An Indian arranged marriage love story.
Like my first one this one has a new challenge. This girl here is different. Another gleaming image of confidence with sass in compliment.
Sadhvi was to marry someone else, Avrudh wasn't in the picture to beg...
'Her eyes stole my heart, Her smile gave me life, Her presence made me high, Her touch left me breathless." -Perry poetry
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Kailash
Sadhvi's POV
It was ten- thirty when every ritual was completed and dinner was served and eaten.
Most of the relatives were gone only the people living in this house were here. We were sitting in the living room, opening gifts and looking at the pictures we had on our mobile phones.
I was dead meat by then.
I was tired, the whole of my back was aching, my ankles felt swollen, I wanted to move them but everytime I did, the anklets I was wearing made a sound and I did not wanted to catch more attention than I was already earning.
"Our aunt from mom's side from Jalandar gifted a box of casserole" Jiya didi said tearing the wrapper off
Giggling to myself I shook my head, what use will I make of it?
The ceramic casserole looked very delicate though.
I tried to stretch my neck a little and looked to the corner where almost 17 bouquet of a variety of flowers kept for decoration. They made the house look like a flower shop.
Most of them were white lilies. I smiled even though I wanted rested I didn't wanted to leave the fantastic company.
I was sitting sandwiched between Bua ji and Mom, they were both either complimenting me themselves or telling me what their friends said about me. Jiya and Jagriti were opening gift and showing them to us in between.
I sighed silently and tried craning my neck to stretch it a bit again, my head was feeling heavy on my shoulders. There was a point in between my right shoulder which was aching badly.
Burning, it was feeling like set on fire.
My head was foggy, maybe I needed sleep. I didn’t wanted to say that out because they looked very happy. I was the new member of family, all the attention was meant to be bestowed on me.
I smiled looking at mom when she showed me a picture of her Maasi from Amritsar, she was telling me about her nature.
“Madam, shall I serve the dessert?” the maid asked mom and she turned to her almost as if just remembered
“Oh yes, yes. Let me help you”
Mom disappeared inside the kitchen soon and I took that as an opportunity to move my ankles a little but once again the anklets made sound. Nobody paid attention though.
