Tara's POV (Age 15)
Siya had just left some time ago, and I—well, I was eagerly waiting for Baba to come home. I hadn't told Maa about this yet either; I wanted to tell them both together. They would be so happy.
To be honest, neither Baba nor Maa were very happy about me continuing my studies after the 5th standard. Most girls in our village weren't allowed to go to school at all, and those who did were usually pulled out after 4th or 5th grade. But luckily, Karan's father convinced Baba, saying that since I was to be the wife of the future Sarpanch, I should at least be more literate than the rest. That was the only reason I was allowed to study further.
I was grateful, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel a little sad. Siya was not with me. Just like me, Siya was also married young, but unlike me, she had already gone to her sasural when she turned 14. That was the custom—most girls left for their in-laws' house at 14 or 15 because by then, they were considered grown women. Once a girl got her periods, she was seen as an adult, ready to take on the responsibilities of a wife and daughter-in-law. That's why so many girls in our village got married so young and left soon after.
The only reason I was still at home was that Karan was still studying. He would return in about three years after completing his education. Until then, I was allowed to stay with my family.
I was lost in these thoughts when I heard the familiar sound of Baba's car pulling up outside. It was already 7 o'clock. I rushed downstairs and into the kitchen, taking the glass of water from Maa's hands.
"Maa, mai de aati hu!" (Maa, I'll give it to him!) I said excitedly.
Maa smiled knowingly and nodded.
Baba was sitting on the charpai, relaxing after a long day. Seeing me approach with the glass, he smiled.
"Arey wah! Aaj hamari beti hamare liye paani laayi hai!" (Oh wow! Today my daughter is bringing me water!) he said, chuckling as he took the glass from my hands and drank deeply.
"Baba, aapka din kaisa gaya?" (Baba, how was your day?) I asked eagerly.
Baba smiled tiredly. "Waise hi jaise roz jata hai, thakan se bhara." (The same as every day, full of exhaustion.) Then he looked at me. "Tum batao, tumhara din kaisa gaya?" (You tell me, how was your day?)
I was about to answer when Maa interrupted, "Oh ho! Baatein hoti rahengi. Aap jaake haath-muh dho lijiye, mai khana laga rahi hoon." (You can talk later. Go freshen up, I'm setting the table.)
Baba nodded and got up to wash his hands. I decided I would tell them the news over dinner.
During Dinner
Maa and I served Baba his food. Once everything was set, Maa went back to make more rotis, and I stood beside Baba, ready to bring him anything he needed. This was our routine—Baba ate first, and once he was done, Maa and I would eat after finishing all the housework. But today was different. Today was special. I had something important to share.
As Maa returned with fresh garam rotis, serving Baba, I finally spoke.
"Maa, Baba, mujhe aapse kuch kehna hai." (Maa, Baba, I need to tell you something.)
They both paused, looking at me. Baba gestured for me to continue.
I took a deep breath. "Woh... 10th ka result aa gaya hai..." (Umm... My 10th-grade results are out...)
Baba's hand, mid-air, froze for a brief moment before he resumed eating. "Hmmm," he said, urging me to go on.
"Maine top kiya hai, poore zile mein!" (I topped the entire district!) I said, my voice filled with excitement.
Silence.
Baba didn't say anything.
Maa just looked at me with something in her eyes I couldn't quite place—pity?
Ignoring the uneasy feeling, I continued, "Baba, mujhe aage padhna hai. Mai college jana chahti hoon." (Baba, I want to continue studying. I want to go to college.)
Nothing. Baba kept eating, casually asking Maa for more rotis. My excitement turned into shock.
"Baba?" I called again, impatiently.
Finally, he finished his meal, washed his hands in the same utensil like always, and stood up to leave.
"Baba!" I called once more, desperate for an answer.
This time, he turned to me. Walking closer, he placed his rough hand on my head, patting it lightly.
"Is baar keh diya, dobara mat kehna." (You said it once, don't say it again.)
My stomach dropped.
"Jitna padna tha, pad liya. Ab ghar par apni maa ka haath batao. Kuch hi saal mein tumhari vidaai ho jayegi, tab apne ghar chali jaogi. Kya karogi college jaakar? Karna toh tumhe ghar ka kaam hi hai, toh uspar dhyan do." (You have studied enough. Now, help your mother at home. In a few years, you will be married off and sent to your in-laws. What will you do with a college degree? Your life's duty is to manage a household, so focus on that.)
Tears burned my eyes, but I swallowed them back.
"Baba, abhi toh aur teen saal hai meri vidaai ko! Tab tak—" (Baba, I still have three years before my wedding! Until then—) I tried again.
But Baba's voice rose, cutting me off. "Jitna kaha hai, utna karo. Sochne ka kaam tumhara nahi hai. Jao!" (Do as you're told. Thinking is not your job. Go!)
Startled, I flinched. Blinking back tears, I turned and ran to my room, burying my face in my pillow. The sobs came fast, shaking my whole body.
A while later, Maa entered and sat beside me. She gently placed her hand on my head, stroking my hair.
"Ladoo... Tu jaanti hai na, unhe? Phir kyu bola? Nahi bolna chahiye tha." (Ladoo, you know how he is... So why did you say anything? You shouldn't have.)
I sat up, facing her with tear-streaked cheeks.
"Maa, mai aage padhna chahti hoon. Isme kya galat hai? Baba kyu nahi chahte ki mai padhai karu, unka naam roshan karu? Kyu, Maa? Kyu?" (Maa, I want to study further. What's wrong with that? Why doesn't Baba want me to achieve something, to make him proud? Why, Maa? Why?)
Maa's eyes softened.
"Ladoo, ye toh reet hai... Aur tu toh waise bhi sabse padhi-likhi ladki hai is gaav ki. Bas kar, aur mat ro." (Ladoo, this is tradition... And you're already the most educated girl in this village. Let it go, don't cry anymore.)
She pulled me into her lap, stroking my back as I wept. That night, I fell asleep crying, my mother's hands soothing my pain, even as she accepted what I refused to.

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