08-02-2026, 03:27 PM
Phone-Call
The next afternoon, the house was unusually quiet. Papa had left early for office, citing back-to-back meetings. Chacha had gone to the nearby market to pick up some hardware items for a leaking tap.
She sat on the living-room sofa, legs tucked under her, a cup of half-drunk chai gone cold in her hand. Her phone buzzed once—then twice.
It was Kavita—her college best friend, They hadn’t spoken properly in weeks. Maa hesitated, thumb hovering over the green button, then answered on speaker and placed the phone on the cushion beside her.
“Kahan gayab ho gayi thi tu?” Kavita’s voice burst through, warm and slightly accusing, the same tone she’d used when they were twenty and skipping lectures together.
Maa gave a small, tired laugh. “Bas… ghar ki duniya mein ulajh gayi thi.”
“Arre, itni serious awaaz? Kya hua? Beta college mein koi problem? Ya phir… pati devta ne phir se naraaz kar diya?”
Maa exhaled through her nose, a sound that was half sigh, half chuckle. “Pati devta toh ab do ho gaye hain, Kavi. Kaun naraaz karega, kaun manayega—yeh confusion hi problem hai.”
There was a stunned three-second silence on the other end.
Then Kavita burst out laughing—so loud Maa had to pull the phone away from her ear for a second.
“Arre yaar! Do pati? Tu toh full-on rani ban gayi! Ek se kaam nahi chala, do le aayi? Wah re, modern Draupadi ban gayi!”
Maa smiled despite herself, the sound of Kavita’s unrestrained laughter loosening something tight in her chest. “Haan… Draupadi toh badi thi, par uske paanch pati the. Main toh abhi sirf do pe atki hoon. Kam hai na?”
Kavita snorted. “Kam? Bas shuruat hai! Agla number teen ka hai kya? Ya phir Taau ji bhi line mein lag gaye hain?”
Maa’s laugh came out sharper this time. “Arre pagal! Taau toh bas… nazar laga rahe hain. Haath nahi lagaate. Par haan, unki nazar itni garam hai ki ghar ka temperature badh jaata hai.”
“Hayee!” Kavita squealed dramatically. “Toh scene yeh hai—ek taraf husband number one guilty aur needy, doosri taraf devar ji full-on devoted lover mode mein, aur teesri taraf bada bhai sahab chupke-chupke muth maar rahe hain corridor mein? Shalu, yeh toh pura porn plot ban gaya hai!”
Maa covered her face with one hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Kavita! Tu bilkul nahi sudhregi. Porn plot nahi… yeh zindagi ka bojh hai.”
The laughter on the other end slowly faded. Kavita’s voice softened, losing its teasing edge. “Achha… ab serious. Sach bata. Dil se dil tak. Yeh sab… tujhe achha lag raha hai? Ya andar se kuch toot raha hai?”
Maa stared at the opposite wall, at the framed photo of her wedding day—younger versions of her and Papa smiling shyly at the camera. She traced the edge of the phone with her thumb.
“Pehle toh bohot gussa tha. Bahut hurt hui thi. Jaise… jaise main koi samaan hoon jo transfer ho gaya. Par ab…” She paused, searching for the right words. “Ab control mere haath mein hai, Kavi. Main decide karti hoon kab, kaise, kis ke saath. Kab chahiye, kab nahi. Kab dono ko saath leti hoon, kab dono ko akela chhod deti hoon. Woh dono… mere liye tadapte hain. Aur main… main us tadap ko enjoy kar rahi hoon.”
Kavita was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, the playfulness was gone.
“… yeh power hai ya zeher?”
Maa’s throat tightened. She swallowed.
“Dono. Kabhi lagta hai main apne aap ko reclaim kar rahi hoon—woh jo cheen liya gaya tha. Kabhi lagta hai main badla le rahi hoon. Aur kabhi… kabhi lagta hai main khud ko hi kho rahi hoon is khel mein. Kal raat maine dono ko bilkul ignore kar diya. Na touch, na baat, na kuch. Bas beech mein leti rahi. Unke saanso ki awaaz sunti rahi. Aur mujhe… achha laga. Unka wait karna achha laga.”
Another long silence.
