On a lavishly decorated altar that exuded opulence, two people took their wedding vows. One, adorned in a red lehenga, the other in a simple blue kurta, appeared more like a friend than a groom. Yet, Shraddha, like any normal Indian woman, was excit...
Anand badged into the interrogation room and jumped on the culprit, hauling him continuous slaps until he was stopped by the inspector.
"Ask him to confess who he is working for, or I'll kill him." he snarled and released himself, adjusting his suit.
"Your anger won't return your dead wife. I'll speak to him." The inspector said and stepped forward to question the man again.
"I've said it before. I will not reveal the name of the person I'm working for. He paid me a lot. I swore on my late mother's life I'll not take the name."
Anand shoved the inspector and took his place, yanking the man forward and malevolently telling him.
"I will pay you double. Triple! Tell me the name."
"You're wasting your time. You won't ever get the name. He communicates with us using a dead man's number. You can't track his location or know anything about him. End the case because it's useless investigating a non-traceable man."
"A non-traceable man!" Anand's anger elevated, and he squeezed the man's neck in his hand. "You'll reveal the name if you want to live."
"Don't use violence." the inspector pulled Anand back and separated the two.
"But you used violence on my wife. You allowed her to sink in the sea. Wasn't that violence?" he thrashed the table in front of him with his foot.
"Leave the interrogation room, Sir and get yourself together."
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*****
The blue water shined like a pearl in the setting sun. It's been five years. Five years since Shraddha passed away. Anand was back to the place their story ended, the sea. Not a single day passed by in the past without him ending his day with her. He would visit the sea, talk to it for a while as it became his new place for finding solace, and then leave. Today, he stayed a bit longer. And even brought something along. He revealed his phone's lock screen to the sea which was a picture of it.
"It took me five years to remove your picture from my wallpaper, Shraddha. Every day, I thought of doing it, but I didn't want to forget you. Everyone at home did. No one mentions your name or remembers you once lived there. I know I have to let you go. Let your memories go, and accept you'll never return. However, I can't forget you. Although, I removed all your pictures and took them to the store room to erase your trace which would provide your soul with peace, your face is permanently etched in my head. I hope you'll forgive me. I failed to know who killed you. I'm a loser who didn't deserve you, I'm aware."
Somewhere far away from India with the distance of three seas and many streams, in a pub house, a woman was performing in front of an audience. A lady was cheering her up by jumping and clapping as she sang so fluently in English. One can't guess her roots. She sat like a European. Her legs crossed on each other and facing the side while her hand held the microphone. She modelled her clothes like an American. A white crochet knitted sequin long-sleeve bralette top with a half skirt and completed with a long beige sweater. Her skin, a spotless light caramel. It was glowing under the spotlight dimmed on her. Fresh white teeth like cleaned piano keys.
"Go Ananya!" the lady who was applauding and enjoying the woman's harmonious and melodic voice whistled loudly. She continued to cheer while the lady on stage that was singing spoke lowly and lowly and ended the song. People moved to her requesting autographs. She happily signed where they asked her to. Be it on their palms, paper, or bag, she signed wherever they asked her to.
A white American man removed his shirt and revealed his packs, asking her to sign there. She gulped hard at his figure, completely mesmerized and smiled while signing.
After she finished, and he returned the shirt, he asked. "Can I have a dance with you?" he offered his hand as he found her breathtaking for the night.
"The last one to remain gets to dance with me. Not now." she said and got up.
"Ananya!"
She met with the lady, and they hugged like they were reunited after forever.
"The song was outstanding. Why don't you consider singing as a profession? You'll make lots of money." the lady said and the other-Ananya who had Shraddha's exact face pulled back while giggling. Just that, she looked more confident and lively than Shraddha.
"Thankfully, I won't ever need to earn my money. Dad says he'll do all the work for me to enjoy. So, leave the money discussion aside. My throat is dried. Let's grab a drink."
Back in Mumbai, India, Anand's mother prevented Lakshmi from going into the house. She scanned the revealing clothes she wore and then scolded her with a yell.
"How can you stay in this house and not be mindful of the type of clothes you wear outside? What is this? What impression are you trying to put on the children?" she skinned the fitted top which only covered her private parts. "You won't come in here until you change into a decent outfit. We're modern, but are still traditional. Keep your modernity to your thoughts, not in outfits."
"Mother, I will when I come in. Let me just..." Lakshmi began to explain herself when his mother chipped in between.
"You won't enter this house with those clothes. Cover yourself appropriately then return." she slammed the door on her face.
