Driven by past love and a quest for justice, Prof. Prity Sharma fiercely advocates for same-sex marriage rights in India, challenging deep-rooted social taboos. Can she achieve her goal or something more awaits for her?
***
Once upon a time, in the...
As time passed, both of them started to develop feelings for each other-feelings that were totally different, deep, and dense. These emotions went beyond mere friendship, signalling a love and infatuation that, at the time, shouldn't exist between two girls. Despite sensing the changing atmosphere, neither of them dared to verbalise their emotions.
Prity found herself in a state of confusion, grappling with emotions she had never experienced with any female friend before. She believed these feelings were delusional and shouldn't exist, especially for someone like Laxmi, fearing society's non-acceptance of their relationship.
Amidst this internal struggle, Laxmi provided unwavering support, holding Prity's hand and reassuring her.
"It's alright, Prity. You don't have to be afraid just because you love a girl as a girl. I'm here for you," these words and Laxmi herself became the sole pillars of strength for Prity during that time.
Their once blissful relationship endured until their eleventh year of high school, when Laxmi's mother intervened, injecting poison into the bond shared between Laxmi and Prity.
Amidst their eleventh-grade year, Prity fell victim to a debilitating fever, confining her to the confines of her home. Meanwhile, Laxmi's mother, suspicious of her daughter's activities, began scrutinising her phone regularly, eventually stumbling upon their conversations.
Conversely, Prity, restricted to her home, maintained nightly conversations with Laxmi, detecting a subtle shift in her demeanour. Though concerned, Prity opted to remain silent about her apprehensions.
On the day Prity finally rejoined school, Laxmi pulled her aside with an urgency that left their hearts racing. A palpable tension hovered between them, a mix of anticipation and fear, as they navigated the crowded hallways in search of solitude.
It was only within the confines of an abandoned classroom, away from prying eyes and ears, that they dared to face each other. The air felt thick with anxiety, each glance and gesture heavy with unspoken thoughts, as they stood on the precipice of a conversation that could redefine everything.
"Prity," she uttered my name, her voice sending an inexplicable shiver of worry through me.
"Let's not see each other,", she said. Those words hit me, a devastating blow that sent a piercing shock through my heart.
"But why?" I managed to whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of sudden, overwhelming emotion.
"Actually... I can't do this anymore. My mom discovered our texts yesterday, and she insisted that I end our friendship," she confessed, each word fracturing my heart into fragments beyond repair.
"Your mom?" I echoed, disbelief and despair mingling in a voice barely recognizable as my own.
"Yes, she read everything we've ever said to each other. And... I don't love you, not anymore. I thought I did, in the beginning, but the fear of us being discovered... It's too much. I can't live with that fear. And if we even try to remain friends, she's threatened to go to the principal," she confessed, her voice trembling as she fought to restrain the tears threatening to spill over.
"So, you're saying you want to end things between us... because you're scared?" My voice cracked, disbelief lacing each word.
The idea that fear was the driving force behind her decision to break up seemed unfathomable, almost as if the foundation of our relationship was being questioned on grounds I couldn't understand.
"Yes, and from now on, we are strangers to each other," she declared, her words slicing through the air like a cold, sharp blade.
"But Laxmi, I love you," I pleaded, my voice quivering as the edges of my vision began to blur with unshed tears. The world seemed to dim around me, focusing solely on the gravity of her words and the abyss they threatened to plunge us into.
"And you think that I never did?But Prity, try to understand, this is India, not the States," she implored, gently wiping away her tears.
Her voice was laden with concern, echoing the complexities and challenges they faced, starkly reminding them of the different realities and societal expectations that loomed large over their relationship.
"But we can still give it a tr-" I got cut off by her.
"Prity, forget everything that happened between us, forget me," she said, her voice cracking as she fought back tears.
"Delete everything. Don't try to contact me ever again. I don't want to see your face," she added, a sense of finality weighing down each word.
Then, with a haste that betrayed her inner turmoil, she rose from her seat and hurried away, leaving me with a heart so clenched by pain and disbelief, it struggled to beat against the sudden cold emptiness her absence created.
"And listen," she paused, a fierce determination hardening her voice as she wiped away her lingering tears.
"I will marry a man, and only a man. Not a woman, not you, Prity Sharma." With those final words, she turned sharply, her resolve as clear as the pain behind her decision, and rushed away from the place, leaving echoes of a heartbreak that seemed to reverberate long after her departure.
For Prity, it was an unprecedented upheaval. She had navigated through a maze of family and social issues before, yet never had she imagined facing a challenge of this magnitude. Her world, once steady and predictable, had been turned utterly upside down in a way she couldn't have fathomed.
Laxmi shared this turmoil. Years of deep, unspoken love for Prity now clashed with the harsh realities imposed by her mother's ingrained homophobic attitudes and a society that refused to acknowledge their right to be together.
It was a heartbreaking decision, fueled not by a lack of love but by an oppressive environment that left no room for their relationship to flourish.
The pain of this forced separation was a constant companion in both their lives. Despite their shared history, their journey from schoolmates to graduates, there was a poignant absence of reconciliation.
Never did they turn to each other to ask, "Are you okay? Just know that I'm there for you." Time marched on, and both found ways to carve out their identities in the world, yet the wound of their parting remained as raw as ever.
This wasn't about wanting to be apart or harbouring any hatred; it was a tragic acknowledgment that sometimes, love demands the ultimate sacrifice for the well-being of the other.
Perhaps, in a different world, their paths might have intertwined differently, but in their reality, love meant letting go for the greater good, even if it meant enduring a lifetime of what-ifs and heartache.
***
"And the woman you saw today, the one who got married, was my first love, Laxmi Mathur," the words barely escaped my lips before a sharp gasp cut through the air, emanating from Rahul.
The revelation hung heavily between us, charged with shock and the weight of untold stories, leaving an echo of surprise that seemed to reverberate through the very fabric of the moment.
***
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