मैं परिंदा बेसबार
था उड़ा जो डर बदर
कोई मुझको यूं मिला है
जैसा बंजारे को घर
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It was a clear Wednesday morning in Delhi. The birds were chirping. The roads were bustling with people going to work. The sunlight was peeking through the windows. The whole of Delhi was busy.
A thin ray of sunshine slipped through the curtains and landed directly on Yashveer's face. He squinted his eyes and groaned. Turning his face to the other side, he went back to his dreamland.
. . . . .
Mrs. Shivani Singhaniya, Yashveer's mother, had finished most of her morning chores and was returning from the temple she visited daily. She entered her house through the large wooden gates but found no one around except a few workers. She called over one of them.
"Good morning, Ma'am," said Diya, the worker.
"Good morning Diya. Yashveer office chala gaya?" Shivani asked.
Yashveer was staying at his parents' place until Saturday for the preps before their trip to Mumbai.
"Sir toh abhi bhi so rahe hai," Diya answered and left.
Shivani's jaw nearly dropped. Her punctual son, the one who couldn't tolerate a delay of even five minutes, was sleeping in? She glanced toward her Shiv ji's idol above the entrance as if asking for an explanation, then sighed and headed to his room.
She knocked twice, then gently pushed the door open. Yashveer lay asleep, his face calm and serene. Shivani smiled at her son, her heart swelling with affection. For a moment, she was simply a mother watching her overworked child finally get some rest.
She walked to his bed and gently caressed his hair.
Eventually, Yashveer stirred and opened his eyes slowly. When he saw his mother, a soft smile crept onto his face, dimples forming.
"Good morning bacha," Shivani whispered.
"Good morning, meri mata ji," he replied with a chuckle.
"Chalo ab uth jao, 9 baj gaye hai. Office nahi jana?"
"Aaj mera work from home hai, maa."
"Oh, chalo acchi baat hai. Mere bache ko thoda rest toh milega. Hamesha kaam mein lage rehte ho. Tumhari biwi mujhse shikayat karegi ki humne defective piece de diya hai."
Yashveer chuckled.
"Main unse keh dunga ki aapse kuch na kahe," he said and hugged her.
"Acha ji! Matlab aapne UNHE apna banane ka soch liya hai?" she teased.
Yashveer cleared his throat.
"Haan matlab papa ke liye aur kya. Unki koi ichha main puri na karu, aisa ho sakta hai kya?"
"Acha? Papa ki ichha ki teri?" she asked, twisting his ear playfully.
"Maa maa chhodo na, dard ho raha hai!"
Shivani let go of his ear, laughing, and stood up.
"Chalo neeche aa jao nashta karne." she said as she left.
. . . . .
After freshening up, Yashveer came downstairs and sat at the dining table. His father, Akshat, was reading the newspaper but acknowledged his son's arrival and set the paper aside. As they began chatting about work, Shivani brought breakfast and sat beside her husband.
"Aur bata, kuch socha?" she started.
"Kis baare mein maa?" he asked, confused.
"Apne papa ki ichha ke baare mein," she teased again.
Yashveer's face turned a light pink. He narrowed his eyes.
"Maa yaar!!!"
Shivani laughed.
"Bata toh sahi."
Yashveer hesitated a bit and then said, cheeks flushed:
"Haan matlab, aap dono dekh lijiye. Jo aapko sahi lage. Agar is shaadi se aap dono khush ho toh mujhe bhi koi dikkat nahi hai."
"Lekin beta, main toh unki business ko aur badhane ki ichha ki baat kar rahi thi."
Yashveer began coughing violently, face now bright red. He grabbed a glass of water while his parents burst into laughter.
Once he calmed down, Akshat asked, "Beta, tumhe is shaadi se pakka koi dikkat nahi hai na?"
"Nahi papa, jab tak aap aur maa khush ho, main bhi khush hoon."
Akshat smiled with pride and affection for his son. The three of them continued their breakfast with light conversation and laughter.
After breakfast, Yashveer was heading back to his room when Akshat handed him an envelope.
"Yeh kya hai, papa?" Yashveer asked.
"Akela ho tab kholna," Akshat said, smiling mysteriously.
Yashveer nodded and left.
In his room, he debated whether to open the envelope now or later, finally choosing to do it later. He set it aside, opened his laptop, and started working again.
