Author's POV

"Arre yaar, mumma, yahan net bhi theek se nahi aa raha," Jiya muttered, walking in circles with her phone raised.

"Toh beta, kuch din bina net ke reh lo," her mother, Sushma, laughed.

"Pata nahi kis zamaane ke gaon mein le aayi ho. Yahan kon hi rehta hoga?" Jiya grumbled.

"Yahan bhi insaan hi rehte hain, maharani," Sushma shot back. "Zyada nakhre mat dikhao, bag uthao aur chalo."

"Namaste, chachi ji!" A young boy, maybe seventeen, ran forward, smiling.

"Arre Shankar! Itna bada ho gaya beta! Pichli baar toh itna sa tha." Sushma gestured with her hand, laughing.

Shankar bent to touch her feet, then looked toward Jiya.

"Hey," Jiya said quickly, waving instead.

"Dekha? Ye hai humare sheher ki bachi — 'hey' bol rahi hai" Sushma teased, tapping Jiya's head.

"Mumma, behave please," Jiya sighed.

"Aaiye, gadi wahan hai," Shankar said politely, leading them toward a decorated jeep.

The moment the car stopped outside the house,The house wasn't huge, but it had warmth. Yellow marigold garlands hung from the low mud walls, and fairy lights blinked softly around the wooden doors. The courtyard floor was freshly swept, the faint smell of wet mud still in the air. A few kids ran past carrying plates of sweets, their laughter echoing through the narrow lanes.

Inside, the rooms were small — two on each side, with an open verandah in the middle. The whitewashed walls were decorated with old family photos and bright red cloth hangings. A ceiling fan whirred lazily above as Sushma and Jiya placed their bags near the charpoy.

"Bas itna hi ghar hai?" Jiya whispered, looking around curiously.

"Chhota zaroor hai, par dil bada hai logon ka," Sushma smiled, untying her dupatta.

They freshened up with cold water from a steel jug, the scent of sandalwood and neem soap lingering in the air. As dusk settled, the village slowly turned golden — the lights outside flickering to life, the hum of a generator starting somewhere nearby.

By nightfall, the courtyard had transformed. The women sat in a circle on the terrace, their voices rising and falling like music — gossiping, laughing, singing old wedding songs. The glow of the fairy lights reflected on their faces, and the air carried the aroma of puris, jalebi, and rose petals from the decorations below.

In one corner, Jiya scrolled through her phone, trying to find a signal, the light of the screen flickering against her tired face.

"Gaon ke bade zamindar se shaadi tay hui hai humari Laxmi ki," Kusha told Sushma proudly.

"Hamari Laxmi hai hi itni sundar," Sushma smiled, cupping the glowing bride's cheek.

"Haan, gaon ki sabse gori-chitti ladki hai," another woman added.

Meanwhile, Jiya sat at the corner, scrolling through her phone, half-listening.

"Bitiya, apne chehre pe dahi-besan lagaya karo. Ye daane theek ho jaayenge," one woman said kindly.

"Nahi, aunty, ye hormonal acne hai. Dahi-besan se nahi jaate," Jiya replied with a small smile.

"aein?" the lady blinked.

“Woh... mujhe PCOD hai, toh uski wajah se—”

“Arey arey, ye sab kuch nahi hota!” another woman interrupted, waving her hand dismissively.

Jiya smiled awkwardly, the corners of her mouth twitching before she quietly got up. She walked toward the balcony, her slippers brushing against the cool, uneven floor. Outside, the night had settled softly over the village. The houses glowed faintly with oil lamps, their golden light flickering like tiny stars scattered across the darkness. A few distant sounds drifted in — laughter, a harmonium playing somewhere far away, and the hum of crickets. The whole scene looked straight out of an old film.

After a while, Laxmi came and stood beside her. Jiya glanced sideways but didn’t say anything. Laxmi looked at her — so Jiya looked back. They both smiled, an unspoken warmth passing between them.

“Gaon pasand aaya?” Laxmi asked gently.

