Part 2
The aggressive pounding on the door was the final straw.
"Tai! Ughada lavkar! Kamat kholamba hotoay maza! (Open up quickly! My work is getting delayed!)" Mangal-tai’s impatient voice pierced through the door.
Panic surged through Rajani’s chest. What do I wear?!
She spun around, looking at her bedroom. The wardrobe doors were slightly ajar. She yanked them open. Where there used to be a row of ironed checked shirts and jeans, there was now a colorful, intimidating array of kurtis, leggings, sarees, and... things she didn’t even know the names of.
"Oh god, oh god," she muttered, her hands shaking as she pulled out a simple, knee-length yellow cotton kurti and a pair of white leggings.
She threw them on in a frenzy. As she pulled the kurti over her head, her body violently reminded her of its new reality. Her chest felt incredibly heavy, and the friction of the raw cotton directly against her newly sensitive skin made her gasp. It was a bizarre, painfully acute sensation. But there was no time.
She rushed to the front door and unlocked it.
Mangal-tai practically barged in, a plastic bag of cleaning clothes in one hand and a broom in the other. She was a whirlwind of gossip and domestic authority. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Rajani.
"Are baapre, Tai! What is this?" Mangal-tai clicked her tongue loudly, gesturing to Rajani’s chest. "You unlocked the door just like that? Nothing inside? Ago bai, you young girls have no sense of decorum nowadays!"
Rajani’s face flushed a deep, burning crimson. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. "I... I was just in a hurry, Mangal-tai."
"Hurry or no hurry, one must always wear proper inners in front of others and elders! At least use a dupatta to cover. What if the society watchman was passing by?" Mangal-tai lectured, already marching toward the kitchen to start the vessels. "Go, go inside and dress properly. I’ll sweep the hall first. And don't forget, today is Friday, so I need to leave early and I will not be coming for the next 2 weeks!"
Blushing furiously, Rajani scrambled back into her bedroom and slammed the door shut.
The Undergarment Struggle
She stood in front of her open wardrobe, staring at a drawer she had never noticed before. She pulled it open. It was filled with bras and panties of various colors, straps, and cup sizes.
"How do people do this every single day?" she groaned.
She picked up a basic, nude-colored padded bra. She tried to put it on like a t-shirt, but her arms got tangled in the straps. Her breasts, heavy and incredibly sensitive to every touch, throbbed as she clumsily maneuvered the fabric. After a painful minute of twisting and turning, she realized she had to hook it at the back.
With sweat beads forming on her forehead, she managed to hook it, adjust her breasts into the cups, and pull the straps over her shoulders. The instant support was a relief, but the tight band around her ribcage felt like a cage.
Next came the leggings. She pulled them up, but the thin, stretchy fabric clung to her legs in a way that made her feel completely exposed, even though she was covered.
She pulled the yellow kurti back on. This time, with the bra underneath, the silhouette in the mirror looked proper, neat, and... undeniably feminine.
Ready to Face the World
Outside her bedroom, the clattering of stainless-steel pots indicated Mangal-tai was wrapping up.
"Tai, I’m leaving! Keep the kitchen window closed, there are a lot of mosquitoes today," Mangal-tai called out, her voice fading as she let herself out and clicked the door shut.
Silence returned to the flat.
Rajani’s stomach let out a loud, hollow growl. It was 8:45 AM. Usually, as Rajanish, he would have ordered a heavy paratha or gone down to the local tapri for poha and chai. Her body was practically screaming for food.
"I need to go out. I can't cook in this state," she muttered.
She walked over to the mirror near the door one last time. She grabbed a black hairband from the bowl on the counter—a gesture that her muscles somehow remembered doing, even if her brain didn't—and tied her long, wavy hair into a messy ponytail. She slipped her feet into a pair of tan, strappy flats sitting by the shoe rack.
She grabbed her purse, took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the doorknob.
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