I came home from the fields crying. The kids were playing on the porch. Seeing them, I wiped away my tears.
My true weakness is my two children. I love them deeply.
All of my husband’s mistakes, injustices, cruelty, the pain I endured — I bore it all only for the sake of my children.
And my husband knew this weakness of mine. That’s why he was so carefree.
And because he got me so easily, he never valued me.
He knew very well — no matter what happened, I would never leave him because of the children.
And matters of pride and insult weren’t new to me.
Since the day I got married, I had suffered a lot — from my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law, my mother-in-law, my aunt-in-law, both of my husband’s sisters, and his brother’s four children.
In that house, even a maid was treated better than me.
The only person who never troubled me was my father-in-law.
A very simple and kind-hearted man.
Not just with me, but with everyone.
He never hurt anyone.
A thought crossed my mind — just like the women had said, maybe we should get a goat. But we didn’t have any money. My mother had goats back home. I thought of calling my father and asking him to send one.
He said, “Your grandmother will bring a goat in a couple of days.”
That made me happy. Grandma — my mother’s mother. My father’s parents had passed away.
The next day was Sunday. Our groceries, flour, and vegetables were running low. That village had a weekly market every Sunday.
We had already decided that Sundays would be a day off for household chores, a break from field work. But Mami didn’t agree with that.
She wanted to create conflict between my husband and me, so she could quickly get rid of me from there.
In the morning, Mami came to the farm to wake us up herself. She had already made up her mind — she wouldn’t let us do any household work that day.
I thought she would just take the milk and leave quickly.
We cleaned the cattle shed and finished milking the buffalo. I told my husband,
“Take the buffalo to the water tank, wash her there, and bathe yourself too — we have to go to the village.”
While he was gone, Mami sat on the cot, swinging her legs. I was finishing up my morning chores.
Mangu was sitting and scrolling on his mobile phone.
The buffalo was brought back, cleaned. We fed her fodder.
After a little while, she told me, “Give the buffalo some water,” and then took him with her in the vehicle, seating him in the middle.
I was scared of that buffalo — she acted like the owner herself. She wouldn’t even let me come near her. How was I supposed to give her water?
I thought maybe they had some quick errand, and they’d return soon.
There was only one mobile phone — and that too stayed in my husband’s pocket 24/7. If I ever needed to use it, I’d get it for just five or ten minutes. So I had no option but to wait.
It was a big market day. The road outside was packed with vehicles, and I kept watching them to pass the time.
But every now and then, it struck me: Why hasn’t he come back yet?
That was the first time I realized there was a large settlement of people across the river. It felt like a village fair — people constantly coming and going.
The whole day passed just waiting. Not a single chore at home got done.
By evening, around seven, all three of them returned — to take the milk. Luckily for me, he had brought the groceries from the market.
After Mami left, I asked him, “What did you do in the village the entire day?”
He replied, “Chopped wood, stocked up groceries for the month, and got the grains milled.”
Mami and he had gone to the market. Mami was doing the shopping, and he was trailing behind with two bags in hand.
They had an old house, like a traditional wada. They cleared out the junk from it and sold it.
Mami had kept him in the village the entire day just to ensure that none of my work got done — so that we would end up fighting.