04-06-2026, 07:43 PM
Chapter 2: The Tightening Grip
The first few days in Arvind Malhotra’s house passed quietly.
Not happily.
Just quietly.
Simran slowly learned the rhythm of the big house. Morning tea at seven. Breakfast by eight. Lunch preparation before noon. Evening tea at five. Dinner before nine.
The kitchen was large and clean, with steel containers lined in perfect rows and glass jars full of spices she did not know by name. At first, she moved around like a guest who was afraid to touch anything.
She asked small questions in a soft voice.
“Sir, yeh kaunsa masala hai?”
[Sir, which spice is this?]
“Chawal kitne banane hain?”
[How much rice should I cook?]
“Tea strong chahiye ya light?”
[Do you want strong tea or light tea?]
Arvind always answered calmly.
“Relax, Simran. Dheere-dheere seekh jaogi.”
[Relax, Simran. You will learn slowly.]
His voice was gentle, and because Simran had never lived away from home before, gentleness still looked like safety to her.
She was shy in the beginning. She kept her dupatta close, lowered her eyes when Billa passed near the back door, and smiled nervously whenever she made a small mistake. Once, the pressure cooker whistled loudly and she jumped back, almost dropping the spoon.
Billa laughed from the garden door.
“Arre madam ji, cooker se bhi darr lagta hai?”
[Madam, are you scared of even the pressure cooker?]
Simran gave a small embarrassed smile.
“Pehli baar itna bada kitchen sambhal rahi hoon.”
[I am handling such a big kitchen for the first time.]
Billa kept looking at her for a moment.
She lowered her face and returned to the stove.
Ravi left every morning to find work.
Sometimes he got one day of labour. Sometimes he got two. But every time, he came back with the same ending.
One shop owner said he was too slow.
One delivery man said he did not know the roads.
One contractor said he asked too many questions.
Another man told him, “Kaam se zyada tumhe samjhane mein time lagta hai.”
[It takes more time to explain the work to you than to get the work done.]
Ravi tried, but he always tried in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong confidence.
By evening, he returned tired, dusty, and smaller than he had been in the morning.
And slowly, Billa became his evening friend.
Not by chance.
By design.
Ten Days Later
Ten days passed.
Simran had begun to adjust to the house. She still moved softly, still asked before touching new things, still became nervous if Arvind’s relatives came without warning.
But now she knew where the rice was kept. She knew how Arvind liked his tea. She knew which cup was for guests and which plate was not to be used daily.
Small things.
Safe things.
Things that made her feel she was learning.
Ravi kept leaving in the morning and returning in the evening. Sometimes with money. Mostly with excuses. And recently, more often with the smell of cheap alcohol.
Billa had started buying him drinks after work.
“Thoda pee le, dimag halka ho jayega.”
[Drink a little, your mind will feel lighter.]
Ravi resisted at first.
Then less.
Then not at all.
Arvind wanted Simran to slowly depend on him for every small need.
That was enough for Billa to understand what had to be done.
The Cream Suit
Simran had only two Punjabi suits.
One cream.
One red.
She washed them by hand behind the outside room and hung them on a rope near the wall. Every night, she washed one and wore the other the next day.
The cream suit was her favorite. It made her look softer, almost peaceful. The red one was brighter, and she felt shy wearing it too often in the big house.
One afternoon, while Simran was busy making lunch, the cream suit was drying behind the room.
Billa walked past it once.
Then again.
The third time, he stopped.
He looked toward the kitchen window.
Simran was inside.
Ravi was out.
Arvind was nowhere near the back side of the house.
Billa pulled a small bottle from his pocket and tilted it over the hanging cloth.
A few drops fell.
Dark blue.
Almost black.
The stain spread into the cream fabric slowly, ugly and stubborn.
Billa stepped back, wiped his hand on his trousers, and walked away like nothing had happened.
By evening, Simran came to take the suit down.
Her face changed.
She held the cloth close to her eyes.
Then she rubbed the mark with water.
Nothing.
She used soap.
Still nothing.
She scrubbed harder until her fingers turned red.
The stain stayed.
Her lips pressed together. Her eyes became wet, but she did not cry.
She kept rubbing.
When Ravi came back, he smelled of alcohol again.
Simran stood near the small bathroom, holding the wet suit.
