A budding writer with a bunch of ingenious rebels risk their lives to try and overthrow an oppressive government to earn back their liberty of expression. They need to unify and put aside their differences, interests and pasts, and race against time...
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JURIAN
"Don't you guys need to say 'I do'?" Jurian whispered to Alizeh over the droning sound of the priest chanting mantras. The flames in the fire pit in front of them, crackled to life as the priest threw some powders in it. They had used some artificial wood to light a fire.
"Oh no!" Alizeh grabbed his hand with force. Her eyes grew wild and unfocused. Jurian could see a wild panic behind those carefully done up lashes.
"The fire," he breathed. Alizeh hadn't coped well with seeing fire ever since she had been almost burnt alive at the basement.
"I'm sorry. You don't have to do it," his hands moved deliberately to the side of her face as he gently turned her face towards him.
The big tasselled earrings jingled from the impact. She raised her hands at the same time to cause the bells attached to her bangles to jingle too. He took her little dimpled hands, tracing the outline of the henna patterns on her almond skin. Thin brown scars ran crisscross over the mehndi designs.
He gently rubbed her cold palms to warm them. They had wanted to celebrate their marriage in a traditional Indian style and so all the décor was in keeping with the Indian culture. After all that what happened and almost losing her, Jurian would've agreed to get married anywhere— even the moon. She was the focus around which his world seemed to revolve.
"I can do it. I can't run away from the past forever," she closed her eyes with a pained look.
Alizeh was one brave lady. She had fought through multiple plastic surgeries, grafts, and the pain from burns, scars and surgery corrections. The past year had been a hectic to and fro through the clouds for the best medical attention. Jurian had never seen her so fragile or vulnerable. But she had survived through it all and he wanted to lose no chance to make her exclusively his.
Thus on one such opportune day, at a vintage bookstore, he had hidden a ring in the pages of some dusty book. The books had been taken out of the secret dingy lockers after the new amendment in the law. Her eyes had shone when she had found her entire world in that little niche. The books had smelled like freedom to Jurian too. It was fun with her shifting through old books and finding that little jewel. He had proposed to ger then and kissed away the unbidden tears.
His hands travelled along the gossamer red veil, embroidered with gold borders, his fingers curling around some stray locks. Her breath hitched as she seemed to be overwhelmed by the touch.
"You're stronger than you think," he whispered. She nodded.
"I'm ready," she turned back to the flames again. The priest had almost finished the ceremony as they had drowned out the world in their little personal moment.
