Shaadi Mubarak!✔️

Chapter 3

Shaurya hears it all. Whatever Rati’s maasi has to say to her, about him, about them. 

He hears it, and his heart breaks. 

It’s not because the elder puts him in the same category as Rati’s father, of men who get bored of their wives, their family. It’s not because she doesn’t trust him fully yet, neither it is because Rati didn’t quite defend him. 

The pain in his chest spikes at the thought. Ok, maybe that hurt a little bit too, but what honestly broke his heart was the realisation, the realisation of the confusion he is putting Rati through, has put Rati through all this while. 

Maybe, just like her maasi, her mother also wasn’t in favour of the couple meeting before marriage, just like his family. But he hadn’t thought much of it. He still doesn’t think highly of the reasons his slightly orthodox and highly old school family has given him for not meeting the girl before their marriage. 

Now, he was one of the guys who respected his culture a lot. But what his family believed was truly a superstition.

 A road accident of their relative, well his father’s big brother and his to be wife, who had met before their marriage when they weren’t supposed to meet, and his father’s little brother and his to be wife who had met alone when they weren’t supposed to do that. 

The two deaths of the two couples of such close relations had instilled a fear in the minds of all family elders, an impact so strong that it was impossible to let go of it, ultimately letting it wash over all the plans and marriage prospects. All his remaining cousins as well as his sister had then married their other halves by either not meeting often before marriage, just twice or thrice, only when it was necessary or by meeting only when the two families were with each other. 

They were doing pretty good in life, both as individuals and a couple, and so the belief had just strengthened itself in the minds of his parents. And so it had become the unsaid rule; No meeting with the other party more times than necessary, and no meetings at all when alone.

Shaurya himself too didn’t give it much thought before.

Always aware of his family’s antiquated beliefs regarding marriage as well as a product of his own mindset, he was never the type of person to indulge in meaningless relationships, or to indulge in any romantic endeavour whatsoever. He knew he always wanted only one woman in his life. That woman would be his wife, and he would be her husband. They will enjoy their life together after marriage. 

And then the day had come when a woman named Hansika Mehta, their neighbour of four years, had knocked at their door. 

She usually came to their house to either invite them to the trips she had organised to different pilgrim spots or to remind them to vote for the party she likes with a list of reasons in her hand or more often than not, to take a lift from Shaurya to her sister’s house. And yet, this spiritual and intelligent constitution couldn’t stop her from being loud, neither in her talks nor in her dressing. But his family didn’t mind. She was always welcomed at their house.

But this time the purpose of her visit couldn’t be found in the history of four years.

In her hand was her phone with a picture of a girl on display that he hadn’t quite been able to see from where his parents had been gushing on the photo. It was undoubtedly a marriage prospect for him.

Shaurya huffed. 

A woman’s outer beauty wouldn’t woo him alone. She had to be beautiful inside, too. And for that he had to meet her. 

His parents said that it wasn’t possible quite yet and had forwarded a series of photos and videos on his phone. 

And that was the moment his life changed forever. Because they were the photos of a girl who had taken his breath away in an instant and had swiped the ground from beneath his feet. The girl that he saw in the inanimate object had her eyes scrunched up in delight as she chuckled with another woman, probably her mother, in the next photo she had an ice-cream cone in her hand, a bit of it smudged on her nose that she was trying to view by bringing her irises together, the consequent face looking the funniest sight he had ever seen. The next photo was that typical Indian bride photo where she was made to sit on the bed with her legs together on the side, gaze downcast, and a shy smile on her lips. Though her hand was fisting the dupatta on her head instead of holding it delicately. Shaurya barely suppressed a chuckle seeing that photo. And lastly, was a video of that girl, a possible continuation of the first photo he had seen where the voice of her chuckling was echoing in his ears, strumming his heartstrings. The video continued with a snippet of the girl with her eyes wide and cheeks tinted bright pink when the person recording the video, probably Hansika Mehta, told her that she would be showing this to her future in laws. 

“Maasi, noooo,” the girl whined with the cutest pout ever and zip, the video ended.  

“I need a minute.” Shaurya said at the end, ran to his room and screamed in delight, in his pillow of course. After schooling his expressions, he had gone down, asked the girl’s name, hummed as the maasi in question told him about her, Rati, her job, her hobbies and finally a date when the two families would be meeting if Shaurya was to say yes.

The man, truly helpless at that point, had yet again screamed, this time internally, and had agreed to the Rishta looking as calm as he could.

Call him a madman. But he couldn’t quite keep himself sane when he knew that he would be meeting and possibly marrying an angel very soon. He just hoped she too saw him in a good light.

A few days later, the answer had come. It was a yes. 

After that the question of either be a good boy and meeting her only five or six times before their engagement and consequent marriage that was still months away, just like he was supposed to do and had always thought of doing, or talking to her, seeing her and meeting secretly not quite adjusting in that good boy image, was, well, a no brainer. 

No, he couldn’t be the Shaurya that he thought he was, the obedient one, because he hadn’t been able to stop himself from hearing her angel like voice, seeing her shy, pink cheeks when he came in front of her or the way her tone changed to utter exhaustion and heavy sighs whenever she told him about her boss who made her work so much “that sometimes my fingers feel like breaking while typing for eight hours continuously.”

She had pouted as she showed him her hand. He remembers having the urge to take that hand in his, give it a good and slow massage while uttering sweet nothings and words of encouragement to the girl. He had wanted to end the session with a small kiss at the back of that hand but, of course, hadn’t done that.

He hadn’t been able to do any of those because it was only the third time seeing each other unofficially, where he had been sitting on the hood of his car and she, behind her window. Reaching her hand from so far was a bit difficult. 

And yet, that was his story. 

Bad Omen, meeting Rati? Never. 

So, from his side, Shaurya was all clear. He felt happy when he met Rati. And so, he did it. Plus, he was almost sure that his sister already knew about his meetings, and because she couldn’t meet her spouse during her marriage, she was giving him the liberty to do so. His mother too was aware of it, she on the other hand had helped him so many time in letting him meet her though neither side of the party had ever confessed knowing it in legitimate words. It was only his father who didn’t know and even if he did, his mother would take care of it.

However, amidst all this he had no idea that the situation in Rati’s house was nowhere near his. There were no superstitions or any bad omens behind not letting them meet for a whole year. It was rather a life story. A sad story that made sense to him, her father had left them, he didn’t care enough about his wife, he didn’t care at all about his daughter. He got bored of them.

He had no idea that his meeting Rati was so wrong, was making Rati feel small in front of maasi, and maybe, her mother too. What if just like her maasi, her mother too didn’t want the duo to meet up because of the same reason? 

 It was precisely why Rati hadn’t said anything in his defence at all. Right?

He had been taking advantage of the girl’s silence, thinking that maybe she too was beginning to like him, and was just as eager to get to know him, but he didn’t have any idea that she wasn’t allowed to dot that, that he was pressuring her into doing something that she probably didn’t want to do at all in the first place. 

“Men are like that, Rati, they get bored easily.” Her maasi had said and she had stayed silent. Maybe she too believed in the fact somewhere.

But that’s ok. Shaurya will prove that he, in fact, isn’t in like that even if for that he will have to do exactly the opposite.

He would not meet her secretly; he would not trouble her anymore. He knows that the affection he holds for the girl would not only last him these few months but his whole life. He’ll marry her and then love her. 

He will do what he should have been doing since the very beginning. 

He will do what Rati wants him to do.