Silent Hearts

21| Twenty-One

He still lives in the silences,

Between her thoughts.

* * *

She stood in front of the mirror, smiling ecstatically at the reflection she had known to be hers, her glowing skin embellished with those golden ornaments she grew to love over the weeks she continued to see them, her body cloaked in that red wedding saree, its heavy gold working seeming endless as they swirled and turned around the silken red fabric, and as she continued to look at that glorious piece of work, a red hue soon sprinkled all over her cheeks as she remembered being with him while buying her wedding saree.

Her fingers travelled to her forehead, and yet another shy smile broke free as she attempted to nip at her bottom, red-stained lip to stop herself from giggling. Trembling fingers touched her hair partition. Soon, very soon it was going to be caressed with the redness. Red. The colour she loved. The colour of passion.

The woman in the mirror had dreamy eyes, sparkling with euphoria as she waited for her love to be hers, for her to be his. Only his. Her cheeks tinted with shades of pink, gleamed with her inner glow of love and hopes, her heart thudded with the nervousness, rumbled with elation as she closed her eyes, sighing contentedly.

It never took much longer before she found herself listening to the excited exclamations of everyone in the hall. ‘the groom had arrived!’  It never took long before she watched the woman in the mirror exhaling a sudden shaky breath, tears glistening in her eyes as she refused to let them fall. She never could know when she found herself in between her mother's arms, being protected within her father's warm, protective embrace, being supported by her sister's arms wrapped tightly around her, hands patting her back. It never could be known when she was taken down by her cousins, her friends before she ever found her gleeful eyes colliding with his.

Her Shlok.

Moments of Vedic chants, mantras, and rituals after, there she sat, beside her Shlok, shying away from the world as she kept her eyes downcast, a deep blush cloaking her cheeks. It was the moment she had had wished for, always. It was what she had had dreamed of when she had first listened to her mother's wedding story, when she had seen their wedding pictures, for the very first time. She was hopeless with her desire to marry when she knew she was in love with Shlok, and when she had learned he loved her, she couldn't have ever been happier.

She peeked through her lashes at her Shlok, surprised to find him already staring at her, his lips pulled up into a soft smile, his eyes sparkling with love as he could see his future with her. A future he hadn't known never existed.

The priest chanted mantras, passing him what he needed to brush the vermilion over her forehead. The ritual of 'Sindoor daan' began as she watched everyone hollering with happiness, the elderly women started their traditional 'uludhwani', the sound of the conch shell resonated through the cheerful hall, creating a ringing mess in her ears, as the blood rushed towards her face.

Amid the happiness that surrounded her, she felt the ever softest touch on her forehead, the dust of the red he had gifted her with, fell on the bridge of her nose, and the deepest hue of red shadowed her cheeks.

She was married.

She was married.