“Ravi, dekho na… yeh daag nikal hi nahi raha.”
[Ravi, look… this stain is not coming out.]
Ravi looked at the cloth with sleepy eyes.
“Kya gir gaya?”
[What fell on it?]
“Mujhe nahi pata. Maine toh yahin sukhaya tha.”
[I don’t know. I dried it right here.]
“Toh kal red wala pehen lena.”
[Then wear the red one tomorrow.]
Simran looked down at the stained fabric.
“Par red wala roz kaise pehnu? Aur yeh cream wala kharab ho gaya toh mere paas kuch nahi bachega.”
[But how can I wear the red one every day? And if this cream one is ruined, I won’t have anything left.]
Ravi sat on the bed and removed his shoes slowly.
“Main kal kuch karta hoon.”
[I will do something tomorrow.]
Simran looked at him with a soft, tired hope.
“Sach?”
[Really?]
“Haan, haan. Tum tension mat lo.”
[Yes, yes. Don’t worry.]
He lay down.
Within minutes, his breathing became heavy.
Simran stood there for a while, still holding the wet suit.
The bulb above her flickered once.
She looked at Ravi, then at the stain, then quietly hung the suit again.
The Next Morning
In the morning, Ravi left early.
He said he would find proper work today.
Simran wanted to ask about the suit, but he was already outside before she could finish tying her dupatta.
She wore the cream suit again because she had no choice.
The stain sat near the lower side of the kameez, dark and ugly. She tried to fold her dupatta in a way that covered it, but the cloth kept slipping while she worked.
In the kitchen, she moved carefully.
More carefully than usual.
She kept checking the mark.
When Arvind entered, she quickly straightened.
“Good morning, sir,” she said softly.
Arvind looked at the suit for a second.
“Simran, yeh suit pe daag hai?”
[Simran, is that a stain on your suit?]
Her face became warm.
“Ji sir… nikal nahi raha.”
[Yes, sir… it is not coming out.]
“Guests aate rehte hain ghar mein. Aise kapdon mein kaam karna theek nahi lagta.”
[Guests keep coming to the house. Working in clothes like this does not look proper.]
Simran lowered her eyes.
“Ji sir… main dhone ki koshish kar rahi thi.”
[Yes, sir… I was trying to wash it.]
“Try se nahi hoga.”
[Trying will not be enough.]
She held the edge of her dupatta in both hands.
“Sir… agar thoda advance mil jaye toh main ek suit le aaungi.”
[Sir… if I get a small advance, I will buy one suit.]
Arvind’s voice stayed soft.
“Advance ki zarurat nahi. Isse uniform samjho. Main le chalta hoon, payment main kar dunga.”
[No need for advance. Think of it as a uniform. I will take you, I will pay.]
Simran became unsure.
“Sir, main khud le aaungi.”
[Sir, I will buy it myself.]
“Delhi mein naye ho. Galat jagah paise waste ho jayenge.”
[You are new in Delhi. Your money will get wasted in the wrong place.]
She looked toward the back door, as if Ravi might appear and say something.
But Ravi was not there.
She gave a small nod.
“Ji… agar uniform ke liye hai toh theek hai.”
[Yes… if it is for uniform, then okay.]
“Good,” Arvind said.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not force her.
That was his way.
The rope tightened without sounding like a rope.
Billa And Ravi
That evening, before taking Simran to the shop, Arvind called Billa near the driveway.
“Ravi ko shaam tak bahar rakho.”
[Keep Ravi outside till evening.]
Billa smiled.
“Kaam dilaun ya glass?”
[Should I get him work or a glass?]
Arvind looked at him.
“Jo zyada asar kare.”
[Whatever works better.]
Billa laughed under his breath.
“Samajh gaya, sir.”
[I understand, sir.]
A few lanes away, Ravi was already sitting with him near a cheap drinking place.
Billa pushed a glass toward him.
“Pee le. Kaam ka tension kam hoga.”
[Drink. Your work tension will reduce.]
Ravi looked at the glass.
“Nahi, Simran ko achha nahi lagta.”
[No, Simran doesn’t like it.]
“Arre, tu aadmi hai ya bachcha?”
[Are you a man or a child?]
Ravi’s face tightened.
That one line was enough.
He picked up the glass.
Billa smiled.
