A FEW DAYS LATER

Nandini steps into the house. As soon as her parents spot her, they go suspiciously quiet—like guilty children caught mid-whisper.

“Nanda! You're back already?” her mother stammers, clearly flustered.

“I always come back at this hour,” Nandini replies, arching an eyebrow with mock suspicion. “What were you two talking about that got silenced the moment I entered?”

She drops her bag onto the little table tucked into a corner of the veranda, then slides into a chair across from them, fixing both with a curious gaze.

Her mother avoids her eyes. “Why are you staring like that?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what secrets are being kept from me in this house lately,” she says, now looking pointedly at her father. “What’s going on?”

Her father, Pandey ji, bursts out with the truth like a man unable to carry the weight of a surprise. “A proposal has come for you, Nanda.”

Nandini stiffens. Her mother winces and places a hand to her forehead in exasperation. She had hoped to break the news more gently, but Pandey ji—well, he always was an open book when it came to his daughter.

“A proposal? Again?” The worry lines deepen on Nandini’s forehead.

“What do you mean ‘again’? You’re twenty-five now. You’ve got a good job. Of course, proposals will come,” her mother responds with matter-of-fact pride.

“Maa…”

“He’s from a nearby village. A havaldar in the Army. Very respectable family,” her mother adds quickly, as if trying to seal the deal with a ribbon of reassurance.

“But I want to study further. I want to do my PhD. Marriage right now…”

“You can study after marriage too, sweetheart,” her mother interrupts gently.

“And what if they don’t allow me to?”

“You already have a government job as a teacher. Why would you need more education?” her mother replies, exasperated. “It’s a good match! A very good match. They’re just like us—respected in their village the way we are in Nariyapur.”

Nandini falls silent. Her father, reading her face like he always could, leans forward with concern.

“Is there something you’re not telling us, beta?” he asks gently.

“Do you like someone else?” her mother ventures, her voice dipping into a whisper.

“Maa! No, I don’t!” Nandini snaps lightly, annoyed.

“Let me talk,” Pandey ji says, pushing his chair closer to her. “Stop interrupting, Rani.”

“Fine, father and daughter talk,” Rani Devi mutters. “I’ll get tea. Make this silly girl see sense. Such a good match!” She disappears into the kitchen, tucking her sari tightly at her waist.

“Baba…” Nandini’s voice is quiet, almost fragile now.

“No one’s forcing you, beti,” her father says, placing a warm hand over hers. “Your mother’s just excited. She dreams about your wedding every day. I’ve done my research. They’re genuinely good people. The boy is calm, respectful, level-headed… a lot like you. He’s their only son, serves in the Army, and they’re looking for someone educated and sensible. Someone like you.”

He looked at her with such warmth, such hope, that her heart softened. His words stirred something in her.

Nandini dropped her gaze, a shy smile curling at the corners of her lips. The thought that the boy might actually be decent, maybe even share her values, sent a strange flutter through her.

And besides, she wouldn’t have to go far from home.

With Naveen away in the Army, the responsibility of home and parents fell solely on Nandini’s shoulders. And she never faltered. Not once. She carried her duties with grace, devotion, and not a soul in the village could say otherwise.

Pandey ji noticed her blush.

“So... is there someone else you’re not telling us about?” he teased softly.

“Baba!” she protested, cheeks flaming. He laughed, victorious.

“Shall I call them then?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, smiled, and gave a shy little nod.

Pandey ji laid his palm lovingly on her head.

---

LATER THAT EVENING

Back in her room, Nandini stood before the tall mirror that hung beside the window. Her reflection stared back at her—calm, composed, and yet something flickered beneath.

She pushed her hair back and studied her face closely. Large expressive eyes, sharp features.

Yet its just her dusky complexion—always the first thing people noticed.

But that wasn’t the only reason proposals never worked out. Sometimes it was her education—too much of it. Sometimes it was the job—men didn’t like a woman who earned a government salary. Sometimes it was the fear that, being an only daughter, her heart would never leave her parents even after marriage. And then there were those crude men who came right out and demanded dowry, as if she were some key to a hidden treasure chest.

Whenever a new match was discussed, her heart sank. Why should she parade herself before men who saw only beauty or money? Why should her parents offer dowry for a daughter they had raised with such love and sacrifice? Why should she marry into a home that didn’t value her mind, her ambitions, her principles?

But this time… something felt different. Maybe Raman was the right one.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind: Good people, just like us. And what her father said… always mattered most.

She smiled to herself in the mirror, and then hummed a tune as she walked away.

---

MEANWHILE,

“What?! When were you planning to tell me this? After the wedding?!”

