Chapter 6: Theft and Consequence

The man jumped up from the bed in surprise and hugged Meera tightly.

He almost knocked her over, clinging to her like a drowning man. For a moment, both seemed happy—truly happy. The kind of happiness that can only come when you think you’ve finally outrun your past.

“Once I make money, I’ll take you away. We’ll go to Mumbai, to Bangalore, wherever you want. I’ll marry no one but you.”

His words rushed out, full of promises. He painted pictures of a new life—city lights, laughter, freedom. For Meera, maybe that was all she wanted: to leave Old Bazaar Lane behind.

Meera was moved, hugging his chest. “I’ve been waiting for this day. I really can’t go on living like this.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Kabir as if he were her only hope. Her voice trembled, half in fear, half in hope.

“Don’t worry, once the money is invested, I’ll get rich overnight. Believe me.”

Kabir grinned, squeezing Meera’s hand tight, as if willing her to believe.

“That’s my dowry and savings. You must not let me down. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow to withdraw it. Come get it then.”

Meera’s voice was firm. She sounded like every woman who’d ever risked everything for a man she loved. For a moment, I almost admired her.

The man got dressed and left. As he was leaving, Meera called after him, “Kabir.”

Her voice was soft, almost pleading. I could hear the hope and fear knotted together, as if she was praying he wouldn’t let her down.

Harish Bhaiya had given all the dowry and family savings to Meera, but she wanted to use it to please a client.

It was a slap in the face. Harish Bhaiya had trusted her, given her everything he had, and she was ready to throw it all away for someone else’s dream. I felt a strange resentment rising in me.

Thinking that I needed 1,88,000 rupees to marry Ritu, I was indeed a bit envious of Kabir Bhaiya. As I felt sorry for Harish Bhaiya, a dark thought sprouted in my mind.

I hated myself for it, but the idea wouldn’t leave. If Kabir could have Meera’s money for nothing, why couldn’t I do the same? The world wasn’t fair—why should I play by the rules?

Early the next morning, Meera left with Harish Bhaiya and didn’t return until almost noon, carrying a bulging bag. Three lakh rupees—she put it into three brown envelopes and hid them under the freezer by the door. That freezer was for Harish Bhaiya to store ingredients; there was also a bigger one in the shop. This one was probably the old one.

She was careful, checking the locks, wiping her forehead, looking around nervously before sliding the envelopes under the freezer. The notes looked fresh, new, crisp—money that could change a life overnight.

As soon as she finished hiding it, the phone rang.

“Meera, I made some new dishes. Come help me try them.”

The voice from below floated up, cheerful and proud. Harish Bhaiya was always trying new things, always eager for Meera’s approval.

“Okay, honey, I’ll come down right away, just in time for lunch.”

Meera went downstairs, and I quietly climbed in through the window, took out the envelopes, and slipped back to my own place.

My hands shook as I did it. The window creaked, the envelopes nearly slipped from my fingers. The old freezer was cold to the touch, its lid sticky with oil. I stuffed the money into my bag and ran back to my flat, heart pounding, sweat dripping down my back despite the winter chill.

I knew I was committing a crime, but I wanted to bet that Meera wouldn’t dare say anything. If I won, Meera would be punished, and I could marry Ritu. If I lost... I didn’t dare imagine, so I didn’t think about it.

I paced my room, the sound of my mother’s voice in my head—‘Beta, paap ka bojh mat uthana.’ But I couldn’t put the money back.

Nervously, I sat at home for a long time, hiding the envelopes under the kitchen gas stove.

Every little sound made me jump. The clatter of utensils from the neighbour’s flat, the loud laughter from kids in the hallway, even the distant honking from the main road—I heard everything, and each sound seemed to spell my doom.

All afternoon, Meera didn’t return home.

I kept checking the peephole, ears straining for her footsteps. She was gone for hours, and my nerves felt stretched to breaking.

Until late at night, Meera and Harish Bhaiya came home together.

Their voices were tired, heavy with the weight of the day. I crouched by the wall, listening to the muffled sounds of their conversation.

“I’ll take a shower. You get in bed and wait for me—don’t take off your clothes,” Harish Bhaiya said.

He sounded impatient, a bit harsh. It was the first time I’d heard him speak to Meera that way. She just nodded, barely meeting his gaze.

Meera was wearing skin-coloured tights and leather boots, looking as sexy as in summer. Luckily, she was busy looking at her phone and sending WhatsApp messages, not looking under the freezer.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, phone in hand, thumbs flying over the screen. Her face was tense, her jaw set. The boots looked out of place—a reminder of a different life, a different Meera.

Tonight’s passionate scene, I had no mood to watch. I just hoped they would finish early and turn off the lights.

For the first time, I wished I could shut my ears, close the hole, forget the world next door. My heart hammered in my chest as I waited for the darkness to swallow everything.

The next morning, Kabir came.

His arrival was abrupt, full of urgency. I watched as he hurried into the flat, his eyes darting, his hands clenched into fists.