Situation: Sahiba leaving before Seerat’s roka to Angad, where Angad has humiliated her.
Title inspired by:
Chhan se jo tute koi sapna
Jag suna suna lage
Jag suna suna lage
Koi rahe na jab apna
Jag suna suna lage
Jag suna suna hai toh..
Yeh kyun hota hai..
Jab yeh.. dil rota hai
Roye sisak sisak ki hawayein
Jag suna lage
I walked away from Masi’s house. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I hailed for an auto rickshaw and headed for my shop. My mind was in turmoil from the hurt. I needed to be alone, and cry out my bebasi.
As soon as I came in, I sternly told Kulche that I didn’t want any disturbance, and he should handle the shop front, while I worked. I had faith in Kulche that he could handle it while I picked up pieces of my shattered mind and got myself composed.
I cried and cried. I wanted to ask Babaji why I wasn’t enough? Why did Mummy have to have these crazy ideas? I see Papa and how he has become a shell of his former self. I try so hard and yet I am never enough. Seerat Di’s words hurt a lot too. I guess she was trying to play the part of not being related to me by belittling me. But was that necessary? Even with my parents present, I felt as if I was an orphan Babaji. Why do I feel like that?
Sometimes, I feel burned out. Then I see Keerat, and realize that if I give up, what will happen to her. Just because I couldn’t go to college, does that mean she can’t either? No. I will not let her dreams be crushed. I need to save for her. Now, if that means deducting an amount from the money I give to Papa, so be it. I need to save for Keerat. I will have to check how to make a savings account, and save money away from Seerat Di and Mummy.
That ATM can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. I could have answered him very well, but because of Mummy and Seerat Di I couldn’t. Bhaad mein jaaye woh, I don’t give two hoots about someone like him.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I began to make my pots. By the end of day, I had made all the stock that was needed to last till the end of next week. Once they dried, I would paint them. While waiting for Keerat to come by, I started to work on my orders from Instagram.
Little did Sahiba know her new found happiness and vigor was temporary. Babaji was weaving her story, and it seems her story had been knotted with that Mr. ATM of hers according to him.
Real Estate
