my chest, louder than the racing of my heart. I know what you must be thinking by the lyrics being sung— the famous girl crying over this song at Diljit Dosanjh's concert. But don't worry, that's not me, at least not tonight.
And this? This isn't even a concert where I might lose my voice screaming names. This is just our college fest where the DJ has decided to treat us with some Punjabi bangers, breaking the monotony of our quiet lives here in Panna, Madhya Pradesh. Ain't no concerts happening here dude.
I glance around at my friends, their faces lit up by the glow of the stage lights. Rhea's hair bounces as she dances beside me, her laughter mixing with the music. I quickly fish my phone out to capture this moment— the strobe lights, the laughter. But as soon as my eyes fall on the screen, the cold hand of reality grips me squeezing out every bit of joy and colour from my face.
45+ missed calls from Maa.
My heart stutters, and the laughter around me gets muffled. I am so dead today. I swallow and a painful jolt spreads chills down my spine.
I take a look at my watch and it's only 8:30 pm. But nonetheless panic floods my chest as I quickly bid farewell to my best friends, pulling them in a hug. "I have to leave early", I tell them, and they don't question it, knowing damn well how conservative my family is.
I weave my way through the crowd of people dancing and swaying to the my music, my jealousy biting hard. They get to enjoy their lives the way they want, no restrictions, no constant hovering. I envy them, I wish I could be like that- free. But that's not my life, and it never will be.
As I near the parking lot, my mother's voice rings in my mind, sharp, laced with the tone that I know very well— the one that's more than just angry. It's the one that says, "How could you do this to us?"
I swallow hard, the taste of guilt bitter on my tongue and look around for my car. I fumble with my phone to call the driver but I spot Yuhaan instead, my elder brother, leaning casually against his car, smoking. He notices me immediately, stubbing out the cigarette because he knows I'm allergic. Even from a meter away, the remnants of smoke make me cough, my throat tightening. He waves me over, popping open the car door.
Without meeting his eyes, I slide into the passenger seat, keeping my gaze fixed on the dashboard. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until Yuhaan breaks it.
"You look so pretty, choti. Maa's going to hate it," he says, half amused.
A dry chuckle escapes me. "Of course she will. She hates everything I do."
Yuhaan laughs, but then asks, "By the way, when did you get that dress?"
I freeze, finally looking down at myself, and my stomach drops.
SHIT.
SHIT.
SHIT!!!
I'm wearing a body-con, thigh-length silver dress. With strappy heels.
Maa's going to murder me.
I put Rhea's dress on, totally forgetting that I left my own in her car, parked near the public washroom where I changed. This dress—shimmering and figure-hugging—is the kind of thing I'm never allowed to wear. My parents would be furious. To them, clothes determine character. Rolling my eyes.
I glance at Yuhaan, pleading with my eyes. He sighs, giving in. "Don't worry, just call Yuvaan. Have him bring some of your clothes to the gate. You can change in the servant's quarter, and we'll sneak you into your room." I smile gratefully. My brothers always tease me, but they're my allies when I need them most. I quickly dial Yuvaan, instructing him to meet us by the gate with something suitable.
As we pull up to our house—a sprawling, ancient mahal that's always undergoing some form of renovation—I rush out of the car, spotting Yuvaan waiting with a bundle of my clothes. I grab them and ask, "Where's Maa?"
Yuvaan grins. "After losing her mind over you ignoring her calls, she got dressed up and left for some party at her club."
Of course. She can do whatever she pleases, but if I step out of line, I'm tainting the family reputation. I scowl and head to the servant's quarters to change.
Inside, I lock the door and unfold the clothes Yuvaan brought.
IDIOT!!!
He brought two kurtis. Just kurtis. No leggings, no pants. Nothing. I let out a frustrated groan, storming out in the ridiculous half-dressed state. As I reach the house, I spot my brothers chatting by the door.
"Yuvaan, you're such an ass—"
"Vaidehiiiii!" My mother's voice cuts through the air, freezing me in place.
RIP me.
She marches over, grabs my elbow roughly, and yanks me inside. "Maa, let her go!" my brothers shout as they follow us into the house.
Ignoring them, she rounds on me. "How many times have I told you not to help this stupid girl? But no, you two are blinded by love for her. Can't you see how she shames us? Look at her—dressed like a slut!"
"Shut up, Maa!" Yuhaan snaps.
"How can you say that?" Yuvaan adds, his voice trembling with anger.
But my mother won't stop. She jerks my elbow again. "Look what you've done! Turned my own sons against me. Why are you trying to ruin your life and ours? Where did I go wrong? I taught you everything, but you refuse to learn. Who's going to marry a girl who stays out at night in such disgraceful clothes?"
"I don't care!" I scream back, my voice cracking. "I don't even want to marry some stranger who'll probably be just like you guys!"
A sharp slap lands across my face, my head snapping to the side. My brothers rush forward, arguing with her, but I can barely hear them anymore. Everything blurs. A single tear falls down my cheek as I wonder what I did to deserve parents who treat me like this. They're so different with my brothers, but for me, it's always been control and punishment.
I remember when it all started. I was eleven. I'd wanted to go to a friend's birthday party. My parents wouldn't let me—said girls shouldn't be seen outside except for school. After that, I was practically locked away, missing exams for family functions, forced to learn how to cook and manage a household so I'd make a "perfect wife" someday. I lost friends because of it.
At fifteen, I had my first crush. When Mom overheard me talking about him to myself, she beat me so badly it left marks. She locked me in my room for five days afterward to let the bruises fade, threatening me not to tell anyone.
Even when I wanted to study further, they said education was pointless for a girl. It was only because of my brothers that I was allowed to continue. My dream of doing a job? Impossible. They said it was a man's profession.
My mother's voice cuts through my thoughts again, sharp and biting. "Vaidehi, are you even listening? What if your in-laws find out how shameless you are, wearing these clothes at night? Go and change, or I'll burn them myself!"
Without another word, I bolt up the stairs toward my room. She screams after me, telling me not to bother coming down for dinner. I laugh bitterly to myself. Don't worry, Maa. I don't eat dinner anyway.
Locking myself in my room, I undress and hide Rhea's clothes before heading to the bathroom. Under the hot spray of the shower, I finally let the tears fall. I cry until I'm shaking, until my breath comes in ragged gasps.
When I step out, still trembling, I find the blade I've hidden. Sitting by the bathroom door, I press it to the soft skin of my upper thigh, dragging it slowly across the surface. The pain is sharp, almost relieving. Blood begins to pool at the cut, and my vision blurs further until everything fades into black.
__________
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PS : I know the story has started a bit abruptly, but as promised, it's gonna get better with time.
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