Aadrika : His unconscious desire

4. Him

Aadrika

"I can't believe you're getting married tomorrow" Aarambh said while smirking.

I didn't answered to him and kept cooking the food.

"Have you seen him yet?" He asked and now this caught my attention.

I looked at him and shook my head in a no, "d-do you have a picture of him?" I asked him.

"Ofcourse I do have his picture, we got it many days before" He said and crossed his hands.

"Can I see it?" I asked with a little hope that he would show me his picture, Prataap Singh Choudhary.

"Yeah sure, let me get the picture" He said and went away from there to get the picture.

I have never seen him, nor heard about his features. At first I thought that he might be of my age but I can't believe my uncle and aunt, I can't believe that they have picked a good groom for me.

He soon came back with a envelope in his hand,

"Here" He handed me an envelope.

I took it and kept it beside me.

"You're not going to see the picture?" He asked

"I'll see it later" I said and focused on my cooking.

I want to see it when I'm free.

I was soon done with cooking food, serving it to everyone, I went on the roof top.

I took the picture out of the envelope and my world shattered the moment my eyes fell on the picture.

I was right, I was completely right. I'm not getting married to any Revolutionary, any freedom fighter. Instead he's some old man. I took the picture which I had tied in my saree.

I started to cry again, am I seriously getting married to him?

I can't even deny for this marriage. Oh my.

Why?

The man in the photo looked harsh, older than I imagined, with tired eyes and a stern expression. His furrowed brows and unforgiving gaze sent chills down my spine, is this the man I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with? My chest tightened as I pressed my lips together to stifle the sob rising in my throat.

"This is my fate?" I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible even to myself. I glanced at the open sky, listening carefully for any sign of God. God had been particularly cruel to me, snapping at my over small mistakes, reminding me of my place in the house—a burden, an unwanted responsibility.

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched the photograph tighter, my knuckles turning white. Slowly, I sank to the floor, pulling my knees near my chest as my emotions overwhelmed me. I had no one to share my pain with, no one to hear my cries or comfort me through the fear that gnawed at me every waking moment.

My body shuddered with sobs, and I buried my  face into my arms, crying silently. "Why me?" I asked "Why am I always left with nothing but pain and fear?"