𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐢 ~ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 |𝟏𝟖+| - Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Author's POV:-
'Ji baara saal??' Sakshi asked in a whisper.
("Ji just 12 years old?")
He nods his head with closed eyes.
'Mere maa baara saal k thein aur woh adhaish saal k thein..maa ko toh utna gyaan bhi nahi tha ki unke shaadi karane jaa rahe thein.. unhone toh bas ek achi bachi ban k apni har maa baba k baat mana..' he said now opening his eyes looking directly to her eyes.
("My mother was twelve years old, and he was twenty eight years old... Maa didn’t even know the meaning of the word marriage She just obeyed her parents like a good daughter,")
She was just staring back at him.
'Unhe kya pata tha ki yahi unk zindagi ko sabse bari kal hain..sabse bari galti..' he said.
("How could she have known that this would become the biggest curse of her life... her biggest mistake,")
'Mein jab hua, tab maa adhara saal ki thi..mein bachpan se hi thora lajuk sa larka tha..mujhe utna dost banana nahi ata tha ..nah kisi se thik se baat karna ko aata tha..mujhe bas apne maa k sath rehana pasand tha..' his lips curves into smile.
("I was born when Maa was just eighteen... Since childhood, I was a bit of a shy boy. I didn’t know how to make friends... or how to talk to people properly. I just liked being with my mother,")
'Maa jaha jaha jati thi, mein unk aanchal pakar kar waha daurta tha..' he chuckles.
("Wherever Maa went, I would run behind her, clutching the edge of her saree,")
'Dhire dhire mein jab bara hone laga..mere dimaag mein jab budhi ane lage ..mujhe pata laga maa ko iss parivaar mein koi pasand hi nahi karte thein..sab log unse kaam karwa lete thein'
("As I grew older... as my mind began to understand things... I realized that no one in the family liked Maa. They just made her work all the time.")
'Aur choti si bhi kuch galati ho jaay na toh meri dadi bohot khari khoti sunati thi unhe..aur woh chup chap sun bhi leti thi apni sir jhukake..' he whisper remembering one scene.
("And even if she made the smallest mistake, my grandmother would hurl harsh words at her... and Maa would silently listen to them, her head bowed,")
Flashback:
Arjun was just 8 years old.
And his mother—barely 26.
“Yeh kya banaya hai tune, bahu?! Isse roti kehte hain?!”
(“What have you made this bahu??! You call this a roti?!”)
Dadi’s sharp, thunderous voice cracked through the kitchen walls like a whip. Arjun's mother flinched, her trembling fingers clutching her pallu tighter over her head.
“Ji maaji... woh... main bartan dho rahi thi... toh thodi si roti jal gayi” she whispered, her head bowed low, her voice barely audible.
(“Ji Maaji... I-I was washing the utensils... so the roti got a little burnt,” )
Little Arjun stood close to his mother, his wide eyes moving between the towering rage of his dadi and the quiet fear etched on his mother’s face. He blinked, confused and scared.
“Tera dhyaan rehta kahaan hai?! Ek kaam bhi theek se nahi hota tujhse! Ab mein yeh jali hui roti sabko khilao bahar?!kya kahenge sab log ki mere Bahu kuch aati nahi??”
(“Where is your attention all the time?! You can’t do a single thing right! Should I now serve this burnt roti to everyone outside?! What will they say — that my bahu can’t even cook?!”)
With a harsh thud, she throws the steel plate on the floor , the rotis scattering across the floor like a fallen leaves.
His mother instinctively stepped back, gasping softly, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Maaf kar dijiye, maaji... main abhi nayi se roti bana deti hoon...” her voice cracked as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
(“Please forgive me, Maaji... I’ll make fresh rotis right away...”)
“Itni badi ho gayi hai! Ek bete ki maa bhi ban chuki hai... lekin roti banana nahi aata is maharani ko..tere maa baap ne kuch sikhaye bhi tujhe yah aise hi ghar se dhakke maar k nikal diye yaha??” dadi spat, her eyes narrowed with disgust.
( ' You are now 28 and have a son and still but this queen still doesn’t know how to cook roti... Did your parents teach you anything or just throw you out of the house and dump you here?” )
Her words struck like knives.
Arjun’s mother tried to hold her tears in, but they slipped down anyway—silently, one after the other.
