"She is my wife. We were married last year, but decided against public disclosure because she doesn't belong to any political family.
I hope people will respect this sacred relationship, a bond forged before God. She seeks no attention, and as her husband, it's my duty to honor her desire for a simple life."
I couldn't breathe. The way he delivered those words, with such unwavering conviction, everyone believed him.
I gulped down water from the bottle, my hand trembling as I pressed it against my chest, but the suffocating weight remained. The panic surged, a cold wave washing over me.
What on earth is he saying? Why was he dragging me into his twisted games, when I had explicitly told him to leave me out of it?
I hastily donned a mask, attempting to conceal myself. Even though I wasn't easily recognizable from the picture, I couldn't afford to take any risks.
Just let me reach Haryana, and I'll disappear from his state, from his reach. The netizens were already praising him, applauding his supposed protection of his wife. He had turned the tables with a few carefully chosen words, words capable of shattering my hard-won peace.
Reporters, however, were demanding proof of our marriage. To which he replied,
"Satya ko praman ki aavashyakta nahi hai."
"But I understand the sentiments of the citizens of Uttar Pradesh. Therefore, a feast will be held in the coming days. The exact date will be announced later," he finished, his voice resonating with an unnerving calm.
The train finally lurched forward, leaving the station, and I released a shaky breath of relief. It was to be a new beginning for me. After securing my job, I had chosen to live independently, free from the entanglements of relationships, because I had learned to expect nothing from others.
No one will bring you the stars; you have to create your own and find your own happiness. Circumstances had etched this lesson into my soul.
The train halted at the next station, and I gazed out the window, observing the mundane rhythm of people's lives. A sense of detachment washed over me, a feeling of being a mere observer in a play where I had no role.
The weight of his pronouncements pressed down, a constant reminder of the fragile peace he had so casually shattered.
He speaks of a sacred bond, a holy relationship. But what sanctity is there in a lie? What holiness in manipulation? The words echoed in my mind, each syllable a sharp shard of glass piercing the carefully constructed walls of my solitude.
I closed my eyes, seeking a moment of respite, but the image of his face, calm and authoritative, remained etched in my mind, a haunting reminder of the chaos he had unleashed.
I felt a tear slip down my cheek, a silent testament to the fear and uncertainty that now gripped my heart. He has stolen my peace, my anonymity, and my future.
The destined station arrived, and I stepped off the train. My brother was already there, waiting to take me home. He was early because he knows I dislike waiting; my head starts to ache if I wait for more than fifteen minutes.
"Didi, namaste," he said, touching my feet.
I blessed him, caressing his hair.
"Didi, everyone is waiting for you. Why did you arrive so late?" he asked.
"There was work, beta," I said, settling onto the scooter, and we headed home.
"Didi, is marriage really necessary? Please don't get married," he said as he drove.
"I'm hardly ever home, and you're being dramatic," I replied.
"But we all know you belong with us, and that will change after marriage," he said, sounding sad.
"Your didi won't change, don't worry," I assured my slightly clingy brother.
We reached home, which was decorated for the wedding preparations that had already begun. I went inside and sought blessings from everyone. Some relatives were visibly annoyed by my late arrival, but I ignored them and went to my room.
My cousins, with whom I share a precious bond, were all there for their didi's wedding.
Aashi (bua's daughter), my closest cousin, hadn't arrived yet because her college exams weren't finished. I'd already spoken to her, and she was coming tomorrow.
Nakul (bua's son), who's in eleventh grade, was already there.
"Didi, you're here! I missed you so much. Do you remember your promise?" he blurted out.
"Wait, wait. Who's going to say namaste first?" I asked.
"Oh, right, I forgot," he said, touching my feet and then hugging me tightly.
"I missed you too, my baby. And I remember my promise, don't worry," I said, kissing him.
"Didi, I'm not a child anymore," he protested.
He's the youngest among us, which is why he's so pampered. My bua is wonderful; she's not like some difficult woman. She always supports me. I used to spend my summer breaks at her house and shared almost everything with her. Aashi used to get jealous, thinking bua loved me more, silly girl.
"Where's buaji?" I asked.
"She's with mamiji," Nakul replied.
"Didi, we're all sleeping together tonight, okay?" he said excitedly.
"Okay," I agreed.
"Keya, beta, get ready. You have a ritual to perform," Maa said as she entered the room.
"What should I wear?" I asked.
"Wear whatever you want, but in the evening, please go with your cousins to buy dresses, and Mihir will accompany you for the wedding lehenga," she informed me.
"Why Mihir? I can buy it myself," I said.
"The lehenga should be given by the groom's side, and your mother-in-law is asking about it," she said.
After Maa and Nakul left, I dressed in a beautiful pink suit. I went to the hall, where all the village ladies were gathered. Papa was also there with the other male members.
