Couldn't find a better song for this chapter.. Enjoy.. 😍

Welcome to the fam RiyaSarkar9

Who the fuck is this woman?

I just entered the house and there is this woman shouting in a language I don't know.

I can understand what she's saying in bits and pieces.. but that's it.. Is that Haryanvi ?

(Haryanvi is a native language of a state in North-India which is a mixture of two Indian languages {Hindi and Punjabi} with a good amount of words not from either.)

I look at her trying to make sense as my mother-in-law stands there with her hair tied in a bun and I'm sure it was open yesterday and this morning..

The old woman points to my clothing and speaks something and then to my face.. She points to my earrings that I had worn because Ambar insisted this morning. And then grabs my hair from the ends.

Okay, now this is getting out of hand.

She grabs a handful of my hair and says something about it, as if inspecting the texture or the style.

I grab her wrist and push it away.

"Look woman.. I don't know who you are and you really need to understand what invasion of private space means.." I say as my Mother-in-law clears her throat and my Father-in-law walks out of the drawing room.

"Oh.. Samayra. Child.. So, you met my mother.." he says with a disappointing frown, pointing to where I stood holding my husband's grandmother from her wrist.

Shit..

When I saw that my mother-in-law wasn't speaking, I should have taken a hint. But I was so irritated by my husband that I didn't use my brain enough.

I let her wrist go and look on the floor.

"I..I'm sorry.." I say looking down. I know she doesn't deserve it but my mom would kill me, if she knows that I disrespected this woman.

"Kya bolti re shori.. Isse bolo ye mujhse apni bhasha mein baat krese.." the woman speaks and I look at Mom perplexed, yes I understand Hindi quite a bit, but what is shori or Krese ?

My father-in -law nods at me and speaks "She's saying to talk to her in the native tongue."

I nod and speak in Hindi.. "Maaf kar dijiye Dadi, mujhe pta nahi tha.." I say (which meant that I'm sorry grandma, I had no idea who you are.)

"Isse bolo ki ye mere pair chue.." She says and I understood that she wanted me to touch her feet.

"Yes, Ayra.. Touch her feet baby.." Ambar's voice rings out loud as he walks to us and touch the rude lady's feet and she hugs him tight, kissing his cheek and speaking something I couldn't understand but was sure were words of appreciation.

"Touch her feet Ayra.." he says grinning ear to ear and I wanted to do nothing more than punch the smile off his face.

But instead I touched her feet, and she kept her hand on my head speaking in fast Haryanvi but I did make out one word, which meant "Great-Grandson" and I froze.

Literally. FROZE..

"Samayra.. Child go to your room and rest before dinner. Today must have been tiring for you." My mother-in-law says and I nod almost running away from the discussion.

I go to my room and shut the door.

It was cleaned and rid of all the roses and candles and looked more spacious. It was dark and felt impersonal. There were no photographs or posters. It was meticulously plain and surely belonged to Ambar.

But I was lost in my own thoughts.

There was a reason I didn't want to marry just anyone.Yes, everyone thought I was too selective but there was a motive behind it. A motive no one knows..

I wanted to marry a family that didn't take woman as just a womb. I'm a doctor and I've worked hard for it. But I think I ended up in the wrong family.. or was it just Grandma?

It's first day after marriage and they already want a grandson. What if I can't give them ?

It's an arranged marriage and it's not that we both know each other from a long time. I can't just have sex with him because they said so. It's dysfunctional.

I think I should tell Ambar.

But what if he backs out of the marriage and asks for divorce ?

I can't afford that right now.. Not when dad's still recovering..

I go to the washroom and wash my face before getting some clothes from the suitcase to change. The door opens as Ambar walks in. I ignore him finding a tshirt to wear.

"Don't change into that.." he says noticing what I was doing.

"Excuse me ?" I retort.

"Grandma isn't very tolerant about western clothing like that.. If you don't want to wear something heavily embroided, don't change.."

"Why would I wear heavy for a dinner with the family ?"

"because you don't want Grandma to be angry.. And it'll be better if you can take the dupatta on your head or atleast around your neck.." he says going into the restroom.

(Dupatta is a long piece of fabric worn with traditional dressss, red in the picture.)

I get up from the floor, near my suitcase and sit on the bed exhausted by the events of the day.

HAPPY FUCKIN MARRIED LIFE TO ME..

Just get me a Goddamn Burkha already.. (Burkha is a head to toe opaque cover with just eyes area having translucent fabric.)

Don't do this, Don't do that.. What the fuck..

It's the 21st century. I am not covering my head or my neck, just because she thinks those things are a judge of my chracter. Come what may..

I lie on my back on the corner of the bed staring at the ceiling, trying to gather my panicked thoughts and I had no idea when sleep took over due to the exhaustion of the past few days of hospital, wedding planning, the wedding itself and then today..

It felt peaceful.. Until..

"Ayraa.." I hear someone say.

"Fuck off.." I retort and turn on my side finding a cushion and burying my face in it.

"Ayra.. For God sake get up.." I hear him say and flip him the middle finger not willing to leave the cushion.

