From Cauvery to Ganga

Chapter 32: The Real Sunita

My name is Sunita Devi.

Not the one living in that tiny house right now. The real one.

I had enough.

Enough of waking up at 4 AM to light that damned kerosene stove. Enough of the tight blouses digging into my skin, the pallu always slipping, the glass bangles that never stopped jingling like chains. Enough of being treated like a breeding machine, a servant, a second-grade creature whose only purpose was to cook, clean, spread her legs, and produce sons.

I ran away eight months ago.

I cut my long hair short with a rusty blade in an isolated temple by the Cauvery. I stole men’s clothes from a drying line. I bound my chest flat. I started speaking in a lower voice. I became “Sunith”, a quiet, hardworking boy from a distant village looking for labour work in Tirupur.

It was hard. So fucking hard.

I worked in a small power loom unit, carrying heavy bundles, breathing cotton dust all day. My body grew thinner. My hands became rough. But for the first time in my life, I felt… free. No husband ordering me around. No mother-in-law scolding me for not producing a male child. No constant fear of pregnancy or getting beaten.

I learned Tamil. I was always bright, even if no one gave me a chance to study. With the little money I earned, I bought second-hand books and studied at night under streetlights. I can speak Tamil fluently now. I even started learning basic accounting from a kind supervisor.

I felt sorry for Ramesh. Truly. He wasn’t a bad man. He was just another broken soul trapped in the same cruel system. But I never loved him. Not the way a wife should.

The only person I truly cared about was Pihu.

My daughter.

Every single night for the past months, I cried thinking about her. I missed her tiny hands, her laugh, the way she called me “Mummy.” I had to see her. Just once. From a distance. I told myself I wouldn’t interfere… I just needed to know she was okay.

Today, I finally gathered the courage.

I dressed carefully, simple male shirt and lungi, short messy hair, a cheap cloth bag over my shoulder. I looked like any other young migrant labourer. No one would recognise me.

I reached the colony in the evening, heart pounding. I hid behind a half-broken wall near our old house, waiting.

And then I saw her.

A woman stepped out of the house carrying Pihu on her hip.

My breath stopped.

She was wearing one of my old sarees, the parrot-green one. The way she walked, the way she adjusted her pallu, the heavy breasts, the wide hips, the exact shade of my skin, the shape of my face, the long hair tied in a bun with jasmine…

It was me.

An exact replica of how I used to look.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. My legs felt weak. I clutched the wall for support.

Who the hell is that?

Pihu was laughing and calling her “Mummy.” The woman smiled softly and kissed my daughter’s forehead with such natural affection that something inside me twisted painfully.

I had to know.

I took the risk.

Heart hammering, I walked toward the house. The door was slightly open. I pushed it gently and stepped inside.

The room fell into complete, suffocating silence.

Four people stared at each other.

Me ,the real Sunita ,short hair, dressed as a man, standing at the door.

The fake Sunita ,my exact replica, wearing my old saree, mangalsutra around her neck, holding Pihu.

Nithya, the doctor woman who used to visit sometimes.

And Ramesh, standing frozen near the stove, a steel plate in his hand.

All eyes were wide.

No one spoke for almost ten long seconds.

Pihu was the first to break the silence. She looked at me, then at the woman holding her, confusion written all over her tiny face.

“Mummy… do Mummy?”

The fake Sunita’s face went deathly pale. Her hands started trembling as she held Pihu tighter. Nithya looked like she had seen a ghost. Ramesh’s plate slipped from his hand and clattered loudly on the floor.

I finally found my voice. It came out hoarse and broken.

“…Who are you?”

The woman in my saree, the one pretending to be me, stared at me with pure horror and recognition.

And in that moment, the fragile illusion that had been built over the past month shattered completely in front of all of us.