Bhabhi Maa (My Sister-in-Law, My Mother) - Chandralekha Belsare

In the city of Gurdaspur in Punjab lived Samsher Bahadur, who had only one son. Samsher Bahadur himself was a Wing Commander in the Air Force, and his family’s legacy was one of valor. For three generations, his ancestors had demonstrated their mettle in the armed forces. His was a family of warriors who carried their lives on the palms of their hands for the sake of the nation. Indeed, certain regions of our country give birth to such bravehearts, for whom sacrificing their lives for the nation is the ultimate purpose. Young men from across India flock to join their local regiments with fervent patriotism: the Maratha and Mahar Regiments in Maharashtra, the Sikh Regiment in Punjab, the Gurkha, Garhwal, Rajputana, Madras, Kumaon, Dogra, and Assam Regiments. Patriotism and service are etched into their very blood. This tradition of service was a continuous legacy in their homes. If they had to make the ultimate sacrifice while fighting on the border, they considered it a matter of profound pride. Cowardice was a word absent from their vocabulary. The women of these families were equally courageous. They knew that a battle on the border could mean the loss of the from their necks and the wiping of the from their foreheads. They knew their children could be orphaned. Yet, they did not sit and wallow in grief, for they too were patriots. Protecting their motherland was their highest calling. In fact, if one son fell in battle, they possessed the fortitude to send another to take his place on the border. Such are these warrior soldiers! Great is their patriotism, and greater still is their sacrifice! Samsher Bahadur was a Wing Commander. His grandfather and father had also spent their entire lives in the army, facing countless battles and skirmishes to protect the nation with every fiber of their being. After retiring with full honors, they had returned to their ancestral village in Gurdaspur to farm the land. And farming in Punjab meant fertile soil, abundant water, and the tireless, sturdy Punjabi people. How could there be any shortage of yield? The fields produced bountiful harvests of wheat, chickpeas, maize, mustard, and soybeans. With the clean village air, plenty of milk and ghee at home, and nutritious food, what room was there for ill health? Moreover, with their army-forged physiques and a lifelong habit of exercise, Samsher Bahadur’s grandfather and father were in excellent health. And Samsher Bahadur, still in active service, followed a rigorous daily regimen. Samsher Bahadur had a young son named Manjit, who, like his father, wished to join the army. Though still in school, he was enrolled in a military academy where, in addition to academics, he received daily training in drills, horse-riding, swimming, and rifle shooting. The military school paid special attention to the students’ physical development from a young age, ensuring they grew strong and were provided with a nourishing diet. Manjit had been a robust child from the very beginning, with no health complaints. At school, he ate well, drank heartily, and played with abandon. He was sharp in his studies, dedicated to his physical training, and always cheerful. He was strong-limbed, handsome, and brimming with energy. And why wouldn't he be? His great-grandfather, grandfather, and father were all valiant soldiers. Their blood coursed through his veins; all their best qualities had been genetically passed down to him. His tall, impressive frame and radiant face turned heads wherever he went. His dream was to join the National Defence Academy (NDA), and he was working tirelessly for it. Unlike other boys who dreamt of becoming doctors or engineers, Manjit wanted to be a —a soldier. By the time he was twelve, Manjit was growing rapidly. His body was becoming more imposing by the day as he stood on the cusp of adolescence. A soft mustache began to appear above his lip, making him look like a strapping young man. He had a fair complexion and had inherited his mother's features. His mother, Ranjita Kaur, was an exceptionally beautiful woman. He was blessed with her beauty and his father's physique, making him stand out in any crowd. Now, as he went to and from his training, young girls in the city began to be drawn to him. He too had entered that age of awakening, and it was only natural for his attention to drift towards them. It was a need of that age. Everyone experiences those butterfly-filled days of youth when they become dreamers. They yearn not just for a