TERMS AND CONDITIONS
1091 Words
“Do you think she’ll actually agree to get married?” Varnika asked, barging into the conversation between her parents.
“It’s like trying to climb Mount Everest,” Mr. Krishna Kumar muttered, flipping the next page of the newspaper. “Convincing that girl is no less.”
“I agree, Dad,” came a calm but unexpected voice from the stairs.
Rithu walked down with a composed gait, her hands folded behind her back and a strange firmness set in her jaw.
“What?!” Mr. Krishna Kumar looked up, stunned. His daughter? Agreeing to something without resistance? That meant only one thing—she had a plan.
“Yes, I agree to get married,” Rithu said, standing tall in the living room. “But…” she paused, her voice gaining weight, “there are conditions. If the man can accept them, I’ll marry him without protest.”
Varnika narrowed her eyes. Something was off. “I knew it! You never make things simple.”
“Conditions?” Mrs. Prabha stormed in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her saree. “Really, Rithu? You’re the bride. The groom should be setting the terms!”
“Why?” Rithu asked, raising her brow with a mock smile. Her stance shifted—hands now resting firmly on her hips. “Do men grow horns? Just like them, I have my own rights. The law says men and women are equal, but here we are—you still trying to tie my hands behind my back.”
The steel in her voice silenced the room.
“Don’t bring the court into this house,” Mrs. Prabha snapped, slapping her forehead. “This isn’t your courtroom.”
“But I’m still an advocate. And this is my life, not a client’s case. I get to make the choice. If you all can accept my terms, I’ll go ahead with the marriage.”
Mr. Krishna Kumar lowered the newspaper, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, ignore all this. Just say what the conditions are.”
He trusted her. She never asked for anything unreasonable—probably something about personal freedom.
“Condition one,” Rithu began, holding up a finger. “I will not be the only one doing housework. That doesn’t mean he has to be a chef—but he must share responsibilities. Every single one of them.”
Mr. Krishna Kumar nodded slowly.
“Condition two: I will take care of his parents with the same respect as I do mine—but I will not tolerate disrespect or unnecessary restrictions.”
He stopped her gently, raising his hand.
“Beta… you’ve got time. Let me find the groom first. Then you can talk to him directly. I have no objections.”
Rithu looked at her father, her eyes softening. He always believed in her.
“So…” Aaditya pshouted from the dining room, “should I order the wedding feast already?”
Laughter spilled through the room, but beneath her smile, Rithu felt the weight settling in her chest. Her dreams, ambitions, the world she had carefully built inside her—were all about to be packed into the delicate frame of a bride.
Marriage felt like a pause. Maybe even a full stop.
Until now, she was allowed to dream freely. But after marriage… rules, restrictions, new expectations. And the worst part—none of them would be hers.
---
Across town…
“I’m serious,” Sheela said, standing near the kitchen entrance, arms folded like a general inspecting a battlefield. “You’re his father. It’s your responsibility to speak to him about marriage and ask what kind of girl he actually wants.”
Shekhar lowered the newspaper slowly, peering over its edge with a familiar smile. “What? Me? No way.”
She stepped closer, her voice flat and sharp. “Don’t play games, Shekhar.”
He set the paper aside with a defeated sigh. “Alright, alright.”
“You should,” she said firmly, returning to the dining table and straightening the plates. “He listens to you more than he does to me. And if not now, when? The boy is flying through life with nothing but work on his mind.”
Sheela was never one to leave things to chance. Her world was carefully constructed—her husband responsible, her home peaceful, her son dutiful. Everything moved to her rhythm. Everything… except her elder son’s marriage.
Avinesh Ram. Her pride, her worry. Brilliant, composed, but detached. Marriage, love, companionship—none of it seemed to register with him. He was like clockwork—punctual, polite, and distant. A man driven by discipline and silence.
“I just don’t want him to wake up one day and find he’s missed everything,” she said softly, placing a steel tumbler on the table with a gentle clink.
Trrr... Trrr...
Shekhar’s phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it, then smiled faintly. “Hey, Mr. Saurav,” he said, voice lighting up. “Oh, is it? That sounds promising.”
Sheela’s eyes snapped to him.
“You got all the details, right? No mistakes. This is about Avi’s life,” Shekhar added, his tone sharpening before he ended the call.
“Well?” she asked immediately.
“Saurav has found a girl. Rithu Krishna. Advocate. Twenty-five. From a conservative Hindu family. Father’s an ex-army man, mother’s a pharmacist. Three kids—she’s the eldest. Calm but not quiet. Strong-willed. Handles things well, but not easy to tame when angry. They’ll send her photo by evening.”
Sheela’s face lit up. “An advocate? That’s perfect! We need someone who won’t bend too easily.”
Shekhar gave her a cautious look. “You haven’t even seen her.”
“She’s a lawyer. That’s more than enough. For someone like Avi, she’s exactly what we need—smart, sharp, and steady.”
Before Shekhar could reply, footsteps echoed on the stairs.
Both heads turned.
Avi walked in, dressed in a crisp Raymond shirt and dark jeans, his hair neatly parted, a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. His presence shifted the air—silent but commanding.
“There he is,” Sheela whispered under her breath. “The one who comes and goes like a monsoon breeze—no warning, no trace.”
“Good morning, Mom. Good morning, Dad,” Avi said, taking a seat at the table, eyes on the breakfast spread.
Shekhar and Sheela exchanged a glance.
The game had begun.
- Writer