Around 2 PM, he looked at the clock and sighed at the pending workload. He considered taking a break and continuing the rest later. After organizing his files, he lay down, sighing in relief.
Then he remembered the envelope.
He picked it up, tore it open, and pulled out a photo.
His breath caught.
'Pretty,' he thought.
Her obsidian eyes, soft pink lips, jet-black hair - she looked enchanting. But his eyes were stuck on a tiny mole just beneath her nose.
'I want to kiss it,' he thought, startled by himself.
He softly placed the picture on his chest and smiled.
"Ab toh aap se milne ki ichha aur bhi badh gayi hai," he whispered to himself.
. . . . .
Meanwhile, in Mumbai-
Avyuktta remained the same. Silent. Numb. Emotionless. She had heard her uncle invited the groom's family over. The thought only worsened her anxiety.
Years of emotional abuse had scarred her. She hated the way she looked, walked, spoke - she hated herself.
As always, she stayed cooped up in her room until she heard a knock.
"Haan," she said softly.
The door creaked open and revealed her aunt, smiling warmly with an envelope in her hands.
"Beta, chal kuch kha le. Subah se kuch nahi khaya tune."
"Abhi bhookh nahi hai chachi. Aap kha lo, main baad mein kha lungi."
Her aunt sighed.
"Beta... tujhe pata hai na ki... humne tere liye..." She didn't finish, just handed the envelope. "Yeh le."
Avyuktta quietly accepted it.
"Bacha, yeh unki photo hai. Tere liye bheji hai unhone. Tu dekh le aur bata dena ki mera sayad se hone wale damad sundar hai ya nahi," her aunt said with a chuckle.
Avyuktta remained silent, eyes on the envelope. Her aunt noticed her cracked lips, dull eyes, tangled hair - she looked like a shell of a person.
Gently, she caressed her cheek and left.
Alone again, Avyuktta stared at the envelope, heart pounding.
'What does he look like?' she wondered.
Finally, she tore it open, and her hands trembled as she pulled out the picture. The moment she saw his face, her breath hitched.
She couldn't look away.
His eyes, his lips - something about him made her heart flutter. Unconsciously, she smiled for the first time in ages. She kept gazing. Then, carefully, she tucked the photo back in the envelope and placed it in her drawer. But confusion lingered. What were these emotions?
Just then, her aunt returned. She sat at the edge of the bed, gave her a teasing smile, and raised her eyebrows.
"Kya?"
"Kuch nahi. Jo jaan na tha, woh pata chal gaya."
"Kya pata chala aapko, chachi?" Avyuktta asked from under the blanket.
"Yahi ki photo dekh ke tu apni sudh-budh kho chuki hai," her aunt smirked.
"Aisa kuch nahi hai chachi. Haan mana ki woh ache dikhte hain, par sudh-budh khone wali baat nahi hai. Main bilkul theek hoon."
Her aunt's smirk widened.
"Ooh toh woh tujhe ache dikhte hain."
Realizing she was played, Avyuktta rolled her eyes.
"Kya sunna chahte ho chachi?"
"Jo tera mann keh raha hai, wahi suna de."
Avyuktta hesitated. Her mind raced with doubts - would she ruin someone else's life? Why would anyone choose her?
But the way her aunt's eyes lit up thinking about her marriage made her reconsider. These two people had stayed by her side when even she couldn't.
She couldn't hurt them.
Her aunt raised her brows again.
"Pucho..." Avyuktta finally said.
"Tujhe woh pasand aaye?! Teri taraf se haan hai?! Hum baat aage badhaye?? Tu chup kyun hai, kuch toh bol! Jaldi bata n-..."
Avyuktta sighed.
"Mujhe bolne doge tab kuch bolun... Aapko kya lagta hai? Agar aapko lagta hai ki woh mere liye sahi hain, toh mujhe bhala kya pareshani hogi?"
Her aunt beamed with pride and gently kissed her forehead.
"Main unhe jaanti hoon, woh tujhe bahut ache se rakhenge."
With that, she left the room.
Avyuktta now accepted what was coming. She would meet this man, and if all went well, marry him.
She would have someone - someone she would call her own.
But the smile that bloomed on her face quickly faded.
Who would want someone like her?
Someone so broken?
And just like that, the doubts returned.
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