meeting, but for even a fleeting glimpse of the one who has captured their heart. They speak with their eyes, communicating without words, desperate for a touch. Babli, the daughter of Kartar Singh, was one such girl who was captivated by Manjit. She was in the eighth grade at the convent school next to the military academy. It was a young love, full of innocence and natural attraction. The thrill was simply in liking someone, wanting to be near them, just to see them. During the short and long breaks at school, Babli’s eyes would scan the compound, searching for a glimpse of Manjit. That was precisely the time for Manjit’s physical training, when he would be on the grounds. Forgetting her own lunch, Babli would stand outside his school compound in the scorching sun, watching him exercise. She was smitten by his six-pack abs and chiseled body. Occasionally, Manjit's gaze would fall upon her, and he would lose himself, staring at her, transfixed. Only the sharp whistle of the P.T. instructor, noticing his lack of focus, would jolt him back to reality. He would lower his head and resume his exercises, but that momentary exchange of glances would energize him for the rest of the day. Manjit’s school education was now complete. He had to prepare for the NDA entrance exam. He was filled with enthusiasm, but also a deep sorrow at the thought of being away from Babli. He didn't know how he would bear the separation. But he resolved that these days of parting would fly by, and when the time for marriage came, he would ask her father for her hand. Babli’s father, Kartar Singh, was a prominent businessman in Gurdaspur, with a large furniture factory in the city. He came from a commercial background; no one in his family had ever been in the army or in farming. His furniture was exported abroad, facilitated by his cousin sister who lived in New York and owned a massive furniture mall. This gave Kartar Singh a ready-made international market. Unbeknownst to Babli, Kartar Singh had already arranged her marriage to Prakash Singh, the son of his cousin-sister's elder brother-in-law. Prakash had grown up abroad, was educated there, and was set to join his father’s business. There was no shortage of money or property. Kartar Singh had reasoned that his only daughter would live a happy and comfortable life in such a family. Moreover, his loving relationship with his sister would remain strong, and his business would continue to thrive. But Babli and Prakash were still young and completely unaware of these plans. These were matters for the future, but elders often plan such things from childhood to avoid a frantic search later and to ensure that any future problems can be resolved amicably within the family. Meanwhile, Manjit arrived in Pune for his NDA training. His accommodation and education were all arranged at the Defence Academy. Manjit’s maternal cousin, Karan, had recently married and moved to Pune. He was an IT engineer working in a high-level position at a multinational company. On his days off, Manjit would visit him. The NDA training was anything but easy. Gaining admission was difficult enough, but the curriculum was grueling, enough to break the spirit of the best of men. Manjit, however, was built to face any challenge, so the rigorous tasks did not overwhelm him. On Sundays, Karan had the day off. When Manjit visited, the three of them—Karan, his wife Soni, and Manjit—would take one-day trips to nearby places like Lonavala or Mahabaleshwar. Manjit fell in love with Pune. Its serene lifestyle, beautiful roads, and polite, educated citizens who followed the rules, along with its natural splendor, captured his heart. Karan’s wife, Soni, was incredibly good-natured and friendly. She never once thought of Manjit’s presence as an intrusion, a "third wheel." On the contrary, she was delighted to see him. They had moved to Pune recently and hardly knew anyone. Soni often felt lonely after Karan left for work, so a visitor was always a welcome sight. She would cook delicious Punjabi dishes for him—chhole-bhature, pulao, kulche, shahi paneer—and affectionately urge him to eat more. Her warmth made Manjit forget that he was far from home. He began to feel that his brother Karan’s house was his own, and his (sister-in-law) felt incredibly close. If he missed a Sunday visit, she would scold him, upset that the special food she had cooked for him had gone to waste. He would apologize, saying, "Sorry, Bhabhi, I couldn't make it. But why do you get so angry? Do this—if I don't come, just keep my food in the