{Do not copy this work or put it on other websites. Plagiarism is a heinous crime. Stealing someone's work isn't a gentleman's trait. Read, get inspired and write something of your own.}
Gauri, a young village girl holding firm views about morals a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Her friends hooted at the gait of the Royal couple who joined hands and stood to begin the rituals of holy matrimony. Linking their pinky fingers, Yagya smirked at his breathtaking wife as he takes the lead of seven parikramas (rounds) around the fire. Kirti eyes him shyly. A smile played on her thin lips. The moment they took a step forward professing their vows and love for each other, a dark shadow, unseen by naked eyes, enters the grand hall of Rajwada Palace hosting more than 200 guests. Like debris of dead stars floating in space, it swam towards the holy fire, carrying a pungent odor. If anyone noticed the horrible smell, brushed it off. Their focus remained on the happy couple about to embrace a new journey.
The cackling ghost spirit first swirled around a teary Vasundhara standing behind the groom and then surrounded the new bride. It inhaled the fragrance emitting from Kirti's frame- her perfume, the henna-painted hands, and the scented turmeric she used to bathe in the morning. All called for a taste. All it took was one nudge to enter a warm body of a youthful girl full of hope and aspirations. Kirti stopped smiling. All of a sudden, she felt drunk. Euphoria took hold of her brain before her eyes started to fog. She blinked through heaviness but the seductive stroke of darkness carried her to the unconscious.
A grin broke on the now possessed bride's face as the priest asks to commence the ritual. Holding hands with the crowned prince, the ghost bride took rounds around the holy fire that flickered crazily under the influence of negative energy slowly flooding the precinct. Worries etched on Vasundhara's face watching the ferocious blaze extinguishing. Gasps could be heard. A bad omen- they whispered. The gods have refused this union. A troubled priest leans forward to investigate the matter and burns the fire again, ignoring the mass opinion. He was invited to bind these two souls in holy matrimony and will do so honestly. But there was a glitch. In place of two, it was now three souls eager to be tied together. Clueless could only gawk when the blaze went aflame once again and the groom started taking the vows of care, protection, wealth, and responsibility.
After finishing the seven rounds, Yagya turns to tie the Manglasutra- a sacred thread of love and symbol of marriage around Kirti's neck when goosebumps rose on his flesh. Her eyes were bloodshot and wide open. They seemed bigger than usual when she stared at him unblinking. He sniffed slowly and dips his head at her level.
"Did you smell that?"
He whispered in her hair and she frowned.
"What?"
"It smells... I don't know... bad. Something is off. Like Sulphur." Kirti frowned and shook her head.
"I don't sense anything odd."
"But the smell is strong for even human nostrils!" he exclaimed when his mother's hand landed on his elbow.
"Yagya, what are you doing? Everyone's watching. Tie the mangal sutra around her neck. The auspicious time is slipping from our hands." He nodded at Vasundhara before tying the sacred thread made of black beads and diamonds around Kirti's neck. People clapped and rained flowers on them. Next came the tradition of filling the partition of bride's hair with vermillion.
