[60]NISHA
during the naming ceremony
The living room was a sea of colour and sound-women in bright sarees clustered around Amisha on the large central sofa, cooing over Aviraj in her arms.
The baby, dressed in his white and gold outfit, blinked sleepily at all the attention, occasionally yawning or kicking his little legs.
The ladies were in full force.
Karishma sat to her left, gently touching Aviraj's cheek.
Shushila on her right (two months pregnant herself, sitting carefully, hand on her own small bump, smiling softly as people blessed her too).
Megha bounced between them, taking charge of showing off the baby's tiny fingers.
Other village women and relatives crowded close, offering blessings, touching the baby's feet, whispering
"Nazar na lage" and "Bahut pyara hai."
The air was thick with love-sweets being passed, laughter, stories of "Yeh bilkul Abhiraj jaisa hai" and "Cheeks toh Amisha ke."
Amisha sat in the centre, glowing in her brown saree, smiling politely, answering questions, letting people bless her son.
But in the midst of all the noise and warmth, she felt it.
A gaze.
Intense.
Burning.
She turned her head slightly.
Across the room, near the doorway, Abhiraj stood with the men.
His eyes were fixed on her.
Not on the baby.
Not on the guests.
On her.
Dark, possessive, a little stunned.
She raised one eyebrow (slow, teasing).
He didn't smile back-just held the gaze, lips parting slightly.
She turned away, cheeks warming, hiding her smile behind the pallu.
The moment lingered.
Then Minakshi Ma appeared at her side, leaning close.
"Amisha... tumse milne koi aaya hai bahar."
Amisha blinked, confused.
"Kaun Ma?"
Minakshi Ma looked equally puzzled.
"Pata nahi... back door se aaya hai.
Maine poochha toh bola sirf tumse milna hai."
Amisha frowned, handed Aviraj to Dadi (who took him eagerly), and stood.
She walked through the crowd, saree shimmering, guests parting with smiles.
Abhiraj watched her go, curious, but stayed with the men.
Amisha didn't notice he followed a few steps behind (quiet, protective).
She reached the back entrance (the quieter side door used for deliveries or private visitors).
A woman stood there, back turned, in a simple cotton saree, braid down her back.
Slightly chubby build, height similar to Amisha's.
Amisha walked closer, confused.
The woman turned.
And Amisha froze.
The face was older, but unmistakable.
Same eyes.
Same nose.
Same round cheeks.
Her elder sister.
The one she hadn't seen since her wedding twelve years ago.
The one who had vanished from her life after marriage, contact cut, reasons never clear.
Amisha stood silent, staring.
Nisha's eyes filled instantly.
"Kaise ho, Amisha?"
Her voice (so similar, a little deeper now).
Amisha's throat closed.
When she finally spoke, it was cold, broken.
"Aapko ab time mila poochhne ke liye, Didi?"
Nisha flinched, tears spilling.
"Sorry... really sorry.
Nahi ho payi baat..."
Amisha's eyes filled too.
The dam broke.
She sank slowly to the floor, knees giving way, tears streaming silently.
Nisha rushed forward, kneeling, "Sorry... sorry, Amisha..."
Abhiraj, who had followed quietly, stepped out of the shadows.
He saw his wife on the floor, crying.
Saw the stranger kneeling beside her.
His eyes turned to ice.
He moved forward in two strides, lifted Amisha gently into his arms (her face buried in his chest, sobs shaking her).
His glare fixed on Nisha (cold, lethal).
He didn't know who she was.
Only that she had made his wife cry.
And that was enough.
Nisha looked up, tears streaming, hands folded.
Abhiraj's voice was low, dangerous.
"Kaun ho aap?"
The naming ceremony joy paused at the back door.
A family secret had just walked back in.
And the protector of the house was not happy.
The naming ceremony music and chatter drifted faintly from the front of the haveli, but at the quiet back door, the air felt heavy.
Amisha stood frozen, tears still wet on her cheeks, staring at the woman in front of her.
The woman (older, but the face so familiar) took a hesitant step forward.
"Main Nisha... Amisha ki badi behen."
Abhiraj, holding Amisha close, went completely still.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
Nisha-the elder sister who had married on the same day as their wedding, twelve years ago.
The one who had vanished from Amisha's life right after.
His arms tightened around his wife instinctively.
Amisha's voice came out broken, shaking.
"Kahan chali gayi thi aap?
Kabhi phone nahi kiya... khat nahi likha...
Mummy-Papa ke jaane ke baad toh aap gayab hi ho gayi."
Nisha's eyes filled, head lowered in guilt.
"Sorry... main majboor thi."
Amisha's tears fell faster.
"Itni kya majboori thi jo apne baap ke marne pe bhi nahi aayi?"
Nisha's voice cracked.
"Mujhe us waqt permission nahi thi...
mere family ne nahi diya."
Amisha laughed bitterly through tears.
"Par woh toh achhe log the na?"
Nisha shook her head, tears spilling.
"Sirf mere pati the achhe... baaki koi nahi."
She wiped her face, tried to smile.
"Main bas thodi der ke liye aayi hoon milne...
zyada nahi ruk sakti.
Par chinta mat karna-ab woh log sudhar gaye hain.
Main toh bas... tumhara beta dekhne aayi thi.
Vikram ji ne bataya tha-sarpanch ko beta hua hai... matlab meri behen ko beta hua."
Amisha's anger faltered, replaced by old love and new pain.
She wiped her eyes.
"Chalo... main milwati hoon."
Nisha shook her head quickly.
"Nahi... yahan hi theek hai.
Andar gayi toh sabke sawaalon ka jawab dena padega."
Abhiraj spoke for the first time, voice calm but firm.
"Main laata hoon."
He gently released Amisha, pressed a quick kiss to her temple, and walked back inside.
The two sisters stood in silence for a moment.
Then Nisha reached out, touched Amisha's cheek.
"Tu... kitni sundar ho gayi hai."
Amisha's lips trembled.
"Tum bhi... wahi ho."
When Abhiraj returned, he carried sleeping Aviraj carefully.
The sisters were talking now (softly, smiling through tears).
Relief washed over him.
He handed the baby to Amisha.
She took him, then gently passed him to Nisha.
"Yeh... Aviraj."
Nisha looked down at the baby, eyes widening.
Then frowned slightly, eyebrows drawing together.
"Yeh toh... mere jaisa hai."
Amisha blinked.
"Tumhare jaisa kaise?"
Nisha turned the baby's head gently, pointed at two tiny moles behind his ear.
"Yeh til... mere jaise hi hain."
Amisha looked (really looked).
The same placement.
The same shape.
Both women stared, shocked.
Then smiled (slow, teary, wondering).
Nisha handed the baby back, pulled out her phone with trembling fingers.
"Mera number le le.
Ab roz baat karungi."
Amisha nodded, eyes wet.
"Ruk jao na... raat ke liye."
Nisha shook her head, smiling sadly.
"Kabhi koi aur din.
Aaj... bas itna kaafi hai."
She touched Aviraj's cheek one last time, then Amisha's.
Turned and left.
Amisha stood watching until the figure disappeared down the lane.
Abhiraj came behind her, arms wrapping around her and the baby.
She leaned back into him.
"Woh... wapas aayegi na?"
He kissed her temple.
"Aayegi.
Ab nahi jayegi."
And in the quiet back entrance,
with their son sleeping between them,
a broken family thread began to mend.
One tear, one promise, one little mole at a time.