fridge. I'll come and eat it next Sunday. That way, your effort won't be wasted, and I'll grow as strong as Bhima." Feigning anger, Soni would reply, "I'm not so stingy as to serve you stale food! But I've gotten used to you now. When you come, it feels like a small, mischievous child has entered the house. The whole house lights up." Hearing this, Manjit would hug her tightly and exclaim, "Oh, my dear Bhabhi Maa!" before resting his head in her lap. Karan was familiar with Manjit's affectionate nature since childhood. Karan was six years older. During the summer holidays, when Manjit and his siblings visited them in Karnal, the house would erupt in joyful chaos with the arrival of all the cousins. They would run riot, and the elders would be at their wits' end trying to manage them. But they were children, after all! If they didn’t make mischief and throw tantrums, who would? Manjit was the most mischievous of them all, always a sore loser in games. If things didn't go his way, he would throw himself on the floor, crying until his demands were met. He was stubborn but equally endearing. If anyone got hurt while playing, he would be the first to run for the first-aid box and tend to their wounds. Now, though he was older, that mischievous, loving nature and his desire to be pampered hadn't faded. He now sought that affection from his Bhabhi. He would often hover around Soni more than Karan. His childlike innocence delighted Karan, and Soni too was very happy. He would spend the day in her company, constantly calling out, "Bhabhi Maa, Bhabhi Maa." Sometimes, he would surprise them with movie tickets, and the three of them would go for a film. He loved trekking. On some days, he would wake them up at dawn and take them to Taljai Hills to watch the peacocks dance, a sight he adored. They would return home only after having breakfast at Vaishali, a popular local restaurant. He had grown fond of South Indian dishes since coming to Pune. Life was passing by in blissful joy. In his moments of solitude, he would think of Babli. He wondered how she looked now that she was older, and lost in romantic thoughts, he would sometimes pen a love poem. Soni was always his first audience. She noticed he had written quite a few love poems lately. She grew a little suspicious, knowing that boys his age are emotionally vulnerable and often fall in love. Believing Manjit must have a secret, she gently gained his confidence. He told her about Babli, explaining that it was a childhood affection from a time of innocence. They had no contact now, but he hadn't forgotten her. He was mature enough to know that he needed to complete his education before thinking of marriage. He was certain that Babli loved him too and would wait for him. During his occasional visits to Gurdaspur, they would meet. The old spark was still there, but Manjit’s training was far from over, so they couldn't speak to their parents about their relationship. From his poems, Soni understood that Manjit had a girlfriend. As his brother's wife, it was natural for her to be curious about her future sister-in-law. She prodded him for details, but he was hesitant to share his love story in front of Karan. One day, when Karan was out, Soni took him into her confidence. After learning the whole story, she promised him, "I will get you married to her. Even if your families object, I will stand by you." But when she realized it was a childhood crush and that they had never even spoken to each other—that it was all a matter of "love at first sight"—she couldn't help but laugh, convinced that Manjit was still a child at heart. "Puppy love isn't true love, Manjit," she said. "It's a fleeting attraction. But are you really serious about her?" When he nodded, she declared, "Then it's my responsibility to convince both your families! Don't you worry at all." And the matter was left there. Manjit’s training was still ongoing, and Soni knew nothing about Babli's family situation. The destination was still far away. For a long stretch, Manjit didn't visit. Soni assumed he was busy with his studies and didn't think much of it. One Sunday, Manjit came to stay. That evening, they went to Café Punjab for dinner. They ordered his favorites: shahi paneer, dal makhani, and lachha paratha. The meal was filled with laughter and jokes, but as Manjit ate, he remarked, "Whatever you say, Bhabhi Maa, the taste of your cooking isn't in this food." Soni replied with mock anger, "Enough, enough! Stop buttering me up. I can see you're eating half-heartedly today. I haven't cooked