“Abhi toh aayi hoon,” Jiya replied with a light shrug.

“Tab bhi... abhi tak kaisa laga?” Laxmi pressed on, curious.

“Theek-thaak... matlab ek do din ke liye theek hai,” Jiya said, chuckling. “You know, digital detox ho jaayega.”

Laxmi smiled faintly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“Waise tum batao, kal tumhari shaadi hai... kaisi feeling aa rahi hai?” Jiya asked, turning toward her.

Laxmi’s smile vanished completely. “Theek hi hai,” she murmured.

“Kya hua?” Jiya asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Kuch nahi...” Laxmi muttered and walked away, her steps slow but determined.

For a moment, Jiya watched her go, concern flickering in her eyes.

“Shaadi hai... thodi ghabrahat toh banti hai,” she whispered to herself, before turning back to the night view. The air was cooler now, and the faint breeze carried the scent of marigold and smoke. She took a deep breath, staring at the glowing fields below.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

In the grand haveli, celebration echoed through every wall. Women danced in swirling sarees, their laughter mingling with the dholak’s beat. Maya and Priya moved swiftly, checking every small details.

Outside, on the sprawling lawn, Raghav and Rahul sat under the open sky, a half-empty bottle of whiskey between them. The warm lights from the mansion reflected on their glasses.

“Chal, kal tera bhi vrat tootega,” Raghav teased, raising his glass.

Rahul chuckled faintly. “Haan, lagta toh aisa hi hai.”

“Honeymoon pe kahan jaana hai, kuch socha?” Raghav asked, leaning back on his chair.

“Yeh honey-woney moon pe nahi jaana mujhe,” Rahul said, shaking his head. “Sab bakwaas hai.”

“Kyun bhai? Iktaalis ki umar mein shaadi ho rahi hai teri, kuch toh maze kar le,” Raghav taunted with a grin.

“Mujhe nahi karna maze,” Rahul said quietly, eyes fixed on his drink. “Main theek hoon.”

“Abey tu gadha hai kya? Itni sundar ladki mili hai, kal shaadi hai aur tu yahan muh latkaye baithe hai?” Raghav laughed, half exasperated.

Rahul didn’t reply — just hummed faintly.

“Rahul,” Raghav’s tone softened.

“Hm?”

“Tu ye shaadi karna chahta hai na?”

Rahul took a deep breath. “Nahi... mujhe koi shauk nahi hai. Par maa itni chinta kar rahi thi, toh maine haan bol diya. Sach bolun toh... mujhe koi khaas farak bhi nahi padta.”

“Beta ji, shaadi ho rahi hai, koi gudde-gudiya ka khel nahi. Wo ladki apna ghar, parivaar chhod ke aayegi yahan. Tera kuch farz banta hai uske liye,” Raghav said, his voice serious now.

“Bilkul. Yahan usko rehne mein koi takleef nahi hogi,” Rahul replied calmly. “Par maine usse pehle hi bata diya tha — mujhse wo koi umeed na rakhe.”

“Kya matlab?” Raghav frowned.

“Matlab yahi ki wo meri patni hogi, usko saare haq dunga. Par usse zyada... koi umeed na rakhe. Pyaar-vyaar ki nahi,” Rahul said flatly, his eyes distant.

“Aur wo maan gayi?” Raghav sighed, pouring another drink.

“Man na hi tha,” Rahul scoffed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Itna paisa dekhke kaunsi ladki nahi manegi?”

“Par bina pyaar ki shaadi ka kya faayda,” Raghav said, shaking his head.

Rahul smirked. “Ab har kisi ki kismat apki tarah thodi hoti hai — paise nikalwane gaye the, aur bhabhi le aaye.”

Raghav chuckled, “Abey chhod na…”

Both burst out laughing, their voices echoing faintly against the haveli walls. Inside, the laughter and music of the women continued, but out here — under the dim yellow bulbs and a sky heavy with silence — their laughter slowly faded into a long, uneasy quiet.

The night stretched heavy — full of light, sound, and a strange kind of loneliness sitting quietly between them.

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