“Tu thak gayi hai na?” Kavita asked softly.
Maa’s eyes stung. She blinked rapidly. “Haan. Bahut. Par ruk nahi sakti. Agar ruk gayi toh phir wapas wohi feeling aayegi—ki main kisi ki property hoon. Isliye main… chalati rahi hoon yeh game.”
Kavita sighed. “Dekh… main judge nahi kar rahi. Teri zindagi, tera faisla. Par ek baat bolun? Jo power tu feel kar rahi hai—woh tab tak sachchi rahegi jab tak tu khud ko kho na de. Ek din yeh game tujhe hi kha jaayega. Tab tu kya karegi?”
Maa didn’t answer immediately. She looked down at her hands—bangles still jingling faintly, henna from last year’s Diwali almost gone.
“Pata nahi,” she whispered finally. “Par abhi… abhi toh main ruk nahi sakti.”
Kavita’s voice turned gentle. “Theek hai. Jab bhi rukna ho, jab bhi baat karni ho—phone utha lena. Din raat kuch bhi ho. Main yahin hoon.”
Maa smiled through the ache in her throat. “Pata hai. Tu nahi hoti toh main pagal ho jaati.”
“Pagal toh tu waise bhi hai,” Kavita teased lightly, trying to bring the mood back. “Do pati sambhalne wali rani. Ab bas ek baat bol—jab teesra number aayega, mujhe pehle batana. Main gift bhej dungi!”
Maa laughed—real this time, soft and tired. “Pagalpan band kar. Abhi do hi bohot hain.”
They talked for another ten minutes—lighter things, gossip about old classmates, Kavita’s new job, her husband’s latest cooking disaster. Normal friend talk.
When the call ended, Maa sat there holding the phone for a long time.
The house was still empty.
She set the phone down, stood up, and walked to the mirror in the hallway. Looked at her own reflection—46 years old, lines around the eyes that hadn’t been there ten years ago, but the same fire in them that used to scare boys in college.
She touched her own cheek.
“Kitna badal gayi hoon,” she murmured to herself.
Then she straightened her pallu, took a deep breath, and walked back into the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.
The game would continue.
The next afternoon, the house was unusually quiet. Papa had left early for office, citing back-to-back meetings. Chacha had gone to the nearby market to pick up some hardware items for a leaking tap.
She sat on the living-room sofa, legs tucked under her, a cup of half-drunk chai gone cold in her hand. Her phone buzzed once—then twice.
It was Kavita—her college best friend, They hadn’t spoken properly in weeks. Maa hesitated, thumb hovering over the green button, then answered on speaker and placed the phone on the cushion beside her.
“Kahan gayab ho gayi thi tu?” Kavita’s voice burst through, warm and slightly accusing, the same tone she’d used when they were twenty and skipping lectures together.
Maa gave a small, tired laugh. “Bas… ghar ki duniya mein ulajh gayi thi.”
“Arre, itni serious awaaz? Kya hua? Beta college mein koi problem? Ya phir… pati devta ne phir se naraaz kar diya?”
Maa exhaled through her nose, a sound that was half sigh, half chuckle. “Pati devta toh ab do ho gaye hain, Kavi. Kaun naraaz karega, kaun manayega—yeh confusion hi problem hai.”
There was a stunned three-second silence on the other end.
Then Kavita burst out laughing—so loud Maa had to pull the phone away from her ear for a second.
“Arre yaar! Do pati? Tu toh full-on rani ban gayi! Ek se kaam nahi chala, do le aayi? Wah re, modern Draupadi ban gayi!”
Maa smiled despite herself, the sound of Kavita’s unrestrained laughter loosening something tight in her chest. “Haan… Draupadi toh badi thi, par uske paanch pati the. Main toh abhi sirf do pe atki hoon. Kam hai na?”
Kavita snorted. “Kam? Bas shuruat hai! Agla number teen ka hai kya? Ya phir Taau ji bhi line mein lag gaye hain?”
Maa’s laugh came out sharper this time. “Arre pagal! Taau toh bas… nazar laga rahe hain. Haath nahi lagaate. Par haan, unki nazar itni garam hai ki ghar ka temperature badh jaata hai.”