She sniffled, quickly wiping them before they could fall to the floor.
“Maa... aap ro kyun rahi ho?” Arjun asked softly, tugging on her pallu with his little fingers, his face scrunched in worry.
("Maa are you crying ??")
“Arey, kya batayegi tujhe? Teri maa ko roti banana tak nahi aata. Dekh, sab kuch jala diya!”
(“What will she tell you? Your mother doesn’t even know how to make roti. Look — she burnt everything!”)
Dadi pointed toward the floor where half-burnt rotis lay scattered.
Arjun looked down at them — small, uneven, some with charred spots — but he didn’t see what dadi saw. He only saw his mother, her eyes red, her dignity shattered.
“Kaam kuch nahi aata, bas paise barbaad karne aate hain mere bete ka..muft ka khana jo milta hain”
(“She’s good for nothing — only knows how to waste my son’s money... After all, she’s living here on free food!”)
With a final kick, dadi sent the roti container rolling across the floor.
“Ab ja... shuru se bana! Aata gundh, roti bel — sab sahi hona chahiye. Na jale hue, na tedhe-medhe! Samjhi?!”
(“Now go — make them from scratch! Knead the dough, roll the rotis — everything should be perfect. No burns, no crooked shapes! Understand?!”)
His mother nodded quickly, the fear in her eyes louder than any word.
“Aur sun — yeh jo jale hue roti hain na, ab tu hi khatam karegi saree . Woh bhi akeli. Jab tak ek bhi bachha na ho, tujhe aur kuch nahi milega khane mein..bohut shauk hain na khana barbad karne mein ab bhugat..”
(“And listen — those burnt rotis over there, you will eat them. All of them. Alone. Until not a single one is left, you won’t get anything else to eat. You love to waste food right?? Now enjoy it..”)
She swallowed, nodding again. “Ji maaji..”
("Yes maaji")
“Ab khadi kyun hai?! Chal, shuru ho ja! Muh kya dekh rahi hain?? Alag se khat bhejna parega kya??”
Dadi gave her a light shove, enough to make her stumble.
(“Then why are you still standing?! Go, get started! What are you staring at?! Should I send you a special letter to begin?!”)
'Agar age pata chalta ki tu itni gawar niklegi ..mein apne bete k sath teri shaadi karwata hi nahi..' she commented.
(“If I had known you’d turn out to be this uncultured... I would’ve never gotten you married to my son,”)
She left, her slippers slapping against the tiles, echoing her authority through the house.
Arjun stared at the floor for a second — then looked at his mother.
She had bent down slowly, her hands gently picking up the rotis from the floor one by one, her fingers brushing away the dust, her lips pressed tight to hold back more tears.
He dropped to his knees beside her.
“Tu rehne de beta... main kar loongi. Tu jaa, wahaan baith ja,” she whispered, barely looking at him.
(“You don’t need to do this, beta... I’ll take care of it. You go sit over there..”)
But Arjun didn’t move. He picked up one roti, dusted it, and tore a piece with his small hands.
“Aap ro rahi ho na, maa? Mat ro na... mujhe accha nahi lagta jab aap roti ho...”
His lips pouted, his voice pure and trembling.
(“You’re crying, aren’t you, Maa? Please don’t cry… I don’t like it when you cry…”)
She paused, her hands frozen mid-air.
He smiled and popped the piece into his mouth.
“Yeh toh bohot acchi bani hai, maa! Kya jala hua hai ismein? Mujhe toh bilkul nahi lag raha.”
(“This is really good, Maa! What’s burnt in this? I don’t taste anything wrong at all.”)
She looked at him, startled. He broke off another piece and extended it to her.
“Dadi toh bekar mein daant diya aapko... mujhe lagta hai dadi andhi ho gayi hain... kuch dikhai nahi deta unhe!”
(“Dadi scolded you for no reason... I think Dadi has gone blind… she can’t see anything properly!”)
He pouted in defiance.
A small, tear-soaked laugh escaped her as she cupped his cheek gently.
'Tu yeh gande roti mat kha beta..mein nayi se roti bana lu..phir garam garam khana..apne dadi se aloo ki sabzi leke..'
(“Don’t eat this burnt roti, beta... I’ll make a fresh one... hot and soft... and get some aloo sabzi from your Dadi too…”)
He immediately shook his head.
