The Greatest Exploitation — Part II
Even comfortable cages are still cages.
One week passed since that evening — that full night of confession and conversation. The first one they had in a very long time with their families.
They hardly spoke to each other afterward. The silence in the house grew so intense that even the wall clock’s ticking could be heard clearly. It felt as if speaking had become a punishable offense, so no one dared.
Cooking was, of course, out of the question. Nobody had time for breakfast. Lunch was eaten at the office, and who the hell wanted dinner anymore? Even their dependable escapes — Instagram reels and YouTube shorts for Manvi, alcohol for Manav — lost their edge.
They came home, she went straight to the bedroom, he went to the study, and they emerged only when the sun was out. Every morning, they moved out so swiftly — to get away from the situation, and more importantly, from each other — that it almost felt like a race.
Then came the dreaded weekend.
The Kitchen Truce
Late in the afternoon, they accidentally reached the kitchen at the same time. Both wanted to say something, but neither wanted to initiate. Finally, Manvi gathered herself and said,
“I’m really sorry for all the horrible things I said that day. I know how you must be feeling because I feel the same. After hearing you, I understood that we are not enemies but victims of the same crime committed against us. Unfortunately, the criminals are not others, but our own parents.”
Manav looked up. She almost felt like a stranger to him.
“I’m sorry too,” he said. “I can totally relate when you said you don’t feel anything for me. I never thought of it that way because I used to believe that the body of a girl was enough to ignite feelings in me. It did for some days in the beginning, but gradually I understood that mental connection and chemistry are far more important. I understand you, Manvi.”
Manvi listened carefully. For the first time in a long while, she felt she was living in that house with another human being — someone as human as she was.
“I’m confused about what to do next,” she said. “Now that we’re on the same page, can you tell me what you really want? Should we continue and pretend, or should we move on?”
Manav said nothing for a few seconds, then replied calmly,
“If you had to ask this, you already know the answer.”
They both agreed to invite their parents the following day — to make them aware of their decision and maybe ask for some reasonable advice.
The Family Council
The next day, their parents came to their house. There was a casual greeting, but no over-the-top hugging or warmth. It almost felt like the masks had been torn off.
Manav made tea for everyone, and Manvi served it. The house and kitchen looked as if they’d been empty for a week.
When the tea was finished, formality ended as well.
“We want to get separated,” Manav said. “We’ve thought it through, and we both agree that pretending to be happy is killing us inside.”
“I hope you’ll try to understand our decision without shouting or melodrama,” said Manvi.
Both mothers looked at their husbands as if they were experts in handling such situations. In reality, they were more clueless than anyone else. All their lives, they had never had any deep communication. Business was business, and home was the place to be brave and composed. They never shed tears. They were never allowed to. After all, how can a man cry?
“Why do you want to dishonor us in our old age? What face will we show society? Don’t you have any respect for us? Your papa will die of a heart attack. Do you want to kill your father and make me a widow?” said Manvi’s mother.
She began slowly but gradually rose to higher pitches as she continued. Her father looked terrified at the prospect of his own death.
“Are you a cardiologist, Mama? How can you be so sure of his life and death? And why is your self-perceived image in society more important than your child’s life? Do you even know what people really think of you? You’re willing to ruin my life based on assumptions?” said Manvi, calm and determined not to let her guard down.
“There is no respect for elders in today’s children,” her mother shot back. “When we were young, we never even raised our voices. All this education, awareness, and blindly following the West have ruined this generation. Marriage for them is a child’s play — one day together, another day divorce. You want to kill us with shame and dishonor.”
Manvi remained composed. “Yes, education ruined me — and ignorance raised you. I have nothing more to say if you truly believe this.”
The Other Room
While this conversation continued, Manav’s mother signaled him to come into another room. As they walked in, his father got up and joined them — he finally wanted to know what was happening in his son’s life.
“I can understand, Manav, that living with this woman must have been incredibly difficult. If she behaves like this in front of her parents, then I thank my stars that she’s leaving you — and obviously us. We made a grave mistake when we chose her for you. But beta, you can understand we had little information about her. Her family looked nice and her parents were reputed. Who knew such parents would raise a witch?” said Manav’s mother in a hushed tone, making sure their conversation wouldn’t be overheard.
