6. Just Married

"Stop fidgeting," her mother commanded.

Huffing, she ceased tugging on her red saree. She hated sarees, she hated jewellery and most importantly, the only occasion which demanded it from her--- weddings. The idea of marriage had always made her nauseous. The ceaseless noise, the ostentatious display of how much wealth one can spend, it was like an auction of two people to the richest bidders.

Get a grip. You are getting married either way, she reprimanded herself.

"You must not do anything that disrespects your family, you must not mingle with boys. One day, we will find the perfect match for you. We know best. We are your parents," her mother had clarified when she was 15. She was an obedient daughter, and she couldn't defy her parents because they were careful enough to take preventive measures. She had studied in a girls' school, a girls' college and now at 22, she was set to marry a complete stranger. She had refused to meet him or even look at his picture. It didn't matter to her anymore, her family would have never allowed her to marry someone of her own choice, anyway. Her life rotated around rules and regulations. She had grown to accept it, and even enjoy it.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She needed to empty her mind of the anxiety, the doubts and him. The reason for all her dubiousness and her sudden decision to get married.

But how could she forget him?

He gave her so much to remember. He gave her freedom, within their limited days. He gave her summer and sunshine, in the cold mountains of Leh-Ladakh. He gave her the taste of a life she would bid farewell to, tonight.

She remembered the night she met him. The night that changed her life forever.

It was 6 months ago, when her mother's cousin's daughter was getting married the "big-fat-Indian wedding" style. Needless to say, she was sulking at a corner when her mother had spotted her.

"I need to talk to you about something," her mother had whispered.

"Okay," she had replied.

"There is someone I want you to meet," her mother paused. "He is Mr. Kapoor's son. He is taking care of his father's real estate business at U.K. and he is very successful. I arranged the whole meeting with your maasi, she knows Mrs. Kapoor."

"Oh," she replied blankly, "of course, I will meet him."

Her mother had smiled at her knowingly and departed.

She sat in silence, oblivious to the cacophony and celebration, around her. She had never heard of this Mr. Kapoor before. Who was he? Who was his son?

What if he was bald and had bad breath? Don't be stupid. Maa set this up, it is bound to be okay, she consoled herself.

She hesitated, she wasn't too comfortable around strangers. She was incapable of small-talk. She was too reclusive, too reserved. She sighed, she knew that she had to keep her mother's word and meet this stranger and fake smiles.

She got up and made her way through the crowd, scanning for her mother. She was nowhere in sight. She hadn't told her, where to meet this stranger. She stepped outside into the fresh air. The wind ruffled her saree as she adjusted her neatly tied hair. She could hear the faint sound of a train whistling by. The station was near.

She bit her lips. One train and she would be free.

Free from what exactly? she questioned her intention.

Free from her restrictive family, her dominant mother, her daily routine, her monotonous life. She was running in circles and she wanted a change in momentum. Inhaling sharply, she focused her eyes on the road in front of her. Beyond the lit up alley, all she could see was looming darkness.