Bought by Love, Trapped by Hunger

[zeus90]

Chapter 4: The House After Sunset

Simran had started getting used to the house.

Not because she liked it.

Because every day was too full to think properly.

Morning tea. Breakfast. Lunch. Cleaning. Washing. Evening tea. Dinner. Then sometimes tea again. Sometimes snacks. Sometimes dishes after guests. Sometimes extra sweeping because Billa had walked mud into the corridor and nobody asked how it came there.

The new suits had become part of her routine too.

At first, Simran had felt awkward wearing them. The neck felt too open, the shoulders too visible, the fabric too light. She used to keep pulling the dupatta up again and again, her fingers nervous, her face warm with shame.

But work had a way of tiring shame.

After a few weeks, she stopped adjusting the dupatta every minute. Not because she became comfortable. Because her hands were always busy.

One hand on the stove.

One hand in the sink.

One hand holding a tray.

One hand wiping the floor.

Her body learned to move before her mind could ask questions.

Arvind noticed this change.

He did not say anything.

He only started appearing more often wherever she worked.

If she was in the kitchen, he came for water.

If she was cleaning the dining table, he came to check some file.

If she was wiping the drawing room floor, he sat with a newspaper.

If she went to the back corridor, his voice came from behind.

“Simran, ek chai bana dogi?”
[Simran, will you make one tea?]

She would turn quickly.

“Ji sir.”
[Yes sir.]

 

His voice was always soft. That made everything harder to understand.

He never shouted.

He never looked like a villain.

He looked like help.

And slowly, Simran started trusting him inside the house. Not fully. Not with happiness. But with the tired trust of someone who had no other steady person around.

Ravi was mostly gone at night now.

He left around six in the evening for the farm work and returned after eight in the morning, tired, smelling of milk, sweat, and damp cow shed air. He ate whatever Simran served him, complained about body pain, and slept through the day.

Their conversations became small.

A plate of food.

A tired answer.

A half-open eye.

Then silence.

One morning, Simran placed tea near him.

“Kaam zyada mushkil hai?”
[Is the work very difficult?]

Ravi rubbed his neck.

“Raat bhar doodh ke cans uthao, truck mein rakho, phir subah tak khade raho. Aasaan thodi hai.”
[All night, lift milk cans, put them in trucks, then stand until morning. It’s not easy.]

“Par seekh rahe ho na?”
[But you are learning, right?]

“Seekh raha hoon,” he said, irritated. “Par tumhe kya pata raat bhar jagna kya hota hai.”
[I am learning. But what do you know about staying awake all night?]

Simran lowered her eyes.

“Main bas poochh rahi thi.”
[I was only asking.]

Ravi turned to the wall.

“Sone do.”
[Let me sleep.]

She picked up the empty glass from yesterday and left quietly.

Billa Steps Back

Billa had changed his game.

He no longer came too close to Simran like before. He had understood that she avoided him now. If he stood near the kitchen door, she moved away. If he joked, she answered only with silence. If he watched, she lowered her face and left.

So Billa stepped back.

But he did not stop.

He turned toward Ravi.

One evening, before Ravi left for the farm, Billa found him near the side gate.

“Kaise chal raha hai night kaam?”
[How is the night work going?]

Ravi shrugged. “Theek hai. Thak jaata hoon.”
[It’s okay. I get tired.]

Billa smiled slowly.

“Thakna toh padega. Biwi ke liye aadmi sab karta hai.”
[A man has to get tired. A man does everything for his wife.]

Ravi looked at him.

“Matlab?”
[What do you mean?]

“Matlab kuch nahi. Bas soch raha tha, tu raat bhar bahar, aur madam ji yahan bade ghar mein.”
[Nothing. I was just thinking, you are outside all night, and madam is here in this big house.]

Ravi frowned.

“Seedha bol.”
[Speak clearly.]

Billa lifted his hands.

“Arre bhai, gussa kyun? Main toh tera dost hoon. Bas duniya dekhi hai. Rich aadmi free mein help nahi karte.”
[Brother, why are you angry? I am your friend. I have just seen the world. Rich men do not help for free.]

Ravi’s jaw tightened.

“Sir ne job dilayi hai. Help ki hai.”
[Sir got me the job. He helped.]

Billa nodded.

“Haan. Tujhe job dilayi. Teri biwi ko kapde dilaye. Room diya. Khana diya. Bahut help ki.”
[Yes. He got you a job. Bought your wife clothes. Gave a room. Gave food. Helped a lot.]

He paused.

“Bas kabhi socha, itni help ka hisaab kaun dega?”
[But did you ever think who will pay the account for so much help?]

Ravi stared at him.

Billa smiled and walked away.

The words stayed.

