Our Mindset Episode 40
My husband asked, “Did you figure out which meal that old man was talking about when he offered 200 rupees?” I said no. He told me to stay quiet. That’s when I started feeling suspicious.
The next day, while working, I told my sister-in-law (Bhabhi) everything. She knew the old man. She explained things to me, and suddenly, it all clicked—why he kept gesturing with two fingers while saying, “I’ll pay 200 rupees in cash.” He had the audacity to say in front of me, “Think about it and let me know,” while my husband just stood there listening. That’s why my husband had asked me about the old man’s meal offer—he had understood everything but still chose to remain silent.
Bhabhi said, “This is happening because your husband never speaks up. People now think he doesn’t care. That’s why a man as old as your father, wearing a dhoti, dares to expect this from you.” I could still picture his drunken face in my mind. It made me sick to my stomach.
A few moments later, I started feeling unwell—maybe it was the heat or just the sheer disgust. My whole body ached, I felt nauseous, and a cold shiver ran down my spine despite the scorching heat. I was completely disoriented. Seeing this, Bhabhi panicked. She held my hand, grabbed her two little kids, and took me home. She made me lie down, covered me with a sheet, and prepared plain tea for me. But I could barely sit up. My body was trembling.
My husband was working on the farm near the river. Bhabhi called him from her phone and told him to come home immediately. She sat beside me and said, “I know what’s happening to you. You’re scared. But don’t let this break you. Think about your kids—you can’t fall apart like this. I can’t be here for you every day.” That’s when I broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably.
I had always been admired for my beauty. Since childhood, I had heard people praise me—how pretty I was. My stepmother’s nephew used to say I looked like Dimple Kapadia. Another cousin said I resembled Jaya Prada. My aunt’s sister used to say, “She could win anyone’s heart.” Whenever guests visited, they would tell my family, “Let’s get her married to our son.” But now, an old drunk man had looked at me with those filthy eyes, and I felt nothing but disgust for myself.
When my husband arrived, Bhabhi confronted him. “Is work more important to you than your wife’s dignity? Get out of here before something terrible happens. Take her to the doctor immediately.” She sent her son, Balu, to check on us. I sent the kids to the neighbor’s house, and my husband took me to the clinic on his bicycle.
The doctor gave me injections and medicine, and we returned home. But my husband left for the farm right away. The children were hungry, and I had to take my medicines, so I forced myself to light the stove. With my daughter’s help, I cooked some rice.
Later that evening, Balu came by and said, “I came earlier, but no one was home, so I left.” Soon after, my husband returned from delivering milk—and that old man came back, too.
Right in front of Balu, he sneered, “So, did you think about it? A husband and wife can’t even earn what I’m offering for just one meal. So why hesitate?”
I looked at my husband, hoping he would finally stand up for me. But he just stood there, shamelessly listening to that man’s words.