Episode 5

Sneha returned home from school and stepped through the door—completely silent. Her body was tired, but her heart felt even heavier. What had happened at school today still churned inside her chest, those scenes and those words playing over and over again in her mind.

After a while, her aunt called out loudly,

— “Sneha, wash your hands and face and come eat. The rice is still hot.”

Without saying a word, Sneha went into her room, dropped her bag, and quietly headed to the bathroom. As she washed her face with water, she looked into the mirror—her eyes were red, tears welling up but forcefully held back.

When she sat down to eat, her aunt took the seat beside her and served rice and curry on her plate in Sneha’s favorite way.

— “What’s wrong, dear? Why are you so quiet today? Did something happen in class?”

Sneha shook her head,

— “No, Auntie, nothing happened. The class was just a little difficult… maybe that’s why I’m feeling tired.”

Her aunt looked at her with a bit of suspicion but said nothing. She only added,

— “At your age, it’s not good to carry such burdens. If anyone says anything to you, you can always tell me.”

Sneha quietly ate her food, her head bowed. There was no denial on her face, nor any protest.

Her aunt, Mrs. Nitu, was surprised. She thought to herself, “Why is this girl so introverted? She never wants to share what’s on her mind. And she speaks so little—as if counting every word.”

Mrs. Nitu had always been concerned about her. There had been reasons in the past to worry about Sneha.

Seeing Sneha like this again, a memory from a few weeks ago resurfaced in Mrs. Nitu’s mind.

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Two Months Ago

Sneha and her aunt had just gotten out of a taxi. As they crossed the road and entered the lane toward their apartment building, her aunt suddenly stopped. She turned to look at Sneha’s face. But Sneha tried to hide it. Still, Mrs. Nitu noticed her tearful eyes right away. She gently asked—

“Why are your eyes red, Sneha? Were you crying?”

Sneha looked away. Then, with a shaky voice, she said, “No... I mean... I had a bit of a headache.”

Her aunt was silent for a moment. Then a shadow of worry crept over her lips. “Did someone say something to you at school?” she asked again.

Sneha still didn’t respond, but her silence spoke louder than any words. A strange fear gripped Nitu’s chest. It felt like a cold hand of dread was squeezing her heart.

Even after returning home, Sneha remained silent. She barely touched her lunch. On her face was a clear sign of emotionally withdrawing, as if she were drifting far away. Medha was in her own room, pretending to study, with a fashion magazine hidden among her books.

That evening, her aunt sat beside her. In a very soft voice, she said,

“Sneha, I know you’re a quiet girl. But when you speak your heart, the burden feels lighter. I promise I won’t scold you, no matter what you say.”

Sneha paused for a moment, then softly said,

“Today, during the school event, some students came from another school… senior boys… there were four or five of them… They were staring at me in a weird way… and… they said some vulgar things… I didn’t know what to do or how to react.”

Her aunt’s eyes flared with fury. Her chest tightened as if something heavy had fallen upon it. In a calm voice, she asked,

“What exactly did they say? Tell me clearly.”

Sneha, head lowered, said,

“They said I look different… that my body… I mean… no one looks like this. And they said… they feel like standing next to me… like coming close to me… like touching me…”

Sneha’s voice choked as she said the last few words. She covered her face with her hands. Nitu pulled her into an embrace, closing her eyes.

“That’s why I never want to let you go alone, dear,” Nitu’s voice cracked, “The eyes of this city… the language of this city… it’s not made for you!”

Sneha quietly cried. Her tears soaked into her aunt’s sari.

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Behind the door stood Medha.

Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and envy. She said nothing and went back to her room. But a troubling thought stung her mind—

“If everyone acts that way because of her body, then… then I too want something to happen in me… something like that…”

Medha stood in front of the mirror. She looked at her thin body. In the reflection, a reckless question surfaced—

“Can I never be like Sneha?”

She unbuttoned her shirt and placed her hand on her chest. She never really needed to wear a bra.

“If only… if only I could change a little… if even a part of my body could be different… If my body were like hers!” Medha thought to herself, her heart aching.

She didn’t know that the seed planted in her heart that evening would one day become the source of coldness in this home—and the greatest test of Sneha’s life.

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Present Day

Uncle came out from inside and sat down at the dining table, his face beaming with a wide smile.

— “There’s some good news today!”

— “Oh? What news?” Auntie asked, curious.

— “I’ve been promoted! I’m now the Divisional Head! An increase of five thousand rupees per month!”

Auntie clapped her hands in excitement,

— “Oh wow, that’s wonderful! Then we must have payesh (rice pudding) today!”

Sneha smiled faintly and said, “Congratulations, Uncle.”

Uncle said proudly,

— “Sneha, you have to study hard too.

You must grow up to do a job even bigger than mine.”

Then, looking toward his wife, he added,

— “Our Sneha is so talented! She can do it.”

Just then, the sound of the doorbell—Tung-tung—announced Medha’s arrival.

Sneha’s aunt, who now transforms into Medha’s mother, suddenly seemed to come alive.

She rushed to Medha, took off her bag, removed her shoes, washed her hands and face, and then lovingly fed her by hand.

She always cares for her daughter like this—

As if a little princess had returned to her palace.

Medha’s father is no different. He fulfills all her wishes.

If Medha merely hints at wanting something, her father makes sure she gets it without delay.

Every month she must have new clothes;

as soon as she expresses a desire, her father buys them for her.

Medha has a great fondness for pretty clothes.

Whatever else she likes—her parents make sure she gets it all.

After Medha arrived, Sneha’s uncle and aunt became completely preoccupied with her.

Sneha, still lost in the haze of pain,

continued eating silently.

At the corner of her eye, a faint line glistened—

Was it water, or was it sorrow?

It was hard to tell.

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To be continued…

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