Small.

Dirty.

Alive.

More Work

Simran’s workload kept increasing.

At first, she had energy. She worked fast, trying to prove she was useful. She cleaned properly, cooked carefully, folded napkins, arranged cups, learned where everything belonged.

But now the house seemed to grow more work every day.

 

The drawing room needed cleaning twice.

The kitchen shelves had to be wiped.

Arvind’s study tea had to be made separately.

Guest glasses had to shine.

Dinner had to be served hot.

Snacks had to be ready “just in case.”

Arvind never ordered harshly.

He always made it sound small.

“Simran, bas yeh tray rakh do.”
[Simran, just keep this tray.]

“Simran, bas study mein chai de do.”
[Simran, just give tea in the study.]

“Simran, bas floor thoda sa clean kar do.”
[Simran, just clean the floor a little.]

“Bas.”

That word became heavy.

Because “just this” was never just one thing.

By evening, her feet hurt. Her back felt stiff. Her face lost its playfulness. The shy smile remained, but now it came late, like a tired lamp trying to light.

She did as she was told.

Not because she agreed.

Because there was no space left in the day to disagree.

Arvind’s Friends

One Friday evening, Arvind invited two friends.

Rajeev Sharma and Mahesh Verma.

Both were in their late forties. Well-dressed. Rich voices. Men who laughed loudly because nobody in the room could tell them to lower it.

Simran was in the kitchen when they arrived.

Arvind called out from the drawing room.

“Simran, chai aur snacks le aao.”
[Simran, bring tea and snacks.]

“Ji sir.”
[Yes sir.]

She arranged the tray with tea cups, biscuits, and fried snacks.

Her hands were tired, but she carried the tray carefully.

When she entered, the three men were sitting in the drawing room. Arvind in his white kurta-pajama, Rajeev in a blue shirt, Mahesh in a dark waistcoat.

Their conversation stopped for a second.

Simran kept her eyes lowered and placed the tray on the center table.

Rajeev looked at Arvind with a half-smile.

“Arvind, ghar ka standard toh badh gaya.”
[Arvind, the standard of your house has gone up.]

Mahesh laughed.

“Chai bhi ab presentation ke saath aati hai.”
[Now tea also comes with presentation.]

 

Simran did not understand fully, but she felt their eyes.

She smiled faintly because she did not know what else to do.

“Sugar alag rakhi hai, sir,” she said softly.
[I kept sugar separately, sir.]

Arvind leaned back.

“Good, Simran. Serve them.”
[Good, Simran. Serve them.]

She served cups one by one.

Rajeev took his cup and said, “Naam kya hai tumhara?”
[What is your name?]

“Simran,” she answered.

“Punjab se?”
[From Punjab?]

“Ji.”
[Yes.]

Mahesh smiled.

“Isliye chai mein mitti ki khushboo hai.”
[That is why the tea has the scent of the soil.]

Rajeev laughed.

Simran gave a confused little smile and stepped back.

“Main dinner dekh loon, sir?”
[Should I check dinner, sir?]

Arvind nodded.

“Haan, jao.”
[Yes, go.]

She left quickly.

The room stayed quiet until her footsteps disappeared.

Then Rajeev leaned closer to Arvind.

“Yeh kahan se mili?”
[Where did you find her?]

Arvind picked up his tea calmly.

“Punjab side se. Couple hai. Ladka mere contact ke farm par kaam karta hai.”
[From Punjab side. They are a couple. The boy works at a farm through my contact.]

Mahesh smirked.

“Couple? Aur ladka raat ko farm par?”
[Couple? And the boy is at the farm at night?]

Rajeev laughed under his breath.

“Arvind, tum abhi bhi planning waise hi karte ho.”
[Arvind, you still plan the same way.]

Arvind did not laugh.

He only smiled.

“Planning nahi. Management.”
[Not planning. Management.]

Mahesh lowered his voice.

“Kitni seedhi lagti hai.”
[She looks very innocent.]

Arvind looked toward the kitchen door.

“Seedhi hai.”
[She is innocent.]

Rajeev asked, “Aur?”
[And?]

Arvind sipped his tea.

“Abhi ghar samajh rahi hai. Jaldi samajh jayegi kis par depend karna hai.”
[She is still understanding the house. Soon she will understand whom she has to depend on.]

Mahesh gave a low chuckle.

“Matlab kaam chal raha hai.”
[So the work is in progress.]

Arvind’s eyes stayed calm.

“Slow things last longer.”
[Slow things last longer.]

Jokes At Dinner

At dinner, Simran served them again.

She placed plates on the table, then bowls, then rotis wrapped in cloth.

Rajeev watched her move from the side.

