04-04-2025, 07:12 PM
The sun was not hot anymore.
It had turned that soft gold colour—where everything on the floor looks warmer than it is. The TV was on. One boy was crying because the other had taken his pencil box. She handed him a Marie biscuit without saying a word.
Kartik had sent a message. “Stuck in call. Eat without me if late.”
She wiped her hands and tied her hair into a loose plait. Checked the fridge.
Two tomatoes. One shrivelled. No onions. No coriander.
The cloth bag was still hanging on the hook near the back door.
She changed into a churidhar. No make-up. No kajal. Just a small red bindi.
Dupatta folded and pinned on one shoulder—not even around the chest fully. She didn’t care.
But the moment she stepped into her slippers…
She remembered Arjun.
Her Mind – Me:
Saturday is two days away. That’s it.
One boy is coming to stay. Kartik’s own thambi.
So why am I feeling like I have to change how I walk in my own house?
She shut the door gently. The corridor was quiet. Only the sound of vessels from upstairs. Maybe someone cooking fish.
The lift was slow. She didn’t wait.
Took the stairs.
As she walked down past the second floor, her hand touched the railing by habit.
It was warm from sunlight.
By the time she reached the lobby, her steps had settled. Mind slightly quieter.
But when she neared the main gate…
She felt it.
Eyes.
Not imagined.
Watched.
The new security guy was standing beside the stool, drinking tea from a paper cup.
Tall. Maybe North Indian. Wheatish. Slim but not skinny. Blue shirt tucked too neatly.
She had noticed him once or twice. That’s all.
But today?
Today, he noticed her.
Head to toe.
Not once.
Twice.
And the second time, his eyes stayed on her chest longer than a second.
Her Mind – Me:
Cheap fellow.
Look somewhere else.
She didn’t look at him directly. Just walked.
But her spine straightened.
Her chin lifted slightly.
And her thighs?
They tightened. Almost on their own.
Outside, the street had that usual mix of scooter horns, boys playing near the transformer box, and the smell of fried snacks from the shop.
She walked with her head still high.
Not proud.
Just… aware.
The grocer gave her a smile. Usual rate. No coriander today.
She nodded. Took the change. Wiped her palms on her dupatta.
And on the way back…
Her fingers pressed slightly harder against the cloth bag.
Because she knew—
That man’s eyes would be there again.
And they were.
This time, he stood a little straighter.
His eyes didn't blink.
And Pavitra…
She didn’t stop walking.
Didn’t frown.
Didn’t cover herself.
She walked straight past him.
And let him see her back.
The curve of her hips. The fall of her dupatta. The quiet rhythm of a woman who had nothing to prove… but something starting to burn.
Her Mind – Me:
He looked.
He doesn’t deserve to.
But still…
He looked.
And part of me…
Let him.
It had turned that soft gold colour—where everything on the floor looks warmer than it is. The TV was on. One boy was crying because the other had taken his pencil box. She handed him a Marie biscuit without saying a word.
Kartik had sent a message. “Stuck in call. Eat without me if late.”
She wiped her hands and tied her hair into a loose plait. Checked the fridge.
Two tomatoes. One shrivelled. No onions. No coriander.
The cloth bag was still hanging on the hook near the back door.
She changed into a churidhar. No make-up. No kajal. Just a small red bindi.
Dupatta folded and pinned on one shoulder—not even around the chest fully. She didn’t care.
But the moment she stepped into her slippers…
She remembered Arjun.
Her Mind – Me:
Saturday is two days away. That’s it.
One boy is coming to stay. Kartik’s own thambi.
So why am I feeling like I have to change how I walk in my own house?
She shut the door gently. The corridor was quiet. Only the sound of vessels from upstairs. Maybe someone cooking fish.
The lift was slow. She didn’t wait.
Took the stairs.
As she walked down past the second floor, her hand touched the railing by habit.
It was warm from sunlight.
By the time she reached the lobby, her steps had settled. Mind slightly quieter.
But when she neared the main gate…
She felt it.
Eyes.
Not imagined.
Watched.
The new security guy was standing beside the stool, drinking tea from a paper cup.
Tall. Maybe North Indian. Wheatish. Slim but not skinny. Blue shirt tucked too neatly.
She had noticed him once or twice. That’s all.
But today?
Today, he noticed her.
Head to toe.
Not once.
Twice.
And the second time, his eyes stayed on her chest longer than a second.
Her Mind – Me:
Cheap fellow.
Look somewhere else.
She didn’t look at him directly. Just walked.
But her spine straightened.
Her chin lifted slightly.
And her thighs?
They tightened. Almost on their own.
Outside, the street had that usual mix of scooter horns, boys playing near the transformer box, and the smell of fried snacks from the shop.
She walked with her head still high.
Not proud.
Just… aware.
The grocer gave her a smile. Usual rate. No coriander today.
She nodded. Took the change. Wiped her palms on her dupatta.
And on the way back…
Her fingers pressed slightly harder against the cloth bag.
Because she knew—
That man’s eyes would be there again.
And they were.
This time, he stood a little straighter.
His eyes didn't blink.
And Pavitra…
She didn’t stop walking.
Didn’t frown.
Didn’t cover herself.
She walked straight past him.
And let him see her back.
The curve of her hips. The fall of her dupatta. The quiet rhythm of a woman who had nothing to prove… but something starting to burn.
Her Mind – Me:
He looked.
He doesn’t deserve to.
But still…
He looked.
And part of me…
Let him.
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