19-04-2025, 12:34 AM
Chapter 4 - New Town, New Challenges
The first few weeks passed in a blur of unpacking and setting up.
The office was a short commute, the traffic a mere trickle compared to the madness of Mumbai. The quietude of the town's streets was a balm to my soul, and the air was so clean it felt like a luxury. Each morning, I'd watch the sun rise over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, a stark contrast to the perpetual smog that had cloaked the city.
The job at Chand Tiles was challenging but fulfilling. Lakhan Chand was a demanding boss I threw myself into the work, eager to prove my worth and to build a life for Dhristi that was everything she deserved.
The office was a microcosm of a world that functioned on a very different wavelength than the one I was used to. Everything was dealt with in cash, both the legal transactions and the ones that were...less so. The books were meticulously kept one for the tax authorities and the other for us.
Lakhan Chand was a master of this shadow economy, his smile never slipping as he navigated the treacherous waters of bribery and corruption with the grace of a seasoned pirate. I watched him, torn between admiration and disgust, as he charmed his way through every obstacle with a wink and a nod, a handshake and a sly remark.
The office work was indeed more labor-intensive than what I'd been used to in Mumbai. Without the luxury of computerized systems, every transaction, every invoice, had to be meticulously filed and refiled. My days were spent shuffled through the endless sea of documents. But the irony wasn't lost on me—despite the additional work, my commute had been reduced to a mere fifteen minutes. The thought of the two-hour train rides I'd endured back in the city made me smile, a wry twist to my lips as I went through my second hand scooter I'd bought.
But amidst the chaos of work and setting up the new house, I noticed a change in Dhristi. Initially, the excitement of the new town and the comforts of our spacious home had kept her spirits high. But as the weeks passed, she grew quieter.
Her eyes, once alight with curiosity, now held a sadness that tugged at my heart. Our evenings were spent in a silent dance of routine, our weekends a muted affair. She'd accompany me to the local markets, her hand in mine, but there was a distance that hadn't been there before.
With the extra time I had now, I used to take her everywhere. This place wasn't Mumbai, at least we could watch a movie, go to market, eat panipuris. The simple joys we'd discovered together in the early days of our marriage had become a lifeline for her, a way to cling to the happiness she'd left behind in her village.
But the work was very demanding. Some days, it was like wrestling a hydra—cut off one task and two more sprouted in its place. I'd bring those files home with me, their weight a constant reminder of the responsibilities I'd taken on. The numbers and invoices would spread out across the dining table like a sea of unsolved puzzles, a stark contrast to the quietude of our evenings.
Months passed, but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was disturbing Dhristi. She'd always been straight forward with me, but now she remained tight-lipped, her smiles forced and her eyes distant. I knew she missed her village, but I couldn't fathom what had changed in our relationship. I'd thought the house would be our sanctuary, but it seemed to have become a fortress, one that kept her fears and anxieties locked away from me.
Our neighborhood, it turned out, was a curious blend of opulence and desolation. The houses surrounding us were sprawling mansions, most of them vacant, serving as summer retreats for the wealthy city dwellers spending time in their hometown. The few that were occupied were by wealthy families who'd known each other for generations, their social circles tight-knit and unassailable. They eyed us with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, the newcomers who didn't quite fit into the tapestry of their elite community.
But the nights, oh the nights, they were ours alone. The memory foam king bed was a revelation, a silent lover that molded to our every contour, whispering sweet nothings of comfort and desire. We made love without worrying about falling down. I'd never experienced anything like it before—the way the bed cradled us, the way it seemed to amplify every sensation, every gasp and sigh.
And Dhristi, she was blossoming. With every passing day, she grew more comfortable in her new skin, shedding the village shyness l. Our lovemaking had evolved from the tentative explorations of our early days to a fiery passion that consumed us both.
One night, She straddled me, her soft thighs pressing against my hips, her small, firm breasts brushing against my chest. Her hands traced the outline of my shoulders, sending shivers down my spine.
Her eyes searched mine, looking for approval, and when she found it, she began to rock against me, her wetness coating me in a warm, inviting embrace. She'd been shy about taking the lead in our intimate moments before, but tonight, she was a woman transformed—bold and uninhibited.
