NEON LIGHTS

Not until morning did I finally feel sleep dawn on me. There were so many questions in my mind. A stranger was sleeping beside me, a place not even my brother’s wife managed to occupy. My mouth was itching all along to rouse her from sleep and inform her about my brother’s wife. But I contained myself in the hope that morning would eventually come and, with that, a closure for this issue.

 

But there seems to be more trouble than I expected. As we kept moving along, Aliza’s Bhai came from nowhere, and as soon as he saw a new girl at home, he inquired about her. And in the process of covering things up, my parents gave away too much information. Then Aliza Bhabhi’s name sparked in between, and the new girl stared as if lightning struck her. Neither Ma nor Baba tried to quarrel or comfort her. And I was just moving with the flow. But things are getting out of hand. Not for me, obviously. For Ahmed Bhai.

 

He enters along with Bhabhi just as her brother left carrying the information to share with his family. They are holding hands and are clung to each other like newfound lovers. Clearly, Bhabhi still seems to be in the dark. There is a soap opera-like situation in which Bhai and Bhabhi enter the house to be welcomed by an unassuming Cyra and our parents. I can almost hear the music playing in the background. But no, this is not funny. This is real. This is wrong. This is an act of betrayal committed against two innocent women by a man I thought was not capable of that. I stand there watching the scene unfold. 

 

Bhai is stunned. He slips his hand away from Bhabhi. Cyra watches as her eyes tear and her forehead furrows into a crinkle. Bhabhi watches back and forth between them, clueless. And out of all the questions that Bhai could have asked, he asks this, “Cyra, how did you get here?” A classical man-got-caught situation. And she reverts, “Why? Don’t you want me here? So, you could keep me in the dark about your married life. Isn’t it?” 

And then the house erupts. Chaos ensues. The voices of Ma, Baba, Bhai, and Cyra merge as one. There is a chorus of emotions emanating from their words. But someone’s silence is more deafening than all the noise that there is. Bhabhi. She doesn’t seem like she has processed it all. She is calm, in shock, probably, in denial. And I can read her face transitioning from denial to acceptance in minutes. She moves to her room as everyone keeps talking. She packs a bag and walks out as Ma tries to stop her.

“We will sort this out. You aren’t leaving anywhere,” she says, grabbing her bag in hand. But Bhabhi is still frozen. She does not respond. There is just a trace of tears flowing down her cheek. She hasn’t demanded an explanation. She hasn’t demanded justice. She has planned to move out gracefully. 

“You must stay until Ahmed gives closure to this,” Cyra speaks, and I can see Bhabhi’s face flinch a bit. She is not ready to accept pity from a stranger, especially someone Bhai cheated her with. She walks away, not looking back. But Bhai hasn’t spoken yet. He hasn’t stopped her. Not once. Maybe it is his submission of guilt or acceptance of punishment that he deserves. I turn my face away from him and stare at Bhabhi as she leaves. In all the drama, she just looked at me once. Her eyes bore a shade of doubt and accusation, asking, “You too?” But clearly, she is mistaken. I haven’t betrayed her. I would never. I am not a man. But she did not look back, and my voice stuck in my throat. I wish she looked back. But no. She walks away, not because she wants to. But because she was tired. 

                             *

It's been four days since the drama unfolded, and everyone has agreed to move on with an official announcement of Cyra and Bhai’s marriage with Bhabhi’s consent. They plan to talk to their families in the coming days to give in. But, as we all know, this is just a formality. His second marriage will be officiated whether Bhabhi agrees or not. The house is being decorated as if it is an occasion we must be proud of. It goes bling at night like the patriarchal standards that shape up a woman’s life, unasked. But I must speak to Bhabhi. Make her understand that I have no hand in this, and I am with her in whatever she decides. Only, she needs to take a listen.

This is a part of BlogchatterA2Z 2025

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