Aunt took the tea and left for the fields. “Put sour water in the buffalo’s trough and come back quickly; by the time the women arrive, a good amount of maize should be harvested.” As soon as she left, I asked my husband, “So now will you call him the owner?” He replied, “Since we stayed working there, he became our owner.” I didn’t like this at all. I was very angry.
Right from the beginning, my thoughts and my husband’s thoughts never matched. Nothing between us felt right. We spoke very little to each other. Whenever there was something to discuss, he never seemed to consider my perspective. From the start, he was more influenced by others’ opinions. When he married me and when I had children, he never saw me as immature. But in everything else, his attitude was like, “What does she even understand?” That’s how he thought about me. So, he never asked me about anything, nor did he tell me what he was doing. Even when we came to live with the in-laws, he didn’t ask me about it. Honestly, I didn’t even know what it meant to live with the in-laws.
His mother’s annual death ritual (varsh shraadha) was coming up, but there was no money for it. So, they had taken a loan of two thousand rupees by pawning my mother’s gold chain (boramal). To repay that money, my husband went to his aunt (mami) to ask for some funds. At that time, mami said, “It’s hard to find people to work on the farm. You’ve worked here before and know everything. If you’re willing to come back to work, I’ll give you the money.” He came back carrying five thousand rupees. But I wasn’t told at that time that this money was actually for securing the work. After coming home, he redeemed my mother’s gold chain and then stopped going to work.
At that time, I was living with my parents in Akluj near Kirti Nagar. I didn’t immediately ask the reason, but after seeing him stay at home for five or six days, my mother said, “It’s been six days now, your husband is just at home, why isn’t he going to work? Ask him.” He replied, “My job is gone for good, the owner has thrown me off from work.” Once again, my parents believed what he said. My father said, “I will try to find work for you during this leave.” Within two or three days, Mangu came to take him away. That’s when we realized the real truth — how the five thousand rupees were brought. Mangu told my parents, “There’s a good house on the farm, all facilities are available, don’t worry at all.”
My parents also began to think that the job was lost but the money had been brought. Now, there was no option but to send me there. So, reluctantly, they agreed. My husband had once again succeeded in deceiving my parents. The very next day, he bought some groceries, got the grain milled, arranged a tempo, packed our belongings, and we came to live in this village.
He was an expert at lying. He never told the truth, not even once until his death. I never liked him at all. He was fourteen years older than me. Strong as a wrestler in health, short in height, with reddish mustaches, looking strange—and on top of that, he had deceived me into marriage with lies, which made me even angrier.