Janki his little Ardhangini18+

Author’s POV

In a small house, inside a dimly lit room, a woman was crying in pain, clutching the bedsheet tightly beneath her.

“Ahhh!” she screamed.

Several women were around her, helping her through the labor. One gently wiped her tears and forehead, while another whispered encouragingly,

“Thoda aur, Rupa… bas thoda aur.”

Rupa cried out and pushed with all her strength until suddenly, the room echoed with the sharp, sweet cry of a newborn.

A faint smile appeared on Rupa’s exhausted face as she slowly closed her eyes. All eyes turned toward the little baby girl, who looked angelic despite her tears. The dai ma (midwife) rubbed the baby’s chest, patted her head gently, then turned toward Rupa.

“Main Dinesh ko batakar aati hoon,” she said softly.

Fear spread across Rupa’s face as she instinctively clutched her daughter to her chest.

As dai ma stepped outside, she bowed respectfully before the Sarpanch family, standing tall and proud.

“Badhai ho, kanya hui hai,” she announced.

Dinesh’s face turned red with rage. He was about to storm into the room when Badi Thakurain stepped forward, blocking him. She removed a heavy gold necklace from around her neck and handed it to dai ma, who smiled, bowed again, and left quietly.

The entire Thakur family entered the room.

Rupa had been dressed properly and respectfully covered. Meanwhile, the newborn baby was wrapped in a soft, worn cotton cloth, blinking and adjusting to the light. Dinesh was glaring at Rupa, his anger evident, while she sat silently, already consumed by fear.

Suddenly, Savitri (Badi Thakurain) spoke.

“Hum teri beti ka haath apne Vikram ke liye maang rahe hain.”

Dinesh’s eyes widened in shock. Rupa looked equally stunned.

A small six-year-old boy stood silently nearby, watching the newborn curiously. He walked closer, leaned in, and touched her soft cheek. The baby giggled.

Something stirred in Vikram’s heart—something he couldn’t understand, but he already felt the urge to protect her. The little boy was unknowingly beginning to grow possessive.

“Malkin… chhoti mooh badi baat, par hamari ladki aapke ghar mein janke laayak hai?” Dinesh said bitterly, disgust evident in his tone. He had always hated the idea of having a daughter.

Before he could say more, Vikram suddenly shouted,

“Dobara meri hone wali lugai ke baare mein aisa bola, toh dekh lena Dinesh!”

There was fire in his young eyes. He had already claimed her as his.

Badi Thakurain smiled with pride and said,

“Idhar aa, Vikram.”

He walked up to his grandmother. She leaned down and asked gently,

“Pasand aayi?”

“Ji,” he replied with a firm nod.

She kissed his forehead lovingly and said,

“Toh ja… ab iska naam bhi rakh de.”

Vikram frowned a little, then turned to the baby, who once again giggled as she looked at him. He carefully picked her up in his small arms and declared,

“Janki Vikramaditya Thakur.”

A small, fragile smile appeared on Rupa’s lips. She looked at Badi Thakurain and nodded, silently acknowledging the moment. Badi Thakurain smiled too, remembering how Rupa had once saved her life.

Flashback

Rupa was around 18 when she visited her nani’s house for the first time after her marriage. It was the happiest day she had felt in a long time. For once, she was smiling not because of duty, but genuinely.

Marriage hadn’t been the fairytale she once imagined. Like most girls, she had become a shadow of her husband’s pride and a servant to his family’s expectations. But here, in her maternal home, she felt like herself again.

She was walking along the dusty village road, her smile soft and eyes glowing with fleeting peace. Suddenly, her gaze fell on a car that had crashed into a tree. Her heart skipped a beat.

Panic rushed in.

She ran towards the car, trying to peek inside, but the glass was dark. She didn’t even know how to open such modern cars it was the 90s after all.

Then her eyes landed on a large rock nearby. Without thinking, she grabbed it and smashed the window. Shards of glass scattered and her hand began to bleed, but she managed to reach inside.

Inside, a middle-aged woman lay unconscious, blood dripping from her forehead. Rupa’s eyes widened in fear. She quickly looked at the driver, slumped forward, and shook him desperately.

“Bhaiya... Bhaiya!”

The driver groaned and slowly opened his eyes. Relief washed over her.

He turned around, glanced at the woman in the back seat, and gasped.

“Badi Thakurain!”

Rupa froze. Shock was visible on her face. The woman was none other than Savitri Devi, the wife of the former Sarpanch the most respected woman in the region.

“Yahan aspatal hai kya?” the driver asked in panic.

Rupa nodded quickly and pointed to a small street corner nearby. Just then, a bullock cart arrived. The man driving it looked shocked at the scene.

“Rupa bitiya?!” he called out.

She looked up, her bloodied hand still clutching the door. “Kaka! Shukar hai aap aa gaye. Zara madad karo. Inhe hospital le jaana hai.”

The old man jumped off his cart, helped the dazed driver, and cleared space. “Aao, aao... baitho jaldi!”

Rupa nodded. She helped lift the injured Savitri into the cart.

Though her eyes were half-closed, Savitri saw Rupa’s face bloodied, anxious, and determined.

She weakly reached for Rupa’s hand and whispered, “Wada karti hai, Rupa… agar teri kabhi koi beti hui, toh woh humare ghar ki badi bahu banegi.”

Rupa was too shaken to respond. She ignored the words, brushing them off as a dazed promise made in pain, and guided them toward the hospital.

Flashback ends

Savitri walked toward Rupa, now a mother, resting with her newborn in her arms. She gently stroked Rupa’s hair and looked down at the child nestled close to her chest.

“Aath saal ki umar poori hote hi, hum rista lekar aayenge... apni badi bahu ko dhoom dhaam se lekar jaayenge,” she said softly, a promise finally being fulfilled.

Some in the room smiled, witnessing the moment.

But Vikram’s mother stood still, her smile forced. She hated the fact that her saas (mother-in-law) had made such a big decision without even asking her.

She was the boy’s mother too.

Didn’t her opinion matter?

But what could she say… when her own son Vikram barely looked at her, let alone listened?

He had chosen.

And everyone saw it.

As everyone began to leave, Vikram remained inside. Quiet. Still.

He walked toward Rupa, gently moved her aside, and took the baby from her arms as if she was his to begin with.

With one hand, he removed the gold chain from his neck and softly placed it around the baby’s.

Rupa stood frozen shocked and happy at the same time.

“Chhote Thakur...” she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, eyes still fixed on the baby as he kissed her tiny forehead.

“Aap sambhal lenge na ise?” she asked with concern.

He smiled, a soft one. Then handed the baby back to Rupa and said

“Yeh hamare sar par baithegi.”

(She will sit on my head)

Rupa stood stunned.

How was it even possible that a boy of just 6 years could speak with such depth, such command?

He turned to leave, but not before casting one last glance at Janki.