“Nahi maa... agar aap kha sakti ho toh main bhi kha sakta hoon. Main ab bada ho gaya hoon, na?”
(“No Maa… if you can eat it, then I can eat it too. I’m a big boy now, right?”)
He grinned, trying to imitate a grown-up’s tone.
Her eyes welled up again — this time, not with helplessness, but love.
“Tu bada hoke... badal toh nahi jayega na?” she asked in a whisper.
(“When you grow up… you won’t change, right?”)
“Apne baba jaisa toh nahi banega kabhi?”
(“You won’t become like your father?”)
He frowned. “Aap bhi na maa... Baba gande hain! Har waqt aap pe chillaate hain. Mujhe pasand nahi..”
(“Maa, you’re too much… Baba is mean! He always shouts at you. I don’t like him…”)
He moved closer and rested his little head on her shoulder.
“Main toh sirf aapka beta hoon... aur humesha aap hi ka rahunga. Aapka natkhat gopal."
(“I’m only your son… and I’ll always belong to you. Your natkhat gopal.”)
She broke down, pulling him close into her arms. Her tears fell freely now — but this time, they were kissed away by the tiny palms of her son.
She kissed his forehead, holding him like he was the only thing she had in the world.
And he was with no doubt.
Flashback ends .
A lone tear slipped from the corner of Arjun’s eye, gliding silently down his cheek.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink — just kept his gaze fixed on the empty sky above, as if searching for his mother's face there. The silence between them was thick, heavy with emotion.
Sakshi sat motionless. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, the weight of his words still sinking deep into her soul. And then—finally—one tear fell.
It landed gently on his cheek.
He smiled faintly.
“Yeh toh bas shuruaat thi, Sakshi,” he said in a soft voice, turning slightly to look at her.
(“This was just the beginning, Sakshi,”)
“Abhi toh maine asli baat batayi hi nahi... aur teri halat dekh...” He paused, taking in her tear-streaked face.
(“I haven’t even told you the real part yet… and look at your state…”)
“Ant tak toh shayad yahan baarish hi ho jaaye...” he murmured, trying to lighten the moment.
(“By the end of it, I think we might just have a downpour here…”)
But this time, Sakshi didn’t smile. Her chest heaved, her lips trembled.
“Aapko abhi bhi batate hue mazak sujh raha hai, ji?” she whispered, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Kaise kar lete hain aap?”
(“Ji you still have the heart to joke while saying all this?” )
("How do you do that??")
He looked at her, the corners of his mouth softening with a mix of sadness and affection.
“Bas... tujhe thoda hasa raha hoon,” he replied gently,
(“I’m just trying to make you smile a little,”)
“Kyuki tujhe rote hue dekhna... mujhse bardaasht nahi hota.”
("Because I can't bear to see you cry..")
With infinite tenderness, he lifted his hand and slide his knuckles softly down her damp cheek, wiping away the remnants of her tears.
It was a gesture filled with love — and an ache only she could see.
Then, without warning, his eyes returned to the sky. His voice dropped again, lower this time.
“Dheere dheere main bada hone laga... aur tab tak samajh chuka tha — baba ache insaan nahi the.”
(“Slowly, I started growing up… and by then I had understood — my father was not a good man.”)
He exhaled shakily. “Aur saath mein woh buaji. Naye naye chaal chalati thi har roz... jaise kisi din kuch bura ho jaaye... aur baba k haath se maa ko khub maar pare...unhe yeh sab tamasha dekhna bohut maza ate thein”
(And buaji every day she came up with new tricks… like she was waiting for something terrible to happen… for my mother to be beaten badly by my father. She used to enjoy watching it all like some twisted drama.”)
He gave a bitter chuckle, shaking his head at the memory.
Sakshi stared at him, her heart tightening.
“Aur tujhe pata hai, Sakshi?” he turned his face slightly toward her.
("And you know what Sakshi??")
“Mere baba ko na kisi wajah ki zarurat hi nahi hota tha apne patni par haath uthane ke liye. Jab mann karta, tab ek-do chaata maar dete thein seedha... ”
(“My father didn’t even need a reason to raise his hand on my mother. Whenever he felt like it, he’d just slap her. Just like that.”)
His voice was trembling now, angry tears welling in his eyes.