The Shop
In the afternoon, Arvind took Simran to a clothing shop in the market.
The shop was not like the cheap stalls near the station. It had glass doors, bright lights, folded fabrics, mannequins, and salesmen who smiled before asking what you could afford.
Simran stepped inside slowly.
She had never been in such a shop before.
Her hands automatically moved to her dupatta.
The shopkeeper recognized Arvind immediately.
“Namaste, Malhotra ji.”
[Greetings, Mr. Malhotra.]
Arvind nodded.
“This is Simran. Ghar ke kaam ke liye suits chahiye. Decent, simple, light colors.”
[This is Simran. She needs suits for house work. Decent, simple, light colors.]
The shopkeeper looked at Simran.
“Madam, aapko kaunsa color pasand hai?”
[Madam, what color do you like?]
Simran looked surprised that someone was asking her choice.
She glanced at Arvind, then at the folded fabrics.
“White… aur baby pink,” she said softly.
[White… and baby pink.]
The shopkeeper pulled out white, baby pink, cream, and soft peach fabrics.
Simran touched the white cloth with two fingers, then pulled her hand back as if it was too expensive to touch.
“Yeh achha hai?” she asked quietly.
[Is this nice?]
Arvind smiled.
“Tumhe pasand hai toh achha hai.”
[If you like it, then it is nice.]
She gave a small shy smile.
For a moment, she almost felt normal.
Just a girl choosing clothes.
Not a woman being pushed deeper into someone else’s plan.
The shopkeeper said, “Measurement lena padega. Ladies tailor upar hai.”
[We need to take measurements. The ladies’ tailor is upstairs.]
Simran looked nervous.
“Upar?”
[Upstairs?]
“Ladies staff hai,” the shopkeeper said.
[There is female staff.]
Arvind spoke gently.
“Jao, normal process hai.”
[Go, it is a normal process.]
Simran nodded and followed a female staff member upstairs.
Her steps were slow.
She kept holding her dupatta like it was the last familiar thing she owned.
Downstairs
As soon as Simran went upstairs, Arvind’s face became still.
He turned to the shopkeeper and spoke in a low voice.
“Kapda halka rakhna. Soft material. Light colors. Fitting simple mat banana.”
[Keep the fabric light. Soft material. Light colors. Don’t make the fitting too plain.]
The shopkeeper looked at him carefully.
“Samajh gaya, sir.”
[I understand, sir.]
“Jo woh choose karegi, final mein thoda change kar dena. Usko pata nahi chalega.”
[Whatever she chooses, make a slight change in the final version. She won’t know.]
The shopkeeper nodded.
Arvind placed folded notes on the counter.
“Delivery kal subah mere ghar.”
[Delivery tomorrow morning at my house.]
The shopkeeper quietly moved the notes away.
“Ho jayega.”
[It will be done.]
Simran Returns
After some time, Simran came downstairs.
Her face was a little flushed from embarrassment. She stood near the counter and kept her dupatta close.
The shopkeeper smiled professionally.
“Madam, two suits final? White and baby pink?”
[Madam, two suits final? White and baby pink?]
Simran nodded.
“Ji.”
[Yes.]
Arvind looked at the fabrics.
“Ek extra bhi add kar do. Light color. Backup ke liye.”
[Add one extra too. Light color. For backup.]
Simran looked at him quickly.
“Sir, do kaafi hain.”
[Sir, two are enough.]
“Uniform hai. Ghar ke kaam mein kapde jaldi kharab hote hain.”
[It is uniform. Clothes get ruined quickly in house work.]
She did not argue.
She did not know how.
Then Arvind added, still speaking like it was ordinary, “Aur basic innerwear bhi add kar do. Work clothes ke saath zarurat padegi.”
[And add basic innerwear too. It will be needed with work clothes.]
Simran’s eyes widened.
Her face turned hot.
“Sir…” she said very softly.
The shopkeeper called a female staff member.
“Madam, aap inko size bata dijiye.”
[Madam, you can tell her the size.]
Simran stood frozen for a moment.
Nobody shouted.
Nobody touched her.
Nobody made it look wrong.
That made it harder for her to say no.
She leaned slightly toward the female staff member and whispered 32b.
The staff member wrote it down.
Simran’s eyes stayed on the floor.
Arvind looked at the bill.
