The North-South Love Saga

Toda Re Saare Bandhan Ko Pyar Ke Liye

Despite my mother's constant ranting and my father's plea to stay away, I held onto my love for Vardaan. My dad, deeply devoted to my mom, couldn't bear to see her suffer in any way. I longed for a love like theirs, and I believed I had found it with Vardaan.

I told my dad, "Papa, I love Vardaan. I love him the way you love ma. It's not just a passing phase; it's true love." Though my dad, a romantic at heart, didn't express his approval, he also didn't say anything more. On the other hand, my practical-minded mother dismissed love as mere infatuation and claimed it didn't exist. According to her, it was all nonsense that I needed to get over.

We kept our relationship hidden for a long time, adopting a motto of living a low-profile life. We spoke in hushed tones during our late-night conversations, but we couldn't bring ourselves to stop. Some may deem me the worst person on earth for hurting my parents in this way. It felt as if I were cheating on them with Vardaan, betraying their investments of time, money, energy, and love in me. How could I have done this to them?

This is the extent of the South Indian cultural complexity I found myself in. Being in love with a boy made me feel heartless and ruthless. I was constantly on edge, feeling like a traitor, consumed by anxiety. I couldn't bear it any longer.

By then, I had managed to secure a job as a sub-editor in a newspaper, working the night shift. I took it as an opportunity to escape their constant reminders of my perceived betrayal. Even though we resided under the same roof, they couldn't see me. I only had one day off—Mondays—when I could sleep during the day.

They never had a chance to see me, and it worked in my favor. I became like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, pretending to be invisible. I had already distanced myself from all my friends, and now my parents as well. Vardaan was the only one I had left.

I have no idea why I placed such blind trust in him. I loved him with such intensity that the outside world ceased to matter. He became my sanctuary amidst all the hardships and heartaches I was enduring. He became my anchor. While I worked at the newspaper, he worked as a tutor. He would spend every penny of the 2000 rupees he earned on me. He showered me with gifts, took me out, fed me, and pampered me. While everyone else rejected me, I had found my home with him. It may seem paradoxical that I clung to him even more when everyone else hated me for being with him, but I simply knew it in my bones. This was where I belonged.