A young woman, barely 25, sat hunched over the sofa. Her face bore the weight of responsibilities far too heavy for her tender age. Around her, papers lay scattered-monthly bills, prescriptions, and loan reminders creating a chaotic knowing of her struggles.
"Abhi bhi electricity bill bharna baki hai... maa ki dawai bhi kharidni hai... almost khatam hone wali hain," she murmured under her breath, the words heavy with urgency as she absentmindedly chewed the end of her pen. Her eyes darted back to the bills in her hand.
"Bank mein jo hain usse toh maa ki dawai ho jayegi, par mujhe jaldi se jaldi ek job dhundni padegi... aise nahi chalega Disha. Phir maa ki treatment ke liye paise bhi chahiye... bahut kharcha hone wali hai," she whispered, her voice trailing off as her mind calculated expenses, one after the other. The numbers never seemed to add up.
Lost in her thoughts, the sudden sound of a voice startled her.
"Tu kya kar rahi hai, Munni?" Her mother's frail yet loving voice brought her back to reality. She looked up to find her mother walking slowly towards her, concern etched on her face.
"Maa, aap itni jaldi kyun uth gayi? Doctor ne bataya na aapko rest karne ke liye?" She quickly got up, rushing to her mother's side. There was worry in her tone, mingled with a touch of scolding.
Her mother smiled faintly, brushing off her concern. "Arey meri bachi, aur kitna rest lu? Pura din toh bed pe hi leti rehti hoon. Pura ghar toh tu hi sambhalti hai... Waise tere haath mein yeh kya papers hain?"
She hurriedly shuffled the papers, hiding the growing burden they represented. "Kuch nahi, maa... woh bas aapke doctor ne kya kya medicine di hai... wahi dekh rahi thi."
Her mother's face fell slightly as the implication dawned on her. "Bahut kharcha ho rahi hai na mere medicine ke peeche?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with guilt.
The young woman sighed deeply before kneeling down in front of her mother. She cupped her mother's frail cheeks with both hands, trying to infuse assurance into her trembling voice.
"Main hoon na? Toh aap kyun fikar kar rahi hain bekaar mein? Main sab sambhal loongi, okay?"
Her mother's eyes glistened, silently gazing at her daughter. She didn't say a word, but her heart ached at the worry she saw etched into her child's young face. The lines of responsibility, too deep for someone her age, were carved into her forehead. Yet, here she was, masking her struggles with a reassuring smile, just to comfort her.
"Kya dekh rahi ho aap aise?" she chuckled, attempting to lighten the moment.
Her mother shook her head, a silent acknowledgment of her daughter's strength. She didn't need words to express her admiration-her eyes said it all.
"Aap baithe yahan... main TV chala deti hoon. Tab tak main aapke liye garam garam chai bana lati hoon," she said, helping her mother sit down on the sofa.
Before her mother could protest, she disappeared into the kitchen. The faint clinking of utensils soon filled the quiet room. For a moment, her mother sat still, her eyes fixed on the TV screen, but her mind lingered on the girl who had taken on the role of both daughter and provider. Her heart swelled with pride, but it was also heavy with sorrow-she wished her child could live a life free of such burdens.
In the kitchen, she leaned against the counter for a moment, her hands gripping its edge as she closed her eyes. Her mind swirled with endless thoughts, each one a mix of worry, determination, and an unshakable will to keep things afloat. The silence of the kitchen was a stark contrast to the chaos in her mind. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, before opening her eyes and pushing off the counter to start preparing tea for her maa.
As the kettle began to whistle softly, an idea flashed through her mind. "Ek kaam karti hoon... aaj Rajat bhaiyaa ko phone karta hoon. Kya pata unke paas koi job ho ki mujhe de sake," she thought.
She poured the steaming tea into two cups, adding just the right amount of sugar for her maa's taste.
For herself, she left the tea bitter-she had grown accustomed to its harshness, much like the realities of her life.
