"Forever, I had stayed silent, closed off, cut by the doldrums of family politics and societal pressures. Buried under biased judgements, I dwarfed to insignificant heights. But, inside the blaze fought to seize power-an inferno. Raging flames fuell...
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The car honked for the third time. I stood at the porch of what once was my house, now it was just my father’s. Mine was somewhere in Kolkata. My parents said it was a two storeyed one—huge and well endowed.
But, I cared less.
Isn’t it funny how a day can modify your address, or even better your identity! From a Sen to a Basu, the change was as quick as a chameleon.
Another honk and I was hauled back to Earth. “Be fast, it’s getting late!” someone shouted, craning his neck out of the automobile window.
“Yes, we have to reach before noon and it’s already 7!” his uncle backed the person up.
Since the day prior, the groom’s side had been nothing but onerous. As for Siddhartha, my husband, he spared zero talks. Maintaining a dignified silence, he stood in the distance, an umbrella protecting him against the rain and my burning gaze. Anyone would assume he gave us privacy, but he squirmed and fidgeted, often tapping his foot on the ground at irregular intervals. Consistent clearing of the throat and fleeting vacant glances indicated he would take the first opportunity to jump into the car had it not been the sensitivity of the situation.
Please, just a few minutes more!” Baba and Ma folded their hands in a namaskar, their faces marred with a shadow of humility as if getting their daughter married was synonymous with a heinous crime.
The whole scenario unfolded as an engaging movie being played inside a theatre where one needs to pinch himself to know whether he’s a part of it or not. I needn’t pinch, I knew I was part of the play but, I was lost.
Why all this negativity? I’m a pessimistic mess!
Ma rushed forward—eyes wet, words choked with pent up emotions; the enormity of the situation was overwhelming. With senses numbed and insides embittered, I tried to act normal, but isn’t normalcy an acquired idea? What is normal to the spider is chaos for a fly.
Embosomed in her loving embrace, I cried like a kid. The tears cascaded down my cheeks, graced the chin and got lost somewhere within the bulk of my red silk blouse.
“Love and respect everybody, do not say anything even if you don’t like it.” She looked at my bland face, trying to gauge any hint of a reaction. “Seek their permission for whatever you want to pursue and most important, always try to please your husband.”
So, that’s it?
Tears pooled with more vigour as reality descended.
Is it all that will define me from now on?
I whimpered with strong jerks and Ma’s gentle hands attempted to pacify.
Was she not aware that my deep anguish was a result of my shattered dreams?
Or, did I go wrong and misinterpreted thinking in the changed world hugs and kisses would define the new normal?
