The blinds are of a warm yellow shade, blending into the general yellowness of the room. Pictures adorn the walls and doors. Almost every empty space on the right side of the room was taken by those pictures of smiling faces, of silly antics, of puzzled expressions and of those random and candid moments.
The dressing table placed against the yellow wall was filled up. Shampoos collected from an assortment of hotels. Pretty colored soaps packed in inviting wraps. Numerous hair products aligned at right angles to each other. Estee Lauder and Vanderbilt perfumes gathered dust on the top shelf.
The laptop was open. The blue screen of death lit up the screen. The speakers gave out a slight buzz, indicating they were turned on. The sheets of the bed were ruffled, pillows strewn. She lay there helpless, struggling to breathe. Her legs were apart, blood trickled down her thighs. Tears streamed down her eyes. She lay there, violated, unable to move.
Mango leaves adorned the doorway, the threshold was painted a fresh yellow with red markings and tiny red feet were painted inside the house, close to the entrance. It is said that Godess Lakshmi enters the house and bestows her blessings. The house smelled of ‘ghee’, many a sweet-dish made appearances on silver plates quite often. The house was bustling with people. Some invited, some uninvited, some unknown. The women hurried in and out of the kitchen, most of them decked in kancheepuram silk in myriad hues, their curly wet hair, tied in loose knots with thick bunches of jasmine flowers. The men kept to themselves, most of them wearing white dhoti’s while some appeared to be in formal western wear. Peals of laughter could be heard often. “They’re on their way, make sure the girl is ready in time for their arrival.” yelled one of the ladies, sitting in the dining sipping her coffee to the women in the bedroom.
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She looked radiant in the yellow saree, her locks let loose for the world to see, the bride to be gleamed. With all eyes set on her, she set foot into the main seating area. Her proud parents looked on. He father felt a pang, his daughter had grown up in a jiffy. Her would-be was a typical software engineer, “a good catch” according to many. All the people present came and congratulated her and her fiancé. Some faces she knew by heart, some she had to struggle to remember and some she didn’t care enough about. As they exchanged the rings, her eyes were silently searching for a face she grew up with, her childhood friend and probably the love of her life, Aman. She spotted him sitting in the corner fidgeting with his phone, not once looking up to meet her in the eye. Tears filled up her eyes. People congratulated her on her new life, while she was still holding on to her past life, yearning for something to happen rather. ‘I love you’, was that so hard to say? She looked away and her gaze caught her mother’s eyes, which seemed to be reassuring Nalini of her future or the emptiness of it, Nalini thought otherwise. She felt a hand touch hers, it was her husband to be, her fiancé, a stranger she knew well enough to marry.
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