“Hayee!” Kavita squealed dramatically. “Toh scene yeh hai—ek taraf husband number one guilty aur needy, doosri taraf devar ji full-on devoted lover mode mein, aur teesri taraf bada bhai sahab chupke-chupke muth maar rahe hain corridor mein? Shalu, yeh toh pura porn plot ban gaya hai!”
Maa covered her face with one hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Kavita! Tu bilkul nahi sudhregi. Porn plot nahi… yeh zindagi ka bojh hai.”
The laughter on the other end slowly faded. Kavita’s voice softened, losing its teasing edge. “Achha… ab serious. Sach bata. Dil se dil tak. Yeh sab… tujhe achha lag raha hai? Ya andar se kuch toot raha hai?”
Maa stared at the opposite wall, at the framed photo of her wedding day—younger versions of her and Papa smiling shyly at the camera. She traced the edge of the phone with her thumb.
“Pehle toh bohot gussa tha. Bahut hurt hui thi. Jaise… jaise main koi samaan hoon jo transfer ho gaya. Par ab…” She paused, searching for the right words. “Ab control mere haath mein hai, Kavi. Main decide karti hoon kab, kaise, kis ke saath. Kab chahiye, kab nahi. Kab dono ko saath leti hoon, kab dono ko akela chhod deti hoon. Woh dono… mere liye tadapte hain. Aur main… main us tadap ko enjoy kar rahi hoon.”
Kavita was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, the playfulness was gone.
“… yeh power hai ya zeher?”
Maa’s throat tightened. She swallowed.
“Dono. Kabhi lagta hai main apne aap ko reclaim kar rahi hoon—woh jo cheen liya gaya tha. Kabhi lagta hai main badla le rahi hoon. Aur kabhi… kabhi lagta hai main khud ko hi kho rahi hoon is khel mein. Kal raat maine dono ko bilkul ignore kar diya. Na touch, na baat, na kuch. Bas beech mein leti rahi. Unke saanso ki awaaz sunti rahi. Aur mujhe… achha laga. Unka wait karna achha laga.”
Another long silence.
“Tu thak gayi hai na?” Kavita asked softly.
Maa’s eyes stung. She blinked rapidly. “Haan. Bahut. Par ruk nahi sakti. Agar ruk gayi toh phir wapas wohi feeling aayegi—ki main kisi ki property hoon. Isliye main… chalati rahi hoon yeh game.”
Kavita sighed. “Dekh… main judge nahi kar rahi. Teri zindagi, tera faisla. Par ek baat bolun? Jo power tu feel kar rahi hai—woh tab tak sachchi rahegi jab tak tu khud ko kho na de. Ek din yeh game tujhe hi kha jaayega. Tab tu kya karegi?”
Maa didn’t answer immediately. She looked down at her hands—bangles still jingling faintly, henna from last year’s Diwali almost gone.
“Pata nahi,” she whispered finally. “Par abhi… abhi toh main ruk nahi sakti.”
Kavita’s voice turned gentle. “Theek hai. Jab bhi rukna ho, jab bhi baat karni ho—phone utha lena. Din raat kuch bhi ho. Main yahin hoon.”
Maa smiled through the ache in her throat. “Pata hai. Tu nahi hoti toh main pagal ho jaati.”
“Pagal toh tu waise bhi hai,” Kavita teased lightly, trying to bring the mood back. “Do pati sambhalne wali rani. Ab bas ek baat bol—jab teesra number aayega, mujhe pehle batana. Main gift bhej dungi!”
Maa laughed—real this time, soft and tired. “Pagalpan band kar. Abhi do hi bohot hain.”
They talked for another ten minutes—lighter things, gossip about old classmates, Kavita’s new job, her husband’s latest cooking disaster. Normal friend talk.
When the call ended, Maa sat there holding the phone for a long time.
The house was still empty.
She set the phone down, stood up, and walked to the mirror in the hallway. Looked at her own reflection—46 years old, lines around the eyes that hadn’t been there ten years ago, but the same fire in them that used to scare boys in college.
She touched her own cheek.
“Kitna badal gayi hoon,” she murmured to herself.
Then she straightened her pallu, took a deep breath, and walked back into the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.
The game would continue.
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