Naveen’s voice practically thundered through the speakerphone. He had just learned—two days late—that a marriage proposal had come for his beloved Nanda didi.

The entire Pandey household braced themselves.

“Beta, we tried to reach you! Your phone’s always off. Everything happened so quickly. And nothing’s final yet…” Pandey ji explained gently.

“Oh right! I suppose next time you’ll send me a wedding invite! Just because I’m in the Army doesn’t mean I’ve been disowned!” he fumed.

“Stop behaving like a child,” Rani Devi snapped. “Always sulking at everything!”

Nandini rolled her eyes and gestured for silence. She switched off the speaker and held the phone to her ear.

“Yes, Pandey ji, I’m listening,” she said sweetly.

“I don’t even want to talk to you right now, Nanda didi!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake! One more tantrum and I will smack you through the phone,” Rani Devi threatened.

“And how exactly will you do that from the other end of a phone call, Maa? Calm down. Let me handle him,” Nandini said, chuckling.

“Great. Here come the long negotiations,” Rani Devi muttered as she and her husband quietly slipped out of the room.

“She’ll handle him,” Pandey ji said with a grin. “Come, I’ll make you tea today. The kind you won’t forget!”

Rani Devi laughed, and so did Nandini as she turned her attention back to her little tornado.

“Now talk to me, my stormy one.”

“You didn’t tell me. Your Navi?! The one person who had to know!”

“Nothing’s decided yet. Our families will meet first. Then we’ll see. Now stop being angry, please.”

“No.”

“Aren’t you my good boy?”

“You always do this.”

“Aren’t you my first child, son?”

“Yes...” he mumbled.

She smiled. She knew he’d melt.

She had mothered him more than anyone ever had. Their father was a humble farmer. They didn’t have luxuries, but she gave him her share of everything—shade in the heat, comfort in storms. He was her shadow, her echo, her greatest friend.

“Now listen to me very carefully,” he said, voice suddenly serious.

“Yes, sir. I’m listening. What’s the order?”

“When you meet the guy, look at him from a distance first. Don’t go up to him. Just… observe. If he feels right, then talk. If anything feels off—anything—say no. Say it clearly. Loudly. If he doesn’t support your education, still say no.”

His intensity made her laugh again.

“I’m serious and you’re laughing!”

“Sorry, it’s just… the way you say it is funny.”

“You’re not a burden to any of us, didi,” he said softly.

Nandini fell silent.

“I know,” she whispered.

His words had settled somewhere deep.

"You used to give tuitions during our toughest days, just to support Baba at our toughest times. You are as man of the house as me and Baba. And now you think that after everything you’ve done for this family, we’d just send you away like some tethered cow, to wherever suits us? Come on, Didi. By God's grace, You have a good job, financial independence after so much struggle—trust me, You will also get a life partner worthy of your strength. You deserve the best."

He spoke with unwavering faith in his voice.

"Oh yes, sure," Nandini chuckled, the teasing unmistakable in her tone. "After all, I’m your fairy-tale princess, right?"

"You’re no less than one," he said sincerely. "You’re so beautiful… and even more beautiful as a person. I’ve never met anyone like you."

"Oh stop! Fear God a little, will you? You lie so effortlessly!"

"What lie? A person’s real beauty lies in their character, and yours is pure gold. Honestly. You know, Sangram Sir is the same."

The moment he mentioned Sangram, Nandini slapped her forehead with a sigh.

"There we go again… your endless Sangram saga!"

"Arrey yaar, this is serious—listen at least!"

"Fine, tell me." She gave in, not because she wanted to, but because no force on Earth could stop Naveen from talking about his great Sangram Singh Sanger. Everyone at the Pandey residence knew this well. They had all simply learned to suffer through it.

"So, I was saying… Sangram Sir is dusky."

"Your Sangram Sir is dusky too?!" Nandini asked, genuinely curious—she’d never seen Sangram before, only heard about him.

"Yes, quite dusky. But incredibly handsome, like you wouldn’t believe! And not just because of his face or his towering height. It’s something more. His entire persona is magnetic. The way he speaks, the way he thinks, the way he stands at the front line and leads his team…"

"The way he breathes?" Nandini interrupted, mock-annoyed.

"Yes! That too—wait, what?" Naveen blinked, confused. "The way he breathes?"

"What else?" she laughed, "I mean, such an impeccable respiratory system is rare, right? I’m sure you've noticed that too about your Sangram Sir."

"Okay, okay, that’s enough!" Naveen groaned, realizing she was pulling his leg. "I’ll talk to you later. But don’t forget what I said, alright? Bye!"

"Bye," Nandini laughed, hanging up, still amused by how deep Naveen's admiration for Sangram went.