Weight of Motherhood

The transformation - contd (🔞)

The morning of the wedding approached with the same inevitability as the rising sun.

Shyam was ushered into a separate chamber where a team of busy maids and the village makeup artist awaited him.
The room was ablaze with the vibrant colors of traditional garments and the heady scent of perfumes and oils.

The artist, a plump woman with a kind smile, began to lay out an array of clothes and accessories, explaining each item with a mix of enthusiasm and haste. The maids fluttered around, selecting fabrics and jewelry that they deemed suitable for the special day.

The first garment they picked out was a red bridal bra and panty set with intricate gold embroidery. Shyam felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he was handed the unfamiliar undergarments.

He had never worn anything so feminine before, and the thought of going through with this ceremony was both bizarre and strangely thrilling.

With trembling hands, he managed to slip on the panty, feeling the soft fabric embrace his body. However, when it came to the bra, he was utterly clueless.

Sumitra, sensing his discomfort, entered the room with a knowing smile.
She approached him and took the bra from his grasp. "Here, let me help you," she said gently. He felt a peculiar mix of vulnerability and excitement as she helped him put it on.

Then, she produced a box from a nearby shelf, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Inside lay two pairs of breast forms, the color perfectly matching his skin tone.

Shyam's eyes widened in shock. "What are these?" he asked, his voice a little higher than usual.

"A surprise for you," Sumitra replied with a playful wink. "To complete your bridal look."

Panic flooded him as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Wait, are these permanent?" he questioned, his voice laced with alarm. "How do I remove them?"

Sumitra couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "That's the best part," she said in a comedic tone. "You don't. Atleast not in near future if you are going to stay as co-wife".

Shyam knew there is no point of arguement so let them do whatever they want.

The maids began to apply the breast forms with a potent adhesive, sealing them to his chest with a confidence that suggested they had done this before.

Shyam felt a strange sense of detachment as he stared down at the new additions to his body, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come.

Once the forms were securely in place, the makeup artist began to apply the mehndi, a tradition typically reserved for the bride.
Shyam argued th
at this could have been done before the undergarments as mehandi takes time and he has to sit in only under garments for now.

Sumitra explained that this was done so that he could become accustomed to the feel of the bra while it was on. Despite his initial protests, Shyam found himself nodding along, his curiosity piqued by the experience.

The process was meticulous and time-consuming, with the artist's nimble fingers creating intricate patterns that twisted and curled up his arms and down to his fingers, and from his toes to his ankles.

The cool paste of the mehndi brought a soothing sensation that helped to ease his nerves. As the artist worked, the room was filled with the sweet smell of henna, and the chatter of the maids grew more animated, sharing tales of past weddings and whispering advice in his ear.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the artist stepped back to admire her work. The mehndi had started to dry, leaving a rich, dark orange stain on his skin.

The patterns were delicate and elaborate, and Shyam couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and excitement at the transformation.

"Don't you just love the smell of mehandi?" Sumitra asked, her eyes sparkling with joy as the cool evening breeze fluttered the curtains of the room. The rich, earthy scent filled the space, a stark contrast to the quietness that had settled in the otherwise bustling village.

Shyam nodded, his heart racing as he felt the drying paste on his palms. He had never imagined that this would be his fate. "It's quite different from the office, isn't it?" he said, trying to lighten the mood. Sumitra giggled, her eyes filled with the warmth of a thousand candles. "You're not in the city anymore, Shyam," she said, her voice lilting with the sweetness of a lullaby.

The maids bustled around, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes as they whispered and pointed at Shyam's hands. When the mehandi was finally dry and washed away, revealing intricate patterns that swirled around his fingers and up his arms, the room erupted in a symphony of giggles. "Now, for the real transformation," Sumitra announced, her mischievous smile hinting at secrets untold.

The lehanga lay on the bed, a river of gold and crimson silk that shimmered under the soft glow of the oil lamps. Sumitra watched with amusement as Shyam tried to drape it around his waist. "Every bride wants to wear it as soon as possible," she said, her voice filled with a knowingness that seemed to dance around the room. "And a few men as well," she added with a wink that made Shyam's cheeks burn.

The weight of the garment felt foreign against his body, but he could not deny the strange thrill it brought him. The makeup artist began their work, their gentle touches leaving a trail of excitement on his skin.

He could feel the transformation taking place, but the mirror remained a mystery, a silent guardian of his new identity. The jewelry came next, each piece heavier than the last, adorning him in a way that whispered royalty.

When they finally showed him the mirror, Shyam could not believe it. There was not even a single trace of his past life left.

Standing in the mirror is a princess ready to meet her husband.
He was mesmerised by his own regal beauty. " I wouldn't even dream of marrying the beauty in the mirror and yet I am her" He thought , Shyam felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The world outside was waiting for him, ready to embrace him in a role he never thought he would play.

The Biggest moment of his life was just a flight of stairs away, and he could feel the whispers of fate pulling him closer. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the room, ready to face whatever destiny had in store.