Srikant glared at the temple stairs before him, his jaw tightening as his displeasure simmered. He turned to his grandmother, who merely shrugged in response, entirely unbothered by his mood. Behind her, Rajni stood awkwardly, clutching the edge of her saree in nervous fingers, her gaze flickering between Srikant and the temple.
"This is too much, Dadi," Srikant grumbled, his deep voice carrying a hint of a sulking child. "I’ve never heard of anything like this before. Who even does this?"
His expression resembled that of a ten-year-old boy ready to throw a tantrum, and his grandmother rolled her eyes at him. "Because you never bothered to learn, Srikant! Don’t think that just because you’re now some big-shot city man, you can ignore our family’s traditions." She twisted her mouth in disapproval, her gaze shifting to Rajni, whose shoulders stiffened under the weight of their attention. "And look, you’re scaring your wife with your behavior," the old woman added with a pointed nod.
Srikant sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to rein in his irritation. He exhaled sharply, his eyes finding Rajni’s uncertain ones. With a subtle tilt of his head, he silently beckoned her forward. Hesitantly, she stepped closer but stopped short, standing in front of his grandmother instead.
"Dadi, there are 501 stairs," Rajni’s soft voice broke the silence. "Aur humari shaadi ko toh kaafi samay ho gaya hai. Iski zaroorat hai kya?"
Her quiet defiance made Srikant’s brow twitch in irritation, but her grandmother’s annoyance softened into amusement at her hesitant question. Just as the old woman opened her mouth to respond, Rajni continued hurriedly, "Aur... aur inki umar bhi ho gayi hai—"
The realization of her words hit Rajni mid-sentence, her eyes widening in horror as she clamped her mouth shut. She dared not look at Srikant, who was now glaring at her, his brows furrowed in disbelief.
"Umar?" Srikant’s deep voice carried a dangerous edge, repeating her words with deliberate slowness.
Rajni shook her head rapidly, her eyes wide with panic as she stammered, "Nahi... nahi! Woh mera matlab tha—"
Before she could finish, he had scooped her up in his arms with a single, fluid motion. Her protests died on her lips as her heart raced in shock.
"Raat ko dikhaunga tujhe, Rajni, kya hai meri umar," Srikant murmured, his voice low and dripping with challenge. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto hers, silencing any argument before it could form. "Aur abhi... meri taqat dekh."
Without another word, he began climbing the temple's steep staircase, each step deliberate and steady, as though proving something with every stride. The weight of Rajni in his arms seemed insignificant to him, though his sweat-drenched face told a different story.
Halfway up, Rajni’s worried eyes flickered to his face. Srikant’s breathing remained controlled, his movements unfaltering, but the beads of sweat streaming down his temples and soaking into his shirt unsettled her. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, knowing any suggestion to stop or slow down might irritate Bade Thakur. Her lips parted and closed several times before she finally decided against saying anything.
"Kya?" Srikant’s voice broke the silence, his tone gruff, his gaze still fixed on the steps ahead.
Rajni shook her head quickly, her cheeks flushing. "Kuch nahi," she whispered, fidgeting with the end of her pallu. Hesitantly, she reached out and wiped the sweat from his forehead and cheeks, her touch light but deliberate.
Srikant paused mid-step, his brows furrowing as his gaze shifted down to her. Their eyes met—his, filled with curiosity and a hint of confusion, hers, nervous yet determined.
Her lips parted again as if to explain herself, but no words came. Instead, her fingers brushed away the remaining sweat with a gentleness that startled even her.
Srikant said nothing, his expression unreadable as he resumed climbing, this time more aware of the warmth of her head resting against his chest. Each step felt heavier, not from the physical effort but from the unfamiliar sensation of her closeness—intimate yet not in the way he was used to.
It was a strange feeling, having someone this close to him without the heat of lust or dominance.
"Ab kya haath mein hi pakad ke rakhega, ya neeche bhi utarega usse?" Dadi's sharp words cut through the silence, her tone teasing yet commanding. Srikant shot her a blank look but complied, gently setting Rajni on her feet. Rajni’s cheeks flushed as she adjusted her saree, sneaking a glance at him before lowering her gaze.
Together, they walked toward the idols of Shiva and Parvati. Srikant clasped his hands in a practiced prayer, his face neutral, though his mind churned with annoyance. The priest, oblivious to their underlying tension, approached with a calm smile, blessing them with holy water before taking the thal from Dadi.