anything at home. If you don't eat well here, you'll go hungry later." "That's what I'm saying, Bhabhi! The food you make is so much more delicious," he said, stopping his meal. He quickly got up and returned with her favorite ice cream. But as he was eating it, he suddenly felt nauseous and threw up. He looked unwell. They quickly finished and went home. Soni gave him some lemon water, which made him feel better, and he soon fell asleep. The next day, he woke up late. Soni didn't wake him, thinking he needed rest. But even in the morning, he didn't look his cheerful self. His face was pale, its usual radiance gone. Soni began to worry. How could a strong young man like him be so drained by a single bout of vomiting? She decided to take him to a doctor. Despite Manjit’s protests, she took him to their family physician. The doctor examined him. On the surface, Manjit seemed fine, but to rule out anything serious, the doctor recommended some tests. "Nothing's wrong with me, Bhabhi Maa!" Manjit insisted. "You're worrying for no reason. I eat well, I exercise. What could possibly happen to me?" "But what's the harm in making sure?" Soni retorted. "Now, just do as the doctor says." She had all the tests done. Manjit had told the doctor that he hadn't had much of an appetite lately, was losing weight rapidly, and had been experiencing occasional dizzy spells. He had assumed it was due to the exhaustion from his intense training. The true cause would only be known once the reports came back. Two days later, the family doctor called Soni to the clinic and gave her the devastating news. The doctor suspected that Manjit had blood cancer. The ground slipped from under Soni's feet. She was in utter shock. How could this be possible? She refused to believe it. "Look, Mrs. Soni," the doctor said gently, "I wish it weren't true either. But we need to be certain. For now, don't say anything to him or his parents. We'll send these reports to Mumbai for confirmation. If they come back normal, there's no issue. And if, God forbid, the result is positive, the disease is in its initial stage. We can give him the best treatment. Please don't lose hope." The doctor's words gave Soni a sliver of hope. She returned home in a daze, unable to sleep for two nights. Karan had never seen her so distraught. When he asked her what was wrong, she broke down in his arms and told him everything. Karan was completely shattered. Their innocent, bubbly brother, Manjit! He hadn't even truly lived his life yet. His education was incomplete, he had dreams and desires, a whole life ahead of him. And now, this terrible disease had taken hold. His parents and grandparents had so many hopes for him. What had just happened? But Karan held onto the fact that the final reports from Mumbai were still pending. The doctor had only expressed a suspicion. He consoled Soni, and they waited anxiously. The next day, the doctor's call came. Soni prayed fervently that the reports would be negative. Her heart trembled. What if they were positive? She steadied herself and answered the phone. "Our suspicion was correct, Mrs. Soni," the doctor's voice said. "Manjit has blood cancer. We need to start treatment immediately. Take him to Tata Hospital in Mumbai as soon as you can. I'll arrange an appointment." The phone slipped from Soni's hand. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. The doctor's voice on the other end, urging swift action, couldn't reach her. Her body trembled, her throat was dry, and tears streamed down her face. When she composed herself, she called Karan and gave him the news. He took leave from work and rushed home. Now they faced the agonizing task of telling Manjit and his family. He first called his own father and asked him to relay the message to Manjit’s parents. The message was brief: "Manjit is unwell. Come to Mumbai immediately. We are on our way there with him." Karan went straight to the National Defence Academy. He explained the situation to Manjit’s superiors and requested leave for him. They too were shaken by the news and immediately granted it. When Manjit was called to the senior officer’s cabin, he was pleasantly surprised to see Karan. "Bhaiyya! You're here? Is everything alright? Is Bhabhi Maa okay?" he asked anxiously. "Everything is fine, Manjit," Karan said, trying to sound calm. "You have to come with me right now. Your uncle has come from Karnal and wants to see you. I'm here because your phone wasn't reachable. Come on, I've got your leave approved. We need to leave quickly." Manjit grew