“Deliver tomorrow morning,” he said.
The shopkeeper nodded.
“Ji, Malhotra ji.”
[Yes, Mr. Malhotra.]
Simran followed Arvind out of the shop.
The market was loud, but she felt quiet inside.
She could not explain why she felt embarrassed.
She could not explain why a simple shopping trip felt heavy.
She only knew that she wanted to go back to the outside room and close the door.
Back At The House
When they returned, Billa was standing near the gate.
His eyes went to the receipt in Arvind’s hand.
Then to Simran.
Then he smiled.
“Shopping ho gayi, madam ji?”
[Shopping done, madam?]
Simran gave a small nod and walked past him.
She did not look at his face.
In the kitchen, she started preparing dinner.
Her hands moved slowly.
The cream suit still had the stain.
The red suit was hanging behind the room.
The new clothes would arrive tomorrow.
Ravi came back late again.
He looked tired and loose, with dust on his shoes and alcohol in his breath.
Simran stood near the stove.
“Ravi, aaj sir mujhe suit lene le gaye the.”
[Ravi, today sir took me to buy suits.]
Ravi sat down on the small chair near the door.
“Achha kiya. Tumhe zarurat thi.”
[Good. You needed them.]
She waited for him to ask more.
He did not.
“Payment unhone ki.”
[He paid for them.]
Ravi rubbed his forehead.
“Phir theek hai na. Woh help kar rahe hain.”
[Then it is fine. He is helping.]
Simran looked at him.
Her mouth opened a little, like she wanted to say something.
But no words came.
Ravi had already closed the matter.
Like always.
A decision was made.
A cost would come later.
And Simran would be the one standing when it arrived.
That night, while Ravi slept, Simran sat on the edge of the bed and folded the stained cream suit carefully.
She did not know why she folded it.
It was ruined.
Still, she folded it with care.
Outside, the big house was silent.
Inside the main building, Arvind sat in his study, making a phone call.
Near the garden, Billa smoked in the dark and waited for whatever came next.
And in the small outside room, Simran held the ruined suit in her lap, feeling something tighten around her life.
Not suddenly.
Not loudly.
Slowly.
Like a grip that wanted her to get used to it before she realized it was there.
The first few days in Arvind Malhotra’s house passed quietly.
Not happily.
Just quietly.
Simran slowly learned the rhythm of the big house. Morning tea at seven. Breakfast by eight. Lunch preparation before noon. Evening tea at five. Dinner before nine.
The kitchen was large and clean, with steel containers lined in perfect rows and glass jars full of spices she did not know by name. At first, she moved around like a guest who was afraid to touch anything.
She asked small questions in a soft voice.
“Sir, yeh kaunsa masala hai?”
[Sir, which spice is this?]
“Chawal kitne banane hain?”
[How much rice should I cook?]
“Tea strong chahiye ya light?”
[Do you want strong tea or light tea?]
Arvind always answered calmly.
“Relax, Simran. Dheere-dheere seekh jaogi.”
[Relax, Simran. You will learn slowly.]
His voice was gentle, and because Simran had never lived away from home before, gentleness still looked like safety to her.
She was shy in the beginning. She kept her dupatta close, lowered her eyes when Billa passed near the back door, and smiled nervously whenever she made a small mistake. Once, the pressure cooker whistled loudly and she jumped back, almost dropping the spoon.
Billa laughed from the garden door.
“Arre madam ji, cooker se bhi darr lagta hai?”
[Madam, are you scared of even the pressure cooker?]
Simran gave a small embarrassed smile.
“Pehli baar itna bada kitchen sambhal rahi hoon.”
[I am handling such a big kitchen for the first time.]
Billa kept looking at her for a moment.
She lowered her face and returned to the stove.
Ravi left every morning to find work.
Sometimes he got one day of labour. Sometimes he got two. But every time, he came back with the same ending.
One shop owner said he was too slow.
One delivery man said he did not know the roads.
One contractor said he asked too many questions.
Another man told him, “Kaam se zyada tumhe samjhane mein time lagta hai.”
[It takes more time to explain the work to you than to get the work done.]
Ravi tried, but he always tried in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong confidence.
By evening, he returned tired, dusty, and smaller than he had been in the morning.
And slowly, Billa became his evening friend.
Not by chance.
By design.
