Vodka on the rocks

Persephone - The Devil's Betrothed

Pallavi Deshmukh looked at herself in the mirror of the dresser she was seated at. She looked at her intricately patterned henna covered hands whose wrists housed a set of diamond studded gold bangles by the dozen. Her pale face was accentuated by a striking pair of eyes which were made to look huger by the neat and thick line of kohl around them. She was the definition of elegance. The epitome of grace. She had the heart of a child, soft and pure - unscarred by the toxicity of the world yet. The spirit of an undaunted God fearing man who could withstand any storm and the mind of a woman - wise and quick.

Her nose ring studded with diamonds fell over her blood red painted lips. Her long dark hair was piled above her head in an elaborate braid which fell like a slithering gold studded snake down her back. The bunch of little white flowers in the gajra adorning her hair fluttered in the cool afternoon breeze. The heavy necklaces and ear rings made her dazzle like the brightest star in the Northern sky. A traditional yet chic kamarbandh was wrapped like the cold arm of a possessive lover around her slim waist. The maroon silks of her heavy saree struck a blinding yet beautiful contrast with the pale creaminess of her skin.

Anyone seeing her right now would think that Devendra, King of the Gods Himself might cry in grief seeing a mortal rival the heavenly beauty of His dancing nymphs - the immortal damsels of Amravati, the apsaras. Any man might burn in the green flames of envy at the fate rather fortune of the groom for whom this bride was being decked.

Her dainty feet adorned with a pair of delicate anklets and the soles lined by the auspicious turmeric golden. The various fragrances resplendent in the air bore testimony to the initiation of the auspicious ceremony. Sandalwood, turmeric, marigolds and the night queen flowers left its heady scent in the minds of the attendees as expected. The rustling of silks and clattering of jewellery were a proof of the constant pre event preparations going on in gusto.

This was her wedding day. The happiest day veritably in the mind of a lover. Ready to be joined in a union accepted by society and in full gaiety bearing evidence of a grand celebration of their love.

Yet if observed carefully you might notice none of the smiles etched so glaringly on the faces of the Deshmukh clan reached any of their eyes. Pallavi looked at her face. Pale, ashen and wan like a corpse. None of the warmth reaching her cheeks to mark the exuberance of her marriage. She was looking like she had decked up to attend a funeral. Her grey eyes bore a pain so gut deep that anyone noticing it might be forced to wail in her heart break.

Cause this was not a marriage of two souls. This was the beginning of her descent into a deafening darkness which will snuff out every light from her eyes. She was to be locked in a suffocating cage gilded with gold tied with the stinging barbs of hatred till her very life force is drained out in bits and pieces. Cause the man she was being bonded with is not a man at all. He is the Devil incarnate.

Raghav Rao. A name which had the power to strike terror in the hearts of the residents of this city and to anyone who knew him or even of him. His Empire spans the length and breadth of this place, a system of organized fear crafted to petrify people into acquiescence. A monster in every meaning of the literal.

He was the King of the Underworld and she was chosen to be his Queen. He was Hades and she... was to be his Persephone. The innocent daughter of the Spring, borne out of love, life and light destined to be abducted by the wicked God of Hell and be dragged into its mystifying and dreary depths to be tied beside him, for forever.

A fate so terrible for a woman so pure. A horrible game played by the Three sisters of Destiny.

Pallavi saw her sisters - Mansi and Amrutha flank her as she steps onto the wedding hall. Their lips pulled in smiles yet their eyes are full of sympathy and mercy. Pity for the sacrificial lamb before it is slaughtered as an offering of peace. She saw her mother, her superhero, the woman she reveres with a divine passion stand at the side-lines. Her hair greying at the sides already. The pain in her smile was too much to bear. Her stance of a defeated woman. Defeated thoroughly by fate and Her cruel games. She saw her father try to smile yet avert his gaze from her. His eyes filled with a cloying guilt which slowly choked her and those fine anklets felt like iron chains.