From Cauvery to Ganga

Chapter 20: The Sacrifice of a Shadowed Soul

The hospital corridor felt colder than it should have been. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like dying insects. The smell of disinfectant, stale food, and despair hung thick in the air. Sunita stood frozen in Nithya’s simple cream-coloured salwar kameez, her long hair tied in a messy bun, heavy breasts rising and falling rapidly under the soft fabric. The realistic curves of her body, the wide hips, the soft waist, the weight between her thighs, all of it felt suffocating now.

Ramesh suddenly dropped to his knees right in front of her.

His rough, dark hands clutched the edge of her salwar bottom. Tears streamed down his weathered face as he looked up at her with raw, broken desperation.

“Please… Sunita… please… meri beti ko bacha lo… Main kuch bhi karunga… bas ek mahina… sirf ek mahina pati-patni ban ke raho… main tumhe kabhi takleef nahi dunga… please… Pihu ke liye… Mummy ke liye…”

His voice cracked completely. He bowed his head until it nearly touched her feet, sobbing quietly. The sight of this grown, hardworking migrant man kneeling and begging in front of her shattered something deep inside Sunita.

She stood there, perplexed. Speechless.

How did it come to this?

Inside her head, Satyaraj Gounder was screaming.

I am rich. I am free. I have everything money, luxury, a future, my masculinity, my identity… And now I have to give it all up? For how long? To live as this man’s wife? To sleep with him? To truly become Sunita for one full month?

Her hands trembled. The soft fabric of the salwar kameez suddenly felt too feminine, too real.

Nithya stood a few steps away, completely flabbergasted. Her usual playful confidence had vanished. She opened her mouth, closed it, then spoke hesitantly.

“Raj… this is… this is madness. Some random Swamy’s words? Fake beliefs, superstition… We can’t seriously consider ”

But before she could finish, the senior doctor walked out of the ICU with a grave face.

“We’ve done everything possible. All tests are inconclusive. Her condition is deteriorating. Medicine is failing. At this point… it’s up to God.”

The words landed like stones.

Sunita turned slowly toward the glass window of the pediatric ICU. Pihu lay there, tiny, pale, unconscious, surrounded by tubes and machines. The little girl who had called her “Mummy” with so much love. The child who had clung to her legs, slept on her chest, laughed when she made silly faces.

Tears filled Sunita’s eyes.

She remembered the communal baths, the factory work, the hard floor, the blisters, the constant humiliation… and then she remembered Pihu’s innocent smile, her tiny hands, the way she said “Mummy” like it was the safest word in the world.

A wave of genuine pity, deeper than anything she had ever felt, washed over her.

Her voice came out barely above a whisper, broken and feminine.

“…Okay.”

Nithya’s head snapped toward her. “Raj… no. You don’t have to do this. This is ridiculous...”

“One month,” Sunita said, voice shaking but firmer now. “Only one month. For the child. After that… I’m done.”

Ramesh lifted his head, eyes wide with disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. Fresh tears rolled down his face as he touched her feet.

“Dhanyawad… dhanyawad Sunita… main zindagi bhar tumhara ehsaan nahi bhoolunga…”

He stayed on his knees for a long moment, sobbing quietly.

They sat in silence for nearly an hour.

Nithya tried one last time, whispering to her privately.

“Raj… think about it. You’ll have to live as his wife. Sleep in the same bed. Act like a real couple. This isn’t a game anymore. Your body… your mind… everything will be pushed further.”

Sunita looked at her with tired, tear-filled eyes.

“I know. But if I walk away now… and something happens to Pihu… I will never forgive myself.”

Late that night, after more discussions with the doctors (who surprisingly didn’t dismiss the cultural belief entirely, saying “sometimes faith works where medicine fails”), the decision was sealed.

Ramesh looked at her with a mixture of hope, respect, and quiet affection.

“Kal… humari shaadi hogi. Simple temple wedding. Sirf hum teen log. Formal taur pe pati-patni ban jayenge.”

Sunita felt her stomach drop.

*Tomorrow… I’m going to get married.*

The words echoed in her head like a death sentence.

She looked down at herself, dressed in Nithya’s feminine clothes, long hair, soft body, realistic breasts, wide hips, and realized with horror how natural it all felt now.

As they prepared to leave the hospital for a few hours of rest before the “wedding,” Sunita glanced back at Pihu’s ward one last time.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

What have I done?

What am I about to become?