Threads of Tradition: Tales Of Indian Arranged Marriages

3.

The morning light seeped through the ornate curtains of my childhood room, gently pulling me from sleep. It was my last day in Jodhpur, and the reality of leaving hit me with an unexpected intensity. My emotions were a tangled mess—sadness, fear, and a flicker of excitement all fighting for dominance.

As I prepared for the journey to London, I felt the weight of what I was about to leave behind. My bags were packed, ready for the long flight that would carry me away from everything familiar. Dressed in a comfortable kurta, I took one last look around my room, trying to memorize the details of my sanctuary before it became a distant memory.

The farewells were more heart-wrenching than I had anticipated. My parents, Meenakshi and Rajesh Rathore enveloped me in tight embraces, their faces betraying their sadness. My father, usually so composed, had tears in his eyes as he held me close. My mother’s voice wavered as she whispered, “Take care of yourself, beta. No matter where you go, we’re just a phone call away.”

“I will, Ma,” I managed to say, my voice thick with emotion. The weight of the transition I was about to make felt heavier with every passing second.

Devansh stood nearby, offering me a supportive, silent presence as I said my goodbyes. I appreciated his respect for this poignant moment. When it was time to leave, he took my hand gently, giving me a reassuring smile as we headed to the car.

The drive to the airport was quiet, the streets of Jodhpur rolling by in a blur of familiarity. My mind was full of memories—the lively festivals, the narrow lanes of my childhood, the vibrant markets. It was as if I was trying to hold onto every piece of my life here before it slipped away.

Arriving at the airport, the magnitude of my move hit me like a tidal wave. The bustling terminal, the endless rows of travelers—it was all so overwhelming. Devansh’s calm demeanor was a comforting anchor as we navigated through check-in and security. His ease with the process helped soothe some of my nerves.

As we waited for our flight, Devansh turned to me with a soft smile. “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said. “But I promise you’ll start feeling at home soon. London may seem foreign now, but it’ll become familiar in time.”

I nodded, trying to hold onto his reassuring words as the flight took off. Watching Jodhpur fade beneath the clouds, I felt a pang of loss. This was not just a physical departure but an emotional one too.

The long flight was a blur of restless sleep and anxious anticipation. When we finally touched down at Heathrow Airport, I was struck by the sheer scale and energy of the place. Everything seemed so different—bigger, faster, and more impersonal compared to the close-knit world I had left behind. I gripped my suitcase tightly, trying to find my footing in this vast, unfamiliar space.

Devansh noticed my discomfort as we stepped into the cool London air. “It’s a lot to process,” he said, sensing my unease. “But we’ll take it one step at a time. You’ll find your rhythm here.”

The drive to Devansh’s apartment offered a glimpse into the vibrant life of London—the towering buildings, historic landmarks, and the winding Thames. It was a far cry from the serenity of Jodhpur, and I felt like a small, lost piece in this sprawling cityscape.

Arriving at the apartment, I was greeted by a sleek, modern space that felt cold and impersonal. The minimalist design and large windows overlooking the bustling streets felt worlds apart from the warmth of my family home.

“This is it,” Devansh said as we settled in. “I know it’s different, but I hope it will start to feel like home.”

“It’s lovely,” I replied, offering a small smile even though the apartment felt alien to me.

Later that evening, Devansh took me out for dinner at a cozy restaurant nearby. The familiar flavors of Indian food provided a small comfort in this new world. As we dined, Devansh shared stories of his life in London—his work, the city’s vibrant culture, and how he had adapted over time.

“I know it’s not easy,” he said thoughtfully, “but I believe in you. You’re strong and capable. London might feel overwhelming now, but you’ll make it your own. And I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

His words offered a glimmer of hope. Devansh had been kind and patient, and while there were still many uncertainties, I was starting to trust him more. Maybe this marriage could grow into something meaningful, just as he had hoped.

Returning to the apartment that night, I stood by the window, looking out at the city lights. London glittered below, vast and unfamiliar, but it also shimmered with possibility. As I gazed out at this new world, I thought of my family, Jodhpur, and everything I had left behind.

Devansh’s words echoed in my mind: You’ll make it yours. Perhaps, with time and effort, I could find my place here. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with Devansh by my side, there was a chance to build a future—one that I hoped would be filled with new dreams and a life that I could call my own.