It's lagn-tika ritual perfomed first in bride's house and then in groom's.
They made me sit on a stool and tied a sacred thread around my wrist, then put oil in my hair, one by one. I sat like a statue. After a while, I was told to bathe and then sit again. I did as they said, and they gave me some clothes, a coconut, and some money.
Finally, it was done, and I returned to my room. Nakul and sahil brought food for me. I was really hungry because I hadn't eaten anything since morning. It reminded me of the old days when we used to spend time together, but since I got a job, I haven't come home often, or perhaps I didn't want to.
In the evening, we all went to the market, the famous market for wedding shopping. Mihir also joined us. I felt uncomfortable in his presence but still smiled. I suggested we buy the wedding lehenga first so Mihir could leave early.
We entered a shop, quite large and seemingly expensive. The staff showed us different designs, and I checked the price of each one, feeling burdened if someone spent money on me. It was a struggle to find a good color and design. Mihir was unusually quiet.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"Yes, I'm absolutely fine," he replied, but something seemed off.
I ignored it and chose a dark maroon lehenga that cost thirty-five thousand rupees. In the changing room, I tried it on to check the fit. The blouse was loose, but overall, the look was beautiful. The dress was beautiful, but I didn't feel beautiful. Everything felt forced, like a duty to fulfill just because I'm a daughter of this family.
We gave the dress for alterations. Mihir paid the bill, and we parted ways.
Papa had already sent money for shopping. After buying outfits for each function and other essentials, we returned home. I fell asleep after dinner, too tired to keep my eyes open.
In morning
I felt a hand on me and opened my eyes.
"Nakul, move," I said. His weird sleeping positions were always like this. After playing all day with his brother, he needed me to sleep with him. He shifted away after hearing me. I went to the washroom and did my morning business then stepped out.
I was heading to the kitchen when I overheard Maa and Papa's conversation.
"How can we arrange a car in a few days? They should have told us earlier if they wanted something," Maa said, sounding stressed.
The wedding was the day after tomorrow. I never thought Mihir's family would do something like this. They are modern and well-educated; why would they demand dowry? I won't marry into a family that demands dowry. If they can ask just before the wedding, they can do anything. I teach girls about their rights and empowerment; if I bend to their demands, it would be a failure of my beliefs.
Entering their room, I saw their tense faces.
"What are you doing here?" Papa asked.
"Is it true? Are they asking for a car?" I asked, my voice unwavering.
"It's none of your concern. We'll handle it," he said.
"Papa, I'll never marry into a family that demands dowry," I stated.
"Do as you're told," he said, getting angry.
"But my life is at stake," I said.
"Keya, don't argue and go," he said.
"See what happens when a girl gets too educated," Dadi said, tauntingly.
This old lady still stick to her propaganda which is how to insult and taunt me as she did in the past .
"Papa, cancel the wedding," I said, standing firm.
"Is this a game to you? The guests are already here," he said, not understanding my situation or his.
"But...I think it's a game to you, which is why you're in a hurry to send me to such a home," I said.
I felt a sharp pain on my cheek as he slapped me. Maa tried to stop him. I closed my eyes and swallowed the pain. How could someone be so cruel for the sake of hollow respect and social image?
"Go to your room," he ordered, and Maa dragged me there, tears streaming down my face.
I called Mihir.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Did you demand a car?" I asked straightforwardly.
"Keya...well, actually, Mom did this, and I had no idea. But anyway, it will be useful for both of us," he said, without a hint of guilt.
I hung up without saying anything.
People these days are so cheap; we can't even predict their true nature, hiding their deepest secrets. I wiped my tears and tried to understand that this wasn't new.
I know Papa has behaved worse before, but it still hurts more each time. I thought, for once, he'd think about me, not society and his status, but it was all an illusion. Maybe I had a little hope that someday he'd understand my worth, but the delusional bubble burst, and reality hit hard, shattering the belief I had about parents.
Half an hour later, I was still sitting in the same position, thinking about unworthy things.
"Keya, I've laid out your clothes. Get ready!" Maa said.
"I don't want to marry, Maa. At least you should understand," I said.
"Don't worry about the money; your Papa will handle everything," she said, without looking at me.
"You know I don't care about the money, but how can you send me to such a home?" I tried to convince her, but deep down, I knew it was useless.
She left the room without answering my questions. I slipped into the dress and looked at myself in the mirror.
The sound of the slap still echoed in my ear, and there were finger marks on my cheek. But I'm not a helpless, poor girl. I'll fight for myself. With this determination, I went to the hall.
I was informed that both functions, haldi in the morning and mehndi at night, would be held today.
How will she stop her marriage or Randhir will help her?
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