Ethereal: Eternal Echoes

16

Ishan

The evening air was thick with festivity as the Ganesh Chaturthi aarti commenced at our home. I could feel the weight of tradition and expectation hanging over us like the heavy incense smoke swirling in the air. I stood amidst the commotion, my mind replaying the events of the day like an endless loop of half-formed thoughts. I focused on the ritualistic dance of the flames, their flickering light casting fleeting shadows over everything and everyone present.

My attention, though reluctantly, kept drifting back to Smriti. There she was, her presence as vivid as the vibrant colors of the Ganesh idols around us. Her dark brown hair, usually so controlled and tamed, cascaded in soft waves, creating a contrast with her flawlessly smooth, glowing complexion. Her brown eyes had a warmth and depth that seemed to transcend the ordinary. The way her eyes sparkled, catching the light of the aarti lamps, was both mesmerizing and disconcerting.

Smriti stood there, poised and elegant, her attire-a graceful blend of traditional and modern-accentuating her slender figure. The soft, delicate fabric of her saree moved with an understated grace, and the intricate patterns on it seemed to dance along with her every movement. She was captivating, undeniably so, but it was her composure and the subtle confidence she exuded that struck me the most. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was her strength and self-assuredness that made her unforgettable.

As the aarti began, my gaze met hers across the room. In that moment, the world seemed to contract into a single point of focus-her eyes. There was something almost tangible about the connection, a silent conversation happening through the intensity of our stares. My mother, always one for playful jabs and knowing glances, couldn't resist the opportunity to tease us both. Her eyes darted back and forth between Smriti and me, her smirk as evident as the incense smoke swirling around us. I could sense Smriti's discomfort, her cheeks flushing slightly, but her poise never faltered.

The aarti proceeded with its sacred rituals, and we found ourselves side by side, participating in the ceremony. The shared experience of the aarti was a moment of unity, a brief intersection of our lives under the guise of tradition. The rhythmic chants and the soft glow of the flames seemed almost surreal as I performed the rituals mechanically. Beside me, Smriti moved with a grace that seemed both foreign and familiar. The experience was supposed to be about reverence and devotion, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was more about the unresolved feelings and the tangled web of our past.

When the ceremony ended, Smriti and her parents prepared to leave. I felt an odd mix of relief and apprehension as I watched them go. My parents and Naika, my younger sister, gathered around me, their expressions a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation.

Naika, ever the mischievous one, couldn't resist teasing me. "So, Bhai, how did it feel to have Smriti here today? Did you enjoy the 'reunion'?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, masking the irritation I felt. "It was just a formality, Naika. You know how these things are."

My father, chimed in with his usual calm demeanor. "Ishan, you should try to see this as an opportunity. You're marrying Smriti because it makes your mother and me happy. It's a chance for you both to build something together."

My mother, nodded in agreement. "Yes, Ishan. We've seen you work so hard and achieve so much. It's time for you to focus on something more than just your career. Smriti is a good woman, and she cares about you. You need to give this a chance."

I felt a knot tighten in my chest. "I understand what you're saying, but this is all a bit overwhelming. I've never believed in love the way you all seem to."

Naika rolled her eyes playfully. "Come on, bhai. You can't be so stiff all the time. Try to enjoy the process. You might actually find something meaningful."

My father's voice grew more serious. "Ishan, being a gentleman means accepting the responsibilities that come with your decisions. You've agreed to this marriage for our sake, but now it's up to you to make the most of it. Stay with Smriti after your engagement. Spend time together, understand each other better."

My mother added gently, "We've chosen Smriti for you because we believe she's the right person. You don't have to fall in love immediately, but you should at least give it a chance. Your happiness is important, and so is hers."

The conversation was becoming repetitive, and I could feel my frustration mounting. "I'll do what's necessary, but I don't want anyone to expect me to be something I'm not. I'm doing this for you, not for me."

Naika sighed, "Bhai, you can't just go through the motions. If you're going to marry Smriti, you need to be genuine about it. This isn't just about fulfilling duties."

My parents exchanged looks of concern, and my father placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We believe in you, Ishan. We know you have the ability to make this work. Just be honest with yourself and with Smriti."

As the evening wore on, I retreated to my room. The quiet of the night was a stark contrast to the bustling energy of earlier. I picked up my guitar, seeking solace in the familiar strum of strings. Music had always been my escape, a way to channel my thoughts and feelings.

As I played, my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Smriti's face kept appearing in my thoughts-the way her eyes met mine during the aarti, the gracefulness of her movements. I was haunted by the guilt of my past actions and the sense of responsibility I now felt. It was clear that falling in love was never part of my plan. My life had been a carefully constructed edifice of success and control, and love had always seemed like an unpredictable variable I could do without.

The melody I played was melancholic, a reflection of my inner turmoil. Each chord seemed to echo the confusion and doubt that clouded my mind. Smriti would become my responsibility, a part of my life I never intended to complicate with emotional attachments. I could not help but wonder if I was truly capable of love or if I was simply going through the motions because it was expected of me.

As the night grew darker, my thoughts turned inward. I found myself questioning the very foundations of my beliefs. Was it possible that beneath my hardened exterior, there was a capacity for love that I had always denied? Or was this marriage merely a continuation of my duty-a means to fulfill expectations rather than a genuine desire for companionship?

The guitar's soothing notes did little to quell the storm within me. My fingers moved instinctively over the strings, but my mind was far from calm. I was caught between the duty I felt towards my family and the emotional detachment I had maintained for years. The thought of opening up to Smriti, of truly letting her into my life, felt like stepping into the unknown.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, I put down my guitar. The music had provided no answers, only a deeper awareness of my inner conflict. Smriti would be a significant part of my life moving forward, whether I embraced it willingly or not. For now, I could only hope that time would bring clarity and that perhaps, in the process, I might find a way to reconcile my past with my present.

With a heavy heart and a restless mind, I prepared for another day. The path ahead was uncertain, but I knew that facing it with honesty and resolve was the only way forward.

author: "Love is a gamble for those who believe in chance; for those who don't, it's a game they never intended to play." ~Ishan Shah

Bhaisahab iss bande ko pyaar mei vishwaas hi nhi hai! Ye aur iska kaam, bass.. hhh' Aur batao guys? kesi lag rhi hai book? and the chapters?
Ya I am disappointed bcz you guys read and go,, but never vote or follow ): That seems unfair yaar,, tumhara kya chala jaayega vote karke yaar? Paise thodi maang rhi hu mai?! Anyways,, do visit my instagram page to interact with me over there (authorr_mishwaa) and comment your views as such.

[Word Count: 1400]

Aapki pyaari author,

Mishwa (: