Chapter 7: Between Daughter and Daughter-in-law

I went to greet Old Madam Sharma.

Arjun was already sitting by her side. He sat straight-backed, his hand on his mother's knee, as if giving her strength by touch alone.

She smiled warmly when she saw me, but her expression darkened when she heard Arjun cough.

'Arjun beta, I have a few private words for Pooja. You go rest first.' Her tone was gentle but brooked no argument.

Arjun left obediently.

Old Madam Sharma beckoned me to sit by her side. She patted the cushion, her touch surprisingly warm.

She held my hand, her eyes moist as she looked at me. 'Good child, Arjun is lucky to have married you. With his condition now, marrying him is a grievance for you.'

The smile faded from her face, her words tinged with bitterness: 'The doctor says his vitality is damaged, and it’s uncertain how long he’ll live. Some in the family have suggested having him adopt a child, so the family line won’t end. But wouldn’t that ruin your life?' Her voice dropped, heavy with the weight of unspoken traditions.

'I’m already grateful you married in to bring him luck. I can’t let you waste your whole life, too. I’ve thought it over—if Arjun really comes to that, I’ll have him give you a letter of release. I’ll also give you some land and property, so you’ll have a secure future.'

I wiped her tears, my heart aching. The thought that someone could care so deeply, for a girl like me, was almost too much.

'Ma, thank you for thinking of me.' My voice quivered, love and gratitude washing over me in waves.

I thought I was just coming to be a maid, never expecting her to plan so far ahead for me.

Naturally, I thought of my birth mother whom I had never met.

If she were here, with her protection, I wouldn’t have ended up as I did. Maybe she would have braided my hair, scolded me for not sitting straight, given me the courage to speak up for myself.

Old Madam Sharma smiled through her tears. 'Look at me, making you cry too. Pooja, don’t be so distant. Just call me Ma, like Arjun does.' She squeezed my hand, her rings digging gently into my skin. She pressed a piece of kajal behind my ear, like mothers do to ward off nazar.

'Ma.'

'Good daughter, I have one more request. Meera said you know ayurvedic cooking. From now on, Arjun’s daily meals will be up to you. This is my little selfish wish—I hope he can live a little longer.'

Her voice choked with emotion at the end. I felt the weight of her hope settle on my shoulders, and I silently vowed to do my best.

I nodded.

'Thank you for your trouble, Pooja.'