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Short Story: Raw Mango Pickle by Shafaque Taha

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Shafaque Taha shares a poignant story capturing a tender moment in the life of every South Asian girl after marriage.

Arunima was coming back to her parents’ home after more than 10 months. After her marriage, she now ceased to call it her house despite the yearning in her heart. Before her marriage to Kunal, she used to pay no heed to her mother’s occasional but hurtful taunts of going to her actual home, her Sasural. But after her marriage, she often heard Kunal’s parents mentioning her maika as her actual house and not this one. Stripped from both sides of the claim of having it her house, Arunima now shied away from referring to any of these as her own home. But here she was finally after months of desperately waiting.

Hiring the rickshaw from the train station, she reached in 20 mins. Her mother, Veena was waiting by the steel door as she had called Arunima five minutes ago to inquire how far is she. Arunima requested the rickshaw driver to take down her medium-sized trolley and jute bag and put it inside the compound. The driver did as asked and left after getting paid. Arunima bent down to touch her mother’s feet. Veena put her right hand on Arunima’s head and blessed her, “Jug jug jiyo. Sada suhagan raho.”

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