Balancing the tray carefully, she glanced at her phone one more time before heading back to the living room. "Chai toh pila doon maa ko, phir baad mein baat karti hoon Rajat bhaiya se," she decided, the thought bringing her a glimmer of hope.
As she walked back into the room, her maa looked up at her, a smile softening the lines of her face. That single smile was enough to steal her resolve. No matter how hard things got, she would find a way to protect her maa and keep that smile alive.
Sahil sat in his cozy home office, a cup of coffee by his side, as he diligently worked on his presentation. The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated his face, reflecting his deep focus. This PowerPoint presentation was crucial-it needed to be submitted by tomorrow, and Sahil was determined to make it flawless.
Due to his physical disability, Sahil's company allowed him to work from home most days, only requiring him to visit the office once a week. It was a thoughtful accommodation, and Sahil appreciated how it allowed him to balance his professional responsibilities with his personal needs.
He glanced at his mobile screen, where Rajat's name flashed brightly. An automatic smile bloomed on his face at the sight of his one and only best friend's name. Rajat was his confidant, the person who knew him inside out and was always just a call away.
As he answered the call, a familiar, teasing voice greeted him from the other side.
"Kya haal chaal hain tera? Tu toh phone hi nahi karta!" Rajat exclaimed, his tone laced with mock annoyance.
He laughed softly, leaning back against his chair. "Kuch nahi yaar, bas presentation bana raha hoon... kal submit karna hai office mein. Tu bata, tu kaisa hai?"
Rajat sighed. "Mera bhi wahi haal hai, yaar. Office se ghar aur ghar se office... aur ab toh Aparna bhi mujhse jhagadti rehti hai ki main usse time nahi de pata."
Hearing Rajat's words, his smile faltered, a bitter twinge of irony hitting him square in the chest. Rajat's complaints about Aparna brought an unwelcome comparison to his own situation. It wasn't long ago that he had been the one urging her to spend time with him, asking her to go out for a simple coffee date, a dinner, or even just a night walk. But every time, her response had been the same.
Flashback:-
"Tum pagal ho, Sahil? Tumhe pata nahi ajkal kitna pressure hai mere office mein, and you're asking for going out?" she said frustratingly, burying herself into the mountain of files on her desk.
He stood there with the support of his crutch.He had planned this evening for weeks-a simple dinner at her favorite restaurant, just to spend some quality time together, away from the chaos of work and responsibilities. But her reaction was far from what he had hoped for.
"We'll just go for a dinner, Kriti. It's just a matter of a few hours, and this way, you can take a break," Sahil said again, his voice filled with hope, praying she'd agree. He knew she was overwhelmed with work, but he also knew how much she needed to unwind, even if for a short while.
Kriti let out an exasperated sigh, placing her pen down with a thud that seemed to resonate in the room. She turned to him, her tired yet determined eyes locking onto his. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Sahil, I already said it's not possible for me. If you want, you can go alone, but right now, I'm already too stressed. Please don't disturb me further."
Her words hit him like a sharp blow. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice, but the irritation cut deeper. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her, trying to conceal the hurt that had begun to creep into his expression. He had thought this would be simple-a small gesture to bring a smile to her face and lighten the burden she was carrying.
Anyways, he gave her a small, sad smile and said, "Alright, fine... tum apna kaam karo. I thought you'd feel happy, but it's okay." His voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable tinge of disappointment that he couldn't hide.
As he spoke, his grip on his crutch tightened, betraying the emotions he was trying so hard to suppress.
Kriti didn't reply, her attention firmly fixed on her laptop screen, typing away as though she hadn't even heard him. Her silence was louder than any words could have been, and it pierced through him more deeply than he expected.
Sahil stood there for a moment, hoping she might look up or say something-anything-but when she didn't, he let out a quiet sigh. His lips curved into a faint, almost bitter smile as his gaze dropped to the ground.