Manav stared at her, speechless. He looked stunned to hear his mother. Then he glanced at his father, who was staring at the floor as if help might rise from it. Manav followed suit.
His mother waited for a response, but after nearly five minutes of silence, she broke it herself.
“Beta, say something. I’m not talking to a ghost here. I’m talking to you. What do you want to say? I feel we’ve dodged a bullet. Let her have her divorce. We’ll hire a good lawyer to minimize the damage she can inflict on us. Then I’ll find a beautiful girl for you.”
Manav looked up. His eyes were beginning to turn red. Tears formed but refused to fall — it wasn’t the right time to betray his face.
“What the hell are you saying, Ma? Do you really have such degenerate thoughts? After ruining my life for years, you still don’t understand what you’ve done. You think I need another partner you’ll choose? You call that love? You’re cruel, and you don’t even know it. How do you live with yourself? How do you look in the mirror? Are you not ashamed? Do you have any conscience left, or are you dead inside? And what is this obsession with beauty? Is a woman’s worth only in her face or her body? What about her intellect, her passion, her humor, her spirit? Why treat her like an object — and you, a woman, of all people? From where I stand, you are the witch!” Manav howled.
Slap.
Manav’s father stepped forward for the first time. “How dare you speak to your mother in that tone?”
Manav was taken aback. He’d been hit by his father for the first time in his life. For a few seconds, he tried to understand what had just happened, his hand on his cheek. Finally, his tears decided to abandon him.
What do you do when your wife and your grown son are both crying in the same room? His father’s mind couldn’t process it. His experience had taught him that slapping and shouting were the ways to handle any situation. He had used both — but somehow, it didn’t work this time.
He felt helpless. That helplessness hit him hard. The pain he’d inflicted on his son came back to him, even without anyone touching him. His hands went limp. He sat on the bed, covered his face, and began to sob. No one in the room remembered ever seeing him like that.
It’s baffling why society treats male crying as weakness.
For the next fifteen to twenty minutes, no one spoke.
Breaking Patterns
Then something happened that seemed impossible in Manav’s life until that day. His father got up, went to him slowly, and hugged him. For at least a minute, he didn’t let go. Manav couldn’t recall an equal moment. After a minute, he understood — and hugged him back.
That’s when he heard his father whisper, “I’m sorry, Manav. I wish I could’ve done things differently. Please forgive me, son.”
Years of guilt started melting. It felt as if a dam of emotion had finally broken. The sobbing turned into a full-fledged cry. For the first time ever, the pair of father and son outcried the mothers.
Someone knocked at the door. Manav’s mother opened it. Manvi and her father stood there. Her mother sat on a dining chair.
“I made a terrible mistake,” said Manvi’s father. “I didn’t understand my child. I had no idea what she felt, and going by what I just heard, her mother didn’t either. All my life, I thought my job was only to earn, but I see now our children need our emotions too. Maybe I left too much for my wife to handle. She’s human and must have felt alone. Nature requires both parents to raise a child — it’s a sign both are equally needed for complete growth. I feel ashamed that because of my inaction, so many lives turned out this way. I’m sorry — to you, too, as your family was dragged into this. Society will judge me harshly, but if my daughter is happy, I’ll take it without hesitation. She wants to separate from Manav, and I’ve decided to let her live her life her way. She’ll have my full support, and I trust her completely.”
He folded his hands.
Manav’s father took his hands in his own and said, “Do what you feel is right for your daughter. What you’ve realized for her is what I now realize for my son. We’ve interfered enough in their lives. Adult sons and daughters must be trusted when they make their choices. As parents, we must stop making our children prisoners of our so-called care and love.”
Three years passed.
Manav sat near Lake Zurich with a book in his hand. The bright, warm sun on his skin felt like a gentle massage. Cool breezes balanced the warmth. It was Sunday. Many people were enjoying themselves in that serene environment. Boats drifted across the lake; some people were kayaking.
He was deeply immersed in his book when he looked up for a second — and saw a familiar face on a boat. He thought it was Manvi. He smiled. She didn’t notice, and he soon turned to the next page.
The cage was broken.
Just think over it.
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