“Simran ji, aap toh poora ghar sambhal leti ho.”
[Simran, you handle the whole house.]

She gave a small smile.

“Ji, koshish karti hoon.”
[Yes, I try.]

Mahesh said, “Koshish se kaam nahi hota. Dil se karna padta hai.”
[Trying is not enough. You have to do it with heart.]

The men laughed.

 

Simran smiled politely, not knowing if she was supposed to laugh too.

Arvind looked at her.

“Simran sharmili hai.”
[Simran is shy.]

Rajeev replied, “Sharm achhi cheez hai. Ghar ki izzat badhati hai.”
[Shyness is a good thing. It increases the respect of the house.]

Mahesh added, “Bas zyada sharm ho toh kaam slow ho jata hai.”
[But if there is too much shyness, work becomes slow.]

Another laugh.

Simran’s fingers tightened around the serving spoon.

“Roti aur laaun, sir?”
[Should I bring more roti, sir?]

Arvind nodded.

“Haan.”
[Yes.]

She left.

In the kitchen, she stood still for a second.

Her face felt warm. Her chest felt tight. But she did not understand how to complain about jokes that sounded normal from the outside.

So she picked up the roti basket and returned.

Ravi Hears A Different Story

Later that night, when Ravi reached the farm, Billa was waiting near the road outside. He had come there on purpose.

“Kaam pe aa gaya hero?”
[You came to work, hero?]

Ravi looked tired already.

“Tu yahan?”
[You are here?]

“Bas guzra tha. Socha mil loon.”
[I was just passing by. Thought I’d meet you.]

Ravi adjusted the lunch box in his hand.

Billa leaned closer.

“Aaj ghar mein mehfil thi.”
[There was a gathering at the house today.]

“Kaunsi mehfil?” Ravi asked.
[What gathering?]

“Arvind sir ke dost aaye the. Madam ji serve kar rahi thi. Bade style mein.”
[Arvind sir’s friends came. Madam was serving them. In great style.]

Ravi’s face changed slightly.

“Serve karna uska kaam hai.”
[Serving is her work.]

“Haan, haan. Kaam hi hai.”
[Yes, yes. It is work.]

Billa smiled.

“Bas dost log bhi kaam ki tareef kar rahe the.”
[His friends were also praising the work.]

Ravi looked away.

“Tu baat ghuma raha hai.”
[You are twisting the matter.]

Billa shrugged.

“Main toh bas bata raha hoon. Tera ghar hai, teri biwi hai. Tujhe pata hona chahiye na.”
[I am only telling you. It is your home, your wife. You should know.]

“Woh mera ghar nahi,” Ravi muttered.
[That is not my home.]

Billa smiled.

“Bas. Yahi toh baat hai.”
[Exactly. That is the point.]

Ravi looked at him.

 

Billa’s voice became lower.

“Jis ghar ka rent tu bhar nahi raha, jahan biwi din-raat kaam kar rahi hai, jahan malik kapde laa raha hai… wahan aadmi ko aankh khuli rakhni chahiye.”
[In a house where you are not paying the rent, where your wife is working day and night, where the owner is bringing clothes… a man should keep his eyes open.]

The farm horn sounded in the distance.

Ravi had to go inside.

But Billa’s words walked with him.

The Study Light

After the guests left, Simran cleaned the table.

It was late.

The house was quiet again.

She gathered plates, wiped spilled chutney, picked up used napkins, and carried glasses to the kitchen.

Her feet hurt.

Her palms smelled of soap.

Her back ached when she bent.

Arvind stood near the study door.

“You did well today,” he said.
[You did well today.]

She looked up, tired.

“Ji sir.”
[Yes sir.]

“Guests ko tumhari chai pasand aayi.”
[The guests liked your tea.]

She gave a faint smile.

“Achha hai.”
[That is good.]

“Thak gayi?”
[Are you tired?]

“Thoda.”
[A little.]

 

“Thoda adjust karna padega. Bade ghar mein guests aate rehte hain.”
[You will have to adjust a little. Guests keep coming in big houses.]

She nodded.

“Ji sir.”
[Yes sir.]

He looked at her for a moment.

“Ravi ko batana mat ki tum thak gayi ho. Woh already pressure mein hai.”
[Don’t tell Ravi that you are tired. He is already under pressure.]

Simran blinked slowly.

“Ji.”
[Yes.]

It sounded caring.

But it also closed her mouth before she could open it.

She went back to the kitchen.

Arvind entered his study and switched on the lamp.

Outside, the window reflected Simran’s movement as she washed the last cup.

Inside, Arvind sat calmly, reading files.

The house had become quiet again.

But quiet was not peace anymore.

Quiet was the sound of everybody getting what they wanted from Simran, one small piece at a time.