“Unhe maa ki takleef... unke aansu... kabhi dikhe hi nahi. Jaise maa koi insaan hi nahi theim. ..unka sirf ek kaam tha —dard bardasht karna. Bas ek khilona tha un k liye”
(“He never saw her pain… her tears… like she wasn’t even a person. Her only job was to endure pain. Just a toy for him.”)
Sakshi clenched her fists unknowingly. She couldn’t hold back the question that burned in her chest.
“Aapne... unhe kabhi roke kyun nahi?” she asked, the words escaping like a gasp.
(“Why didn’t you ever stop him?”)
He didn’t flinch at the question.
Instead, he turned his gaze to her, eyes dark and steady.
“Main tab sirf ek bacha tha, Sakshi.”
He said it calmly, but his voice carried the weight of years.
(“I was just a child back then, Sakshi.”)
“Tujhe lagta hai baba meri baat sunte?”
(“You really think my father would’ve listened to me?”)
A pause. A beat.
“Par ek din... ek din mujhse raha nahi gaya.”
(“But one day… one day I just couldn’t take it anymore.”)
He looked down now, as if replaying the moment on the soil beneath their feet.
“Woh maa par haath uthane hi wale the... bina wajah... aur maine... maine unka haath pakad liya usi waqt”
(“He was about to hit my mother again… without any reason… and I… I held his hand right then.”)
The silence that followed was deafening.
“Us din mujhe... bohot maar padha tha." His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with emotion.
(“That day… I was beaten badly.”)
“Par tujhe pata hai kya?”
He turned back to her, eyes glassy.
("But do you know what??")
“Us din dard hua tha mujhse ... par ek alag hi sukoon mila tha. Kyuki us din... baba ne maa ko nahi maara par mujhe mara aur woh bhi kaadh k lakdi se..”
(“That day I was in pain… but I felt a strange peace inside. Because that day… he didn’t hit my mother. He hit me — and with a belt")
He blinked hard, as if trying to erase the pain stitched into that memory.
" Woh mujhe maar le.. jitna chahe mein kuch nahi kahunga..par mere maa ko nahi..”
(“He can beat me all he wants… I won’t say a word. But not my mother…”)
He went back to flashback..
Flashback:-
Arjun's father stared at his son in disbelief. His wrist trembled in Arjun’s grip, stunned that the boy had dared to stop him. Arjun’s maa flinched, shutting her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the blow she knew was coming.
"Tujhe himmat kaise hui mera haath rokne ki?!" he roared, snatching his hand back.
("How dare you stop my hand?!")
"Aur aapko himmat kaise hui maa par haath uthane ki?! Batayiye mujhe?!" Arjun shot back, voice equally loud, fearless.
("And how dare you raise your hand on Maa?! Tell me?!")
His father’s eyes widened with rage.
"Apne baap ke saamne gala ucha kar raha hai tu?! Yeh himmat aaya kahan se?! Bhool mat — yeh meri biwi hai! Mein kuch bhi kar sakta hu.." he barked, yanking Arjun’s arm so hard that the boy winced.
(You're raising your voice at your father?! Where did you get this courage from?! Don’t forget — she’s my wife! I can do whatever I want!")
His mother panicked, her hands folded in helpless pleading.
"Jii, Arjun ko kuch mat kijiye… bacha hai woh… galti ho gayi… maaf kar dijiye…nadan hain woh...”
("Please… don’t hurt Arjun… he’s just a child… he made a mistake… forgive him… he’s innocent...")
Arjun gritted his teeth, enduring the pain.
"Aur woh meri maa hain. Aur aap mere saamne un par haath nahi utha sakte. Samjhe aap?"
("And she’s my mother. And you cannot raise your hand on her in front of me. Understood?")
Without warning, a loud smack echoed through the room — his father slapped him, the sound cruel and unforgiving. His lips got contact with the teeth getting a cut.
Arjun staggered slightly. His mother gasped, rushing forward and pulling him into her arms, gently caressing his reddened cheek.
"Jii! Yeh kya kar rahe hain aap?!" she cried, tears slipping down her face as she shielded her son.
("Jii What are you doing?!" )
But he wasn’t done.
He gripped her chin tightly, his voice venomous. "Yeh sab na teri wajah se ho raha hai… tuhi mere bete ke dimaag mein yeh zehar ghol raha hai… usse mere khilaaf kar rahi hai!"
