Chapter 2 Family kalesh and snake bua

Her pov:

...

My mom is such a complex person. Sometimes I feel incredibly lucky to have her, while at other times, I think about escaping from this strange family of ours. Just this morning, she mentioned that I went straight to Grandma's room after getting ready, without even having breakfast. I know I still have an hour before college starts, and I plan to ask Dad for a lift, but right now, I feel an urgent need to talk to my grandmother. It’s as if I can sense that if I don’t take a moment to connect with her, something bad might happen to me or someone in our family.

It’s not that I can’t talk to her while eating breakfast, but the truth is, she rarely leaves her room. Ever since Grandpa passed away, she has become a recluse, retreating into her own world. To me, it feels mysterious, but to others, it seems perfectly normal. They’ve normalized her behavior, as if nothing is wrong. I’ve told myself it’s better not to interfere with these family rituals; otherwise, chaos will ensue, just like it always does.

I remember a day when I ignored her call to meet because I was in a rush to go out. That day turned into a nightmare—I was kidnapped, and my Bua's husband had a fatal accident. I can’t shake the feeling that if I had listened to my grandmother, things might have turned out differently. Bua often blames me for that incident, as if my forgetfulness somehow caused the tragedy. I find myself haunted by thoughts of what could have been if I had just taken a moment to talk to her that day. I even regret meeting him, the person who changed everything.

I knocked on Grandma's door, and when she didn’t respond, it swung open automatically. It’s not magic; it’s just technology. My grandmother’s room is equipped with a remote-controlled door that she operates from her chair, where she always sits facing a giant portrait she calls the "Portrait of God." Strangely, there’s no image in that portrait—just a plain sheet of paper hanging on the wall. It’s a testament to the eccentricity of my family, and as the head of this household, my grandmother embodies that craziness more than anyone else.

As I step into her room, I can feel the weight of the air around me, thick with unspoken words and emotions. The dim light casts shadows that dance across the walls, and I can’t help but wonder what secrets lie within this space. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever conversation awaits, knowing that it could change everything.

"Hello dadi , maa ne kha apne bulaya tha .. kuch kam hai mujhse??.."

(Grandma, mom told me you had called me ...do you have some work with me ??)

"Han meine bola tha Teri maa ko , phele yeh bata tune woh churi pheni hai na jo teri maa ne tujhe di "

(Yes I have asked your mom, but first' tell me have you worn the bangle your mom has given you )

"Han mein phenli woh churiya"

(Yes I have worn those bangle)

"Ok abhi sun .............~~~"

(So listen now )

...

She finished telling me those things without even looking at me once, and with that, I left her room, making my way to the dining table for breakfast. As I was getting late, I didn’t talk much to her about what she had said—I actually didn’t want to.

At the dining table, I sat with my chocolate milkshake, roasted bread, and a half-fried egg. I loved my chocolate milkshake so much that I would choose to drink it at the last breath of my life. It was my favorite, my first love. Wait, my first love is, I guess, chocolate cake. Oh no, my first love is chocolate—everything made of chocolate. I even used chocolate body wash and lotion. The smell of chocolate is so intoxicating; one could die for it, and I would gladly do so. But fate had other plans for me as I enjoyed my milkshake, until one of the biggest sources of chaos in my life appeared before me. I sensed that her day had been bad, and she decided to make mine miserable too.

“Oh, so madam wants to grab male attention now? I don’t understand why your father still spends money on you. You have no shame at all. Your parents are wasting their money on you, but guess what? You’re here dressing like a slut to attract boys. Don’t you have any shame left? You should have died the way you killed my husband. You’re a jinx. You’re just a whore like your mother, the way she attracted my innocent brother, the same way you…”

That was it. She had crossed the line. I could have tolerated her insults about me, but when she dragged my mother into it, she went too far. I slammed my hands on the table with a loud thud, and she fell silent, shock and amusement flickering across her face.

“ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, BUA! I SWEAR TO GOD, ONE MORE WORD FROM THAT STUPID FUCKING MOUTH OF YOURS, AND I WILL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER GET A CHANCE TO SPEAK AGAIN! I WILL CUT YOUR—”

Before I could finish my sentence, a hard hand struck my face. Someone had dared to slap me. I turned to see those furious red eyes, and it was none other than my own father—who had never laid a hand on me in such a cruel way. I fought to control the stream of tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.

“SHUT UP, MEHAK! JUST SHUT UP! DON’T YOU DARE SAY A WORD TO MY SISTER! SHE IS MY SISTER, YOUR BUA, AND SHE IS ELDER TO YOU! I SWEAR I WILL THROW YOU OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

With that, it was over. My tears were now uncontrollable, cascading down my cheeks like a river of despair. I didn’t want to face my father anymore. I grabbed my bag with one arm and ran out of the house, not daring to look back at my father or my bua. I fled as fast as I could, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling the weight of betrayal and pain crushing me from within.

In the college  ~~~

I walked into my class, seeking solitude, determined to avoid any interaction. All I craved was peace. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t return home today, tomorrow, or ever, until my dad called me on his own. I settled into my seat, enveloped in silence, my gaze fixed blankly on my forensic psychology book. The words blurred together, and I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice when the professor entered the room and began his lecture.

Time slipped away unnoticed, and before I knew it, the class had ended. I remained seated, isolated in my own world, oblivious to the bustling students around me as they filed out of the classroom. I felt like a ghost, lingering in a space that no longer belonged to me.

Suddenly, I sensed a presence beside me. Before I could register what was happening, someone wrapped their arms around me in a tight embrace. It jolted me back to reality. As I inhaled deeply, I was enveloped by the familiar scent of roses and milk. It was Nisha.

In that moment, a wave of emotions crashed over me, overwhelming and uncontrollable. I felt the dam within me break, and tears streamed down my cheeks, each drop a release of pent-up frustration and sorrow. I was no longer able to hold back; the weight of my feelings poured out, and I found myself clinging to Nisha, seeking comfort in her presence. The world around me faded, and all that mattered was the warmth of her embrace, a lifeline in my sea of turmoil.

"Tujhe pata hai kiya hua...*hiccups she ..  *hiccups ....she just said those ....

isliye....*hiccups...me...*hiccups...mei...meine ...mujhe ...he sl...slapp... slapped me"

I burst all my hidden pain and uncontrollable tears...

"Shhh ..i know everything about it.. aunty has called me and told me everything..tu chup ho ja let's go ..i have many things for you first let lift ur mood and then we will Talk about it...but before all this you need to eat something and Mee tooo..."

She is best in counselling me , she caressed my hair and hugg me even tight...

Author's note

Hello sorry for late update 🙂mujhe likhna k man nahi karta hai coz tum log ko intrest hi nahi hai meri book mein ..koi vote bhi kar raha hai.. atleast follow kar do instgram par...

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