"Ayra.. Grandma will be here if you don't come for dinner.." he says and my brain feels a little tense.

Grandma.. Damn it. that woman... I keep the cushion aside and push my hair away from my face sitting up.

"Why?" I look at him and for a moment and I saw pity in his eyes.

"I know you are tired, but you really don't want to get on her bad side." He says and I nod getting up to wash my face and walk down with him.

(The conversation below is in hindi and is translated.)

"When I said, Give me a great-grandson, I didn't say that I need it by tonight.. What is wrong with today's generation.. They get started in broad daylight.. Woman in our times were so shy they didn't let their husband touch them until it was dark." She says and I kind of made sense though every word of her language wasn't clear to me.

"Dadi (Grandma).. You had 9 kids.." Chetan says and my FIL (father-in-law) clears his throat.

"So.. We still had shame in day light.."

"And at night ?" he asks and the lady blushes . Ambar pulls the chair for me and I take the seat. He sits beside me.

"What is wrong with you, Girl?" She almost screams, suddenly out of nowhere as my MIL (mother-in-law) brings the food along with the woman I see around cleaning and dusting.

"I'm sorry?" I look confused and turn to Ambar as she starts speaking rapid Haryanvi that was beyond my understanding. Again.

"The mehendi on her hands is still dark, we got married yesterday. I can't already push her into the kitchen." Ambar says his tone defensive.

(Mehendi is the temporary tattoo on the hands, which if dark, is considered a good omen for the bride. It is shown in the cover of the book.)

"Maa... Reena is here to do everything until Samayra finds some footing in the house." My FIL speaks as my MIL sits next to him and speaks.

"Her father is ill, she also has work and she is still trying to adjust, putting household work on her shoulders right now, will be too stressful.."

"Just becoz you became a mother-in-law yourself does not mean you can start talking to me like that.." Grandma says and my MIL flinches. I feel bad for her and was about to retort when Ambar keeps a hand on my hand, that was kept on the table pressing it hard.

I feel a current run up my spine with the sudden contact and I look up at my MIL. She shakes her head slowly, warning me to not speak. I nod and look at Ambar.

"So Now you will hold hands on the table, infront of all the elders? What values has your mother taught you ? Do you have any shame?" she spoke slow and loud and I clearly understood it. She WANTED me to understand.

Okay. That is enough.. She didn't just go to my mom..

I can tolerate my own disrespect for the orthodox show of values and cultures that tell us to not speak infront of elders.. But I'm not letting her talk shit about my mom. I take a deep breath and had uttered the first monosyllable when Ambar spoke.

"I held her hand, she didn't.. You are my family.. ask your son what values did he gave me?" Ambar says.

"This girl is a witch.. she did some black magic on my obedient grandson and turned him against me.. I am telling you.. he will.." and before she could say another word I got up from the chair and look at people I consider my family.

"Good night Mom, Good night Dad.. Good night Chetan.." I say and turn walking up the stairs.

"How dare this girl.." the old rude lady started another tantrum as I turned down the corridor blocking her words out and opened the door to my room and breaking into tears.

I heard my phone ring and looked around the room until I found it.

3 missed calls dad

I panicked and immediately called back wiping away my tears.

"hello dad.." I spoke when the ringing stopped.

"Oh Thank God, Ayra. I was so worried, You know the rule, Child. You always drop a text when you reach your destination, Home, office, friends house or even your in-laws." He says and I relax.

"Ok dad.. I'm so sorry.. Are you okay?" I ask .

"I'm fine now that I know my princess is fine."

"I'm fine dad.."

Just being harassed by my husband's grandma. The usual Indian scenario. But I can't tell him that. Not after a major heart surgery.

"Take care of yourself.. and visit me tomorrow if your husband allows." He says and I frown.

I don't take orders from my husband.

"Sure dad.. I love you.. Take care.."

"Good night." He says and I disconnect as the door behind me shuts and I turn to look at Ambar walk inside. I immediately look away so he couldn't see my wet cheeks and immerging tears.

"I'm sorry" he says and comes to sit by my side on the bed.

"It's okay.. Thank you for standing up for me.."

"It's my duty.." he says as silence falls until he continues "She's not usually that.. rude..She wasn't like that with mom.. she was bad. But that was..."

"She hates me.." I whisper.

"No.. It's not your fault.. " he says and I look at him perplexed. Whose fault can that be ? Except her own..

"She wants me to marry a girl of her choice, ready to be housewives, all about spending their husband's money on kitty parties and that abridged bingo game.."

That abridged bingo is called Tambola, but that's not what caught my attention.

And I'm not against housewives, it's their own choice. My mom is a housewife. But forcing that choice on your grandson..
Isn't that what happened. He was dad's choice for me..

"You said Wants to.. as in present.. Like she is still ready to get a girl of her choice for you?"

He was a little reluctant but nodded his head.

"Like polygamy ?" I ask confused.

"Like.. Divorce.." he says and it felt that I was just pushed in a bottomless well, constantly falling down unable to find steady ground..

I know I was thinking about it, but saying it out loud makes me feel dizzy.

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