"Kuch kehne ka koi faida nahi," he thought to himself. Slowly, he turned around and began to leave.
Flashback ends.
Remembering that one such incident. His eyes filled with tears.
His trance gets broken as Rajat call him..
Rajat's voice from the phone brought him back to reality.
"What happened? Why did you go silent?" Rajat asked, his tone laced with concern and impatience.
"Nothing, yaar... just..." Sahil sighed, his voice heavy with emotion. "You already know, what else can I say to you?" He let out a bitter chuckle, attempting to mask the pain.
But Rajat wasn't one to be fooled by Sahil's deflection. As Sahil recounted Kriti's words and how the morning unfolded, Rajat's concern quickly turned into anger.
"This is the main reason I don't like Kriti at all. Why don't you say anything, yaar? Why do you just listen to all of it silently? Do you really think it's okay for her to say such things? What she's doing is absolutely wrong, and why do you accept it as if it's all your fault?"
Sahil kept listening silently.
"Sahil, understand one thing: blaming yourself for everything is wrong. What she's doing is not right. Just because she is your wife, doesn't mean she can say anything, and you'll just stay silent!"
"I understand what you're saying, Rajat," Sahil murmured after a long pause. "But... I can't ignore the fact that she's shouldering so much responsibility. Her office deadlines, managing the house, taking care of me-how can I hold her words against her when she's under so much stress?"
Rajat sighed deeply, his frustration softening into concern.
"Sahil, stress doesn't give anyone the right to demean another person, especially not their partner...It doesn't give her the right to hurt your self-respect. If she makes fun of your disability even once, and you still don't say anything? That's not even humane, Sahil!"
"Sahil's fingers tightened around the phone as he stared at the ground, his throat dry and words stuck somewhere deep within.
"Sahil, you're human, you too have emotions..you deserve love and respect. This disability doesn't define you, understand? And if Kriti doesn't understand this, then you need to make her understand!"
Sahil let out a heavy breath, his voice barely audible. "You're right, Rajat, but what do I do? I feel like if I say anything, it'll just lead to another argument. She'll get even angrier, and I don't want to ruin her mood further."
Rajat groaned on the other end. "Yaar, stop blaming yourself! She's wrong, understand that. If you stay silent today, this will only get worse tomorrow. The balance in your relationship will be lost. Respect and love are both necessary in a relationship."
Sahil hummed in acknowledgment, lost in thought.
Then, something struck Rajat's mind.
"Sahil, can I say something? You won't mind, right?"
"Bol na...teri baat ka bura kabhi nahi manta," Sahil replied with a small smile.
"Why don't you hire a caretaker?" Rajat suggested cautiously.
"Caretaker? So, you're saying that I-" Sahil began, but Rajat interrupted him before he could complete the sentence.
"Listen, yaar, don't take it the wrong way. I know how independent you are, and I'm not saying you need someone because you're incapable. But think about it-you're already dealing with enough, and Kriti is under pressure too. Having someone to help around the house or with basic chores could ease things for both of you."
Sahil stayed silent, considering Rajat's words.
"And," Rajat continued, sensing Sahil's hesitation, "I actually know someone who might be perfect for the job. Her name is Disha. I know her for more than years. She's reliable, understanding, and has experience working with families. Beside she needs an urgent job. If you want, I can talk to her and set up a meeting. No pressure, but just think about it."
Sahil ran a hand through his hair, conflicted. On one hand, he didn't want to feel like he needed outside help; on the other, Rajat's suggestion made sense.
"Yaar, Sahil, it's not about your disability or anything like that," Rajat added quickly. "It's about making life a little easier-for you and Kriti. You've been taking everything on yourself, and that's not fair. Sometimes, a little help can go a long way."
'Acha mein soch k tujhe batata hu' he said.
Rajat smiled on the other end. "That's all I ask, yaar. Let me know what you decide.
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