("This is all your fault… you’ve poisoned my son’s mind… turned him against me!")
Arjun stepped forward despite his mother trying to stop him, fire in his eyes.
"Maa ko aankhein dikhana band kijiye! Jo bolna hai, mujhe boli—"
("Stop glaring at Maa! Whatever you have to say, say it to me—")
"Nahi Arjun! Muh band kar apna!"
("No, Arjun! Just shut your mouth!")
His mother suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around him, almost in desperation—her voice shaky, yet firm.
She knew what her husband was capable of. She had seen it. Felt it. Still ensuring it from the first night of the marriage.
Arjun froze in disbelief.
His forehead creased. Pain reflected in his eyes, deeper than rage.
"Sahi toh keh raha hoon maa..." his voice cracked, softer now, filled with hurt.
("But I’m telling the truth, Maa...")
"Aap mujhe kyun daant rahi hain?.. Yeh aadmi har waqt aap par haath uthata hai… kab tak sehengi aap yeh sab? Kyun seh rahi hain maa?!"
(Why are you scolding me? This man raises his hand on you all the time… how long will you keep enduring it, Maa? Why are you bearing all this?")
The room fell silent for a beat.
His father sneered at the sight.
"Do inch ka sharir aur mujhse zubaan lada raha hai? Maa ke saath reh rehkar zyada bolne laga hai na tu?? Abhi sikhata hoon tujhe — apne baap se kaise baat kiya jata hain!"
("Such a scrawny little thing, and talking back to me? Living with your mother too long — you've become too bold. I’ll teach you how to talk to your father!")
He stormed near the almirah, grabbing a thick belt which he mostly used for beating his wife.
"Nahi jii! Usse chhodiye! Kripya karke…!" her screams were cut off as he shoved her hard, sending her tumbling onto the bed.
("No! Please let him go! I beg you…!")
"Tujhe toh raat ko dekhta hoon… pehle is launde se nipat loon! Aisa haal karunga tera ki tu ek mahine tak bistar se na utar paay" he growled before looking at his little son.
("I'll deal with you tonight… but first, let me take care of this brat! I’ll beat you so badly that you won’t be able to get out of the bed for a month!")
His mother face pale instantly hearing the word tonight. Her lips started shivering thinking of the consequences.
And then — the stick came down on Arjun.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
'Aap baap kahane k layak hi nahi hain..janwar hain janwar!!.. samjhe aap?? Ek jeeta jaagta jaanwar..'
("You don’t deserve to be called a father… you're an animal! A monster!")
The boy bit his lips to suppress the scream, his knuckles clenched, his knees shaking — but he stood his ground.
His mother sobbed, clutching the end of her pallu, helpless.
"Mat ro maa… mujhe kuch nahi hua!!!"
Arjun screamed, his voice hoarse and breaking, tears stinging his shut eyes as he braced himself.
("Don't cry maa nothing will happen to me")
Thwack!
Another blow.
And another.
Each strike lashed against his back, echoing like thunder in the room.
His body jerked with every hit, but he refused to cry out in pain.
He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood—because he knew if he screamed, his mother would break.
His mother sobbed uncontrollably ran near her husband kneeling beside him, trying to shield his son with her arms, but his father shoved her away without a shred of mercy.
"Hatt ja beech se!"
("Just move from my way..")
But she didn’t move.
She clutched Arjun’s arm, crying and screaming,
"Bas kijiye! Mar jaayega mera beta! Pair parta hu aapka..jo karna hai aap mere sath kijiye..use chor dijiye..."
("Please stop! My son will die! I beg you… do whatever you want with me instead… just leave him!")
She hold his leg to stop him.
His father, drunk on ego and rage, raised his hand again-
Still, he didn’t stop.
The belt in his hand came down with the same shameless fury, again and again.
Arjun’s back was now a map of swelling bruises, burning with pain, but his voice didn’t falter.
Even as his vision blurred, he looked at his mother and forced a smile through the agony.
"Maine kaha na maa… mujhe kuch nahi hua...mat chuhiya iss danav ka pair..apke hath gande ho jayenge.."
(I told you Maa… I’m fine... don’t touch this monster's feet… your hands will get dirty...")
He wasn’t trying to be brave for himself.
He was being brave for her.