serious. A seed of doubt sprouted in his mind. "Why the hurry? Couldn't I have finished my training for the day?" He suspected something was wrong with his parents. He kept probing, but Karan remained silent. Finally, his commanding officer said, "Manjit, your brother is here to take you home. Go with him. That's an order." Manjit fell silent. He changed into civilian clothes and left with Karan. When he reached home, the look on Bhabhi Maa’s face made his heart sink. "Are you alright, Bhabhi Maa? Nothing has happened to you, has it?" he asked. Soni managed to say, "Manjit, your reports are not good. We have to go to Mumbai immediately for treatment." "But Bhaiya said Dad was here? Where is he?" "He's going directly to Mumbai," Karan interjected. "Let's go, quickly." "But what's wrong with me? At least tell me that." "We'll tell you on the way," Karan said, guiding him into the car. Throughout the four-hour journey, Manjit kept asking what was wrong, but Karan and Soni remained silent. When the car finally stopped in front of Tata Hospital, Manjit understood. He grew quiet and somber. He walked calmly into the doctor's cabin. The doctor broke the silence. "Look, Manjit, my son," he began, "you've been diagnosed with blood cancer. But there's no need to panic. The disease is in its initial stage, and we have excellent treatment options. You will need treatment for about six months, and then you'll be fine." Manjit was shaken, but he quickly regained his composure. He was, after all, the son of a warrior. Fighting, whether against an enemy or a disease, was in his blood. "Don't worry, Doctor Sahib," he said firmly. "I will win this war too." He turned to his weeping Bhabhi Maa and said, "Why are you so upset, Bhabhi Maa? I am your brave son. Winning is my duty, my destiny. I accept this battle, and I am ready to fight. You'll see, I'll be fine in no time. Don't you worry!" And he pulled her into a hug. His courage impressed the doctor, who immediately began preparations for his treatment. Within ten days, Manjit's parents arrived in Mumbai. His mother was heartbroken, but his father remained strong, his eyes reflecting a deep confidence that his son would overcome this trial as well. After the initial treatment in Mumbai, they all returned to Pune. Manjit's parents stayed on, as several more sessions were required in Mumbai. Soni took wonderful care of all of them. She was especially attentive to Manjit, ensuring he took his medicine on time and followed his strict diet, cooking him special meals that were both nutritious and to his liking. Manjit’s parents were deeply touched. , they thought. They felt a sense of relief and gratitude. After some time, his parents returned to Gurdaspur. Manjit now lived with Karan and Soni, as he couldn't endure the physical strain of the academy. During the day, while Karan was at the office, it was just Soni and Manjit. His appetite was poor, so Soni would cook anything he desired, just to ensure he ate something. She would play cards, carrom, or chess with him to keep his mind occupied, as strenuous physical activity was forbidden. His condition fluctuated; some days he was exhausted, others he was full of energy. He was no longer cared for by his mother, but by his Bhabhi Maa. He would talk to her openly, sometimes despairing. "Bhabhi Maa," he once said, "it seems our time together is short. Now, you should start preparing to give me a sweet little nephew. You get so tired doing all the housework, and then you have to play with me to keep me entertained. If my nephew comes, I'll spend my time with him. Because of me, you can't even give Karan Bhaiya enough time. I see everything, but this wretched disease has trapped me. I'm helpless, Bhabhi Maa! Please forgive me, Maa. You are facing all this trouble because of me." Soni comforted him. "You foolish boy, how can caring for your own be a trouble? And my time with you is not short. Soon, you will be perfectly healthy." "You're right, Bhabhi Maa," he said softly. "It is just a matter of a few days. Then I won't trouble you anymore." He quickly wiped a tear from his eye. Soni pulled him close, her heart aching. "Why do you talk like that? You are going to be fine very soon. Don't let such thoughts enter your mind. I am here, aren't I? I still have to see you settled. I have to get you married to Babli and play with your children. How can my brave son lose hope like this?" She tried to distract him, but she knew the truth. The doctors had told her and Karan that Manjit had only a few months left. They had advised