Ten Days Later
Ten days passed.
Simran had begun to adjust to the house. She still moved softly, still asked before touching new things, still became nervous if Arvind’s relatives came without warning.
But now she knew where the rice was kept. She knew how Arvind liked his tea. She knew which cup was for guests and which plate was not to be used daily.
Small things.
Safe things.
Things that made her feel she was learning.
Ravi kept leaving in the morning and returning in the evening. Sometimes with money. Mostly with excuses. And recently, more often with the smell of cheap alcohol.
Billa had started buying him drinks after work.
“Thoda pee le, dimag halka ho jayega.”
[Drink a little, your mind will feel lighter.]
Ravi resisted at first.
Then less.
Then not at all.
Arvind wanted Simran to slowly depend on him for every small need.
That was enough for Billa to understand what had to be done.
The Cream Suit
Simran had only two Punjabi suits.
One cream.
One red.
She washed them by hand behind the outside room and hung them on a rope near the wall. Every night, she washed one and wore the other the next day.
The cream suit was her favorite. It made her look softer, almost peaceful. The red one was brighter, and she felt shy wearing it too often in the big house.
One afternoon, while Simran was busy making lunch, the cream suit was drying behind the room.
Billa walked past it once.
Then again.
The third time, he stopped.
He looked toward the kitchen window.
Simran was inside.
Ravi was out.
Arvind was nowhere near the back side of the house.
Billa pulled a small bottle from his pocket and tilted it over the hanging cloth.
A few drops fell.
Dark blue.
Almost black.
The stain spread into the cream fabric slowly, ugly and stubborn.
Billa stepped back, wiped his hand on his trousers, and walked away like nothing had happened.
By evening, Simran came to take the suit down.
Her face changed.
She held the cloth close to her eyes.
Then she rubbed the mark with water.
Nothing.
She used soap.
Still nothing.
She scrubbed harder until her fingers turned red.
The stain stayed.
Her lips pressed together. Her eyes became wet, but she did not cry.
She kept rubbing.
When Ravi came back, he smelled of alcohol again.
Simran stood near the small bathroom, holding the wet suit.
“Ravi, dekho na… yeh daag nikal hi nahi raha.”
[Ravi, look… this stain is not coming out.]
Ravi looked at the cloth with sleepy eyes.
“Kya gir gaya?”
[What fell on it?]
“Mujhe nahi pata. Maine toh yahin sukhaya tha.”
[I don’t know. I dried it right here.]
“Toh kal red wala pehen lena.”
[Then wear the red one tomorrow.]
Simran looked down at the stained fabric.
“Par red wala roz kaise pehnu? Aur yeh cream wala kharab ho gaya toh mere paas kuch nahi bachega.”
[But how can I wear the red one every day? And if this cream one is ruined, I won’t have anything left.]
Ravi sat on the bed and removed his shoes slowly.
“Main kal kuch karta hoon.”
[I will do something tomorrow.]
Simran looked at him with a soft, tired hope.
“Sach?”
[Really?]
“Haan, haan. Tum tension mat lo.”
[Yes, yes. Don’t worry.]
He lay down.
Within minutes, his breathing became heavy.
Simran stood there for a while, still holding the wet suit.
The bulb above her flickered once.
She looked at Ravi, then at the stain, then quietly hung the suit again.
The Next Morning
In the morning, Ravi left early.
He said he would find proper work today.
Simran wanted to ask about the suit, but he was already outside before she could finish tying her dupatta.
She wore the cream suit again because she had no choice.
The stain sat near the lower side of the kameez, dark and ugly. She tried to fold her dupatta in a way that covered it, but the cloth kept slipping while she worked.
In the kitchen, she moved carefully.
More carefully than usual.
She kept checking the mark.
When Arvind entered, she quickly straightened.
“Good morning, sir,” she said softly.
Arvind looked at the suit for a second.
“Simran, yeh suit pe daag hai?”
[Simran, is that a stain on your suit?]
Her face became warm.
“Ji sir… nikal nahi raha.”
[Yes, sir… it is not coming out.]
“Guests aate rehte hain ghar mein. Aise kapdon mein kaam karna theek nahi lagta.”
[Guests keep coming to the house. Working in clothes like this does not look proper.]
Simran lowered her eyes.
“Ji sir… main dhone ki koshish kar rahi thi.”
