From Cauvery to Ganga

Chapter 17: Nithya’s Secret Diary of a Borrowed Life

(Nithya’s POV)

I still remember the exact moment I drove away that first evening, leaving Raj, no, Sunita , standing there in that faded parrot-green saree, pallu slipping off her shoulder, holding little Pihu’s hand while Ramesh stood beside her like a real husband.

God, she looked so… perfect.

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing in the car. My rich, arrogant, carefree boyfriend, Satyaraj Gounder, who used to drive his Thar like he owned the world, was now dressed as a poor Bihari migrant wife, standing in the middle of a dusty slum with sweat stains on her blouse and glass bangles clinking on her wrists. The absurdity was delicious.

I did it for fun, obviously. At first.

I wanted to see how long the spoiled prince would last. I wanted to watch him squirm, blush, and break that ego of his. Every time I imagined him cooking on a kerosene stove or struggling to bathe in that filthy communal area, a thrill ran through me. He looked so cute when he was helpless and humiliated.

That first day when I left him there, I actually felt a tiny pinch of concern. The sun was setting, the colony looked rough, and he was completely out of his element. But I reminded myself, this was his choice. He agreed. And I needed to see how far he would go.

So I started secretly checking up on him.

The first week was pure entertainment.

I would park my car at a distance and watch from behind a wall or from the main road. Seeing him walk to the factory with the other women, saree pallu on his head, heavy breasts bouncing, old chappals slapping against the road, carrying Pihu on his hip, made me smile like an idiot. He looked so natural now. The way he adjusted his pallu, the shy way he lowered his head when men passed by, the way he had started walking with that slight feminine sway… it was fascinating.

I watched him struggle with the communal bath. I saw him washing clothes by hand, sweat dripping from his face. I even caught him once feeding Pihu on the floor, rice grains falling on his breasts, wiping them away with his pallu like a real mother.

He was learning humility the hard way. And I loved every second of it.

But then something changed.

When he agreed to stay for another week just so Pihu could join school… I was genuinely surprised. The old Satyaraj would never have cared about a migrant worker’s daughter’s education. But this version of him m, this soft, saree-clad Sunita, was arguing with Ramesh, defending the child’s future, saying “Meri beti hai… meri marzi.”

That moment hit me differently.

I realized he wasn’t just surviving anymore. He was growing. He was starting to care. Even while hating every moment, something inside him was shifting. The hardships were changing him, slowly, painfully, beautifully.

I kept watching secretly.

I saw the exhaustion on his face after factory work. The way his soft, once-pampered hands had developed small cuts and roughness. The way he massaged his aching back when he thought no one was looking. The way he carried Pihu even when he was dead tired. The quiet moments when he would stare at Gounder Illam from a distance with tears in his eyes.

He was still my Raj. My boyfriend.

But he was also becoming Sunita in ways I hadn’t fully expected.

The hardships were real. The constant sweat, the tight blouses digging into his skin, the blisters on his feet, the humiliating communal toilets, sleeping on the hard floor every night, the way Ramesh was slowly treating him like a real wife ,I saw it all.

And yet… he stayed.

For Pihu.

For a promise.

For his stupid ego that I kept poking.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will go and bring him back.

I’ve already planned everything. I’ll tell him the week is over, that he has suffered enough, that I’m proud of him. I’ll take him home, remove all the prosthetics, let him shower in hot water, sleep in his luxurious bed again.

He deserves it.

But a small, selfish part of me wonders…

Will he actually want to come back so easily now?

Will a part of him miss the weight of those glass bangles? The feeling of being needed by Pihu? The strange domestic rhythm he has fallen into?

I smiled to myself as I sat in my car, watching the slum from afar one last time.

My cute, silly boyfriend.

You really have no idea how deep you’ve gone, do you?

Tomorrow… I’ll bring Satyaraj Gounder back.

Or maybe… I’ll just check on Sunita one more time.