Our Mindset Episode 6
Mami took her tea and headed towards the fields. “Feed the buffalo and come back quickly. We need to husk a good amount of corn before the women arrive.”
As soon as she left, I turned to my husband and asked, “So, are you going to call him your master now?”
He replied, “Since we’re working under him, he is our master.”
I didn’t like this at all. It made me furious.
From the very beginning, my husband and I never saw eye to eye.
We disagreed on everything. We barely spoke to each other. If we ever tried to discuss anything, he never thought I was worthy of an opinion. He always listened to others more than me.
When he married me and when we had children, I never seemed too young for him. But in every other aspect, he had the same thought about me—”What does she know?” He never sought my opinion on anything, nor did he bother informing me about his decisions.
Even when he decided to move to a farmhand’s quarters, he didn’t ask me. In fact, I didn’t even know what it meant to live like that.
His mother’s annual death ritual was approaching, but we had no money. So, he pawned my mother’s gold necklace to borrow two thousand rupees. And to reclaim it, he went to Mami to ask for a loan.
Mami said, “It’s hard to find laborers for the fields. You’ve worked here before and know everything. If you’re willing to work again, I’ll lend you the money.”
He returned home with five thousand rupees but never told me that he had committed to work in exchange. He simply redeemed my mother’s necklace and stopped working altogether.
At that time, I was living with my parents in Kirti Nagar, Akluj. I didn’t question him immediately. But after five or six days of him staying home, my mother asked, “It’s been almost a week. Why isn’t your husband going to work?”
He replied, “I lost my job. The owner fired me.”
Once again, my parents believed his words. My father said, “I’ll look for work for you during my leave.”
Within a few days, Mangu came to take us to the village. That’s when the truth came out—how my husband had really gotten those five thousand rupees.
Mangu assured my parents, “There’s a good house on the farm, with all necessary facilities. Don’t worry at all.”
My father was torn—his son-in-law had lost his job but had also come back with money. There was no other option but to send me with him. Reluctantly, he agreed.
Once again, my husband successfully deceived my parents.
The very next day, we bought some groceries, milled grains, hired a tempo, packed up our belongings, and moved to the village.
He was an expert liar. He never spoke the truth—not even on his deathbed.
I never liked him.
He was fourteen years older than me, built like a wrestler but short, with a strange red mustache. And on top of everything, he tricked and deceived me into marrying him. That made me despise him even more.