From Cauvery to Ganga

Chapter 13: The Week That Was Never Just a Week

"Hell no.”

The words escaped Sunita’s lips before she could stop them, sharp, desperate, and in that soft feminine voice that still felt alien to her ears.

Nithya had returned late that night, slipping into the tiny house like a shadow after Ramesh and Pihu had fallen asleep. Now the two of them stood alone in the dim hall, the single bulb casting long shadows on the damp walls. The air was thick with the smell of leftover food, kerosene, and the faint musk of the day’s sweat still clinging to Sunita’s body.

Nithya smiled, that dangerous, amused smile she had been wearing more often lately.

“Come on, Sunita… we’ve already spent so much on this transformation. The prosthetics, the adhesives, the creams, Roberta’s fees… Why don’t you just stay like this for one week? Think of it as an experience. You’ll learn some humility.”

Sunita’s heavy breasts rose and fell rapidly under the thin nightie. The cheap cotton stuck to her damp skin. Her wide hips shifted uncomfortably as she stood barefoot on the rough floor.

“No. Absolutely not. One day was already too much. I’m done.”

But Nithya didn’t back down. She stepped closer, gently brushing a strand of oiled hair from Sunita’s face.

“I’ve already told your parents you’ve gone on a sudden vacation with friends for a few days. They didn’t even question it. Your father thinks you’re finally ‘acting responsible’ and taking a break.” She let out a soft laugh. “Just play along for one week, Raj. Or should I say… Sunita? It’ll be fun. For me, at least.”

The argument went on for nearly forty minutes in hushed whispers. Sunita resisted, listing every humiliation, the communal bath, the factory work, sleeping on the floor, the constant stares, the way the saree clung to her body. But Nithya kept pestering, mixing guilt, ego, and subtle threats. She found this entire situation genuinely entertaining. Watching the once arrogant rich boy reduced to a poor Bihari housewife was becoming her new favourite game.

Finally, exhausted and cornered, Sunita muttered through gritted teeth:

“…Okay. One week. That’s it. And you won’t visit me. Just… let me survive this.”

Nithya’s eyes sparkled with victory. She slipped a small roll of money (a few thousand rupees) into the front of Sunita’s nightie, tucking it deep between her heavy breasts. Then, with a wicked grin, she pushed a small packet into the same place.

“A condom. Just in case… useful for your husband,” she whispered jokingly.

Sunita’s face burned with shame. “This is not funny.”

Nithya also handed her a small notebook. “Basic Bhojpuri words and phrases. Learn fast, sister.”

With one final kiss on Sunita’s forehead, Nithya slipped out into the night.

When Ramesh and Pihu woke up the next morning and heard that “Sunita” was staying for one more week, their joy was immediate and heartbreaking.

Pihu clapped her hands and hugged Sunita’s legs tightly, crying “Mummy! Mummy rahegi!”

Ramesh looked at her with deep gratitude mixed with quiet relief. In his broken Tamil, he said softly:

“I know… you are not real Sunita. But for this time… I will enjoy. Thank you… Sunita.”

The words sent a chill down her spine. He knew. Yet he still wanted her here.

They slept the same way again, on the hard floor mat, Pihu in the middle, Ramesh on the other side. Sunita lay awake for a long time, feeling the rough blanket, the weight of her breasts, and the warmth of the child pressed against her.

The Next Morning – Day 1 of the Week

The nightmare repeated with cruel precision.

She woke at 4:50 AM to the sound of Ramesh preparing to leave. Her body was already sore. The nightie was damp with sweat. She helped with morning tea, then took Pihu for the communal bath again.

The line was longer today. The women were more chatty. Sunita stood there in yesterday’s wrinkled saree, pallu covering her head, feeling every pair of eyes on her. When she finally got her turn, bathing Pihu while managing her own body in the tiny, slippery space was even more humiliating. Cold water on sensitive skin. The heavy breasts swinging as she bent. The realistic vagina getting wet and sending confusing signals. Struggling to wear the old bottle-green saree again, the petticoat string cutting into her flesh, the tight blouse squeezing her chest until breathing felt difficult, the coarse fabric rubbing against her nipples.

She re applied the sindoor, bindi, nose ring, bangles, and mangalsutra with trembling hands. The old rubber chappals felt like sandpaper on her already blistered feet.

Factory Work

The walk to the garment unit with the other women was long and hot. Her pallu kept slipping. Sweat ran down her back in streams, making the blouse nearly transparent in places. The heavy breasts bounced with every step. Pihu grew heavy on her hip.

At the factory, the male supervisors were harsher today.

“Ei Bihari! Faster a work pannu da!”

She was again put on packing women’s innerwear. The irony was brutal, packing bras and panties while her own heavy fake breasts strained against an old, cheap blouse. Her soft hands developed fresh blisters. The plastic smell mixed with body odour made her dizzy. One supervisor even brushed against her while passing, making her flinch violently.

During lunch break, she sat in a corner eating the simple rice and dal she had packed, feeling completely broken.

As she walked back in the evening with the group of tired women, saree dusty and pallu clinging to her sweaty body, a familiar car slowly passed by on the main road.

Nithya.

She was casually driving, wearing sunglasses, looking cool and comfortable in her AC car. Their eyes met for a brief second. Nithya gave a small, amused wave and drove on.

Sunita felt a fresh wave of burning humiliation.

Dear God… when will this end?

The walk back to the slum felt longer than ever. Her feet were raw. Her back screamed. The bangles felt like shackles. The mangalsutra tapped mockingly against her chest with every exhausted step.

One week.

She kept repeating it like a mantra.

But something deep inside her was already whispering that this week might stretch far longer than she ever imagined.