After effects of skimming trough ADHM
ShraMan OS: Breaking Free
Suman Tiwari tossed and turned around restlessly on her bed, in her room, in Tiwari Villa. Everyone had retrieved to bed - it had been a long and tiring day. But, she laid wide awake, her senses had adjusted to the dark and to the incessant tick-tock of the clock near her bed side table as the pendulum swings one way to another. Her mind is a jumble of messed thoughts.
She changed sides every five minutes, not knowing how to sooth the restlessness that seemed to capture every nerve of her mind, it didn't let her have a moment of respite for herself and yet she was careful not to mess up the mehndi Aditya had forcefully carved over her palm - it hadn't dried yet.
She raised both of her hands in front of her. In the dim light the moon offered through the open window of her room, she let her eyes wander over every minuscule details and designs. The girls had indeed carried on a meticulous work, the design was intricate, the kind one would look at for hours in wonder and amazement.
Not an inch of skin could be perceived, her hands looked delicate and demure and the dark colour against her pale gone skin created a striking contrast alas the name written in giant letters only added to her misery as she blinked back the furious tears she had been holding while she sat among the gathering, while she sat in front of him.
Her chin quivered as she repeated the name of the man she was promised to as if to try and coax herself into this idea, to engrave Aditya in her mind, to make herself see reason that she couldn't go on like this, she couldn't miss what she had never had, what was never meant to be, she couldn't possible mourn for it.
And the more she repeated his name, the more it left a bitter almost metallic taste in her mouth. His name written in big bold letters stalked its claim over her, taunted her. He had marked her deliberately and slowly and for her it felt no less than a deprivation of her self-respect - the only thing that truly belonged to her was slowly slipping away from her grasp like sand between your fingers. It felt like her self-worth relied in this man's name.
She should be happy, ecstatic after all she was getting married in three days, she had everything for herself then why did it feel like her heart was tearing into two halves?
She was good at pretending, always the best at wearing the mask of indifference then why did her eyes seem dull when she looked at herself in the mirror, why did her shoulders remain rigid even when she held her head high why did her pursued lips refuse to blossom in the brilliant smile she used to wear when he was in breathing vicinity?
It should have been his name hidden in her mehndi and she knew for a fact that he wouldn't have staked his claim on her but rather would have left only the initial of his name or only a sign that would have reminded Suman of Shravan. She would never suffocate while walking down the road with him. He was fiercely protective of her but his love would have let her breathe and tackle her own storms and when she would be battered and tired enough to let go of her stubbornness, he would haul her in their safe cocoon and wrap her in blankets, like a child.
It should have been him, her friends teased her about as she duck her head down in embarrassment. It should have been him who cornered her against the wall of her room and he wouldn't have to force an I love you' out of her because she would have repeated it again and again to witness his eyes sparkling with infinite tenderness, beads forming at the corner of them -
he would have waited too long to hear it from her.
It should have been him she went to shopping with. He would have chosen the right colours, not too loud, not too bland. He would have chosen the right flowers, the right jewellery because he was the only one aware that as basic the golden and red combination was, it was her favourite that even though emeralds were her favourite she would only wear her mother's jewellery at her wedding and that even if it was impossible in this season the mandap would be decorated with tulips because roses were too overrated for her.