[Yes, sir… I was trying to wash it.]
“Try se nahi hoga.”
[Trying will not be enough.]
She held the edge of her dupatta in both hands.
“Sir… agar thoda advance mil jaye toh main ek suit le aaungi.”
[Sir… if I get a small advance, I will buy one suit.]
Arvind’s voice stayed soft.
“Advance ki zarurat nahi. Isse uniform samjho. Main le chalta hoon, payment main kar dunga.”
[No need for advance. Think of it as a uniform. I will take you, I will pay.]
Simran became unsure.
“Sir, main khud le aaungi.”
[Sir, I will buy it myself.]
“Delhi mein naye ho. Galat jagah paise waste ho jayenge.”
[You are new in Delhi. Your money will get wasted in the wrong place.]
She looked toward the back door, as if Ravi might appear and say something.
But Ravi was not there.
She gave a small nod.
“Ji… agar uniform ke liye hai toh theek hai.”
[Yes… if it is for uniform, then okay.]
“Good,” Arvind said.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not force her.
That was his way.
The rope tightened without sounding like a rope.
Billa And Ravi
That evening, before taking Simran to the shop, Arvind called Billa near the driveway.
“Ravi ko shaam tak bahar rakho.”
[Keep Ravi outside till evening.]
Billa smiled.
“Kaam dilaun ya glass?”
[Should I get him work or a glass?]
Arvind looked at him.
“Jo zyada asar kare.”
[Whatever works better.]
Billa laughed under his breath.
“Samajh gaya, sir.”
[I understand, sir.]
A few lanes away, Ravi was already sitting with him near a cheap drinking place.
Billa pushed a glass toward him.
“Pee le. Kaam ka tension kam hoga.”
[Drink. Your work tension will reduce.]
Ravi looked at the glass.
“Nahi, Simran ko achha nahi lagta.”
[No, Simran doesn’t like it.]
“Arre, tu aadmi hai ya bachcha?”
[Are you a man or a child?]
Ravi’s face tightened.
That one line was enough.
He picked up the glass.
Billa smiled.
The Shop
In the afternoon, Arvind took Simran to a clothing shop in the market.
The shop was not like the cheap stalls near the station. It had glass doors, bright lights, folded fabrics, mannequins, and salesmen who smiled before asking what you could afford.
Simran stepped inside slowly.
She had never been in such a shop before.
Her hands automatically moved to her dupatta.
The shopkeeper recognized Arvind immediately.
“Namaste, Malhotra ji.”
[Greetings, Mr. Malhotra.]
Arvind nodded.
“This is Simran. Ghar ke kaam ke liye suits chahiye. Decent, simple, light colors.”
[This is Simran. She needs suits for house work. Decent, simple, light colors.]
The shopkeeper looked at Simran.
“Madam, aapko kaunsa color pasand hai?”
[Madam, what color do you like?]
Simran looked surprised that someone was asking her choice.
She glanced at Arvind, then at the folded fabrics.
“White… aur baby pink,” she said softly.
[White… and baby pink.]
The shopkeeper pulled out white, baby pink, cream, and soft peach fabrics.
Simran touched the white cloth with two fingers, then pulled her hand back as if it was too expensive to touch.
“Yeh achha hai?” she asked quietly.
[Is this nice?]
Arvind smiled.
“Tumhe pasand hai toh achha hai.”
[If you like it, then it is nice.]
She gave a small shy smile.
For a moment, she almost felt normal.
Just a girl choosing clothes.
Not a woman being pushed deeper into someone else’s plan.
The shopkeeper said, “Measurement lena padega. Ladies tailor upar hai.”
[We need to take measurements. The ladies’ tailor is upstairs.]
Simran looked nervous.
“Upar?”
[Upstairs?]
“Ladies staff hai,” the shopkeeper said.
[There is female staff.]
Arvind spoke gently.
“Jao, normal process hai.”
[Go, it is a normal process.]
Simran nodded and followed a female staff member upstairs.
Her steps were slow.
She kept holding her dupatta like it was the last familiar thing she owned.
Downstairs
As soon as Simran went upstairs, Arvind’s face became still.
He turned to the shopkeeper and spoke in a low voice.
“Kapda halka rakhna. Soft material. Light colors. Fitting simple mat banana.”
