The journey of two people that have had everything laid in their feet since they were kids, except for the one thing they wanted.
Freedom.
In the society of the rich, you either keep the appearance or the passion. With lives put on crossroads, and...
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There are alot of people in the world who would love to trade places with me. To be the daughter of a rich family and then to be married off in an even richer one. And they have no idea how easily I would give it to them. I'll give up all of this just so I could find some peace, some freedom.
It's suffocating here. I am not ungrateful. I have gotten every materialistic thing I've put my finger on. I've got lovely parents. They both love me very much and I love them too. I have an understanding elder brother and a best friend turned sister in law. But I also have a grandfather. A very strict, orthodox, and unnerving grandfather. And the biggest problem is, no matter how much everyone loves me, what that man says goes. And he has never seen me as something more than a bargain. A scapegoat he could barter for business. He did the very same with my brother.
He is marrying me off. And even though everything is fine, the family is great, the man I am marrying seems like a wonderful person from all the years I've known him, I just don't think I am ready for marriage. Or maybe I am but the fact that he expects me to be a good wife so he could strengthen his business is just too much to take. What kind of grandfather does that? A rich power thirsty one apparently. He let me have a few moments of peace in my life. He let me get graduated just for the sake of it. My fashion degree won't do him any good, but atleast he could market me off as a graduated girl.
I've been sitting here for two hours, in my lehenga and bangles, while the hairdresser struggles with my curls. They are too long to take care of, but I am habitual now. The only thing my grandfather hasn't taken away from me are my curls. He has made it a point of informing me how he doesn't like it and would rather have me straighten them and shorten the length but he hasn't pushed it much. And I love my hair. They are the only symbol of my autonomy. Of the very little control I've had in my life.
After another agonizing half an hour she has finally managed to put them in a loose braid. She pulls a few of them out to frame my face but scrunches her face and pins them back inside. My sister in law walks in and smiles at me. Shruti is my friend before being anything else. "Give us a moment please." The hairdresser nods at her, smiles at me and walks away.
"You look so beautiful. I told you, you'll make the most beautiful bride ever." She wraps her arms around me from behind and keeps her chin over my head. "You're getting married, don't look this sad." I smile lightly and she sighs. "It's not that bad Amaira. I went through the very same thing. And I only knew your brother for three months before we got married. You've known your man for more than five years, as a family associate but you've known him nonetheless."
"He is not my man, and you got lucky Shruti. Not everyone has such good fate." She makes an annoying sound at the back of her throat.
"First of all, he is your man. Second, how do you know you won't be lucky? Shivansh is a good man, Amaira. He is kind and he will take good care of you. He isn't a monster like dadu. He won't belittle you at every step of the way." I nod. It's all true. He really is a good man.
