“Ae Ladki!” Ammaji shouted, “When will help reach?”

Not for the first time since they had started the journey, Mithi wondered why she had given in to the emotional blackmail and let Ammaji tag along on this trip that had been about Mithi finding her place in the world. It felt as if the only aim of Ammaji, aka Mithi’s grandmother, had been to torture Mithi and find a groom for her.

At that precise moment, Ammaji was sitting inside a beat-up Maruti 800 parked on the side of the highway. The car's hood stood open, smoke still billowing from the engine that had decided to die on the last stretch of the journey in an uninhabited part of the highway.

Mithi thought about advising Ammaji to get out of the car, but decided against it. When she was inside, Mithi could ignore Ammaji's biting remarks. Gesturing to the phone, Mithi replied, “I am still not getting a signal.”

“Why can’t you buy a new car? Why did you have to bring me here?” Ammaji shouted again, pointing to the undulating scrubland surrounding the highway. There was not even a kikar tree to provide some respite from the unrelenting sun.

“You know I don’t earn enough as a teacher to buy a new car.”

“What good is a job if you can’t even earn enough to buy a good car?”

Mithi focused on her phone to avoid answering.

Ammaji, however, had no such qualms. “If you had married that engineer like I told you to, we wouldn't be stuck here on this godforsaken highway waiting for someone to rescue us.”

Mithi glared. “What connection does that have with our current predicament?”

“You would be so busy taking care of your husband that you wouldn’t have had time to go traipsing around to find yourself. All you had to do was take turmeric water baths on Thursdays and marry a tree, like the groom’s family asked. But no! But your self-respect was more important than my wishes.”

A bird screeched somewhere in the distance. Mithi wanted to shriek too, but her voice was calm as she replied, “If you don’t shut up, I will leave you here and walk away.”

Restricting herself to one last glare, Ammaji settled herself back in the seat, fanning herself with the pallu of her cotton saree.

Another half an hour passed. They had seen no vehicle or person since becoming stranded. Mithi looked at the grey river of asphalt that cut through the land. Under the glare, a mirage shimmered in the far distance. In desperation, Mithi contemplated trying to find a village or a dhaba on foot when the low hum of a car engine reached her ears.

Ammaji straightened in the seat as Mithi jumped up and down, waving her arms to catch attention. Soon, a black Thar rolled to a stop near them. 

“Need help?” the bulky, thick-set man behind the wheel asked.

Ten minutes later, Ammaji, Mithi, and their two suitcases were ensconced in the car.

“Beta, are you married?” Ammaji asked the man. “Ammaji!” Mithi hissed, but the man merely chuckled.

Mithi threw one last glance at the car left by the side of the road. 

Should have left her in the car, Mithi thought as the car disappeared from view.