them to keep him as happy as possible. In that moment, she had inadvertently mentioned Babli's name. The memory made Manjit restless. He expressed a wish to go to Gurdaspur and see her. Soni promised that after his next appointment in Mumbai, if the doctors permitted it, they would go. The following week, after his session in Mumbai, Soni asked the doctor for permission. He agreed, and they traveled to Gurdaspur. Everyone was overjoyed to see him. For a week, Manjit met with relatives and friends, appearing genuinely happy. Soni gently told Manjit's parents about Babli. They had a nodding acquaintance with her father, Kartar Singh, from the Gurudwara. Samsher Bahadur contacted Kartar Singh, and along with Soni, went to meet him. After exchanging pleasantries, he introduced Soni and explained that Manjit stayed with her in Pune. Kartar Singh listened, puzzled. Soni then gently recounted the story of Manjit and Babli's childhood love. He immediately called Babli, who confirmed the story. But, he explained, it was too late. Babli's marriage had already been fixed with Prakash. But Soni's goal wasn't marriage; she simply wanted to arrange one last meeting for them. She told Kartar Singh everything about Manjit’s condition. He was deeply saddened and agreed to let the two unfortunate souls meet. That evening, Soni brought Manjit and Babli together. They sat for a long time, reminiscing about their childhood—how she would skip class or her lunch break just to watch him, and how he would pause his exercises to gaze back at her. It was such an innocent, unspoken love, expressed only through their eyes. A mere glimpse was enough to fill their hearts with joy. As they spoke, the bitter reality of their situation settled in. The unexpressed love could now never be expressed. The moment of farewell had arrived. He knew he was not going to survive, but his heart was still drawn to her. He had learned about her arranged marriage, and it didn't upset him as much as he thought it would. His own journey was about to end, and he didn't want to trap her in his fate. Yet, a subtle pang of pain was there. Babli was heartbroken. To see this strong, powerful boy so weakened by disease was devastating. She was a beautiful and cultured girl, exactly the kind of wife Soni had wished for Manjit. But fate had intervened. Not wanting to get too emotional, Manjit took his leave. Her eyes filled with tears. As he turned to go, she held his hand tightly, and in that touch, he felt the immeasurable pain of their separation. Fearing she would break down completely, he gently slipped his hand from hers and walked away. Babli stood there for a long time, watching his retreating figure, unsure of what to do. A week later, they were back in Pune. Manjit's health began to decline rapidly. His white blood cell count dropped, and his immunity weakened. Soni couldn't bear to watch him fade away, moment by moment. The doctors said nothing more could be done at the hospital. The treatment continued at home. Soon, even breathing became difficult for him. Soni stayed up all night, tending to him. One night, holding her hand tightly in his, Manjit breathed his last and departed from this world. A dream had faded away. His body couldn't be taken to Gurdaspur, so the final rites were performed in Pune. His friends and officers from the NDA came to pay their last respects, mourning the untimely loss of a true patriot. After the funeral, the family went to Gurdaspur for the subsequent ceremonies. When Soni and Karan returned to Pune, the house felt desolate and empty, filled only with Manjit’s memories. Soni couldn't stop thinking about him. He had spent his final moments in her home, holding her hand. What strange bond did they share that he came into her life, captured her heart, gave her the status of a mother, and then, after granting her a few months of maternal joy, left forever? A month passed. The pain of losing a loved one is immense, but life must go on. Soni, however, remained lost in her grief. In the last year, Manjit had given her so much love, treating her like his own mother, and she couldn't bear his absence. The desire to live had left her. Suicidal thoughts plagued her mind. She stopped eating, stopped going out. She would see him everywhere, hear his voice. She would cook his favorite dishes, chhole or rajma-chawal, as if he had just asked for them. She would set up the carrom board or chessboard and sit there, talking to him. Karan watched this, seeing only Soni, but from her conversations, he knew she was playing