As the priest performed the ritual, the atmosphere thickened with the sound of bells and chants. Then, he turned to Srikant with a knowing expression.
"Yajmaan, ye sindoor," the priest said, holding out the box of vermilion. His eyes shifted to Rajni, as if instructing her to step forward for the sacred act.
Srikant stiffened. His dark eyes flicked to Rajni, who, in that instant, froze like a deer caught in headlights. They exchanged a quick, meaningful glance—one filled with silent questions and answers.
Rajni took a hesitant step back, her fingers clutching the edge of her saree nervously. Srikant’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he registered the movement. Dadi’s sharp gaze caught everything, and she didn’t miss the tension.
"Kya kar rahi hai, Rajni?" Dadi said, her tone carrying both authority and suspicion.
Srikant exhaled sharply. His pride couldn’t let him falter now, not in front of his grandmother. With an exaggerated air of impatience, he stepped forward and grabbed the sindoor box from the priest’s hand.
""Drama mat karo," Srikant muttered under his breath, his voice low and firm, meant only for Rajni as he dipped his fingers into the bright red powder.
Rajni stiffened but held her ground. Her posture betrayed the barest hint of hesitation, yet her gaze met his with a silent plea—a desperate, wordless request for him to rethink.
Before Srikant could act further, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the sanctity of the temple.
"Mere bina,Ye kya ho raha hai?"
The hoarse tone of Chote Thakur, Ratnesh, reverberated against the temple’s walls. Standing at the entrance, his eyes locked onto the scene before him. Ratnesh had arrived at the village that morning, his journey spurred by a letter from his brother explaining the charade he and Rajni were playing before their grandmother. Despite his haste to catch up with them, he had convinced himself that the anticipation in his chest was purely about reuniting with his brother.
But as his gaze fell on Rajni, all his carefully crafted justifications unraveled.
She stood there, adorned like a bride, her saree draped perfectly, the mangalsutra resting against her neck. Her forehead was marked with a delicate red bindi, and though her hairline was already filled with vermilion, the sight of Srikant poised with the vermilion was enough to spark a surge of something inexplicable within him.
For a moment, Ratnesh faltered. His breath caught as he took in her ethereal beauty—so radiant, so unfamiliar in this form. His throat tightened as his mind tried to reconcile the woman he had always known with the vision standing before him now.
His abrupt arrival gave Srikant the perfect moment to act. Without hesitation, Srikant dusted the vermilion off his fingers, his movements seamless. With the air of a man utterly in control, he brushed a hand over Rajni’s hairline—a symbolic gesture, enough to fool Dadi, who watched on with a proud smile.
"Achhi lag rahi hai na teri bhabhi?" Dadi remarked with an even tone, her words pointed as she glanced at Ratnesh.
Ratnesh smirked faintly, masking the storm of emotions within. "Bahut," he replied smoothly, his voice betraying none of the intensity flickering in his gaze.
Rajni dared not look at Ratnesh, her head slightly lowered as the priest blessed them with holy water. Srikant, ever composed, held his role with precision.
Ratnesh moved closer, his feets clicking softly against the temple floor. Though his body language exuded casual ease, his eyes betrayed a glimmer of something deeper as they lingered on Rajni for just a moment too long.
"Toh chaliye, ab pooja shuru karein," Ratnesh said, his voice light but with an edge that only Srikant caught.
As the family turned their attention to the deity, Ratnesh remained silent, his thoughts veiled by a faint smirk. His gaze, however, flicked one last time to Rajni, a subtle hint of satisfaction glinting in his eyes before he turned away, letting the moment pass as swiftly as it had come.
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"Chote Thakur, chai," Rajni said softly, extending the steel cup of tea toward Ratnesh.
His movements were deliberate as he took the cup, his fingers brushing against hers with a lingering touch. The gesture was unmissable, and Rajni’s heart raced. Her eyes darted around the courtyard, seeking Dadi's presence. When she found no sign of her, she exhaled in quiet relief.
If Dadi were to witness this exchange—Ratnesh’s intense gaze locked onto her, his hand lingering over hers—Rajni knew the fallout would be disastrous. Either the fragile façade of her and Srikant’s fake marriage would shatter, or worse, she’d face the wrath of the village, branded a deceitful woman deserving of punishment.
