4. SINDOOR DAAN?

The kohl lined on my eyes burned with the weight of sleepless night and chants of priest that kept circling back from the previous night.

Every nerve in my body hummed with the bone stilled ache, as I sat in front of the mirror. Ready to change my attire for the third time in the evening or maybe morning.

I didn’t know. Everything blurred as the reflection mirrored the pale face.

Adorned with the heavy yellow saree with the thick red border that shone in the early morning light filtering through the window.

My face looked lifeless.

Still I tried to clear the haze. But the only thing I got in return was the smell of sweat and scent of sindoor daan.

The fabric felt stiff. The newness of it was gone, replaced by the scent of ghee that made my stomach churn in nausea.

I tried to inhale as the morning air hit my face.

The scent of earth and wet soil hit me. Outside the sky had surrendered to stillness of dawn.

But inside everything was a hurricane.

I hated the smell of ghee.

I shifted. The clink of the chooda felt like a sting. I almost resisted a flinch as the urge to scratch my itchy scalp grew with each passing second.

My mother walked towards me carrying the heavy red lehnga again. As she shouted something about my stuff to be packed.

Her eyes shifted to me. But she immediately looked away.

Her hands worked almost mechanically. Every touch was gentle. Outside someone shouted about the muhurat. But I barely paid attention.

Hunger gnawed at me. But it felt right. The fast felt right. It was for him.

Yet the burn anchored me.

My mother's eyes mirrored mine as she finally adjusted the chunri.

Red, carrying unsaid things.

But mine carried—unsettling calm.

“Dekh waha bahut se log milenge bolenge, par bahar waalo ki baaton mein mat ana kabhi bhi.”

Her words carried warmth and a hint of experience.

“Bada parivaar hai, samay lage ga par sab sambhal jaayega.”

Sambhal jaayega?

The chunri felt heavy on my head.

Sambhaalne ke liye der nahi hogayi shayad?

I blinked back as my mother's voice faltered.

“Rishte hain, an-ban toh hoti rehti hai, par choti-choti cheeze nazarandaaz kar deni chahiye kabhi kabhi.”

I couldn't help but smile.

Phir yahi choti cheeze…vidaai tak ajaati hongi shayad?

My mother wiped her eyes, as I adjusted the nath.

Everything felt too simple, still too complex.

“Ek baat yaad rakhna beta, sabko sab kuch nahi milta kahi na kahi toh sabr rakhna hi padta hai.”

With that my mother patted my back and walked out.

Her steps fading away in the chaos of last minute rituals and packing.

I couldn't help, but think.

Phir sabr rakhte-rakhte shaadi ho jaati hogi shayad?

🌷

The room was full of guests. The scent of ginger and tea drifted in the air.

Someone complained about their disrupted sleep due to the inconvenient arrangement.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Houses humming with the rituals of marriage can never be convenient. Could they?

The newly arrived furniture was scattered in one corner, chairs lined up in the lawn, and mattresses arranged on one side.

It didn't look like the walls I recognized. When I had returned from my posting.

One decision altered it completely.

Every corner screamed her presence.

Despite the room full of people. My gaze was stuck on the half open door of my room.

She sat there surrounded by the guests.

She tried to smile, pretending to recognize them.

But in reality. She was half asleep.

I knew it better.

The way her fingers unconsciously moved to her neck adjusting the jewelry again and again.

She was barely here.

Her eyes twisted almost in irritation.

I couldn't help but smile as the memories of sindoor daan flashed in front of me.

She doesn't like the smell of ghee.

Or maybe my presence.

My thoughts snapped back, as someone offered the tea.

The aroma was comforting, almost inviting.

I exhaled as I looked at her again.

I denied it.

How could I?

When she had barely eaten anything since yesterday.

The thought almost sounds absurd.

This was about us, together.

Maybe, this is how we could make it a little easier, slowly, gradually.

The chuckle almost escaped from my lips, as I remembered her irritated face.

She looked exactly like.

Jagraate waali mata.

In the car. Yet I couldn't take my eyes off her for even a second.

A thought crossed my mind. A fear unnamed. Not for myself. But for her

Now she was my partner.

My life was not easy.

Unpredictability, danger.

Yet I said yes.

🌷

The fire grew inside me with each passing second.

I moved from one corner of the room to another.

Another glass of water.

I couldn't believe I was surviving on water.

The room was quite after the entire day of torture with the guest and polite smiles.

Finally I was able to breathe.

The cotton kurti felt light after the weight of the heavy dresses from the day.

My neck was a map of rashes from the heavy silk and jewellery—which was now replaced by the nuptial chain.

The beads bit my skin. The ache felt grounding against the hunger that grew inside me with each tick of clock.

The house had gone to sleep. It felt all unfamiliar.

His house was simple, yet it felt like I was a guest here.

Everything felt new. I barely recognized anyone except for his mother, father and sister.

I looked at the clock again. Then at the door. The room was scattered with the clothes, gifts and my suitcases.

I sat back on the bed trying to sleep. But then I straightened up with the jerk.

Where will he sleep?

The thought was enough to replace my hunger with fear.

But before I could dwell further. The door clicked open.

I didn't need to look up. I could tell it was him.

His scent was enough to announce his arrival.

Ironic? How easily I was able to recognise him.

I almost jumped out of the bed. The room felt small, suddenly making me conscious about the surroundings.

He cleared his throat as he forwarded the bowl of maggie in front of me.

I looked at him in disbelief.

How did he know?

He stood there calmly, dressed in a plain white shirt and pajamas as it was the most normal thing to make maggie in the middle of night.

I hesitated.

But before I could question.

He extended the bowl.

“Aap ke liye hai.”

Just as he said that. I immediately snatched the bowl, eager to satisfy the hunger that churned inside me.

The aroma felt comforting.

I sat with my legs folded. Half way through the meal my hands stilled with the weight of his gaze.

My gaze flicked between the bowl and him.

It barely had anything left.

I could feel the satisfaction in those tired eyes.

He had a blank look.

I shifted.

“Aap bhi khaao.”

Heat crept to my neck. The bowl was almost half empty.

Yet, he didn't say anything. He ate my leftover like it was the most satisfying meal.

I couldn't help but think.

Was this even real?

I drank the water. The water eased my nerves.

Then I realised we were sitting together.

Yet. He was not looking in my eyes.

Well, who cares?

My gaze darted to the table as he kept the ointment.

I looked at him. Confused.

He pointed towards the rashes. His voice was low, almost lost in the clink of bangles.

This was annoying. Everything was annoying. But it felt right.

“Wo…aapke rashes, laga lijiyega.”

He scanned the room like it was the most fascinating thing.

I gulped as I realised. Every corner held my belongings.

What is his problem? Can't he look into my eyes and talk?

Kha thodi jaaungi?

But before I could think further. He got up and walked to the couch.

This man. What's his problem? Now where he is upto?

“Kaha ja rahe hain?”

At that point nothing made sense. Everything felt spinning.

My eyes dropped with the effort to stay awake.

He looked at me—uncertain.

“Log raat mein sote hain shayad?”

I heard his faint voice, but I was already in my dream land.

It felt safe, atleast for now.

To be continued...

Unedited