and talking with an unseen Manjit. He couldn't tell if it was madness or if Manjit was truly there, but he knew she was not in her right mind. One day, she slit her wrist. Karan was home and rushed her to the hospital, saving her just in time. She started keeping a dagger, trying to stab herself. She would go to the terrace, wanting to jump. "He is calling me," she would say repeatedly. Karan was at his wit's end. He started working from home to keep an eye on her, but her attempts to harm herself continued. Finally, he took her to a psychiatrist. Even there, she spoke of her desire to die. "My son is gone," she would say. "I no longer wish to live." The psychiatrist was at a loss; keeping her sedated was not a solution. Karan had no faith in babas or tantriks, but it was his last resort. He found a spiritual healer and called him home. As soon as the man entered the house, he sensed the presence of a restless, unfulfilled soul. He spoke gently to Soni. "Daughter, why do you seem so troubled?" "Baba, see how they all trouble me!" she complained. "My son has left me. He needs me. I want to go to him, but these people won't let me go." "You are right, daughter," the Baba said. "You must certainly go." Soni's face lit up. "I am right, aren't I, Baba?" "Come here, daughter," he said, beckoning her into a faintly drawn circle on the floor. Suddenly, Soni began to thrash about. Her voice changed, deepening into a man's tone—it was Manjit's voice. "Why have you come here, Baba?" the voice from Soni boomed. "Bhabhi Maa is mine. She showered me with a mother's love. I cannot live without her. There is no one to take care of me here, so I want to take her with me." The Baba replied, "You are not doing the right thing, Manjit. Karan is your brother. Soni is his wife. He too has a life. You will take Soni, but what will Karan do?" "Baba, a man can find another wife, but a mother is unique, isn't she?" Manjit's spirit argued. "Bhaiyya will find another wife, but where will I find a mother like my Bhabhi Maa? She took such good care of me. When I was sick, she was more sad than I was. She stayed up all night for me. I cannot live without her. Do not interfere." Realizing that reasoning would not work, the Baba took some sacred ash from his bag and threw it on Soni. Her body convulsed as if burned, and she began to scream. After a while, the voice softened. "Stop, Baba. I have already suffered so much pain. For six months I fought cancer. It was only because of Bhabhi Maa's love that I could endure it for so long. Now I am all alone here. There is no one to talk to, to play with. I wanted to get married. I wanted a wife just like my Bhabhi Maa—caring and selfless. But this disease took me. I am so lonely, Baba! What should I do? I know I am troubling them. I know this hurts my brother and my Bhabhi Maa. But I am helpless. Please, you tell me the solution. I am ready to do anything for my Bhabhi Maa." The Baba grew serious. "There is one thing you can do, son. You want your Bhabhi Maa, who will always take care of you, right? Then do this: be born again as her son. In this way, you will not only get your Bhabhi Maa, but you will find a true mother. Karan’s life will be saved, and your Bhabhi Maa’s suffering will end." Hearing this, the expression on Soni’s face transformed. A look of peace washed over her, and she began to smile. "That is a wonderful idea, Baba," Manjit's voice said, now calm. "I was troubling Bhabhi Maa for no reason. I will not bother her anymore. I will keep her happy, and I will take birth from her womb. Now, no one can ever separate us." With those words, Soni fell unconscious. Manjit's soul had departed from her body. He had found liberation, and he was now eager to be born again in the arms of his Bhabhi Maa. After that day, Soni returned to normal. The suicidal thoughts vanished. She never even mentioned Manjit's name again. And a few days later, she gave Karan the sweet news. Her pregnancy cravings were for the very same dishes that Manjit had loved. Karan joyfully fulfilled all her wishes. When the time came, Soni gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. Seeing the child, Soni was ecstatic. Her Manjit was now playing in her lap once more. She named him Manjit. A Story by Chandralekha Jagtap-Belsare

(This article is the translated version of the Marathi story

भाभी माँ

 written by

Chandralekha Jagtap-Belsare

published in the Sahitya Chaprak Diwali Ank 2025 ) साहित्य चपराक दिवाळी अंक २०२५ घरपोच मागण्यासाठी लिंक: https://shop.chaprak.com/product/diwali-ank-2025/