I watched, my heart racing, as she rose above me, her body a vision of beauty and strength. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, framing the desire that burned in her eyes. She positioned herself, and with a gentle sigh, she took me inside her, her walls tightening around me.
But as she began to rock, my body betrayed me. The stress of the job, the weight of our new life, it all crashed down in a wave of pleasure that left me gasping. I couldn't hold back, and with a moan that was torn from the depths of my soul, I climaxed.
Her eyes widened in shock, and then anger, as she realized what had happened. Before I could even apologize, she slapped me across the face, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The sting of her hand against my cheek brought me back to reality with a jolt, and I watched in horror as the tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks in a silent deluge.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed sobs. "I didn't mean to... I didn't want to..." She trailed off, her eyes searching mine for something she wasn't sure she'd find.
I reached out to her, my heart pounding in my chest, trying to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between us. "Dhristi, it's okay," I said, my voice hoarse. "I know you didn't mean it. It's just the stress."
But she slipped away from me, her body trembling. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could somehow shield herself from the raw emotions that lay between us. "It's not okay, Manav," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'm so lonely here."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Lonely? In this house that I had fought so hard to give her, in the town that I had moved us to for a better life?
From that day, Dhristi's mood swings became a tempestuous sea that I struggled to navigate. One moment, she'd be all smiles, showering me with affection and kisses, her warmth wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Her touch would be feverish, her eyes filled with a hunger that made me feel like the most desired man on earth. She'd whisper sweet nothings into my ear, her breath hot against my skin, and I'd feel like I could conquer the world.
But then, without warning, the storm would come. Her eyes would grow cold, her smile slipping away like a mirage in the desert heat. Her voice, once a melody that filled my heart, turned into a frosty gale that chilled me to the bone. The warmth of her embrace would be replaced by the frigid wall of her indifference, leaving me gasping for air in the cold vacuum of her silence.
The days grew longer, and the nights more fraught with tension. Our bed, once a sanctuary of love, now felt like a battlefield of unspoken words and unmet needs. I'd lie beside her, my body aching with longing, my mind racing with thoughts of what I could do to make her happy again. But she remained a closed book, her secrets locked away behind the impenetrable fortress of her silence.
I decided to play along with her mood swings, giving her the space she needed when she was cold and distant, and showering her with love and attention when she was open to it. I knew it wasn't a permanent solution, but it was all I had to offer in the face of her turmoil.
Meanwhile, at work, the whispers grew louder. The office was a minefield of gossip and intrigue, where everyone had an angle to play. Lakhan Chand had taken a liking to me, recognizing the spark of ambition in my eyes that mirrored his own. He began to give me more responsibility, trusting me with tasks that involved going out of town for a couple of days.
One evening,I returned home to find Dhristi curled up in our bed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She looked up at me, her face a picture of despair, and my heart sank.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice tight with concern.
Dhristi looked up at me, her eyes swollen and red. "I just... I miss home," she choked out. "I miss the village, my family... everything."
My heart felt like it had been punched. "I didn't know it was this bad," I whispered, sitting down beside her. "You know I'll do anything to make you happy."
Dhristi's eyes searched my face, and for a moment, I thought she might open up to me. But then she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I miss the simplicity of the village, the people I know."
My heart ached for her, for the pain she was feeling that I couldn't ease. "I know," I said, stroking her hair gently. "But think of all the good things we have here—the house, my job... We can build a new life together."
Dhristi looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I know," she said, her voice trembling. "But I just... I need some time, Manav. Can you understand?"
I nodded, feeling a heaviness settle in my chest. "Of course," I murmured, wrapping my arms around her.
Dhristi leaned into my embrace, her body trembling. "I need to be with my parents," she whispered. "Just for a few weeks. To feel normal again."
I felt a pang of regret for not seeing her pain sooner. "Of course," I said, trying to keep the desperation from my voice. "Whatever you need."
Her eyes searched mine, looking for something I wasn't sure she'd find. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.
The next day, I called her parents and told them about her visit. They were overjoyed to hear her voice, and agreed to pick her up from the bus station. I watched her go with a heavy heart, the house suddenly feeling too large, too empty without her.
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