"Itta jaldi kaise aa gaya tu?" Srikant asked, breaking the tense silence as he sipped his tea.
Ratnesh shrugged, his eyes never leaving Rajni’s face, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His hand still hovered over hers on the cup, as if challenging her to pull away.
Srikant’s jaw tightened. "Ratnesh, bahar hai tu," he said through gritted teeth, his tone edged with warning.
"Andar kya karoon?" Ratnesh countered smoothly, his voice cold but steady. He finally released her hand, though his gaze lingered. "Maine bola tha ki rakhail ko biwi bana lo."
The words landed like a blow, cold and cutting.
Rajni flinched but kept her head down, hiding her reaction as best she could. Her fingers curled into the folds of her saree, seeking an anchor in the turmoil. She didn’t dare meet his eyes—not after such a pointed reminder of her place.
Ratnesh’s words stung, not just for their bluntness but for their utter lack of acknowledgment of her as anything more than a mistress. They erased every attempt she had made to step into this precarious role, even if it was all a charade.
Srikant placed his cup down with a loud clang, his eyes narrowing as he shot a sharp look at his brother. "Tujhe jo bolna hai andar ya akele mei chal ke bol. Yha nhi."
Ratnesh didn’t respond immediately, his smirk deepening as he looked at Srikant, then back at Rajni, who still hadn’t lifted her gaze. Finally, with a deliberate slowness, he leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip of the tea she’d offered him.
"Toh suno, bade bhai," he said, his voice calm but with an edge. "Mujhe na ish zameen mei koi diljaspi hai, na ish ghar mei aur na parivaar mei, aur na ish faaltu naatak k chakkar mei ishse dur rehne mei" through his eyes he pointed at Rajni
The warning hung heavy in the air, but Ratnesh’s eyes were still on Rajni, his message as much for her as it was for his brother.
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Ratnesh was acting strange since morning. Srikant, sharp as ever, wasn’t oblivious to the reason behind his younger brother’s unusual behavior. Rajni, too, had noticed Ratnesh’s curt remarks and irritated glances, but her interpretation of his mood couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
"Dadi, khaana laga doon?" Rajni asked quietly, her head modestly covered with the pallu of her saree in the presence of her grandmother-in-law. Despite her composed demeanor, she could feel the intensity of two pairs of eyes boring into her back.
"Haan, par pehle apne pati aur devar se pooch le," Dadi instructed without looking up, her voice calm but firm. "Aur unke paav dhulwa de. Bada wala pot piche hi rakha hai, paani le aa usmein."
Rajni swallowed and nodded, slipping inside to retrieve the large brass pot. She filled it with water, her heart racing slightly. She wasn’t new to such traditions but the weight of the tension between the brothers made her uneasy.
Carrying the pot back outside, she approached where Srikant and Ratnesh sat, their eyes following her every move. Her steps slowed as she reached them, setting the pot down carefully and straightening up.
She extended her hand slightly, a silent gesture asking for one of them to extend their foot. Before she could speak, Srikant’s voice broke the silence.
"Paav de ushe," he said flatly, looking at Ratnesh.
Ratnesh’s jaw tightened. His sharp eyes shifted to Srikant for a moment before flicking back to Rajni. His gaze lingered, a storm of emotions swirling beneath his composed exterior. Without a word, he finally stretched out his foot, his movements slow and deliberate.
Rajni knelt, her hands trembling slightly as she dipped them into the cool water, her pallu falling slightly over her face as she bent forward. Her fingers brushed against his foot hesitantly, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.
Srikant leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Ratnesh’s face. His lips curved into a subtle smirk, the kind that could rile anyone up. "Dheere kar, Rajni. Aise lag raha hai jaise kisi ki saza kaat rahi ho," he remarked, his tone calm but laced with amusement.
Ratnesh’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "Chup kar" he said gruffly, pulling his foot back the moment Rajni poured the water over it.
Rajni glanced up nervously between the two, unsure of what to do next. Dadi’s chant from the next room echoed softly, a stark contrast to the quiet storm brewing between the brothers.
"Ab khana lagwa le, Rajni," Srikant said finally, his tone dismissive as his sharp gaze lingered on his brother.
Rajni nodded quickly, grateful for the reprieve, and left to prepare the meal, leaving the two brothers alone in their silent battle.
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