Our Mindset Episode 18
Mangu and Mami left in the morning, and by noon, my husband’s other aunt and her son arrived. He was newly married, and we had attended his wedding. We had stayed for four days. His wife was my sister-in-law’s niece—prettier than me. And it was this very aunt who had first seen me, back in my hometown, Lavang. She had come to my aunt’s house, seeking a loan, accompanied by her brother’s daughter.
The girl’s name was Kiran. She was beautiful. It was the festival of Nag Panchami. A swing had been tied to the lemon tree in our courtyard. I was playing on the swing with Kiran. I was in seventh grade at the time. The aunt had asked my aunt, “She’s a lovely girl. Are they planning to get her married? We’re looking for a bride for our nephew.” My husband was the son of my aunt’s cousin. My aunt had replied, “She will get married, but we won’t give a dowry. If they agree to marry her without one, the wedding can happen immediately.” The aunt had said, “I’ll pass along the message before I leave.”
It seemed like these two aunts were my enemies from a past life. They had both complicated my life. If one left, the other arrived. Their houses were right across from each other, so without being told, it was obvious when one of them had gone back to the village. This one had rushed here because, in the absence of the other, she wanted help with their farm. It had been uncultivated for years, and thorny babool trees had taken over. She pleaded, “Dada, who will look after our land if not you? Before she returns, please help us plow and sow the fields.”
There was a well between their farms, so they could water their fields. My husband immediately agreed, “Wait until tomorrow. Sunday is my day off; I’ll take care of it then.”
And just like that, my husband’s Sunday was claimed by this aunt. She told me, “Nanda, don’t tell the other Mami. Dada is my nephew too. Both Mamies are the same to him. Back in the day, before they woke up, he used to milk the buffalo and secretly bring us a full pot of milk every day.” She still saw him as that same obliging nephew. Even though we were staying at Mangu’s place, we had to secretly work on their farm as well.
After tea and conversation throughout the evening, my husband milked the buffalo and filled a bottle with the leftover milk for the aunt. Before leaving with her, he told me, “Give two chapatis to the dog.” They headed to the village with the milk. The aunt’s eldest daughter-in-law, son, and their three kids were there. He returned home at eleven at night.
By then, I was used to staying alone with the kids. His job at a fiber company required him to drive a tractor—fifteen days of night shifts, followed by fifteen days of day shifts. During those nights, I would sleep alone with the children. The only difference now was that this was an unfamiliar village. There were no houses nearby, no lights in the house. It felt eerie. But I had no other choice.