1. RISHTA?

Shriya cleared her throat. A futile attempt to ease the awkwardness rising in the room with each tick of the clock.

She shifted slightly as Anish looked at her. She pressed her palm onto the mattress. The warmth of the fabric felt foreign almost like a territory. She never dared to cross.

🌷

I observed the way she repeatedly rubbed her fingers together, until the red color started blooming on her wheatish skin.

The only distraction from the fan humming weirdly in this silent room.

My throat felt clogged. I turned my attention to the walls painted with the white wash, as if it could give me the courage to break this uncanny stillness.

Her fingers moved restlessly in a continuous rhythmic motion. At this point even I was able to feel the sting of the bruise blooming on her knuckles.

I swallowed as I watched her sitting so simply unaware about the chaos. She has unraveled in my head. Dressed in a simple light blue chikankaari adorned with a plain dupatta, that highlighted her glowing features.

So simple, yet so regal.

I couldn't bring myself to talk to her.

The stray strands of her hair framed her face. Her face looked like the exact metaphor.

Meghachachandit raat ki jyotsana.

I blinked, as she cleared her throat. I looked away, not ready to meet those eyes again. Because if I did. I would forget everything that I had to say to her.

“Suniye.” Her voice shattered the unfamiliarity of the situation..But somewhere we both knew that, this was our first time sitting together, like this. When our families talked about our alliance outside this room.

Yet, at that second. The voices from outside blurred into hers. My pulse thudded beneath the fabric. Finally the words tumbled out as I gripped the wood—a small tiny anchor.

“Sunaiye.”

My eyes were fixed on her feet, adorned with a thin chain of payal, shining brightly in the dim glow of light.

Trust me. If I looked at her.

The words won't come out of my mouth.

“Aap khush toh hai na?”

Her voice was low. I could sense the unease creeping in her with the repetitive motion of her feet.

I gulped. The constant chime of her anklets did a little to calm my racing thoughts. Still I had no answers. Everything happened so suddenly as I returned from my postings. I found myself sitting in this room.

For the first time, no tactics worked.

I exhaled shakily and turned the question to her. I wanted to know, was she happy about this?

“Aap khush hain, kya?”

My gaze shifted to her, merely residing there, then I looked away. But I could still feel the weight of her gaze.

“Hum—”

Before she could answer, her mother's voice was loud enough to let us know that this was enough. Yet it felt like only seconds had passed with her.

“Shriya.”

She was startled. Ready to walk outside. But then she looked at me. I bit my cheeks, resisting the urge to smile as I followed her.

She looked lost and the question gawned at the back of my mind as our steady footsteps filled the corridor.

“Shriya ji, apne jawaab nahi diya.”

Only silence hit me back. She was staring ahead. Her eyes devoid of any emotion—carrying a calm that only she could carry.

Yet I wanted to know her thoughts. Was she ready for this relationship or was she simply complying with her parents for the society?

As we reached the hall. She stepped beside her mother. Her mother looked at her, clearly looking for an answer. But there was not even a single hint of emotion in her eyes.

What if I did something wrong?

My pulse twisted into knots as I finally settled down onto the sofa. The atmosphere instantly shifted, replaced with the cold tea cups and empty trays.

Her father spoke.

“Toh rishta pakka samjhe?” He looked at his daughter once. For her confirmation, but she showed none. My father's eyes darted between me and her.

I wanted to see her happy, although I met her just twice so I did what I felt right. Maybe we both needed time.

“I need some time.”

Her father gave a brief nod, after which the family started talking about the random things. Their voices once again easing the tension in the room.

For the first time in the evening. I saw her eased posture. She walked back to the kitchen. Her payals chimed rhythmically. I couldn't help my lips curled into a smile.

🌷

I sighed in irritation. The saree repeatedly stuck between my steps as I walked through the school campus. I clutched my handbag in my left hand and the other carried a bundle of notebooks that I had to check.

The campus had gone quiet after a long tiring day of lectures and hustle of students. I wished afternoon to the other colleagues and called it a day.

But, I knew my day was far from over.

As I walked to the stand. The sweat dripped from my forehead, a reminder of the July heat. The saree pallu did a little to ease the excruciating humidity.

My wrist ached with the repetitive motion of adjusting the bags. But I liked this way at least I was doing something of my own.

I still remember the day.

When my father had said. You would feel like a liability after some time, If you do not manage to find yourself a job. Phir yahi hoga kahi dekh ke shaadi kara de.

I chuckled. So this was it.

Anyway, they are still looking for an alliance.

It had been days after that unexpected proposal.

Everything was returning back to normal, that's what I thought at least for sometime.

But sooner or later. I have to agree to this settlement. At least that's what my family called—A settlement.

I blinked.

As a rickshaw passed by my side. I moved towards it. I felt like my legs had their own pulse.

It had been a long day standing throughout the lectures and classes.

As I settled down. Everything blurred into thin lines. I rested my head at the back of the seat.

The warm air hit my face anchoring my racing thoughts.

I observed the surroundings. But still one thing still lingered in my mind. Him

My room still carried the remnants of his presence.

I still remember that day, he was so uncertain about the arrangement as though it came out as a surprise for him as well.

Well, who cares?

I am not interested in this.

My thoughts halted with the rickshaw. I stepped down as I paid the fare. Once the three wheeler was out of my sight. I clutched the bags with my one hand and I clutched the saree with my other hand as I crossed the road.

How ironic isn't it?

Freedom has a deadline of age, at least for me.

Or maybe in reality I never got one.

Throughout my life they made sure that I had zero male interaction. Suddenly they want me to get married to a stranger.

Though our families are acquaintances. But the thought itself is enough to bring shivers down my spine.

I am grateful to him—that he asked for time.

Honestly, I can't trust a person whom I only met two-three times. When I have to live with them throughout my life.

I stopped in my tracks. I noticed him standing at the entrance of my house.

What was he doing here?

To be continued......