A little less than a month after the visit from Savitri Mausi, Maya found her clothes growing in size, and number. Just one day after Bade Babu had finalized her match with Ashok, she found a wandering clothes trader sitting in her verandah with her father. Pitaji took his time in going through all the pieces, carefully putting three silk saris aside—two for Maya and one for her mother. An impressive number of notes were exchanged between the two men, the trader congratulated him on the upcoming nuptials and took his leave. The saris were beautiful, and Maya spent a nice, long, giggly afternoon with her mother draping them around her thin, lean frame. She had never looked prettier in her whole life.

Maya had spent a bulk of her twelve years in this world being the loved yet often overlooked child. She was by no means ill-mannered or wild like Manoj bhaiya, but there wasn't a whole lot that was feminine about her either. She had grown up seeing her mother not caring too much about clothes or jewelry, being content in her cotton saris with loosely stitched blouses, alternatively worn over just two sets of petticoats. Those two extra clothing pieces were in fact quite uncommon for women in her village, and her mother belonged to the last stature of women who could afford blouses and petticoats, even if she reused the same old fashioned ones again and again over a much larger collection of saris.

Growing up, Maya was left alone, unbothered and unchecked, to frolic around in clean though shabby ghagra choli sets, and sometimes, when training with her brother, a dhoti and one of his old shirts. It had all changed this past month, and she embraced the excitement of freshly discovered and much encouraged femininity with barely-contained vigour. Everyday a servant from Bade Babu's mansion would arrive, arms laden with a large copper lota of milk and sometimes little treats like dry cashews or almonds or even gond laddoos. Every alternative day, he would also carry a jute bag filled with either clothes or accessories—nose rings, kanveli earrings with long chains, gold and silver maantikas, paayals, bracelets, bangles and kangans, other kinds of adornments she couldn't even recognize. And red, cool and soothing aalta, both for her mother and her.

The gifts did not arrive in isolation, however. They carried a silent expectation from her. And naturally, Maya's mother intensified her efforts of training her in all kinds of household chores, like teaching her the types of fasts she would have to observe as a married woman, and the way she should offer prayers, or even the proper way to touch the feet of all elders as the new daughter in law of the house.

Long gone were the days when her hair would be tied in two braids, now they were either brushed till their ends and twisted in a bun, or, more commonly, held together in one long thick braid. It weighed her tiny head down, just a little bit, with the entire mass of her thick locks concentrated and held up on one point, at the center of her head.

It one was on such night, after receiving the gifts from her in-laws and being in the process of slowly brushing her hair out their braids, that Maya saw the shadow of her bhaiya on her doorframe, when their parents were long asleep.

"You don't practice anymore," he said. She was not surprised. Manoj Bhaiya was often lurking, quiet and observant, when she would receive her endless gifts. Or follow her mother around the house, observing and learning. "Is that not allowed anymore?"

He was testing her. She knew that. Her brother was not a disbeliever, in fact, he was the most ardent Hanuman bhakt she knew, but he also was the one who would always push her to learn more, be more strong, more clever, more...masculine. Every time Maya enjoyed a new gift, she could feel his gaze, and a twang of guilt would hit her—not enough to make her discard the new silks and styles, but enough make acidic curdles form in her gut.

"Amma says I should avoid the sun from now, especially till the wedding."

"Why?"

"It is not healthy." Maya repeated her mother's line of thinking. "No woman in Bade Badu's house runs around in the sun all day."

Manoj bhaiya's stocky framed entered her room, his weight dipping her cot as he settled on the edge of her bed. "Why would God make you take birth in a land so rich with sunlight if he thought it was unhealthy?"

It were questions like these which made her brother odd. He claimed the ways of their parents, the priests, the zamindar's family, the entire village's in fact, were modern ways. Thought processes imported all the way from England. Not his own. She had heard Amma mutter how he was always trying to be too rebellious for his own good, but he claimed that despite all his English education, he was the only traditional Bhartiya left in their village.

"I don't get time to practice either, I need to learn how to cook and keep rasoi and other ways of a good wife."

"You like learning that?"

His question was quiet, gentle. Maya could not figure out which kind of answer would disappoint him. But deep down she knew he would catch her dishonesty if she tried to lie. Admitting the truth was her only choice.

"Yes," she said.

"Are you excited to marry Ashok?"

This was a more loaded question. Everyone only called her the future daughter in law of Bade Babu. When she pictured getting married and moving out of her parents' house in the coming week, she pictured a life of milk baths and endless saris and gold bangles, she pictured leading bhajan singing in the temple, she basically pictured an image of herself identical to that of Savitri Mausi. Ashok as her husband? She had not thought about it much.

"I don't know," she said after a beat. "He is kind, and he is your friend, right?"

"He is," agreed her bhaiya. "But do you see him as a good husband for you? As your match?"

"I don't know." At the unreadable expression on her brother's face, she assured hastily. "But I am not scared of him."

"No one is scared of him." Manoj Bhaiya smiled. "That is Bade Babu's greatest sorrow."

It was Maya's turn to ask him questions. She always loved doing that, because he always had the most interesting things to say. Yet at that moment, she hesitated, not knowing if she wanted him to answer honestly. "Do you not like Ashok?"

Manoj Bhaiya tapped her head, making her feel like a child. "He is a decent man, and he will try to keep you happy, I'm sure."

It was not an endorsement. But it was not an expression of his disapproval either. Maya did not know how to feel about his words.

"Anyway, I came to give you this." He removed a little paper folded packet from the folds of his dhoti. From it, Maya took out a tiny locket, a copper mace tied to a thick black thread. "I won't be there with you when you go to your new house, so think of Hanuman ji as your brother."

"I will" Her eyes glistened and she clutched the locket tightly in her fist as she made a second vow to her bhaiya. "I promise."

~.~

a/n

New concept, same old cheesy and dramatic writing. I can't help it, all my characters are a tiny bit idealistic at times. Good balance for how cynical I get with each passing day. It's fun though.