[Keep the fabric light. Soft material. Light colors. Don’t make the fitting too plain.]
The shopkeeper looked at him carefully.
“Samajh gaya, sir.”
[I understand, sir.]
“Jo woh choose karegi, final mein thoda change kar dena. Usko pata nahi chalega.”
[Whatever she chooses, make a slight change in the final version. She won’t know.]
The shopkeeper nodded.
Arvind placed folded notes on the counter.
“Delivery kal subah mere ghar.”
[Delivery tomorrow morning at my house.]
The shopkeeper quietly moved the notes away.
“Ho jayega.”
[It will be done.]
Simran Returns
After some time, Simran came downstairs.
Her face was a little flushed from embarrassment. She stood near the counter and kept her dupatta close.
The shopkeeper smiled professionally.
“Madam, two suits final? White and baby pink?”
[Madam, two suits final? White and baby pink?]
Simran nodded.
“Ji.”
[Yes.]
Arvind looked at the fabrics.
“Ek extra bhi add kar do. Light color. Backup ke liye.”
[Add one extra too. Light color. For backup.]
Simran looked at him quickly.
“Sir, do kaafi hain.”
[Sir, two are enough.]
“Uniform hai. Ghar ke kaam mein kapde jaldi kharab hote hain.”
[It is uniform. Clothes get ruined quickly in house work.]
She did not argue.
She did not know how.
Then Arvind added, still speaking like it was ordinary, “Aur basic innerwear bhi add kar do. Work clothes ke saath zarurat padegi.”
[And add basic innerwear too. It will be needed with work clothes.]
Simran’s eyes widened.
Her face turned hot.
“Sir…” she said very softly.
The shopkeeper called a female staff member.
“Madam, aap inko size bata dijiye.”
[Madam, you can tell her the size.]
Simran stood frozen for a moment.
Nobody shouted.
Nobody touched her.
Nobody made it look wrong.
That made it harder for her to say no.
She leaned slightly toward the female staff member and whispered 32b.
The staff member wrote it down.
Simran’s eyes stayed on the floor.
Arvind looked at the bill.
“Deliver tomorrow morning,” he said.
The shopkeeper nodded.
“Ji, Malhotra ji.”
[Yes, Mr. Malhotra.]
Simran followed Arvind out of the shop.
The market was loud, but she felt quiet inside.
She could not explain why she felt embarrassed.
She could not explain why a simple shopping trip felt heavy.
She only knew that she wanted to go back to the outside room and close the door.
Back At The House
When they returned, Billa was standing near the gate.
His eyes went to the receipt in Arvind’s hand.
Then to Simran.
Then he smiled.
“Shopping ho gayi, madam ji?”
[Shopping done, madam?]
Simran gave a small nod and walked past him.
She did not look at his face.
In the kitchen, she started preparing dinner.
Her hands moved slowly.
The cream suit still had the stain.
The red suit was hanging behind the room.
The new clothes would arrive tomorrow.
Ravi came back late again.
He looked tired and loose, with dust on his shoes and alcohol in his breath.
Simran stood near the stove.
“Ravi, aaj sir mujhe suit lene le gaye the.”
[Ravi, today sir took me to buy suits.]
Ravi sat down on the small chair near the door.
“Achha kiya. Tumhe zarurat thi.”
[Good. You needed them.]
She waited for him to ask more.
He did not.
“Payment unhone ki.”
[He paid for them.]
Ravi rubbed his forehead.
“Phir theek hai na. Woh help kar rahe hain.”
[Then it is fine. He is helping.]
Simran looked at him.
Her mouth opened a little, like she wanted to say something.
But no words came.
Ravi had already closed the matter.
Like always.
A decision was made.
A cost would come later.
And Simran would be the one standing when it arrived.
That night, while Ravi slept, Simran sat on the edge of the bed and folded the stained cream suit carefully.
She did not know why she folded it.
It was ruined.
Still, she folded it with care.
Outside, the big house was silent.
Inside the main building, Arvind sat in his study, making a phone call.
Near the garden, Billa smoked in the dark and waited for whatever came next.
And in the small outside room, Simran held the ruined suit in her lap, feeling something tighten around her life.
Not suddenly.
Not loudly.
Slowly.
Like a grip that wanted her to get used to it before she realized it was there.
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