C5 5

Chaahat was doing her routine early morning yoga practice when she heard the doorbell ring.

She hated being disturbed while doing her yoga. This was the beginning of her day, where she could control her body and mind and prepare herself for another day of existence in this world.

The doorbell rang again, and Chaahat stood up from her yoga position and wrapped a scarf around her shoulders before opening the door.

Chaahat shot a polite smile at the woman who came to collect the stitched clothes and gestured for her to come inside.

"Oh, this is so pretty," the woman gushed, looking at the gorgeous lacy frilly frock.

"This will suit your daughter well," Chaahat said, making the woman's smile wider.

"You are the best tailor this village has seen, Chaahat. All the dresses you stitch are perfect and unique. My sister wore the gown you stitched for her college function. The people were all awed."

"Thank you."

Chaahat was all about politeness.

She kept people at a polite distance. She talked to them politely. And that's how she liked it.

"I am sorry for disturbing you this early in the morning. But we will be leaving for my house in the next village in an hour. My cousin is getting married in two days. This frock is for the function only," the woman continued to explain in detail, in the typical village style where there are no secrets between people.

But Chaahat had secrets. Lots of them.

She remained aloof from the rest of society, creating a mysterious aura around her. Initially, the villagers were wary of her, but soon they realized she intended no harm.

The woman left after a few more minutes, and the smile left Chaahat's face.

She had moved to this village two years ago.

Here, no one knew her.

Here, no one knew her background.

There wouldn't be pity or sympathy in people's eyes.

There wouldn't be disgust in people's eyes.

Here she was free from everything.

Well, everything other than her inner self.

She couldn't escape from her guilt.

She couldn't escape from her pain.

She couldn't escape from her thoughts.

No matter what.

She sighed.

She picked up her phone and saw that the message she sent to Uncle Madan had not been answered yet.

Madan Yadav was the father figure in her life.

He had guided her through her school and college days, but even he couldn't help her out of her pain.

It had been a few days since Uncle Madan had called.

He usually called twice a week, and this week there hadn't been any calls from him.

She tried calling him once, and it went unanswered. So, she tried messaging him instead.

No response yet.

She dialed his number again, and much to her relief, the call was answered on the fourth ring.

But her relief was short-lived. It was not Uncle Madan who answered the call. It was his son.

The daredevil son of Uncle Madan, of whom she had heard a lot. Uncle Madan could wax lyrical when talking about Mithran and his achievements.

Mithran was fearless.

Mithran was a genius.

He was a risk-taker, and that always worried her.

Mithran supported himself through his college days.

Mithran made a name for himself from nothing.

The pride of a father was evident in every word Uncle Madan spoke.

Something she wasn't lucky enough to have.

"Mithran Yadav speaking. You must be Chaahat," she heard him speak.

"Uh, yes. Can I speak to Uncle Madan, please?" she asked, not knowing how Mithran knew about her.

As far as she knew, Uncle Madan's family never knew about her existence.

She was the dirty little secret.

Not that Uncle Madan ever made her feel so, but then you know what you really are.

"I am sorry, Ms. Chaahat. It is not possible right now. He is under sedation," Mithran said, and an audible gasp left Chaahat's lips.

"Sedated? What happened to Uncle Madan?" Chaahat asked as calmly as possible.

She had made hiding her emotions an art form over the years.

Only one person had ever seen past her barriers, and even... Well, let's not talk about it now.

"He is hospitalized, Ms. Chaahat. And I can't say everything on the phone. Would it be possible to come over and meet him? He would be really happy to see you," Mithran said softly.

"Oh, I would love to. But there are no buses to the town from the village today. I can only travel the day after tomorrow," Chaahat said.

"Village?" She heard the disbelief in his voice.

"Yes," she said and heard him taking deep breaths before speaking again.

"If you don't mind sharing your address, I can arrange a car for you to travel, Ms. Chaahat," Mithran said.

"Oh! I wouldn't want to trouble anybody," Chaahat absolutely hated being a bother to anybody.

"There is no trouble. I am doing this for my father, Ms. Chaahat," Mithran said, and there was an edge to his voice that confused Chaahat.

"Sure. I will message the address to this number," Chaahat said.

"Great. Be ready. The car will reach you as soon as possible," Mithran said and hung up the call.

Mithran stared at his phone in disbelief.

A village girl?

His father wants him to marry a village girl?

No! He is an egalitarian.

His problem is the way in which the village girls in Indian society are brought up, like how his mother was brought up.

They are taught to be submissive.

And that's not what he wants in his woman.

He wants his woman to have a spine of steel. Someone who could look him in the eye and call out his bullshit.

He saw his father stirring awake from his medicine-induced sleep, and Mithran wondered whether his father would have a change of mind about the marriage.