bounded by shadows

chapter 8

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The family gathered in the living room, voices buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the marriage arrangements. I sat silently, my mind a tempest of conflicting emotions.

As the conversation about the marriage plans grew more animated, I could no longer contain my frustration. I stood up, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "How could you all decide my future without even asking me?" my voice demanded, eyes darting between my father and uncle.

My father, a stern man with a rigid sense of tradition, looked taken aback. "This is for your own good, Janaki," he said firmly. "We have chosen a suitable match for you."

"But I don't want to be married off like this!" my voice rose, anger bubbling to the surface. "I have dreams, ambitions. This isn't what I want for my life."

My uncle, who had been silently observing everything, decided to intervene. "Janaki, you need to understand that we are doing this because we care about you. A good marriage is essential for your future."

"No," I shook my head vehemently, tears welling up in my eyes. "You care more about your traditions and appearances than my happiness. I won't be a pawn in your plans."

My father's face turned red with fury. "Enough, Janaki!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "You will marry who we choose, and that's final."

I felt a wave of defiance wash over me. "I refuse," I said, my voice barely a whisper but laced with determination. "I won't let you control my life."

"You disagree, who cares about your opinion? I decide things," his voice echoed through the house.

"No, I won't let you," I roared.

The next moment happened in a blur. The room fell silent, the only sound the sharp intake of breath from the family members and the slap that slashed across my cheek.

I stumbled back, holding my cheek where the slap had landed. My mother gasped, tears streaming down her face, but remained silent, her eyes pleading with me to comply. "I won't let you embarrass me like your sister did," my father declared.

"Lock her in her room," my father ordered, his voice cold and unyielding. "She needs to learn respect."

Two of my uncles grabbed me by my arms, dragging me up the stairs despite my struggles. "Let me go!" I screamed, kicking and thrashing, my screams falling on deaf ears as their grip remained iron-clad, leaving fingerprints on my skin.

They shoved me into my room, slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside. I pounded on the door, tears of frustration and helplessness streaming down my face. "You can't keep me here forever!" I yelled, my voice breaking.

I sank to the floor, my back against the door. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by my soft sobs. I felt trapped, not just physically but emotionally, caught in the web of my family's expectations and traditions.

Hours passed, and the sun climbed higher in the sky. I could hear the muffled conversations of my family downstairs, continuing their discussions as if nothing had happened. The betrayal cut deep, each word I overheard a reminder of their disregard for my feelings.

Despair threatened to overwhelm me, but amid the darkness, a spark of resolve ignited. I can't let them dictate my life. I need to find a way out, to break free from the suffocating grip of tradition and reclaim my autonomy.

I sat by the window; the iron bars a stark reminder of my confinement. I could hear the distant laughter and chatter of relatives as they bustled about, preparing for the wedding that I had no part in planning. The house was adorned with garlands of jasmine and marigold, the sweet scent permeating every corner, a stark contrast to the bitterness that welled up inside me.

The courtyard had been transformed into a vibrant tableau of Tamil wedding traditions. Brightly colored silk saris fluttered in the breeze, and the sound of classical music floated through the air. Traditional Kolam designs adorned the ground, intricately drawn with rice flour, welcoming the guests and heralding the auspicious occasion. The large banana leaves placed at the entrance symbolized prosperity, but to me, they felt like shackles.

The days passed in a blur of rituals and ceremonies, each one reinforcing my sense of helplessness. My family had spared no expense in arranging a grand celebration, ensuring that every detail was perfect. The elders gathered to oversee the preparations, their discussions animated as they finalized the arrangements.

My mother had taken on the role of ensuring everything was in order. She moved through the house with a determined look, her hands never idle. She had always believed that this was for my own good, that marriage was the ultimate goal for a woman. No one asked what I wanted.

I stood on the balcony, the cool night air doing little to calm my racing heart. The house below, filled with laughter and the remnants of a celebration that wasn't mine, felt like a cage. My thoughts swirled in a vortex of despair and hopelessness. The decision to jump had come after hours of crying and feeling trapped in a life I did not choose. Every time my mind raced to thoughts of suicide, my heart wept at the memory of my mother's sobs when my sister left without a second glance. My mother had pleaded with my sister to stay, but she left. Those memories stopped my racing thoughts, but now everything is different. They are fixing this marriage as revenge for my sister. I won't let that happen.

As I looked down, the distance seemed inviting, a promise of escape from the pain that had engulfed me. The fairy lights that adorned the house for the wedding now seemed to mock me, their twinkling a cruel reminder of the joy that I could not share. Tears blurred my vision, but I took a step closer to the edge, feeling the cold railing under my fingers. Just as I was about to take the final step, a voice broke through my thoughts.